27. Will
WILL
Iknocked on Derek’s trailer door, feeling as nervous as on my first day of school, and not my first day as a student, when it was perfectly acceptable to cry and cling to my nanny’s leg.
No, I was as nervous as on my first day as a teacher, when I had to convince a room full of petrified kids I knew what I was doing.
The door swung open, and for a second, as I took in the work boots, flannel shirt, and Red Sox cap, I thought I was staring at James. But then I clocked Derek’s knowing grin and Tony’s disapproving glare.
“I’ll come back,” I said, retreating.
Derek laughed. “That’s okay. Tony was just leaving.”
Tony nodded curtly as he stepped down from the trailer. There was plenty of room for him to walk around me, but he stood there, waiting for me to move out of his way, which I did.
“Last time I saw you, you were sprinting off into the night,” Derek said when we were alone in his trailer. “Damsel in distress, I presume?”
“Yeah, something like that.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and rocked on my heels. “I just wanted to come and—”
“I know why you’re here. You want to know what I think about your father’s plan to pit us against each other.”
Not how I would’ve put it, but yeah.
“I think it’s stupid,” he said. “It’s unfair to both of us.”
I nodded, afraid to meet his eyes.
“But I’m not mad at you, Will. I know you’re not responsible.”
“I’ll tell them no.” I meant it, too. Even if this was the closest I’d ever come to acting again, I’d turn it down for Derek.
He reached over and plucked a piece of lint from my shirt.
“I think you should do it. Show Michelle and the studio why they used to call you the next DiCaprio. I’m well aware you’ll make me look bad, but if it gets you back in the game, it’s a price I’m willing to pay.
Maybe your mom will decide to make a sequel to The Beautiful, and we can give Chase and Oliver the happily ever after they never got. ”
Chase was dying of AIDS when the credits rolled, but that wasn’t the point. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. Now, let’s watch some Man with a Plan and figure out this stupid fucking accent.”
I had a lot to process after my first day of filming in over a decade, so as soon as I got home, I put on my running shorts and set off.
That morning, we’d filmed the dead dog scene, which had been surprisingly difficult. Ryan had performed his part—being a whiny little bitch—expertly, and Dad had been maddeningly indifferent to the dog murder he’d just committed.
“Sounds like a personal problem to me,” he’d said.
But Derek and I had been tasked with conveying Travis’s rage, grief, and astonishment through a mask of stoic resignation, which was basically impossible.
It took Derek several hours and countless takes to get something passable, and he was so exhausted afterward that he went and took a nap.
He might as well have stayed and watched me film my version, though, because Michelle wanted to move on after only three takes, reminding me that they didn’t need perfection from me, just my warm body for Dad to play off.
Later that day, though, Michelle called me over to watch my version of the scene, and for the first time in over a decade, something suspiciously like pride overtook me.
“This is some very impressive work, William,” she said. “There’s not even a trace of you in this performance. And the camera is catching it all, every internal emotion. It’s really quite remarkable.”
My phone chimed in my ear, cutting off my running music. It was Tiffany.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you have a new boyfriend. I had to hear it from Miles, and now I don’t know what to believe.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just pretending so James can go to Andy’s wedding.”
“You know you’re allowed to bring someone you’re not fucking, right? Someone like me.”
I loved this part of my run, gliding under the canopy of giant oak trees. “We’re definitely not fucking.”
“Then explain yourself. What does this James guy have that I don’t?”
“Well, a killer mustache, for one.” The neighbors must have recently mowed their lawn because the air smelled like fresh-cut grass. “And it’s not just so he can go to the wedding.”
I explained how Theo had made the whole thing up and tried to play it off as if he’d done me a huge favor.
“I think Theo actually thought Ryan was interested in me and got jealous.”
“I get the Ryan part,” Tiffany said. “He’s so fucking hot, it’s no wonder the kid lost his mind. But please tell me you see the irony in pretending to have a boyfriend just so people won’t think you’re pretending to have a boyfriend.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This all seems perfectly normal to me, and it’s working. Derek is talking to me again.” The oaks ended, and I was immersed in sunlight once more.
“Can you hold on a sec?” Tiffany must have cupped her hand over the phone because her shouts caused only mild hearing loss. “Sorry about that. Jennifer thinks I’m playing with her. She’s got her door locked and her music blaring. I’m strongly considering removing her doorknobs.”
“Should I let you go?” I ran around the flattened body of a dead garter snake.
“Yeah, maybe. Can I call you later?”
“I won’t be around later. James is taking me to play miniature golf, then we’re going to get creemees.”
“What the fuck are creemees? Is this some kind of gay sex thing?”
“No, it’s just what they call soft-serve ice cream up here. Apparently, you haven’t lived until you’ve had a maple creemee. Don’t tell Miles.”
“So, your fake boyfriend is taking you out on a date? Remind me which part of this is fake again.”
“The part where we’re not sleeping together and the only displays of affection I get are public displays of affection.
” I told her about the dinner party and how convincing James had been.
“And it’s not a date. We just like to hang out, that’s all.
Yesterday, we played horseshoes for, like, four hours.
James said it was important to fully understand my character.
I tried to tell him that he’s not my character, but James doesn’t take no for an answer. ”
“So, let me get this straight, you’re acting in the movie, but you’re not actually in it?”
“Yeah, exactly. They shoot it several times with Derek and then several times with me, and I don’t know about the rest. That’s what the editing team is for.
I guess they just cut me out and put Derek in.
” I could barely work the copy machine at school.
How the hell would I know how they edit footage together?
“So, when are you going to make your move on James?”
Fields of corn spread out on either side of me, framed by ancient stone walls. “Uh, never.”
“Why not? You obviously like him. Every other word out of your mouth is James this and James that.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I could never make a move on James.
What if he got mad and broke up with me?
What if he punched me in the face? What if he told the tabloids what a pathetic loser I am, making up a fake boyfriend so Derek wouldn’t think I was stalking him?
“We’ve got a good thing going on. It’s fine the way it is. ”
“You’re fine just palling around? You don’t wish you could snuggle up and watch a movie together?”
“I didn’t say that.” Watching a movie with James would be heaven, his breath in my ear, the scratch of his facial hair on my neck, and . . .
“So you do want more. What are you going to do about it? What’s your plan? You can’t throw a dinner party every time you want a little physical intimacy.”
That wasn’t a terrible idea. My father had been asking to meet James all week. Was it wrong to use dinner with my dying father as an excuse to get James to touch me?
There was a loud crashing sound on Tiffany’s end of the line. “Shit, I gotta go,” she said. “Tell James you’ve never played mini golf before and need him to show you how to hold the club. Then back that ass up.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hung up.
Over the next several miles, I tried to think about the movie, but my brain was stuck on James.
And as I rounded the corner by the cemetery and the house came into view, I did something I’d never done before.
I took my sweat-soaked shirt off and tucked it into the waistband of my shorts.
I felt naked and vulnerable, but a little bit sexy, too.
As I was jogging up the driveway, a car nearly ran me over. My car. What the fuck? I tried to wave Theo down, but he didn’t seem to notice me.
“I think Theo just stole my car,” I said, staring down at James, who was lounging in the pool on the green floatie.
“Are you serious?” Without waiting for an answer, he rolled off the raft and hoisted himself out of the water. He didn’t bother with a shirt or dry pants, just slipped on his flip-flops and grabbed his keys on the way out.
“I’m coming with you,” I said, hurrying after.
“No, I’ll handle this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He stole my car, and if we manage to catch up with him, someone’s going to have to drive it back.”
“Fine.” James climbed into his 4Runner as I made my way over to the passenger seat. He didn’t even wait for me to shut my door before tearing down the driveway, kicking up enough dust to blot out the house behind us.
My sweat-soaked skin peeled from the leather seat like Velcro as I reached for the seatbelt. “Where’s he going? And why would he steal my car?”
“Because I told him he couldn’t borrow mine.”
It wasn’t the most illuminating answer, but the set of James’s jaw told me to drop it.
The crunch of gravel gave way to a steady hum as we turned onto the paved road. “Andy used to do shit like this all the time,” I said, rolling down my window. “Once, he and his buddies stole a whole fucking yacht.”
James grunted, clearly not reassured.
“I’m sorry,” I said, regretting my choice of dismissive empathy.
“You must be really worried. I am, too. But Theo’s smart, and this is Vermont.
There’s hardly any traffic. And he has his permit, right?
It’s not like he has no driving experience.
” I tried not to think about how he'd almost run me over without noticing.
James kept his eyes on the road and his hands tight on the wheel. His shoulders were peeling from a sunburn, and his skin was still wet from the pool.
We came to a fork, and James turned right without hesitation.
“Do you know where he’s going?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
I let my arm dangle out the window. “I could call him, or do you think that might distract him while he’s driving?”
“No, go for it.”
I tried several times, but Theo didn’t pick up. “I could have Ryan call him. Then he’d definitely answer.”
James blew through a stop sign at forty. “Except he doesn’t have Ryan’s number and won’t know who’s calling.”
I hadn’t thought of that. Then I had a brilliant idea. “I’ll have Miles call.”
Miles was better than any therapist or bartender at building rapport with his clients. People trusted him. They told him all their dirty secrets.
Ten minutes later, Miles called back. “He’s okay,” he said. “But your rental car is fucked.”
We found Theo and the car two miles away in someone’s yard. He’d smashed through their log fence and flattened their orange lilies. According to Miles, Theo accidentally pulled the emergency brake, thinking it was the seat lever, and spun out. Luckily, no one was home.
“What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed,” James fumed.
I’d never seen him so angry. Every part of his body looked tight enough to snap.
Theo was on the verge of tears, his shoulders shaking.
“Will, take Theo home. I’ll take care of this.” James stomped over to examine the tire tracks cutting across the lawn.
I left Theo by the 4Runner and caught up with him. “Why don’t you go with him?” I said, leaning in so only James could hear. “I have every type of insurance possible, so as long as they think I was driving, it should be covered.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Yes, you can. Now go hug your son. He’s scared out of his mind. You can yell at him tomorrow.”
James looked from the busted-up car to Theo and sighed. “I’m gonna make this up to you.”
I set my hand on his bare shoulder. “You already have. Besides, what are fake boyfriends for?”