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And, of course, he knows that Patrick lives in the guesthouse. The entire town of Hope Crest knows all the inner workings of the Ashton family, even if no one explicitly tells them.
“As a matter of fact, they are.” I smile giddily because I can’t help myself.
The heat of the playhouse hits me as we enter, all the opulence and coziness warming my soul. This place is the one place in town that makes me feel even remotely safe right now. Of course, being with Patrick, in his arms, is at the top of my list. But there is something about a theater, especially this one, that makes me feel like nothing bad can ever harm me. The scent of old playbills, the crackling fireplace on the far side of the lobby, the creak of the stage boards … I’m glad I decided to come today, and that’s putting it lightly.
“Are we going to have a third engagement on our hands?” Wilson muses as we unwrap our scarves and coats, Nathan lumbering over to the fire and plopping down before promptly nodding off to sleep with a snore.
“Ouch.” A bristle of hostility pinches my insides.
Wilson has the decency to cringe. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I know I haven’t seen you two together much, but the man would be a fool not to be head over heels crazy in love with you. And he has a reputation.”
“Don’t we all, in some way or another?”
“There you go again, being a saint-like angel.” He rolls his eyes but smiles.
A hearty laugh makes my throat vibrate. “Not at all. I’m just saying. People make a shit ton of mistakes. Lord knows, I have. So Patrick has dated around? So what? We’re happy. Really happy.”
If only life were as simple as that. Wilson doesn’t know that while we might have each other, we definitely weren’t living a happily ever after. I hope someday soon I get to claim that, too.
“All right, then fill me in on all the sexy details before the kids get here. It’s been months and I need to live vicariously through you. Oh! And do tell about Leona Ashton’s kitchen, because I’ve heard it’s a modern farmhouse dream.”
As we sip our coffees, I spill to Wilson that one of the best parts of living in the guesthouse with Patrick is getting to know his family. It’s nice that my coworker has no idea of the danger I might be in because it lets me shut that part of my worrying off, even if for a few minutes. It gives me this blissful bubble where I get to gush about my boyfriend’s family and how incredible they are. Because aside from the chilly shoulder his father is still giving me, the rest of the Ashtons accept me with open arms. Last night, we ate dinner in Leona’s kitchen. She cooked her famous chicken saltimbocca, a gnocchi Alfredo that I wouldn’t mind laying down my life to eat one last time, and his nana whipped up fresh pound cake soaked in limoncello. Despite the fact that someone is trying to mess with me and that’s why I’m there, there was a jovial atmosphere. They played hands of gin rummy after, and I got to tell the story of how I accidentally tripped on my train on my first red carpet and fell face-first in front of the most famous actor of Leona’s generation.
For the first time in my entire life, I’m beginning to feel like I belong somewhere. I split my childhood and teen years between houses, being fought over like some prize neither of my parents really wanted to win. Once I got to Hollywood, I never felt completely comfortable in my own skin.
Coming back here almost feels like a do-over, a chance to see if Hope Crest ismyplace without my father’s shadow hanging over me. Of course, it still is, but not where Patrick and his family are concerned. Not anymore. In giving up a life others would kill for, in admitting that I want to stop running from the uncomfortable parts of my past, I’ve found everything I’ve always dreamed of.
The kids come in one by one, and Wilson introduces the workshop material by handing them packets as we all settle in the front rows of the theater. Today, we’re working on comedic scenes that involve timing, deliverability, working off of someone else’s humor, and involving your body in the comedy. To me, humor and comedy are much harder to pull off than drama and sadness because not everyone can access that funny side. Comedy is so subjective to each person, whereas we can all relate to trauma or baggage on some level.
“Cassandra, will you join me on stage?” Wilson smirks at me after we go over the lines and scenes the students can practice with during the workshop.
I stand and dust my hands off on my jeans, shaking away the nerves. No matter how many important people I’ve done this in front of, no matter how many sets or stages, there are always the initial butterflies that make it clear how much I love this job.
Wilson and I enact a scene fromFunny Girl, one of the harder comedic roles I’ve seen performed. I can’t say I’d be good in the role, but I try my best and get a few chuckles. After that, pairs come up and act out some of the other scenes fromThe Producers, Hamilton, Death of a Salesman,andLittle Shop of Horrors.
We then break for lunch, with the kids settling in groups around the theater as they pull out Ziploc bags and thermoses. I catch one of the girls walking down the aisle and recognize her as part of the second or third pair who performed. Her Audrey forLittle Shop of Horrorshad been genuinely funny and spot-on. Being in the business, I can tell she has a knack for this.
“Your performance was wonderful. Amanda, right?” I smile at her from my chair.
She bobs her head, a smile peeking out, but I can tell she’s nervous.
“Your humor really came through. You made the character feel true without being too camp, too obvious. Audrey is a really hard sell, and I think you did it beautifully with not a lot of prep time. You’re in the drama club at the high school?”
“Yes.” Her monosyllabic answer is either nerves or teenager forI don’t want to talk to you.
“Keep going. You’ve got whatever it is that I’ve seen in some of the best actors. Pursue that.” I hope that my words here really stick with these kids.
I could have used someone building me up when I had no clue if I was doing anything right. A lot of people in Hollywood will use mind games to stay on top, but I think there can be a place for everyone. Especially a young woman who clearly has talent, like Amanda.
“My mom has always said …” She breaks off, looking nervous.
“What is it?” I ask, a glimmer of worry passing through my chest.
“My mom talks about you. About your father. I think … well, no, I know. My dad was cheating on my mom, and it got out. I’m pretty sure your dad told the town.”
Embarrassment, swift and biting, clenches my gut. “I’m so sorry.”
Amanda bites her lip. “You’re a really nice person. Everyone here says so, the other kids who have worked with you. I’ve thought a lot about what my dad did. It’s no one else’s fault. Just like the stuff people say about you isn’t yours. Thanks for saying all that. I mean … shit, you’re a legend.” She blushes after she curses. “Do you think I could ask you some more questions?”
