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Sitting down, I looked at the lights dotting the water and smiled at how tranquil Greg’s neighborhood was. The homes were beautiful, right on the channel, with windows so large that you could watch everything if the homeowners didn’t close their blinds. Not that most of them were home anyway. Half of these houses were second homes, so they sat empty for weeks, if not months, at a time. It was kind of sad and felt like a waste. If I owned one of these homes, I’d never leave it.
“Snips!” a voice shouted from somewhere behind me, startling me.
One single word, and I felt my stomach drop to my knees. Snips was the nickname that Anakin called Ahsoka in the showThe Clone Wars. Tyson used to call me that all the time. I hadn’t heard the term of endearment out of anyone’s mouth in years.
But it couldn’t behim.
“Snips?” the voice questioned once more, growing closer to where I sat.
It wasn’t Tyson.
I’d detected a British accent of some sort, and the tone of this person felt off in timbre… too high-pitched, not the growly sound I’d once known and loved.
Even after all this time, I was convinced I’d recognize his voice if I heard it anywhere near me. And not just because he’d been in multiple movies, commercials, and on a hit TV show. Tyson’s voice was imprinted on my memory bank and on my heart. I’d heard every inflection of it when we dated, and I still had some of the voice mails he’d once left for me saved on my phone. Back when we had been happy… or at least when I’d thought we were.
When I steadied my breathing, I turned around to see a guy, dressed like a terrifying mix of Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader, stalking toward me. The top half of his face was covered with a dark black latex mask while the lower half was done in really good movie makeup with a scar showing and everything. He’d had professional help with this, I could tell. It wasn’t fair. But it was brilliant, if I was being honest.
“It is you, Snips,” he said with a grin that I could only partially make out.
All I’d wanted was a little alone time before I slipped out of the party. Hopefully undetected and unstopped by Greg.
“Do we know each other?” I asked warily.
It was a fair question. I wouldn’t recognize my own father if he were dressed in that costume. Plus, too many celebrities thought the world owed them something and didn’t hesitate on acting like it. I did not owe anyone a thing.
“It’s me, Skyguy,” the guy said.
I wanted to argue because that lovable nickname had been given to him by my character when he was still good. Way before Anakin started giving in to his dark side and turning evil. This guy’s costume was more than halfway there. He was in the midst of turning, of giving in to all the bad.
“Hey,” I said, refusing to use the nickname.
He extended his hand, and I reluctantly reached out before he took my hand and placed a kiss on top of it. I quickly pulled away. That kind of thing did nothing for me, especially from strange men. It wasn’t charming or romantic; it was creepy and weird.
“I’m not into actors,” I said, sounding more than a little presumptuous and extremely judgmental. It wasn’t becoming of me.
“Who said I was an actor? Maybe I’m a set designer. Or a props guy,” he said through his accent, stumbling on the last occupation he suggested.
A slight laugh escaped me. “No one in props would call themselves aprops guy. Plus, you totally give off actor vibes.”
He looked amused. At least from what I could see of him and read of his body language. Most of his body and skin was completely covered.
“Oh yeah? How do I do that?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond. It was a sixth sense I had about actors after falling for one and having my heart ripped out and shattered into a million pieces.
Shrugging my shoulders and looking away, I answered with, “You just do.”
It was a weak response. Not even remotely creative. But I knew I was right. This guy, with his accent and sculpted shoulder muscles, was definitely in front of the camera, not behind it.
“Fine. I might be an actor. Care to tell me why you don’t like us, Snips?” There he went again, using the nickname that made my heart flutter and stop, all at the same time. “Are we too arrogant? Selfish? Self-absorbed?”
Nodding my head, I agreed with each assumption. “For starters, yes,” I said matter-of-factly.
In my line of work, I’d crossed paths with more than a few celebrities who were exactly those things. Of course, not all of them were like that, but the ones who were made an impression. And not a good one.
“I’d love to disagree with you,” he said before adding, “but I can’t.”
“That’s”—I paused as I searched my mind for the right word—“actually impressive.”
