“Seriously? If the screaming banshees outside the lot every day don’t tell you anything—”
“Not them,” I interrupt quickly, frustrated. “The true fans. Like you said, they’re coming out of the woodwork and I don’t think they like me much.”
Jess cocks her head. “You like Batman, right?”
I shrug. “I’m a fan.”
She eats a small bit of barbecue, chewing slowly. That’s how she eats, I’ve realized. She savors little pieces, eating bit by bit, like a bird. “So who do you like better, Val Kilmer or Christian Bale?”
I scoff. “No one in their right mind likes Val Kil—”
She makes a buzzer sound with her mouth. “Does that mean you aren’t a true fan?”
“What?”
“If you like one Batman over another? Which Batman does a true fan like?”
“I—” I realize what she means. “I guess it depends on the fan.”
Jess nods. “As actors, all we can do is put ourselves in another person for a while and play them the best we can. We’re instruments. We read the notes on the page and interpret them.” She fashions a violin out of thin air and begins to play a slow, moving song, her eyes closed so delicately, I wonder if in another life she once played the instrument.
“I thought you didn’t care,” I tease. “Since it’s not an ‘Oscar movie.’”
She pauses midnote and drops her invisible violin. “I don’t. But like I said, we’re an orchestra, and if you’re out of tune you’ll make me look bad too.” But she can’t meet my gaze.
“Admit it, you like being Amara.”
She mock gasps. “Never!”
“Jessica!” An assistant calls from the exit, her voice echoing in the now-empty warehouse. “Phone call!”
Jess hops off the set so quickly; she must’ve been expecting the call. “For the fans, right?” she says, and hurries out of the lot, grabbing the cell phone from her assistant’s hand as she goes.
I flip out my own phone, remembering blog posts on Rebelgunner. All the scathing comments online. Jess paints a pretty picture of an orchestra, but if we are one, then I’m the first chair violinist…who’s been doused in gasoline and handed a match by the fans to watch me play while going up in flames.
I have a bunch of new messages, all from Elle.
Elle 7:47 PM
—Oh no! Did I get you in trouble??
—I’m sorry!
—I won’t text you as much anymore, promise-sworn!
But then there are fans like Elle—people like Elle. Even if she ends up not liking my version of Carmindor, I’m going to give it my all. Because somehow she makes me want to be better. She makes me want to play my heart out while I’m on fire, play and play until I burn up like a dying red giant.
7:49 PM
—Pshhh, let them riot.
—I’d rather you promise-swear that you’ll never stop.
Elle 7:50 PM
—Really?
7:50 PM
—Really. I like talking to you.
Elle 7:51 PM
—Why?
“Ten minutes!” someone calls, and I jump. My hands are actually shaking a little on my phone, dying to type all the things I’m thinking. Before I can stop myself, I start to type.
7:52 PM
—Because I can’t stop thinking about you.
—But that’s crazy right, because we don’t know each other? But I feel like I want to know you.
—…I’m just making a fool out of myself, aren’t I?
“Darien?” It’s Amon. “Where is that kid?”
“Here!” I jump to my feet. “Coming.”
But before I go, I sneak one last look at my phone.
Elle 7:53 PM
—I want to know you too, Car.
—I wish you were here.
—For real.
A knot swells in my throat. Because I wish I was there too, for real, but there are a hundred thousand reasons why it would never work. Why it could never work.
“Hey, hero!” my stunt coordinator hollers from the other end of the soundstage, holding up a harness. I put my phone into a pocket inside Carmindor’s jacket, trying to figure out how to tell Elle that if she ever met me, she wouldn’t like who she saw.
—
IT’S ANOTHER TWO HOURS BEFORE I’M free. And by free, I mean out in Olympic Park, running laps. Because apparently when you’re a movie star, even when you’re not working, you’re working.
Lonny grunts behind me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Besides the fact that my heart won’t stop pounding, and it’s got nothing to do with exercise.
Even though Olympic Park is in the heart of Atlanta, the world is mute. The park’s supposed to be closed at night, but when the night guard recognized me, he let me slip the fence. Perks to having a recognizable face, I suppose. Or having a gigantic bodyguard. Only me, my breath pumping in and out of my lungs, and my feet thumping against the pavement. Enough to make everything feel clear and sharp. Enough to make me want to tell Elle the truth—that I wish I were with her too. But in no universe can that ever happen, can it? All I can do is be there the only way I know how, and it’ll never be enough.
It’s been over two hours since her last text. She’s probably pissed that I haven’t texted her back, or she’s asleep. Or both.
But still, I have to try.
10:45 PM
—I have an idea.
—Let’s play I Spy.
With a whoosh of speed, my bodyguard passes me.
“What the—”
“Too slow!” Lonny throws over his shoulder, pulling ahead of me around the track. The one part of my “fitness regimen” I actually enjoyed doing—running—is the one thing I can’t do alone anymore. I’m surprised I can still pee alone, honestly. Soon Lonny’ll probably start tailing me to the urinal.
Still no text. I type another message.
10:46 PM
—I’ll start.
—I spy something big.
Please answer, I all but beg. After a moment, the typing notification appears beside her name and sends through a message with a soft ding.
Elle 10:46 PM
—Inside or outside?
10:46 PM
—Outside.
I don’t have to glance up to know it’s a clear night. The streetlights don’t even need to be on, it’s so bright out here. In fact, I can see my bodyguard’s shadow rounding up behind me. This feels like the scene from that superhero movie with a certain dude with a shield.
“On your—”
“Left,” I deadpan as he passes. “Show-off!”
Elle 10:59 PM
—I don’t know—a cloud?
—This is impossible.
—How am I supposed to guess if I’m not there to see, Car?
10:59 PM
—Tsk, tsk, patience!
—You don’t always have to be where I am for us to see the same thing, young padawan
“You’re smiling,” Lonny says as he passes me again.
I wave my hand after him. “Oh go on! Keep lapping me.”
Elle 11:01 PM
—I still don’t get it.
11:04 PM
—I’ll give you a hint.
—Look up.
—When was the last time you did?
I look up, thinking that maybe she is too.
Stars and stars for as far as the eye can see. The inky blackness is so dark it looks purple, bejeweled with abandoned bits of glitter. So many stars, white hot, flaring, burning like candles in the night sky.
I spy…
Elle 11:09 PM
—Is it the sky?
11:09 PM
—Not JUST the sky. It’s the SAME sky.
—And if we’re both looking up at the same sky, how far apart can we REALLY be? What were the odds of us being put on the same slab of rock in this huge universe?
“On your left!” my bodyguard shouts again, skirting around me. “Looks like you only got two speeds—slow and slower!”
I glare after him. “Excuse me?”
Lonny spins around and begins jogging backward. “Prove me wrong, pretty boy.”
That is it.
He has followed me. He has towered over me with that serious, terrifyingly calm face of his. He’s been a quiet, stalking Weeping Angel for as long as he’s been around. But Hades’ll freeze over before I let him throw shade like that.
I shove my phone into my jogging shorts pocket, then take off after him. He begins to pick up speed. We round the first corner, legs pumping. I gain on him, one stride at a time, my heart hammering in my throat.
“On your left!” I shout, sprinting past him to the finish line.
We slow down and double over, putting our hands on our knees. I suck in a painful breath, chest aching. I think I pulled my ego running.
“I win,” I wheeze.
Lonny begins to laugh, and once I realize how silly it all is, I begin to laugh too—and then I wince, ribs hurting.
“There you go, boss!” he says after a moment, righting himself. “You’re never going to pull ahead unless you really go for it.”
He gives his arms a shake, rolling his head to and fro, stretching his massive shoulders. I take the opportunity pull out my phone—still no answer.
Maybe Lonny’s right. I need to really go for it.
11:09 PM