Chapter 14
We walked down the road to Wylie’s house, falling into step together. And while Andy probably only weighed around ten pounds, I found it comforting to have his warm weight resting against me, his paws twitching as he dreamed, solid proof that he was safe and heading home.
Now that we were no longer searching, we’d both pocketed our flashlights and were walking by moonlight, the desert stars above us. Russell looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. “You were about to say something.”
“When? I’ve been saying a lot of things.”
“Before. Just as we spotted Andy. You were… telling me about how we couldn’t start fresh. Right?”
“Oh.” I rubbed one hand over Andy’s head, trying to get back to the certainty I’d felt not even that long ago. I tried to find it—but it seemed out of reach. And maybe it was the relief, the lightness I felt now that we’d gotten the dog back. Or just that I had seen Russell dash in front of a car and across very expensive private property to try and save a tiny troublemaking dog. But for whatever reason, nothing was seeming as black and white right now. Or maybe it’s just hard to hold a grudge when a tiny terrier is sleeping on your chest.
I knew it wouldn’t be like it was back in Jesse—we were in reality now, the spell broken. And standing in the rubble of the fantasies of how it was supposed to be, I wanted to know the truth. Because I didn’t know this Russell—the real one. But a moment later, I realized that I really wanted to.
I stopped walking, took a breath, and turned to him. “Hi.”
“Hi?”
“I’m Darcy.”
Understanding dawned on Russell’s face, and he started to smile. “Darcy. Like the song?”
“Like the song.”
“You know—my dad wrote that song.”
“No way!”
“Way. I’m Russell Sanders.” He held out his hand to me, and I shook it. When we touched, a thrill ran through me—but not the same one that had been there when we’d touched back in Jesse. There was memory in it now, and history.
“Nice to meet you, Russell.”
“I live in LA. I have six siblings and two cats.”
“Cats! You didn’t mention the cats.”
He gave me a guilty grimace. “I didn’t mention a lot of things.”
“Where do you live in LA?”
“Um—we’re in Brentwood.”
“Ah.” I felt my cheeks get hot as I remembered how I’d described it, as a terrible place full of assholes. “Sorry about—what I said.”
“I mean, you’re not wrong.”
“Is that why you told me you lived in Ojai?”
“We used to live there. When my mom and dad were together. It was one of my favorite times. We had this great house, and everyone pretty much accepted us as normal; we didn’t get a ton of attention. And it was the three of us… until it wasn’t. They split up when I was ten, and my mom and I moved to LA.”
“And you met the Bens?”
“Exactly.”
“So the Bens are real.”
“Believe me, nobody could make them up.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe we’ve both been in LA this whole time.”
He laughed. “I know. It is wild to think about the fact that we’ve probably passed each other on the freeway.”
“Or in line at Vidiots or the Bowl.”
“No.” Russell’s voice was definitive. “I would have noticed you for sure. I would have remembered.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Um, we just met.”
“Right,” Russell said, nodding. “Apologies.”
The wind picked up, sending a chilly breeze across us and reminding me that even southern Nevada got cold at night.
“You okay? I should have brought a sweater or something.…”
“I’m all right,” I said, “I have the dog keeping me warm. And I should get used to this, right? I’ll be dealing with actual winter soon enough.”
Russell grimaced. “Right.”
“And you’ll have it even worse in Michigan.…” I looked over at him sharply. “Are you going to Michigan?”
He let out a short laugh, the kind with no humor in it. “Yeah. I mean… maybe? It’s…” His mouth twisted suddenly, like he’d just bitten into a lemon, and he took a breath. “I didn’t get into the BFA program,” he said quietly. “I lied about that, and I’m sorry. I just… wanted it to be true, I guess. Even for a little while.”
“Michigan’s still a really good school, though. Even if you didn’t get into the musical theater part of it.”
“Yeah,” Russell said, but not very convincingly. “I actually… That…” He trailed off, but I somehow knew that he was working through something—not to jump in just yet, but to let him get there. “It’s what my dad and I fought about,” he finally said. “At Silverspun. It’s how I ended up in the bus station to begin with.”
“You fought about… Michigan?”
“Yeah. When I first applied, I didn’t get into the BFA program, but I got wait-listed for the regular admission. And then in May, I got a letter telling me I was off the wait list for the regular school. And it seemed like… what I should do. Like you said, it’s a good school. Everyone was happy. My mom got to tell all her friends where I was going. It made sense, right?”
I nodded, recognizing something in his expression—the look of desperately trying to turn lemons into lemonade.
“So that was the plan. But then, right before my dad was taking the stage at Silverspun, I was backstage with him. He’d given me his phone to hold while he warmed up. And that’s when I saw the email.” He paused, then took a breath before he went on, the way you do before you jump into cold water—bracing yourself for what’s coming. “It was from Michigan. They were giving him an update on their plans for the generous donation he’d pledged back in May.”
“Oh.”
“And it made me feel so stupid. I think that was the worst part, you know? I was so embarrassed that I’d let myself be proud I’d gotten in. Because of course I hadn’t done it on my own. Of course my dad had pulled strings to make it happen. Of course they didn’t want me—not without him.”
“That’s… a lot.” All at once, I understood why the Russell I’d met shortly after this had all gone down wouldn’t have wanted to tell me who he really was. Why being Wylie Sanders’s son in that moment would be the last thing he’d want to claim.
“As soon as the show was over, I confronted him about it.” Russell’s voice was raw, like he was still processing this, present tense. “And the worst part was that he didn’t seem to understand why I was upset—and then he was hurt because he’d done what he thought was a good thing and I was ‘throwing it in his face.’?” Russell stumbled over a loose piece of gravel. I reached out to him instinctively, but he righted himself and kicked the rock away angrily.
“Anyway, then I told him I didn’t ask for this and I didn’t want anything of his, and I didn’t need him. That was me being very mature, by the way.” I laughed at that, and Russell shook his head. “And then I ran out and found the buses that were going to LA, and I got on the first one.”
“And then what happened?”
Russell stared at me for a second, then laughed. “Good one.”
I walked next to him in silence for a moment as I thought through all this. I suddenly flashed to the way his face had crumpled, back in the Silver Standard office, when he’d finally pulled out his phone. I realized now what I hadn’t known then—just how much it had cost him to make that call. “So did you guys—I don’t know… clear the air?”
“I think we basically called a time-out. My dad and I don’t fight much. It’s like we don’t have the skill set or something. So we weren’t getting anywhere, just going around in circles…”
I nodded and we walked in silence for a moment—but the kind of silence that felt like an ellipsis, not a period.
“I just think the fundamental problem is that he doesn’t understand why I’m upset. He just thinks I’m being ungrateful. And I know this is a ridiculous thing to be complaining about! I’m crazy lucky, and so privileged, and I know that. I do. But…” His voice trailed off.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. I knew full well that I could just leave this here. I didn’t have to talk about me, or my situation, even though they were actually kind of similar. But all at once—I wanted to. I took a big breath and made myself say it. “I… kind of know what that’s like. To feel like it wasn’t your choice. It sucks.”
“It really does,” Russell said, even though I could hear the question in his voice. “So is your dad also a huge rock star?”
“Oh, man—did I forget to mention that? So embarrassing. My name is actually Darcy Matthews Band.”
Russell laughed. “You know Band isn’t actually part of Dave’s last name, right?”
“You call him Dave?” The second I asked it, I shook my head. “I mean, of course you do.”
Russell cleared his throat. “Well—he is my godfather.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Well, it was the first one I thought of. I couldn’t remember Bono’s real last name.”
“Hewson.”
“Okay. Is he also your godfather?”
“Nope. He’s Connor’s.”
I smiled, shaking my head, and looked over at Russell. He was looking back at me steadily, like he knew I was stalling. I took a breath and twisted my fingers in the dog’s fur. “It was just—I kind of understand—that is…” My voice was coming out halting and jerky, like a car I couldn’t quite get to start. “What you were saying about Michigan,” I finally said.
“Right.”
“I’m kind of in a similar thing with Stanwich.”
“Because you got that great financial-aid package?”
I nodded. And once again, it was like I could see my escape hatch—I could just leave this there. But I was done keeping it close to my chest. The thing that had been wrecking my sleep and churning my thoughts for months now—I wanted to share it with the one person who, I realized, might actually understand. “It’s actually because of my mother.”
“Your mother?”
“Yeah.” I took a breath—and told him the truth. “She works in the HR department at Stanwich College.”
Russell frowned. “But I thought… you said she was in England?”
“She was. But she moved back to the States last year.” I started walking a little faster, and Russell sped up to keep pace with me.
“So—that was a fact about your life that you forgot to mention.”
“Russell.”
“Sorry.” We walked in silence for a moment, and I could feel Russell looking over at me, waiting for me to continue, as I tried to figure out what, exactly, I wanted to say. “So your mom works at the college. And that’s how you have such a great aid package. Right?”
He was laying out the facts, but I could also hear the question in his voice—he was struggling to understand why this was such a big deal. I suddenly flashed back to the Stanwich College brochure Gillian had sent to me, the Post-it with her handwriting on the front: A perfect place for a fresh start! As though it was that easy. As though it was a thing she got to decide.
“It’s just—my mom left when I was two.”
“Oh.” I watched his face change, like he was shifting gears. “I—you said your parents got divorced—”
“They did. Eventually. After she walked out. She wanted to be an actress—and I guess we were holding her back?” I tried to toss this off, the way I always did when I talked about Gillian. But it wasn’t working this time. The words were settling on me, heavy with their meaning. “I mean—who knows. She and my dad had me pretty young. I don’t think I was part of either of their plans.” I glanced over at Russell in the moonlight, his expression letting me know that it was okay, that I could go on.
“It’s just…” This was something I tried not to think about too much but that would inevitably creep in, an insidious whisper whenever I was feeling particularly low. “It was probably me who wrecked their plans, actually. My dad trying to be a novelist, Gillian—my mother—trying to be an actress. But then I came along and my dad’s temporary job became his real one.…” I shook my head. “Anyway. She left us and went to New York to make it—and then to London. Because there’s no acting jobs in LA. And then once she was gone, Gillian didn’t really make time for me when I was growing up. I didn’t see her very much. Occasionally… but…”
“Darcy, I’m so sorry.” I could practically feel Russell’s eyes searching for mine, but to get through this, I needed to be looking at the asphalt or the tangly fur on Andy’s back, not his blue-green eyes.
“I feel like… it almost would have been better if she had made it. If she had become a movie star like she always wanted. Like it at least would have been for something. But she just married a British guy and had three kids with him. Kids she actually takes care of.”
I heard Russell draw in a sharp breath. Tears were starting to prickle my eyes and I held the dog a little closer. A part of me still couldn’t believe that I was doing this—sharing things I never told people. Things I never even usually let myself think.
“But I was fine with how things were,” I said, shifting Andy to one arm and brushing my hand across my eyes quickly. “I mean…” I adjusted the dog again—he was starting to get heavy.
Russell reached out and took him from me carefully, his eyes not leaving mine. He settled Andy in the crook of his arm—the dog blinked, unfazed, and yawned again—and gestured for me to keep going.
I looked up for just a moment at a cloud crossing the moon and took a breath. What was the point in lying? If I’d ever had a moment where I could be totally honest, it would seem to be now. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t fine. I was pretty angry with her. I am,” I corrected a second later. “But I’d really come to terms with it. I was okay with this status quo we’d found. You know?”
“But then something happened?”
“Yeah. When she and Ant-ony—that’s her husband—”
“Why does everything sound better with a British accent?”
“It really does, doesn’t it?”
“Sorry—go on.”
“When they moved from the UK to Connecticut, Gillian got a job in Human Resources. At Stanwich College. And suddenly she’s back in touch, insisting I apply to Stanwich. Making sure that I know that employees’ kids get basically all their tuition paid.”
“Right.”
“And I didn’t think I’d need it!” I heard the frustration explode in my voice as this came out, louder than I’d expected it to. “I applied to a whole bunch of other places—schools that I actually wanted to go to. And I kind of wish I would have looked at Stanwich before all this—so I would at least know how I felt about it.”
“I get that.”
“And then…”
“Brisket,” Russell filled in, and I smiled.
“Brisket,” I agreed. “So when I only got into two schools—it felt like it wasn’t even really a choice. A free ride, or loans my whole life.” I turned to face him more fully. “Oh, sorry. Loans are what you take out to pay for school when your father isn’t a rock star.”
“Hey now.”
“And it just feels like I’m—trapped. But then, I feel so guilty, because I’m getting my college paid for, and who cares how it’s happening, you know? I should be grateful.”
“This is sounding familiar,” Russell said, giving me a smile—the kind that actually makes you look sadder—over Andy’s head.
“So tomorrow I start there. Just like she wanted. And me going there is like saying I forgive her, you know? That what she did is somehow okay. It’s like she’s bought me off, knowing I couldn’t turn it down, and I just…” I let out a long, shaky breath. This was the problem with the whole situation—nothing was going to change. I could feel whatever I felt, but the reality was, I was getting on a plane tomorrow and this was happening. “She even offered to pick me up from the airport. Like she can just snap her fingers and pretend she’s my mom.”
Back when I’d first told her I’d gotten in, Gillian had sent me a series of excited emails, asking me for my flight information, saying she would come and get me, help show me around campus. I hadn’t responded to any of them, and each subsequent email had fewer exclamation points, until they stopped coming altogether.
“That’s a lot,” Russell said quietly, echoing what I’d said to him.
“And the worst part is I’m dreading going to college. And that’s not how it should be. I should be excited! I should be thrilled to be off on this whole new adventure, and instead I just want to pretend it’s not happening and take a nap.” I could see, down the street ahead of us, Wylie Sanders’s gates. We’d almost made it back. “Like, I’m sure you would have gotten off the wait list even without your dad—”
“But I’ll never know for sure.”
“And I might have really liked Stanwich if I’d just come across it on my own. But now…”
“Yeah,” Russell agreed. “I know what you mean. It’s hard.”
“Yeah.”
We walked together, Wylie Sanders’s house getting ever closer, and I realized I felt a bit… lighter. Not that anything had changed—I had just, in fact, been made aware of how intractable the problem actually was. But it did feel better to have shared it. That there wasn’t some burden I was both hauling around with me and trying to keep hidden.
“Thanks for telling me,” Russell said as we approached Wylie’s gates.
I nodded. “And you too—for telling me, I mean.”
Russell waved up at a camera, and a second later, there was a whrrrr of a motor and the gates started to swing slowly inward. We began our trek up the driveway, and a moment later, I realized I’d been entrusted with something. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about Michigan. I mean—” I flashed to the bus conference room table, C.J. pushing the document over to me. “I did sign that NDA, so I legally can’t. But I wouldn’t anyway.”
“I never worried about that.”
Russell looked over at me and gave me a smile. I returned it, holding his eye for just a moment before I looked away, back toward the house. The balloon dog was there, resplendent on the lawn. I was surprised by how happy I was to see the house—how familiar it seemed in not much time at all.
The door was unlocked, and as we made our way past the Picasso and the desert space portrait and into the main room, I was expecting that it would be full—that everyone would be hanging out in different groupings, and when they saw we’d returned bearing the dog, a cheer would go up hailing the Andy-rescuers.
But Wylie and Chloe were the only ones there—Chloe on the sofa and Wylie sitting on the ottoman coffee table across from her.
“Hey,” Russell said as we stepped into the room. He held up Andy—who was wide-awake now and seemed desperate to get to Wylie, his tail wagging furiously. “Got him.”
Wylie’s face creased into a relieved smile, and Russell set the wriggling dog down. He crossed the room, running full-out, and leapt up onto the coffee table, climbing all over Wylie and trying to lick his face. “Okay, okay,” Wylie said, even as he was laughing as he scooped up the dog. Wylie was in his pajama pants, with his reading glasses hooked over the collar of his sweatshirt. This was no longer the larger-than-life celebrity, impossibly cool, remote and removed. Wylie looked… like a dad. Like Russell had told me he actually was. Like all the rock star had been washed away and this was what was underneath.
“Good work,” Chloe said, speaking quietly as she gave us a smile.
“I knew you’d be back,” Wylie said. He raised the dog up above his head and Andy panted happily at him. “Tomorrow, we get you a new trainer.”
“Where is everyone?” Russell asked, and I was glad, because it was exactly what I’d been wondering.
“They got rides back once we’d heard you’d got him, and then most everyone headed to bed.” Wylie yawned and covered his mouth—and I noticed that even all his rings were gone. He was just wearing a normal silver band on his ring finger, nothing that would have been out of place in a suburban cul-de-sac. “Which is where I’m heading too.”
“Thanks so much,” Chloe said, giving me a smile, still speaking quietly. I took a step closer and saw that there was a tiny blond girl asleep on the couch in kitten pajamas next to her, thumb in her mouth and her head on Chloe’s lap. “Astrid had a nightmare,” she explained with a shrug.
“Funny how the only thing that seems to make the nightmare better is watching Moana,” Wylie said, raising an eyebrow.
“She’s just a girl who knows what she wants,” Chloe said, smiling down at her daughter.
Russell yawned, and then a second later I did too, like I’d just been given permission. And just like that, I felt how tired I was. I’d been fine seconds earlier, but now it was like the events of the day—everything that had happened and just how long I’d been awake—were catching up with me all at once.
“Bedtime for you two as well, it looks like,” Wylie said with another yawn. He glared at his son. “That one was your fault.”
“Sorry,” Russell said with a laugh.
“I’m heading up,” Wylie said as he stood, taking Andy with him. He nodded down at Astrid. “Want me to grab her?”
“I’ll trade you,” Chloe said with a laugh as she scooped up Andy and kissed him on top of his head. Wylie picked up his sleeping daughter. She blinked twice but then closed her eyes again and settled herself onto Wylie’s shoulder.
“Night,” Wylie called as he headed toward the staircase.
“Good night,” Chloe said as she followed behind him, giving my arm a squeeze as she passed me. “You have everything you need, Darcy?”
“And more,” I assured her. “Thank you so much.”
“Coming, Russ?” Wylie asked.
“I’m just going to walk Darcy to her guesthouse,” Russell said, and Wylie headed up the staircase, waving with his free hand. “Um,” he said, turning to me. “If that’s… okay?”
Only a little while ago, I would have said that I’d be fine on my own. A little while ago, he wouldn’t have offered. But now… I nodded.
Chloe shot me the tiniest of looks, one eyebrow raising up a half centimeter. “Night, guys,” she said as she headed toward the stairs. “Thanks for bringing me home, mates!” she added in an Australian accent, making Andy wave as they disappeared from view.
I turned to Russell. “The dog is Australian?”
“Chloe seems to think so. When she does his voice, that’s how he always sounds. I blame Bluey.”
We walked to my guesthouse and climbed the steps to the front door together. Russell looked tired; his hair was sticking up in every direction. It suddenly seemed inconceivable to me that I hadn’t known him when I woke up this morning. Because it felt like I could close my eyes and sketch his face from memory if I had a piece of paper. And any artistic talent.
I wasn’t mad at him anymore—but I also couldn’t imagine myself kissing him again. That felt like it belonged to a whole other version of me.
“So,” I said as the silence between us started to stretch on. Like we were both trying to find our way in this new version of things, without a dog to chase or a destination to walk to or anything to distract us. “Thanks for walking me back.”
“Well, it’s a dangerous yard. Lots of hazards… rogue Great Danes…” Russell smiled and took a tiny step toward me. And for just a second, I hesitated. But then I stepped back.
“I think we should be friends,” I said, and Russell’s smile faltered a little.
“Friends?”
“Just friends,” I said firmly.
“We could be… more than that?” he asked, his voice tentative. “I mean…” He glanced toward the pool, and I wondered if he, in that moment, was having the same flashback I was. A few hours ago, at the much less glamorous pool of the Silver Standard, my legs wrapped around his waist, the feeling that we couldn’t get enough of each other.
“I’m leaving tomorrow. And you’re starting school. And…” For just a second, I thought about trying to tell him. About the movies, and what I’d so foolishly believed about one magical night, and people being meant for each other, and love at first sight. Since I knew now that all of that was fake, getting a friend—an actual friend—out of all of this seemed like a great bargain. “It’s just for the best.”
Russell looked at me for a moment longer, then gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Okay,” he said with a nod. “Sounds good.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding back.
He started to walk down the steps, then paused at the bottom one and looked up at me. “Sleep well, Darcy.”
“You too, Russell. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I think it’s already tomorrow,” he said with a smile as he walked down the steps. “I’ll see you later today.”
I nodded and opened the door of the guesthouse and stepped inside. Before I closed the door I saw Russell walking across the lawn, breaking into a half jog as he got closer to the house.
Inside, I poured myself a glass of water, found a charger in the kitchen drawer, then plugged in my phone. I had texts from Katy and Didi that I knew I had to respond to, but at the moment, I didn’t feel up to getting into everything—and I was sure both of them were long asleep. Instead, I just texted that Silverspun hadn’t turned out how I had expected, but I was okay, and that we’d catch up tomorrow. Then I turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room and walked down the hallway, glancing at the Russell picture as I went—but not letting myself linger by it too long.
I saw that my duffel was there, and my clothes were washed and folded neatly on the bed—or at least, they probably had been at some point. Now, there was a Great Dane lying across them.
I eased them out from under Tidbit, grabbed my toiletry bag, and got ready for bed.
Since Tidbit was literally taking up the entire bed, I decided to let sleeping dogs lie, and gave his head a scratch before I headed into the other bedroom. This one was done in greens, with a huge photo of the Central Park Carousel, the lights slightly blurred, hung up above the bed.
I got under the covers and turned off the lights, my eyes closing as soon as my head hit the pillow. But a few moments later, the door swung open and Tidbit was standing in the doorway, looking at me with an expression I could only describe as betrayed.
“Um,” I said to the dog. “Sorry. I—” But before I could finish, he’d clambered onto the bed and curled up—well, as much as he was able—along the foot of it, his giant head resting against my leg.
After a moment, I realized there was something so comforting about it—the warmth of him, the weight on my feet, his steady, snuffling breathing. I closed my eyes again, and felt myself falling asleep in the most literal sense—dropping into it as though from a great height.
And when I opened my eyes again, the sheets were twisted around my legs, the dog was snoring on the pillow next to me, and it was morning.