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Chapter 5
“She deserved it,” Julieann tells me before shoveling potato salad into her mouth. Mom has declared that it’s too hot to turn the oven on, so we eat dinner on the patio. Mom and Dad are arguing about how to clean the grill. Jules and I are having seconds—more potato salad for her and another burger, potato salad, and plenty of crisp barbecue chips for me.
“No. She didn’t.” I shake my head, knowing I’m right and hating it. That’s a first. I love being right.
“Jax, she’s the one who left. She can’t come back home and expect none of us to have moved on. We didn’t freeze in place when the great Nina Lockhart left the building.”
“Nina Lockhart?” Mom interrupts our conversation to lift the potato chip bag. She fishes out a few chips and raises her eyebrows. Jules and I exchange glances.
Should we tell her?I ask silently.
Jules shrugs. She’s going to find out anyway.
I nod. That’s a good point.
I turn to our mother. “Allie’s back in town. She’s hiding out at her parents’ house, where I’m currently doing a remodel job.”
“Oh dear.” Mom thoughtfully munches a potato chip. “How is she after that whole Oscar theft thing?”
“Guilty,” Julieann answers.
“Is she?” Mom directs that question to me.
“I assume.”
“I’ve heard from McCormack and Millie,” Mom says. “Allie herself hasn’t made an official statement.”
“You follow the gossip rags, do you?” My sister smiles, amused, even though Jules called me not that long ago, sounding like the soundbite from a celebrity gossip website.
“Yes. I care what happens in the world of entertainment. Especially if it’s Allie, since she’s a local celebrity.”
I stifle a groan with a very big bite of my hamburger.
“She’s acting like one,” Jules grumbles.
“She probably doesn’t have a friend in the world right now.” My mother’s brows bend in sympathy. “I’ve read more mean tweets and articles about her lately. Millie is behaving like a piranha. The woman has three Oscars, for Pete’s sake. You think she wouldn’t care if one of them went missing for a few hours. And anyway, it doesn’t sound like Allie to actually steal it. I don’t care what Jimmy Kimmel says about her.”
I don’t pay a lot (any?) attention to the entertainment industry and, in an exact opposite move from my mother, I try to ignore any news about Allie. Given my sheltered existence, I had no idea this news had reached the echelon of Jimmy Kimmel.
“She’s number one on a list of Hollywood’s Most Hated,” I say.
“Harsh.” Julieann winces, unable to be truly unkind.
“I don’t pretend to know how you feel about her after everything that happened, Jackson, but she might need someone to talk to,” Mom tells me. “And since you’re working at the Murphy house…”
Eating is my only way out of this, so I tuck into my burger and keep my head down. My mom’s words tromp through my head the rest of the evening, kicking up dust and overturning rocks.
Evidently the past isn’t going to stay in the past. I’m not the kind of guy to run and hide, which is exactly what Allie seems to be doing right now.
—
After a quick trip downtown, I arrive at the Murphy household Monday afternoon. I’m carrying two milkshakes, one strawberry for Allie and one chocolate–peanut butter for myself. I’m not sure if she wants one or if she’s on some weird Hollywood diet that prohibits her from drinking it, but I want to apologize and flowers seem…wrong.
I hesitate at the door before knocking. Tommy and Daryl are on another site today, since we’re still waiting on lumber for the deck here. We need to paint the closet, too, but I wanted to check with Allie’s schedule before filling the house with paint fumes.
The door swings aside, revealing the future receiver of a milkshake. Allie is wearing a short, short miniskirt, her legs temptingly bare. She’s given a few inches of height thanks to a pair of tall sandals, and I absolutely do not linger on the hot pink toenail polish. I jerk my eyes north, encountering several thin gold bracelets and necklaces on the way. Her hair is swept up on top of her head, a pencil jutting out of the sloppy bun.
Wide brown eyes take inventory of me—but I can’t tell if she approves of my uniform of well-worn Levi’s and a white T-shirt or not.
