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He didn’t say anything as he reached for my hand and led me to the shower. It wasn’t until he was halfway through scrubbing me down that he finally spoke. But it wasn’t to give me his opinions like I’d expected.
“Who does Solo hang out with?”
I turned to face him. “I don’t really know. I can tell you the names of a few of the kids taking the summer school class with him. But I don’t really know if he hangs out with them outside of it.”
“I recognized Melanie Taggart and Joey Mixon. Who else was there?”
I tried to picture their faces. “Brandon Huber was the kid with the super-short blond hair. Marcus Bledsoe was the super-tall guy. Tay Hendrickson was the girl with the curly brown hair down her back, and let’s see… the other girl’s name was…” It took me a second to remember. “Kelsey, I think. But I don’t remember her last name. Her mom is a pediatrician.”
“Oh, Seibert, probably. Joann is her mom. Tessa and I met her last week when we were checking out the pediatrics office for the baby.”
The casual mention of Tessa’s baby brought up several questions, but I didn’t have time to get into them now. I wanted to know what her plans were. Was she going to live here with Declan permanently? Was she covered financially, or did she need help? I wasn’t sure what kind of living the sheriff of a small county in Colorado made, but it seemed like Declan probably had her covered if need be. But still. Was Declan going to help raise her baby? What was his role in all of this?
I kept reminding myself it wasn’t really any of my business, but then again… I was beginning to think it might be. Rather, I wanted it to be my business. I wanted him to be my business.
But first, I needed to get my head in the game and finish out this film commitment.
It was obvious Declan wasn’t very pleased with my rush to report to the set, but I was on a mission. My head was buzzing with plans. When Julian had pulled me aside in the interrogation room last night at the sheriff’s department, he’d asked me what I wanted.
“I want to not be arrested,” I’d said with a laugh.
“That’s a given,” he’d said, waving his elegant fingers through the air. “I can handle that. Your frenemy out there would be an idiot to press charges when you can pin him with motor vehicle theft and disorderly conduct.”
That’s when I’d mentioned the menacing. His eyes had danced. “Sounds like the sheriff likes you, Finn.”
I’d huffed. Not right now, I’d thought to myself.
But then he’d doubled down. Julian had repeated his original question. “What do you want? In life, I mean.”
I’d stared at him while my mind buzzed around with thoughts. “Why are you asking me this?”
He’d sighed and sat back. “My best friend just got engaged, and I just… I mean, what’s it all about, you know? What’s the fucking purpose of any of this?”
I’d blinked at him. “Con… grats?”
Then Julian had heaved an exhausted sigh. Suddenly, he hadn’t looked like a put-together professional. He’d looked like a man who needed a nap. He’d looked like I’d felt. “Not really. I’ve been in love with him my whole life. But he’s straight, so it’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine. Obviously. Anyway, forget I asked. I’m just feeling… melancholy. Ignore me. Let’s get you out of here. Hang tight.”
After he’d left, I’d thought about his question. What did I want in life?
Not this. Not this action film where the money was great but the conditions were dangerous because of a director’s ego, because of the insane way Hollywood rewarded films and directors that “pushed boundaries.”
I didn’t want this life I had. The people in LA who claimed to be my friends but who most likely wouldn’t show up if I suddenly lived in a place like Watts again. Hell, I’d had more fun here in Aster Valley than I’d had living in Santa Monica right on the ocean. Even the chalet felt more like home to me than my sterile, professionally decorated house in California.
But then I remembered Nolan’s dangling carrot.
The Taming of the Shrew.
I could put my head down and get through Gold Rats if that was what was waiting for me at the end. My dream was to work on a Shakespeare project of some kind. To immerse myself in the language and nuance, the history and pageantry, of a quality Shakespeare production.
I wondered idly if Solo and his friends would have any interest in putting on an abridged version of Hamlet for their teacher. Would the teacher be impressed or pissed? There was no way to know unless I asked him, but I wasn’t about to overstep. That would probably not go over well.
