Chapter 26 #2
“Great. I just bought these.”
Holden has disappeared into my twelve-hundred-square-foot apartment when I look up. Within thirty seconds, he throws a paper towel roll my way.
“Catch!” he bellows.
For never seeing my place, he seemed to know exactly where to look and grab exactly what I needed. I smile, catching the roll in midair and quickly soak up the mess on the couch.
Then I move to my bedroom to grab a new pair of pants and soak the ones that are currently stained in the sink. I’ve probably been in here for a while because I can tell Holden is waiting outside my door.
“Everything okay?”
He seems so concerned, as if it isn’t rhetorical for him.
“Yes, I’ll be there in one second. Sorry.”
When I check myself in the mirror before leaving my room, the pendant is displaying a faint glow. Signaling to me that Skye is watching me closely…
I move from the bedroom to the living room and Holden is already at my kitchen table, waiting for me. My eye catches the picture frame sitting on my tv stand of Aidan and me.
Gliding to where it’s resting, I shove the wooden frame underneath the couch blankets before heading to the kitchen table.
I mumble, feeling unready to start. “Do—do you think you are a good actor?”
“That’s relative. Every project challenges me to be a different type of actor. If I was doing this job based on whether other people thought I was good or not, then I wouldn’t be in this business. My goal is to portray the character correctly, upholding the integrity of the script.”
This is the easiest thing in the world for him. Every thought falls out of him without hesitation.
Expressionless, he says, “Keep going.” I narrow my eyes, straighten my cards and take a peek at the next one.
With bated breath, I read the next card. “Okay. Someone is up for a challenge.” As if we are playing a game of poker and not willing to let the other person know if it’s a bluff or not.
“What happened between you and Graham Walker?”
His whole demeanor suddenly shifts.
“We were super close growing up and just took separate paths when the show ended.”
“Okay? But there were reports you both had a big falling out? Got into a fight on the last day on set…”
“Graham is a wonderful guy. I wish him the best. No bad blood there.”
He is answering the question evenly, but his neutral expression has flipped to having hardened eyes. Feeling bold, I grab a bottle of tequila and pour a good amount into a shot glass. Sliding him the glass across the table, reading off a red question.
“What was worse: losing your career or losing your mom as your manager?”
He sucks in a breath and grabs the shot I just passed him. His jaw tightening as the tequila slides down his throat. He pauses to answer which he never does with a question.
“I don’t think my career is lost because you are sitting here interviewing me. As for my mom, situations evolve and we grow into different roles. She is very happy with where she is in life.”
His answer makes me want to dig deeper like any interviewer would.
“Which direction did she go in?” I ask.
“She took a job away from the spotlight. She is happy to have her privacy now.”
I track every tell, the subtle shifts in tone and expressions that feel second nature to dissect for me.
Holden shifts in his seat before standing up, approaching me slowly and ripping the cards from me.
“Give that back. I am not playing this game again.”
“Oh, we are playing a game.”
He gives me a sly smirk and somehow this switches something inside of me. The pulsing in my chest is beating at an unstoppable rate. If he gets any closer, I might…
I take several steps back, refusing to participate in this new game.
“My turn now,” he says.
All the air in the room is depleted. My mouth is dry and my hands are sweating, waiting for his question.
“How do you feel about me?” He says firmly.
“I think you are too good at this game. Scary good at answering questions about your personal life.”
“C’mon. Your real answer.”
A tightness pulls at my throat, constricting my airways.
I think this stopped being a game for me on the flight back to LA. But there are no words in the English language to drown out the feeling nagging on my shoulder. As far as I know, this is all in my head and he is probing me. Trying to get me to surrender to his charm.
My brows pull together as he takes a step closer. We do a box-step dance where he takes two steps forward and all I can do is move two steps back.
“Aren’t we supposed to be preparing for the interview?”
“Yes,” he says. “But we haven’t prepped ourselves. We need to look legit.”
“Us?”
“Yes. Think of it like the acting class you took me to. A game of yes, and?”
I cross my arms.
“I don’t even know your middle name.”
“I highly doubt an interviewer will ask that.”
“They won’t.” He pauses. “But how am I supposed to casually slip it into conversation, so it sounds like I actually know you?”
“I don’t have one.”
He blinks. “What do you mean you don’t have one?”
“I just don’t. What’s yours?” I pointed a warning finger at him.
“I can’t say,” he says, bashful.
“Oh, come on.”
“The only ones who know it are my mom, the government and my doctor’s office,” he says.
Something competitive sparks in my chest. Before I can think better of it, I lunge for the wallet sitting on the counter.
“Hey—”
I’m already flipping through cards as he reaches for my arm, trying to stop me. I lift up on my toes, holding his ID just out of reach.
“Aha!” His grip tightens around my wrist, but I’ve already seen it.
“Your middle name is Alfred?”
He exhales. Defeated. “Okay, I reject the no-middle-name stance. You will forever be Charlotte Elizabeth Tate.”
“Elizabeth?” I take two steps forward, passing back his ID.
“Elizabeth,” he repeats softly. “I always liked the name. It was my grandmother’s.”
I gently nod as our hands hover on the opposite ends of the driver’s license.