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Chapter 8
Tate
I had just gotten through a round of cardio when my phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
It was Star.
I groaned inwardly, grabbed a towel and wiped my face.
Just about the only thing we’d ever had in common was the fact that we both liked to get up early. The sun wasn’t even up yet. But she’d have put on her make-up, straightened her hair and done her whole wardrobe. This was exercise according to Star, making sure none of her accessories clashed and that she had no lipstick on her teeth. Looking good was important to her professionally, she said no-one would hire a stylist who was either fat or too old or bad-looking. Of course, Star’s definition of bad-looking was as big as the Grand Canyon. She could spend hours in front of the mirror, scrutinizing her skin, examining her pores or trying to get rid of new wrinkles she claimed had arrived overnight. She did hours of face yoga every day.
Face yoga! For goodness’ sakes.
I answered the phone.
“Glad I caught you! I want to run something by you quickly,” Star said in that breathless, girly way she had of talking. She’d always done it, but it seemed to have gotten worse since she moved to LA. The older she became, the younger she pretended to be.
“Go for it,” I said, apprehension building. Summer had warned me after all.
“Trevor proposed and I said yes!!!” she suddenly cried over the phone.
“Congratulations,” I said, because it was expected. “I hope you will be very happy.”
“Thanks,” she said, a little warmth in her voice.
“I want to invite you guys for a weekend here, you and Summer, to get to know Trevor and his son a little better.”
“Have you met Summer?” I asked sarcastically, “She doesn’t like anyone.”
“I know,” Star chuckled nervously. “That’s why I want you guys to come out here. It’s important that all of you get along. We’ll be living together and if Summer comes to visit, she’ll stay with us and I don’t want things to be awkward.”
“But you don’t need me for that,” I protested.
“But… I do,” Star said, her voice wavering. I hated it when she did that.
“I’ll never win over Summer on my own.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. But I knew she was right.
“Summer hates me,” Star said, her voice shaking. “I think she hates Trevor too.”
Summer did hate Trevor, that much was true but I wasn’t going to confirm it to Star. They had taken Summer to Disneyland one weekend in an effort to win her over and get her to warm to Trevor and his son, Adam. Summer had hated it, complaining non-stop about the heat and the people and the number of people coughing on her. She had come back telling me that she thought there was something seriously wrong with Trevor. “Like pathologically wrong, Dad. He’s a psychopath!”
“He’s a film executive, Summer,” I said. “They’re all like that. Ready to kill for the next big success.”
“His studio makes terrible movies,” she crinkled her face, like she smelled something rotten.
I almost felt sorry for the guy. Getting Summer to like you was an almost impossible task. The worst thing you could do was try too hard. I thought of how easily Summer had taken to Evie and wondered again about that. I’d never seen her like anyone that fast.
“Can I bring someone?” I casually asked Star.
“Bring someone? What, like a girlfriend?” Star asked, totally surprised. I loved hearing that. She thought I was going to come all alone, watch her and Trevor hold hands, wave some shining rock in my face, flash their happiness and love in my face while I sat there, all alone and lonely.
“Yeah, you mind?” I was being all casual, enjoying winding her up.
“I didn’t know you were seeing someone?” She sounded put-out, like I should have told her, boasting about it as she had done with me as soon as things got serious with Trevor.
