Chapter 13 #2
"Why are you acting surprised? I read." When he didn't say anything right away, I turned to stare at him, "Wait, are you trying to say you think I'm an airhead or something? Stereotyping me because I like fashion and I'm in entertainment and—"
"Calm down, Damien," he groaned. "I just didn't know you were a library kind of guy.
I just assumed you did e-books and ordered them online or something.
" He glanced at my phone. "I mean, you've always got your phone on you.
Half the time I've seen you around town, you've been making a video about something or taking pictures to post online. "
Shit. That reminded me—it was content day, according to Rory's schedule for me. Another thing to pencil in after the library. Maybe I could do something about the pets? Or Bull's China Shop? I don't think I'd done anything on his shop yet.
"It's part of my job," I muttered. "It's not like I don't have outside interests.
Like..." The dark water of the cove came into view as we went around the curve on Coastline Road, a few sailboats and one of the wooden yachts dotting the gunmetal gray surface.
"Sailing. I've been thinking about learning. "
Okay not really, but telling Heath that I was also very interested in who was smearing my name all over the place and why someone wants to frame me for arson probably wouldn't go well.
"Seriously?" he said again, this time more dubious than surprised. "Sailing?"
"Oh my god, what now? Did you think I kept sailboats on my phone, too?"
"You just never really struck me as the type is all. Besides, didn't you mention you were afraid of deep water?"
I almost denied it before remembering a conversation we'd had one of the times we'd met for lunch over the summer.
He'd brought up learning to SCUBA dive as a teenager and I said I'd tried it once but freaked out because of how deep I had to go.
Which, in SCUBA terms, wasn't deep at all but for me, as a person?
Yikes. "Well, maybe it's time I overcome it. "
He hummed thoughtfully, slowing to take the turn into town via the old, rutted blacktop road everyone called Buster—as in kidney buster due to all the jouncing.
"I've got a little twenty-foot ketch I take out in the cove sometimes.
I can show you the ropes." He snorted at his own joke. "So to speak."
Crap, crap, crap. Now I have to actually do it? "When my arm's healed," I hedged.
He shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Or we can wait till spring.
Six weeks, it'll be wicked cold here and most out of towners don't like being out on the water when it's spittin' ice.
" He talked for a few more minutes about his ketch and how he'd always wanted a sloop before pulling to a stop in the semi-circular drive of the library.
"Here we go. Want me to wait around? I don't have to be at work for another hour. "
He wanted me to say yes. I could tell—I'm not that oblivious.
But I couldn't ask questions with Heath standing over my shoulder, so I politely demurred.
"I need to stretch my legs so I think I'll walk back to the house afterwards.
But," I tempered my refusal, "if you'd like to come by on your break, you could share dinner with me. "
Heath's disappointment flickered in his expression, but he nodded. "Sure. You sure it won't be too late? My usual break's around seven."
"Hon, please. In LA time, seven is barely lunch." I winked, sliding from the car and giving him a small wave before heading to the front doors of Lester Cove Community Free Library.
#
ONE OF THE FIRST BIG screen movies I ever did was one of those tear-jerker dog movies starring a golden retriever named Oodle.
It was marketed as a coming-of-age flick but if you've been in the world for half a minute you know any movie starring a golden retriever and with the words coming of age in the promo means the dog dies and everyone cries a lot.
I was Charlie, the younger brother of the main (human) character, Joey.
The crux of my role was to be loud, demand Dad pay attention to me, and tell Charlie it wasn't fair he got a dog and I didn't. Oh, and to cry a lot while we all stood around Oodle. Fun fact: Most of the time you see a real dog in a movie, they have to CGI their tails and ears so they don’t look so damn happy.
My most vivid memories of that movie were standing there, bawling my eyes out, while Oodle lay on his side and thumped his tail happily because he was the best boy ever and doing such a good job playing dead.
With Nessie, the head librarian, giving me a stern glare over her glasses, I drew on every second of my role as Charlie and let my eyes fill with tears and my voice wobble as I said, "Well, honestly, I'm just trying to.
.. to piece together Gerald Tubbs' last days.
His death is such a shock and—" I paused, turning my face to dash my tears on my shoulder.
"I know we didn't get along but I feel so sad that he died before we could make up, you know? It was one of my biggest hopes after running into him. I know he came by the library on Thursday morning and, well, I’d been meaning to meet him but just missed him. He sent a fax though and...” I sniffed extra hard. “I never got it.”
Nessie stared at me. I stared back, tears shining in my eyes, lower lip trembling.
Think of Oodle. Think of Oodle. Wait, no, that dog was awesome.
Okay, think of the gravitas of that big death scene where Joey discovers Oodle's lost his life trying to save them all from a rattlesnake that somehow ended up in suburban Rhode Island.
"That's a crock of—" she paused and glanced at her fellow librarian who was pretending not to listen at the other end of the intake desk.
"Well. It's malarkey is what it is. Now, I'm not gonna judge you for it but honestly, I really can't tell you anything other than he came in, sent a fax, and left.
" She shrugged. "It’s none of my business who he sent it to.”
“There’s no way to find out?”
“Why?”
“I promised Ms. Sommers I’d try to find the last people he spoke with,” I extemporized, eyes smarting from all the fake tearing up. “She’s real torn up about everything too. Hardly able to leave the inn.”
Nessie’s glare was sharp enough to flay skin. “It’s not nice to lie.”
“She really is torn up about it!”
A mother and several young children shuffled up to the desk and Nessie sighed. “That code on the receipt, next to Tubbs' name. "That code there? The first six digits are the date, then that's the printer job number, and that's the employee initials who ordered it."
"NS?"
She blinked, yanked the paper back, and frowned. "Well, that's wrong. That's me. Nessie Sinclair. But I know I wasn't the one who ran it."
"Um." The other librarian cleared his throat. "That was me. I forgot my log-in and you left your swipe card on the desk."
"Clarence," she sighed. "For the love of god..."
He shrugged, blushing as Nessie pushed past him to take over checking out the family. "I remember seeing you in some movies and on Remember to Breathe," he said to me, blush intensifying. "You were awesome in that."
"Oh! Um. Thank you!" It was my turn to blush fiercely. "I don't run into a lot of folks who watched that one."
"That's bananas," he breathed, looking up at me with shining eyes.
I felt a weird mix of pride and, okay, mostly pride.
Maybe a tiny dash of humility, knowing my work had affected someone so positively.
"Remember to Breathe was amazing. When I came out to my folks, I made them sit there and watch it with me and when we got to the part where your character told his grandparents that he was bi, I hit pause and said, 'So am I' and.
.." he paused, pressing his hand to his cheeks. "Oh, this is so awkward."
"This is amazing," I said, meaning it. "Seriously.
That movie meant a lot to me, too." And was one of the reasons why Rory had been so adamant about sending me a ton of hetero romcoms, trying to get ahead of the stereotyping and don't you want to have a wider variety of roles, no one goes to see gay romcoms, Damien.
Ugh. I still needed to call him after all of this,
Clarence's chin wobbled and his eyes started leaking. "Sorry, sorry, I promised myself I wouldn't cry!"
"Oh my," Nessie fussed. "Let me grab you some tissues, hon! Just a sec!"
As soon as she disappeared into the office behind the counter, Clarence stopped crying.
"Seriously, the movie is awesome and I really did come out to my folks with it but she wasn't going to tell you jack.
He was making copies of insurance stuff, like policies and junk.
And the only reason I remember is because he was griping about how slow I was going and how I was wasting paper because the first two pages came out all dark and I had to bin them.
The old guy tried to make me sign an NDA.
" He rolled his eyes, then asked, "Is he really dead? "
I nodded. "Super dead. Um, so, you really did like the movie?" My face heated with my insecurity, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
"Oh my god, for sure!" he enthused. "And okay this is going to sound like a total stalker thing but I’m wondering if you'd like, come talk at one of our group meet ups sometime?"
"Group? What?"
Nessie was fussing about the messy supply room but sounded closer now.
Clarence lowered his voice and rushed, "It's like an unofficial little queer meet up group for some of us here in the Cove and over in Malm's Corner and Fish Head.
" He shrugged again. "It's nothing big, just..
. you know, being in small towns like this?
As friendly as they are, it's not the same as having community, you know? "
I hesitated, wanting to protest that—I lived in LA! Of course I had no idea!
But I'd grown up on Long Island, in a tiny town where our Pride Parade was.
.. me, pretty much. And in LA, I'd had to mind my image, be careful who I was seen with, what I talked about.
Identity politics were alive and well in the industry.
If you were going to be out, you had to be the right kind of out, the right kind of gay with the right kind of hobbies, boyfriend, jobs.
.. "Yeah, I know," I admitted quietly. "And I'd love to talk with you guys. Um, like... about acting or something?"
Clarence smiled, thrilled, and gave me a bemused, excited shake of the head. "No idea. We'll figure it out I guess. Here." He grabbed a bookmark from the display by the checkout kiosk and scribbled on it. "My number and email."
I paused, holding the bookmark between us. He’s about the right age, and this isn’t really a huge town... “I don’t suppose you know Anmorata Blue, do you?”
Clarence froze, eyes wide. “Anmorata? Oh my god, has she been bugging you or something? I knew that bitch was desperate but oh my god.”
My heart broke into a gallop. “So is that a yes?”
He rolled his eyes so hard I could see the whites.
“Oh, I know Claire. She’s a piece of work.
She’s been dying to break into show business forever.
Used to be a pageant kid—you know the sort.
I mean, I don’t blame her for that. It was all her stepmom’s thing.
But Claire got super into it when we were in high school and decided she was going to be the next big thing until she lost like her fifth pageant in a row.
Showed up the first day of senior year all gothed out and insisting we call her Anmorata—it was her nomme de guerre or something,” he huffed.
“She was going to be a star, go into the movies because being a pageant kid was harshing her potential. The thing is, she’s not good at it. Acting, I mean.”
I felt a pang of pity for her, even though she was my main suspect. “It takes work. And it’s always different when you’re in an audition and not just showing off for friends.”
“Trust me,” Clarence muttered. “She’s just not good.
Thinks she can get a ride to the top because she’s pretty and quirky.
She’s been using people to get ahead since she was nineteen, at least. Wait.
..” His eyes flared wide, lips paring in prurient interest. “Did she, like, try to come on to you or something? Oh my god she is so oblivious. Okay you’re not like giving off huge gay vibes but you’re not in the closet at all. Everyone knows!”
“Er, no, no, she didn’t hit on me or anything. I just heard she’d talked to Tubbs. The, um, old guy. The one who wanted something faxed.”
Clarence’s expression bordered on disgust. “He was such a jerk. Even Anmorata can do better. She’s not going to talk to you though.”
“Ah?”
“She took off with some guy she met at the cocktail party. She worked part time at Deena’s Deals—you know that resale shop on Gull Road?
Anyway, Deena’s my aunt and she was super pissed when Claire just no-showed on Monday.
” He leaned in, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“She ran off with some bro she met at that cocktail party Thursday night. Dub-Tee-Eff!”
“You don’t know who?”
“Like I said, not friends. And she didn’t exactly tell Aunt Deena anything. Deena just found out the reason because she called Claire’s mom to find out where she was. Mrs. Cox was losing her damn mind about her daughter leaving like that.”
Huh. I nodded. “Yeah, I... I guess I don’t blame her.” Shit.
“Claire or her mom?” Clarence laughed. “I mean, I get wanting to get out of a tiny town but Claire’ll be back by the end of the month. She always is.”
Nessie trotted out of the office with a box of tissues, frowning deeply. "When Melinda gets here, she has a whole afternoon of work to do on those storage cupboards! Oh, you don't need these?"
Clarence sniffed, eyes welling up again. "It's just so much!"
Hastily, I gave him a pat on the back and a wink while Nessie fussed over his tears. "See you later?" I mouthed. He nodded, a smile flickering at the corner of his lips.
It was only ten past twelve when I headed out of the library and headed towards Buttermilk Road. If I played my cards right, I could get back to the house, set up my phone, and make a few calls before heading to Two Moons Inn to talk to The Ladies Who Lunch.