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“You can drop ‘the,’ Dad, and just say queers.”
“Oh.” His face fell. “I’m sorry, Elias. Did I offend?”
“Nope, not at all.” I knew he was trying.
“Good, I am working on it. There’s a lot to get aligned in my brain, but I will be a good ally to you, Son.” He reached over the table to grab my hand. “Which brings me to another thing that I wanted to talk to you about.” I nodded and picked my bacon back up with my left hand. “One of the guests came to me about you.” I cocked an eyebrow. “No, it’s nothing about you being queer or anything with that mess, it was…one of the guests…they said that they saw you floating in the ocean with one of the chess pieces. Their son dashed off to get it as he wanted to play a game. The boy said that you looked sad and well, given what has been taking place in your life, they thought that perhaps you had…”
“Dad, no, please, oh God, no.” I chucked my slice of bacon to my plate to gather his hand between mine. He was shaking. “It was nothing like that,” I said but felt the lie sticking in my throat. “Okay, I may have had a moment.”
“Oh God,” Dad whispered. “Elias…”
“No, Dad, it was just a low point. An incredibly low point. I’d just gotten off the phone with my agent. Things out west are not going well, to say the least. The studio wants me to keep doing what I’m doing, which is basically hiding from the world. Most of my team is slowly distancing themselves from me, and it was just…yeah, it was a low point.”
“But your mother…”
“I know, and I am not Mom. I’m not that sad. I mean, sure, I’m sad, but Mom was clinically depressed and refused help or meds,” I explained, or tried, as my father looked at me as if I might poof out of existence. I held his hands even tighter to show him I was here and here I would stay. “I’m sorry I scared you like that.”
“Do you want someone to talk to? There are good counselors on the mainland, Elias. I can pay for your sessions if you want to go.”
“Dad.” I smiled softly at him. “I can pay for my own therapy, and yes, perhaps I will set something up back in L.A. when I return, but please know that I am fine. I promise.”
“They say mental illness is hereditary. That worries me, Elias.” The first couple arrived to have breakfast, smiling and chatting, until they saw Dad and me hunkered over our table. Their cheerfulness dissipated. “We’ll talk later.” He worked up a grin and greeted the Thompsons. I nodded at the couple and then dove into my now cold food with less gusto than I’d had before.
Dad and I made small talk after that. The feeling of eyes on me as the dining room filled with guests spurred me to want to haul my stinky ass back to my room to shower.
“So, tell me about this dinner date,” Dad said as he walked me to the rear door of the inn. We stepped out onto the veranda, the skies crisp and blue as Gibson’s eyes. “Was it a friend date or a something more date?”
I took a moment to ponder his query. On one level, I should not be looking for romance. I’d only be here for a little while. Perhaps the studio would call me back today and all my misdeeds would be forgiven and a new fat contract would be awaiting my return.
But do wereallywant a contract for more Connor Days movies?
That was the million dollar question. More like ten million. Per movie. With some ownership perks for each film and a cut of the grosses. Would they gross that much now, though? Would my fans be willing to shell out hard-earned cash to see me—the poof in the pink panties—pretend to be straight? The answer to that is being investigated right now.
“I think it might be a something more date,” I replied honestly. Lying to my father felt wrong now. I’d done so for so damn long. I was tired of the dishonesty and hiding who I truly was and what I was truly feeling. “It’s just…early is all.”
“Sure, of course, I get that. Is it Gibson Vale?” he asked with a twinkle in his deep brown eyes. I couldn’t help but chuckle. There really are no secrets on this tiny island. “One of our guests has a child who takes pottery classes…”
“Ah,” I said and turned to look out at the sea. The sun glittered on the rolling surface, birds swooped and dove, and the wind rustled the flags out front, snapping them soundly. “There is a spark between us. I can’t deny that, but my time here is short.”
“Sure, of course. Still, if you could stay for an extended period of time, then Gibson would be a good one to pal around with.” That made me laugh aloud. Dad gave me a look of bewilderment.
“Sorry,” I said when I caught my breath. “I haven’t heard that term for ages. Yes, Gibson would be a fantastic sort to spend time with. We’ll see what happens. My life is so up in the air right now I can’t honestly make plans past lunch.”
“How about you join me and Kimmy for dinner? Our treat. We can go to the steakhouse on the mainland.”
I bumped his shoulder with mine. “You’re bound and determined to pay for something today, aren’t you?” He snorted in amusement. “Dinner sounds amazing. Tell Kimmy that I’m looking forward to it tremendously.”
Dad beamed and gave me a sound hugging before he darted back inside to tell Kimmy.
Our meal that night was delicious. Kimmy was a delight. She adored my father, that was obvious, and Dad thought the world revolved around his Kimmy. That made me incredibly happy. I’d hated leaving him here alone when I’d gone to pursue my dreams. That guilt had been steady, but now he had someone at his side, who loved the inn as much as he did, and that lifted the weight off my shoulders. Much to my father’s chagrin, I paid for the meal. I could afford it. Speaking of cash, I had a donation to make.
“Who’s in charge of the playhouse now?” I asked as Kimmy, Dad, and I were waiting to cross the bridge to Kesside Isle. There was a traffic jam. Two cars were waiting to cross. That was peak traffic density around here, although next weekend would see a ton of tourists flowing in to fill each cabin to bursting.
“Millie Conklin,” Kimmy informed me as we waited for Portman to check passes. It could take a while since he was loath to leave his shack and was trying to read the pass of the lead car from his little hut with a flashlight. “She owns the art museum now. She’s been the mayor for two years. Nice woman, has a son who’s a carpenter who’s been doing some odd jobs for free around the theater to keep it from falling in on itself, but the place needs a major overhaul.” She looked over her shoulder at me in the back seat. “Are you thinking of donating?”
“I am, yes, so thank you for that info.”
“Did you hear that, Marcus? We’ll have a playhouse back soon! I love plays. Oh, imagine if you could come back to star in one of the shows, Elias!”
