Chapter 14
There Has to Be a Twist
The next morning I showed up on time, not early, like a reasonable person who wasn’t looking for excuses to see her ex. The rest of the cast had beat me, and they were chatting with Kevin in the rehearsal space as I arrived.
“No, I’ll be fine, I’m twenty-nine and not a child,” he said, which made Kathleen cackle.
“Twenty-nine is a child, sweetie,” she said. “You’re allowed to miss your boyfriend on your birthday.”
“It’s your birthday?” I asked, feeling how everyone else knew and trying not to mind. If I got things like drunken nights squished into Chevy Sparks, they could have their own things too. “Happy twenty-nine.”
“Same age as me,” Michael said, which made us all crack up. “Maybe laugh less hard at that, guys.”
“Are you doing anything fun?” I asked. “Do you even have time to?”
“Just a few people going to Walt’s later,” he said, sort of waving his hand past the room, as if a few people were the rest of the cast and crew. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I mean, I can worry about it,” I said, though I didn’t know who or what Walt’s was, and maybe I couldn’t go.
But I’d spent a lot of birthdays—including my twenty-ninth, come to think of it—out of town working and far from anyone who loved me, so I knew what it felt like.
I texted Aisha to see if she could do any recon, if I could try to join everyone later.
It was the sort of thing I would have sent Erica’s way in the past, but I knew what Erica would say and I didn’t care.
Verne walked into the room. I’d preferred life before they’d seen me as a drunken mess who’d dozed off in their car but Verne’s attitude at least hadn’t shifted in any noticeable way.
“Kevin, did you let them know?” they asked.
“That it’s his birthday?” I said, feeling how I was trying way too hard. “Yes.”
Verne sighed. “No. The Hometown billboards are going up today, and they’re going to unveil the one up the block from us now. Before rehearsal begins, I’m going to film y’all seeing it. Sound good?”
Even if it hadn’t, we didn’t have a choice, so the cast dutifully followed Verne down to the lobby, outside, and down the block.
“This doesn’t feel like it’s going to be that exciting,” Henry said.
“I’ve never done theatre that got a real billboard before,” Ashlee said. “It’ll impress my parents.”
“OK, there it goes,” Verne said, aiming their two phones at us as the giant tarp yanked away and the billboard came into focus. The billboard of Hometown’s title treatment, the DTA logo, and my face.
“Maybe it’ll impress Tess’s parents,” Michael said.
I shrugged. “They’re dead.”
“Great content, everyone,” Verne said with a sigh.
“Let’s get back to work,” Michael said, heading toward the theatre. I watched my face for a few moments more before following everyone back in.
I decided that no matter how Aisha responded, I was going to that party.
Kevin deserved it, and maybe I deserved it too.
I spent my lunch googling for gluten-free cake recipes and scheduled a grocery order to arrive home as I did.
By the time I parked at Walt’s a couple hours after that, I was in my regular clothes—faded Highland Bulldogs T-shirt I’d stolen years ago from Andy with off-the-rack jeans and sneakers, contacts switched out for my round tortoiseshell frames—but Aisha had already texted back that it seemed like a chill Eastside bar that wouldn’t pay me any mind even if I walked in as Professional Actress Tess Gardner, so I felt good when I arrived.
I didn’t spot anyone I knew in the bar, but walked through to a back patio where Kevin, Stephanie, Hannah, the entire cast, and Rebecca were sitting.
“Oh my god!” Kevin yelled when he saw me. “I told you you didn’t have to come.”
A terrible feeling roiled through me. Sometimes just being somewhere could make an event turn all about me. “Did you not want me to? I’m sorry I—”
“No,” he said, jumping up. “I literally can’t believe you’re here. I figured you had way better things to do.”
“Literally nothing better to do than this.” I presented him with the cake. “I should issue a disclaimer that while it does look delicious, I’ve never made a gluten-free cake before so we’ll see.”
“You made this?” Kevin took it from me and set the platter on the table before turning to give me a hug. “This is already making up for being out of town. Can someone see if they have a knife in the bar?”
“No, I brought a knife,” I said, pulling one out of my bag as everyone stared at me with raised eyebrows.
Michael stood up. “I’ll go get some plates, unless you’ve somehow housed an entire kitchen in there. Anyone want a beer? Tess, I assume not you. Whatever organic kombucha thing they have?”
“I’m not training for anything right now,” I said. “And I’m from the Midwest! Get me a beer! Actually—I’m very happy to go get my own beer—”
“I got you,” he said, heading in.
“Sit down,” Kathleen said. “You’re making me nervous waving that knife around from up there.”
I squeezed into the spot next to her before realizing it put me directly across from Rebecca, though she was deep in conversation with Stephanie.
“Here you go.” Michael set a beer in front of me as well as a stack of plates. “You want to do the honors, Kevin?”
“I can’t be in charge of cake-cutting,” he said with a look of more than mild panic, which struck the rest of us as hilarious. “Y’all, I am off the clock.”
“I’ll handle it,” Rebecca said, standing up, as I got back up to add the 2 and 9 candles I’d brought as well.
The whole table sang “Happy Birthday”—there was really nothing like the harmonizing a play’s cast and crew could manage—and Kevin successfully blew out the candles while Kathleen hollered at him to make a wish.
“Jesus, what do you think’s going to happen if he forgets?
” Michael asked her, which made all of us laugh even more than we already were.
I removed the candles so Rebecca could slice the cake, and by the time it was passed around and people were making the sorts of noises that hadn’t historically gone with gluten-free desserts, I felt the exact opposite of the emotion I’d had earlier seeing that billboard unveiled.
“So I heard a rumor,” Kathleen said, turning to Rebecca and me as the table began to fall back into smaller conversations between clusters of people. “Were you two at Applewoods at the same time?”
I sipped my beer and waited for Rebecca to answer. I was the perfect picture of a chill and casual person who in no way was screaming on the inside.
“We were!” Rebecca beamed at me. “Gardner was the ingenue. I got all the old-woman parts.”
Kathleen cackled. “That was my lot there too.”
“So I was in good company,” Rebecca said, leaning forward. Her knees bumped mine under the table. “Yeah, I get to feel superior for knowing how great Gardner was before the rest of the world did.”
“You were great too.” I wondered if I should move my legs.
Rebecca hadn’t shifted back. Had she noticed?
I was pretty sure that her legs weren’t numb, so she must have known.
God, why was I thinking of numb legs? Why couldn’t I be normal for one solid moment around her? “You played so many good old women.”
Rebecca laughed and shook her head. “Thank you, but it became fairly evident that a career in acting might not be for me. I’m still grateful as hell for that opportunity.”
“Tess,” Kevin called, and I looked over to see him, Henry, and Ashlee rushing toward me. “Have you seen the pinball machines in there?”
“You a big pinball aficionado, Gardner?” Rebecca asked with a grin.
“One might say a wizard,” I said, making myself laugh harder than was appropriate. “Sorry, no, what’s happening right now?”
Kevin grabbed my hand and pulled me up, and while I was disappointed to no longer be touching knees with Rebecca, I felt the comfort among everyone here, and how I was maybe on the inside of it after all.
It turned out that one of the bar’s pinball machines, located just off of the main bar area, was a Princess Platinum model I’d never seen before.
In my blending-in-with-the-crowd outfit I couldn’t have felt less like her, and I even let Kevin take photos of me posed with it (with my glasses off, since if I was never seen with them in public I could keep getting away with disguising myself that way—my Clark Kent lifestyle).
Henry had a large handful of quarters—we didn’t ask; I had a knife in my bag and Henry had an unreasonable amount of loose change and it was all fine—so we each took a turn.
I played quite poorly and was grateful it wasn’t some kind of official event, that the only people who could roast me were Henry, Kevin, and Ashlee.
I headed out when the group started to break up—it had been a perfect night but I was also eager to get home to Rosie and the comfort of my sofa—and nearly bumped into Rebecca as I headed up Eagle Rock Boulevard to my car.
“Sorry,” she said, looking up from her phone. “I haven’t learned LA sidewalk etiquette yet. Is there LA sidewalk etiquette? I’m just trying to order a Lyft.”
“Do you need a ride?” I asked, because apparently my subconscious couldn’t just let a perfect night be a perfect night without some nonsense thrown in.
“You don’t mind?” Rebecca asked, as something that felt like stupid na?ve hope unspooled within me.
“Not at all, you’re on my way,” I lied. “I’m parked just up the block.”
We fell into step together, and Rebecca practically hopped up and down when my Porsche came into view. “It’s the car!”
My heart thudded in my chest. “What?”
“I’ve heard so much about the car,” Rebecca said as I unlocked the doors. “Everyone talks about it. Ooh, the leather. It smells great in here.”
“I have it oiled regularly,” I said, and we both cracked up. I sat down normally, but Rebecca clunked into the seat with an oof, and we laughed even harder.
“Wow,” she said, “it’s low.”
“Sorry, I guess I’m used to it.”