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“Welcome to the cinema,” Roquefort said with a tiny smile. “We’ll get contracts written up. Enjoy your lunch.”
Off he went, leaving me with Tony, who looked like the cat who just ate the ostrich.
“I think I was just hornswoggled,” I complained as my coffee arrived, delivered by a rather harried-looking Annie. “I might have changed my mind about sitting with this man.”
“Good luck finding somewhere else to sit and eat,” she flung back, giving me a pointed look.
“Fine, I’ll eat here. Bring me a burger and fries. Make sure the burger is—”
Annie ran off before I could even finish. I guess she knew my order well enough by now. I eyed my coffee and then Mr. Smug before lowering my ass to the still warm seat Roquefort had been sitting on.
“Don’t look so angry. It’s a nice little part with a nice little payment,” Tony stated while poking at his bowl of chili with his spoon.
“I’m not fond of being in pictures, moving or still.”
“Yes, I remember, but you’re too damn good-looking to not get a chance to make all the men in America wish they were getting pulled over and frisked by you.”
I dumped a bit of cream into my coffee. “I rarely frisk people I pull over.”
“Poor people are missing out. If I recall, you’re a fantastic frisker.” I shot him a gimlet eye. That made him snicker softly. “You’ll be fine.”
“So says you. What the hell is a meet cute, anyway?” I stirred my coffee as my sight roamed over the diner. Everyone was cheery and talkative and their energy levels were high, which was a nice change for this town after the gray days of winter arrived.
“It’s a scene from a show or movie or a passage in a book where two people who are going to become romantically involved meet in a funny or cutesy way.” He sprinkled some salt on his steaming chili before spooning some up to blow on. Those puckered lips were distracting, so I fixed my sight on the bald spot on the back of Byron Culpepper’s head. “Mm, this is good.”
“Minnie in the kitchen is a great cook. So this meet cute thing. That’s with Sasha?”
My eyes darted to him of their own accord. He nodded as he chewed his beans and beef.
“Yes, thankfully I get another day before we have to film together. I worked with her for four years onSanta Barbara Sunbefore I left forWillow Dale.She is a raging bitch, but she’s the queen of daytime television. She’s been onSanta Barbara Sunfor over twenty years and will let you know that as soon as you meet as well as every ten minutes thereafter.”
I stared at him for a long moment. “But you were married to her.”
He tossed some oyster crackers into his chili with a sigh. “Yes, I was. Worst six years of my life. Trust me, many was the time I seriously contemplated renting a dirigible to fly over LA with ‘Tony Gugliotti loves dick!’ flashing on its side just so I could be free of her. Never working on TV again would have been preferable to sharing a home with the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“She was your beard,” I said and got a curt nod.
“She was. Pity that so many of us had to lie just to survive, but that was how things were back in the day. Thank Christ things are better for us now. Hell, it’s all the rage to be queer now.”
“Well, maybe in the big cities. Out here in the red counties being gay can get you a good ass-kicking,” I reminded him.
He stopped chewing. “Yes, I’m sorry for being such a metropolitan queer. You’re right. It must have been hard for you when you first got here.”
“There were moments,” I answered, leaning back to allow Annie to place my food in front of me. “Thank you,” I said to her as she topped off my coffee and then hustled back to the kitchen to silence the ringing bell. “There are still some folks here that would rather me be somewhere else, but over the years they’ve mostly come around.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Ugh, Stillman, the blood is soaking through to your bun. I see you’ve not learned the lesson about cooking your food thoroughly.”
I smiled down at my rare burger as Tony went on about rare ground beef being so terribly bad while I woofed down my burger. I also threw in yummy noises.
“When you’re in the ER with severe gastric distress, don’t come running to me,” he said and took a moment to take a selfie with a gal I had never seen before. Probably people from the neighboring counties were here to watch the filming and rub elbows with the stars.
“If I’m laid out with a sour gut, I doubt I’d call you to help me,” I flung out wittily. Or I’d hoped it was witty. Given the pained look that flitted over his face, my wit had missed the mark.
“Right, yes, well, I suppose I should get back to it. I have Gaston bringing me home until someone can secure a car for me. It’s amazing that there are no car rentals anywhere nearby.”
“Welcome to rural life,” I replied as he rose slowly from his seat. “Oh, I got some eggs, so don’t buy any.”
“Noted.”
