Chapter 7
SEVEN
Katie
I had five excellent, very productive days.
I cleaned my rented L.A. apartment, dusting off the plastic plants and wiping down the frosty-white kitchen. This place had come furnished, which had worked for me because when I rented it I’d had the idea that L.A. would be just one place I’d spend my time, only when I was shooting here. Aside from going home to my parents in Minnesota, I had planned to also spend time being an artsy bohemian in New York, and maybe jetting to London to do theater from time to time. I was a working actress—I could go anywhere, be anything.
The reality was that except for occasional location shoots in glamorous places like Calgary or a back lot in Orange County, I lived in L.A. all the time, which meant this rented apartment with its rented furniture was it. Everything in here was white and cream, which looked great in photos but made me feel weird, as if I wasn’t supposed to touch anything or actually sit my ass on any of the furniture. The doorman downstairs had taken days off last week for his nose job, and a woman on the floor below me had offered to personally give me an herbal colonic. It was home, but it wasn’t exactly homey.
Still, I tidied it and did my laundry. I worked out every day, even though I wasn’t prepping for a role. I drank nutrient-rich smoothies. I deep conditioned my hair. I did a quarterly review of my finances with my accountant. I did a five-step skin routine before bed. I was on it.
And once in bed in my bright-white bedroom every night, I pulled up the picture Travis had posted on his Instagram and stared at it.
Leaning against his Camaro in the middle of the night, Coke in hand. I could see the snake tattoo winding around his bare arm, because he’d taken the leather jacket off. Even in the unforgiving light of the truck stop sign, he was a gorgeous man. Those blue eyes. The shadow of late-night stubble on his jaw. The crinkles just visible at the corners of his eyes. I’m off to new adventures. Love you all.
His followers had gone crazy for it. It had taken them no time at all to figure out that the truck stop in the photo was a few hours north of L.A. Aside from the bots and weirdos in the comment section, there were also true fans who hoped he was all right, who wanted to know where he was going, who wanted him to make new music. They wondered where he’d been. They’d worried that in the storm that had been his life for the last while, they’d somehow lost him. They wanted him back.
The more I looked at the photo, the more I understood the sentiment.
Lying in my crisp sheets, wearing my favorite pajamas, I mooned over him silently like a teenaged girl. I had been ditched by my fake boyfriend.
Except I hadn’t really been ditched, had I? He’d invited me to come with him, and he’d meant it. He’d wanted to be at that truck stop with me, and the reason he was alone was because I’d said no.
Stella had been livid at Travis’s desertion, but only briefly. Like the pro she was, she had assured me that she would come up with a list of alternate candidates. The boyfriend idea was a good one, she maintained. Edgar Pinsent was in Romania reworking his script, and no one would ever know that Travis White hadn’t worked out. We’d find someone else, she said, and I would get the part if it killed her.
She’d also sent me another script that had come across her desk. A limited series—five episodes. It was about a divorced single mom who moves home to Montana to nurse her sick dad and finds love on a ranch. It’s got heart! Stella wrote to me. It’s mature. It could be a great change of direction.
I didn’t read it. I didn’t have to. I already knew how it ended.
On the fifth night, I did what I swore I wouldn’t. I was only human, and humans can only take so much. So I caved.
I opened TikTok, where I had a secret account under a fake name, and looked up KatieWatch.
KatieWatch was an account run by one of my fans. People sent her photos and videos of me—at appearances, on the set, or just going about my life—and KatieWatch posted them. The account only had fifteen hundred followers, because a) being a superfan of mine was extremely niche, and b) I didn’t lead an interesting life. Hence the Travis White idea.
Still, KatieWatch existed, which meant I had to spend every day not looking at it. If you’ve never had a TikTok account—even a small one—dedicated to you, then you have no idea how hard that is. Celebrities, they’re just like us! They want to know what people are saying about them, and whether someone got an unflattering photo that gave them a double chin, and whether they said something that made them look like an asshole.
So I caved, and I peeked at KatieWatch. I didn’t see a double chin, or me being an asshole. I saw Travis.
KatieWatch had not missed our meetup at the Lakers game. The top video on the page was taken from across the court. Travis looked at me, and then he leaned in and spoke in my ear. A brief exchange, and then I told him to fuck off—you could read the words clearly on my lips. Travis laughed, and I put my hand over my mouth.
The video had over three hundred thousand views. I tapped the comments.
Excuse me?? Katie with Travis White?? I love it.
My god, he’s hot.
I wouldn’t picture them together, but he’s kind of perfect for her?
Oh yes, girl, get it.
The way he looks at her!
She hasn’t dated anyone in so long. She deserves some fun!
What did he say to her? I’m dying to know.
Are they actually dating? Does anyone know?
I think if Travis White sat next to me I would actually expire.
Okay, this NEEDS to happen. I need some vicarious romance in my life!
Wow, they look SO GOOD.
The last one was right. We did look good. Not just Travis—damn how beautiful he was—but me, too. When I looked at the video of us, I liked how I looked. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, I looked pretty and relaxed and sexy. I looked like a woman who would get hit on by a world famous rock star and casually tell him to fuck off. I looked at the woman in the video, and I thought she was hot. I liked her.
I wanted to be her.
Which was weird, because I was her. But I wanted to be her all the time.
I closed TikTok, but not before noticing that the KatieWatch account didn’t have fifteen hundred followers anymore. It now had three thousand. It had doubled in the last five days.
I put my phone down and lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling. The silence pressed down on me.
After a million years, I fell asleep.
The next morning, Stella sent a list of Travis’s replacements.
I scrolled through the names on my laptop at my kitchen table while I drank my morning coffee with oat milk. I had no idea why I put oat milk in my coffee, except that dairy was bad for some reason and almond milk was environmentally wasteful. Or was that cashew milk? I didn’t think there was a problem with oat milk, except that it made my coffee taste like someone had wet a piece of old newspaper and placed it into my drink.
A reality show guy. A guy who had gone viral with a hot TikTok dance. An actor I had co-starred with a few years ago— We could play up that you didn’t date back then but never forgot each other, Stella wrote. I didn’t remember much about him except that before we shot our kissing scene, he’d said “Let’s get to it” as if we were about to sand a hardwood floor.
I pushed my kitchen chair back and stood. I left my awful oat milk on the table and walked into the bedroom.
I took my suitcase from my closet, put it on the bed, and opened it. I started to put clothes into it.
I did not think about this. My hands worked of their own accord. I felt no emotion at all. I had no plan. I simply kept packing.
When I had finished with clothes and had moved on to toiletries, I picked up my phone. I scrolled past Stella’s texts, asking me what I thought of the alternate boyfriends, of the Montana ranch script. I scrolled to Travis’s number and dialled it. I didn’t care that it was early in the morning and he might not be awake. I assumed that rock stars slept late. It didn’t matter.
“Hey, Katie,” he said when he answered. He didn’t sound annoyed or sleepy. He sounded pleased.
I ignored the shiver his voice gave me, which turned my knees to jelly. “Hello, Travis,” I said, polite because I was born in Minnesota and politeness was drilled into my bones. “Where are you?”
“Portland.”
Portland, I thought. I could work with that. “Are you just passing through?”
“Nah, I decided to stay here a while. The road trip was fun, but not as fun alone.”
I dropped my makeup bag into my suitcase, then my phone charger. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”
“I got an apartment.”
“How did you get an apartment so fast?” I closed my eyes. “Wait, don’t answer that.” This was supposed to be impulsive. I really needed to stop dwelling on details.
There was amusement in Travis’s voice. “Okay, I won’t answer. Are you asking because you’re changing your mind?”
I was being impulsive, but still—he was a rock star, and I needed the smallest bit of self respect. “I just have one question,” I said to him. “Are you seeing anyone else? Tell me the truth. This won’t work if you’re sleeping around.”
He was silent for a second, and then he laughed.
I stood frowning. I wasn’t trying to be funny.
“I’m not seeing anyone,” Travis said when his laughter died down. “I cannot express to you how deeply, how profoundly I am not seeing anyone at all.”
“Not even physically?”
“My body is a temple,” Travis said. “I could ascend to heaven and be judged pure by the angels. Even my right hand has taken a vacation.”
I winced. “I didn’t need quite that much detail, but okay.”
“Come to Portland, Katie,” he said in that smoky, sexy voice of his. “I’m asking you. Let’s make this fun.”
Damn it. Damn it.
I slapped my suitcase shut.
“Send me the address,” I said. “I’ll be there today.”
He sent it. And when I left, I took my laptop, but I left my oat milk coffee where it was.