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“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “It’s been a wild day. Can you remind me of the details?”
“Did you party too hard last night or something? Because you’re kinda freaking me out.”
“Charlie, just tell me!”
“Okay! Paramount bought out yourMac Drakecontracton top of offering you seven figures to join their new fantasy series. It shoots in Scotland starting this summer. I’m having my real estate agent send you all those listings in Glasgow you asked for.”
Jack stared out the windshield blinking and looking pale enough to vomit.
An ache filled Gemma’s chest. Even after a day, the thought of losing him hurt.
“But I don’t write fantasy,” Jack said.
“Hey, buddy, listen,” Charlie said. His voice picked up a soothing, familiar tone. “I know this is a big change, but that’s what you wanted.”
“I did?”
“I mean, you came to me and said, ‘Charlie, I need something different in my life. I want a change,’ so yeah. I told you to get a dog or take up a new hobby, thinking we had a great thing going withMac Drake, but you told me to shop for other opportunities, and then boom! Found one we couldn’t say no to. You’re a hot commodity, Jack.”
Jack was speechless. Gemma knew he was trying to reconcile the present with things he couldn’t remember his past self doing, because she had spent the day doing the same thing herself.
“Jack?” Charlie said. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” Jack said numbly. “I gotta go, though. Thanks, Charlie.”
“Anytime. Let me know if you need anything.”
The call disconnected, and Gemma didn’t know what to say in the silence.
Jack steered them onto a windy road at the top of Laurel Canyon. Downtown L.A. hovered like a gold-dustedmirage far below. Given what she had just learned about his personal finances, she was not surprised he lived in the Hollywood Hills.
“Have you ever talked to Charlie today?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Jack shook his head. She got the sense he was too stunned to speak.
“He seems like a good agent,” she offered. It felt frail and insufficient. Jack had just had his world turned upside down.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, Charlie is the best.”
Gemma watched the hillsides rise and fall out her window as they wound down the canyon. They passed mansions wedged into the earth like fallen glass-and-stone meteors, private driveways, a few normal-looking houses, and a small shopping center with a cluster of old, local businesses. She knew the area well despite avoiding it to the best of her ability. Jack turned them onto a street with more modest homes shrouded in bushy trees. When he pulled into the shallow driveway of a white house crawling in ivy, the fit felt right for him. The house sat above a two-car garage, and a stone staircase wrapped the side, disappearing into the lush greenery. A small balcony hung out over the driveway, and Gemma could bet it had a stunning view.
The setting was familiar, but the house was not.
“Have I ever been here before?” she asked as they climbed out of the car and headed for the staircase.
“No. Nothing since we met at your radio studio today has ever happened before, minus lunch and Duncan’s meltdown. I’ve never come home at this point in the day.”
Jack led the way across his driveway to the stone staircasespun with green vines. Gemma’s feet scraped against the steps as they climbed a rounded bend up to a small courtyard crowded with leafy trees. Over the top of a short gate, she could see the white stucco house with large rectangles of glass bookending the front door. Jack opened the gate, and she followed him along a pathway made of flat stones spaced like river rocks with tiny gravel in between. Jack unlocked the front door, and where Gemma had been trained to expect the patter of paws, she heard silence. It was so quiet, in fact, that she felt the need to speak just to make noise.
“This is beautiful.”
The interior was austere, mostly white, and wide open. Small accents of color—pillows, vases, the occasional splashy painting—gave it a little life. His furniture was low and clean, and he kept neat stacks of books on his shelves and end tables: novels, screenwriting guides, biographies. Every window showed some shade of green since they had climbed up into the trees. Aside from the stunning view of the city out the living room balcony, she felt remarkably as if they had left L.A.
“Thanks,” Jack said. She could tell by the sound of his voice that he was still reeling from the phone call in the car. “Make yourself at home; I just need a minute.”
“Sure.”
He nodded and headed for a hallway.
