Chapter Three
Simon has rules: the cups go in the cabinet in a particular order, the car gets parked in a particular part of the driveway,
and the laundry gets done in a particular way. They’re so second nature that he sometimes doesn’t notice he even has a rule
until someone breaks it. With Jamie around, his rules are in shambles and he’s constantly running into evidence that his mind
was put together wrong.
He can’t tell whether Jamie’s noticed. Probably not, because if he had, he’d have insisted on talking about it. Or—worse—he’d
have quietly started following Simon’s deranged little rules because he doesn’t want to be a bother. Which is all the more
reason for Simon to make sure Jamie never finds out, obviously.
Simon’s sitting on the sofa, trying to read a book while his brain is screaming that the cabinets are wrong and his groceries are wrong and also everything in the world is wrong because Simon didn’t turn the doorknob the correct number of times and how can
a person be expected to function under these circumstances.
Yesterday, his therapist gently reminded him that his rules have a name, a diagnosis, and a treatment plan; it isn’t just that Simon’s super bitchy about his surroundings.
When he was living alone, he’d been able to delude himself into thinking he was cured.
He doesn’t want to admit how much worse he is now than he was a year ago.
The thing is, he likes having Jamie here, and he wishes the more malfunctioning parts of his psyche would get on board with
that. There’s some deep, pathetic part of Simon that wants to take the people he loves—who love him—and just, like, chain
himself to them. Metaphorically, maybe. But also kind of literally. He’d cut out his own tongue before letting anybody figure
that out.
At the other end of the sofa, Jamie gasps.
“What?” Simon asks, glancing over the top of his book. Jamie has the look he only gets when he has something a little mean
and very messy to share. Simon’s mood instantly brightens. Other people’s drama is a thrilling change from the contents of
his own mind.
“Did you recommend a book to Charlie?” Jamie asks.
“I’m not sure anyone’s recommended a book to Charlie in his life.”
“It’s—okay, I’m just going to read the caption.” Jamie drops his voice an octave and adopts a slightly country accent Simon
gathers is supposed to sound like Charlie. “Having a blast reading this book my man Simon Devereaux recommended!”
“What the hell,” Simon whispers. “My man?” Has Charlie had a stroke? Then his brain catches up with the rest of what Jamie
said and he reaches for Jamie’s phone.
On the screen is a selfie of Charlie with a book. He’s lying down, the book open on his chest, the photo taken at just the
right angle to make the most of his entire shoulder/biceps region. But Simon is strong; he isn’t letting himself get distracted
by any of that.
The book on Charlie’s chest is A Scorched Land, the same book Jamie was reading in Simon’s trailer the other day, which—it’s a free country, and Simon might have opinions on the books Jamie chooses to read but he keeps them to himself.
Mostly. But that doesn’t mean he wants his name publicly associated with books about dragons falling in love or whatever the hell is going on in that series.
“Can anyone tell me,” Jamie goes on, leaning over Simon’s shoulder and reading the caption in his fake-Charlie voice, “whether
this girl is actually going to get together with this dragon or???”
“Oh my God.”
“Charlie, God bless him, is over there fully believing you’d read a book about dragonfucking,” Jamie says. “Honestly, you
should be flattered.”
“What are the comments?”
Jamie takes the phone back and scrolls. “Mostly recommendations for books with actual dragonfucking.” He types something,
presumably his own recommendation.
Simon takes his own phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, all the while knowing it’s a bad idea. He opens Instagram, ignores
his notifications, and navigates to Charlie’s profile.
“I feel like I should take your phone,” Jamie says. “I think you’d take my phone in this situation, but on the other hand
I really want to see what happens. God, I hate hard choices.”
“I’m only going to message him,” Simon says. “Nothing public.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. I think you’re so obsessed with that man, you’re basically under the influence. Double
the legal limit. You have no judgment where Charlie Blake is concerned.”
“Charlie Blake robs everyone of their judgment,” Simon says. “He’s like a walking injury to the prefrontal cortex.”
“Welllll,” Jamie starts, but Simon’s already typing.
Simon: That was Jamie’s book. I haven’t read it.
Dots appear almost immediately.
Charlie: ok so can you ask him if the girl is in love with the dragon? comments are divided
Charlie: also you should read it, 100% bugfuck nuts, why aren’t all books like this
Simon squeezes his eyes shut, as if when he opens them he won’t see a screen that’s asking him to make bad choices.
Simon: From what I understand, Jamie thinks everyone’s in love with the dragons, but he isn’t sure whether the characters or the
author are aware of this.
Charlie: ???
Simon: Same
He immediately regrets it. It looks like he’s trying to have a conversation with Charlie, something he affirmatively does not want, because he values his sanity.
Charlie: tell him I liked the book. i read it in like five hours
Charlie: first book i finished since high school
Charlie: maybe middle school
“Jamie.” Simon shuts his eyes again because he’s pretty sure he’ll start laughing if Jamie catches his eye. “Charlie wants
you to know that he loved this book. It’s the first book he’s finished in years. He seems excited to have discovered books,
as a concept, and is giving you a lot of the credit.”
When Simon opens his eyes, Jamie looks deliriously happy with the mess of it all. “What does he talk about with the people
he dates?”
“What do you mean?”
“Charlie was with Alex for a while. She’s super smart. Didn’t he also date Bethany in costumes? She has an MFA.”
Simon opens his mouth to point out that intelligent women are perfectly capable of dating people for their looks, but something
stops him. Charlie isn’t book smart. Simon isn’t sure he finished high school. Sometimes it seems like he might not even have
finished kindergarten; Simon was eyewitness to the moment Charlie—delighted—learned that the rhinoceros is not a creature
from the Mesozoic Era but something you could see at the zoo.
But Charlie learns his lines faster than anyone Simon’s worked with and he’s quick on his feet. “I think he’s smart in some
other way. Like, some mysterious way you and I can’t recognize.”
Jamie blinks at him. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about Charlie Blake.”
Simon lobs a throw pillow in Jamie’s direction.
It’s Out There tradition to have dinner at Lian’s house the night after shooting wraps—just the main cast, no partners. It’s a social obligation
Simon doesn’t actively dread. He sees these people nearly every day. They already know he’s standoffish. Expectations are
appropriately low. Simon could probably take out his phone and do a crossword puzzle and nobody would even think it was strange.
He could put on noise-canceling headphones and dark sunglasses and simply astral project to some calmer, better place, the
way he does sometimes on set. They’d all just say, that’s Simon, he’s an asshole, what can you do.
He sits next to Roshni, who’s played a bounty hunter on Out There for four seasons. She’s part of what Simon thinks of as the Calm Faction of the cast and crew along with Simon and Lian,
as opposed to the Feral Faction, which includes Charlie and Alex. Somewhere in the middle are Petra, who plays a telepathic
diplomat, and Amadi, who plays an alien prince.
The food is—well, Simon picks at it and spreads it around his plate, because he’s had two migraines in the past month, which
is a lot better than this time last year but it’s still more than zero.
He’s operating on the theory that if he avoids every migraine trigger in existence, he might get marginally fewer headaches.
Not that he’s noticed any kind of correlation between what he eats and whether he gets a migraine.
It’s more like he’s hoping the universe will deduct a headache or two for his extra effort.
This is—he is well aware—not rational, but neither is repeatedly counting the hoops in Alex’s left ear, and he’s already done that six times tonight.
Lian comes up behind his chair and leans down. “It’s vegan,” she whispers.
Which means (1) it doesn’t have whatever aged meats or cheeses give some people migraines, and (2) Lian’s been paying attention
to what he eats. This gives Simon a strange feeling that he refuses to identify or dwell on, so he takes a bite of what turns
out to be some kind of grain salad and arranges his face so it looks like he’s paying attention to the conversations around
him.
Charlie (wearing actual cargo shorts in a room full of adults eating an expensively catered dinner at their boss’s house)
is arguing loudly with Alex about something Simon thinks is a cartoon. They’ve been having this exact argument for seven years.
Amadi is letting Petra monologue about her wedding plans. Roshni and Lian are whispering, their heads close together.
It’s comfortable in a way he imagines isn’t so rare for most people. He isn’t going to miss the work, but he might miss this
feeling of almost belonging. He’ll never go to Lian’s house for another dinner she insists is mainly for the tax deduction
but is actually because—against all odds—most of the people on this show like one another. Well, they don’t like him, but
he’s one of them anyway.
He’s almost enjoying himself, despite the occasional displeased looks Charlie keeps throwing his way. Annoyingly, Simon doesn’t