“See, there’s the attitude you need with her.” She pats my shoulder. “Come on, my makeup artist, Misty, brought her best friend as her plus one, and I want to introduce you.”
“What? No. You’re mygirlfriend.”
“It won’t hurt for you to meet her. Misty is great, so I’m sure her best friend is too.”
I sigh and go with Grey. Maybe this is a good thing. I’ve known for a while that I don’t want to date anyone within Hollywood. I love the work, but I don’t love the life, and generally that’s not how people here feel. It could be good to meet a “normal person” who is Hollywood-adjacent.
Unfortunately, that’s not how this meeting goes. Misty’s friend, Nev, is trying to break into Hollywood. She’s obviouslyromanced by my connections and what she assumes is in my bank account. Not happening, Nev. Gee, thanks, Grey.
2
Ivy
“Anizey!”ThenameI’vebeen called by my niece and nephew since my niece began to talk and blended the words aunt and Ivy makes me smile. “Mama said if you don’t come down for breakfast, she’s gonna feed your portion to Minerva and then come lay on top of you until you can’t stand it anymore.” My niece Juniper’s voice comes through the door as it does every morning, with various threats that my sister never makes good on.
I joined them on my first morning here, and feeling like an intruder in their morning routines, I decided to leave them be at breakfast since. I assume the dog’s been eating well in the mornings since I moved in.
Maybe moved in isn’t correct. I’m only here temporarily.Until recently, I lived above the restaurant I own. I grewBowlfrom a small food truck to a prime location on Main Street. We may live in a small town, but people need to eat, and they seem to love to eat my food. Everything on the menu comes in a bowl. We specialize in breakfast bowls, but later in the day we also offer soups, hearty salads and other bowl-able non-breakfast fare. Oh, and ice cream with a toppings menu containing almost anything anyone has ever dreamed of putting on their dessert and then some.
But it burned down. I mean not literally; the bricks are fine. The building still stands, but everything else is gone. The manager I hired and trusted—much like I imagine a parent handing over their child to a babysitter—left one afternoon without double-checking everything, and that evening I received a phone call that my life as I knew it was over. At least for the time being.
Thank God I was gone for the weekend, visiting my college roommate in Virginia. At least I’m still alive, even if my business is temporarily gone.
I turn onto my side, pulling the covers up to my neck, just as I like them. I have a minute of quiet before a banging on my door signals my niece's return.
“Mama says you’re thirty years old. You need to put on your big girl pants and come downstairs. You can’t rot in that room.”
I jump up and fling the door open, startling Juniper. “Why can’t your mother come and threaten me herself?” I ask, feigning anger.
“She’s busy cooking.”
“Nah. I think she’s just too scared,” I joke, and my niece just stares up at me. “Fine. I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right down.”
Juniper eyes me suspiciously. “Will you? Because I don’t want to have to come back up here.”
“Yes, sassy pants, I will. I’d hate for your poor nine-year-old legs to have to drag you back up here.”
“Thank you,” Juniper says with a satisfied smile before heading to the stairs.
I trudge into the bathroom, already knowing what I’ll see. My paper-white skin will be dull and lifeless—apart from the extra freckles the sun has drawn on my skin—and my golden-brown curls will resemble a tumbleweed. At least I assume tumbleweeds are brown. I’ve never seen one in real life.
I don’t turn on the light because I know if I did, I would want to try to fix things. The night-light will have to do. I don’t have five minutes, much less the surely necessary half-hour, before my sister sends Juniper back up here.
I quickly use the bathroom and brush my teeth before heading downstairs.
“Well, look who it is, and before eleven a.m.,” Val, my nowmorning-person younger sister, says as she drops butter into a pot on the stove. I remember the days when I had to wake her and get her ready for school. Back then, her night-owl self made everything difficult in the mornings. People can change.
“I’ve been consistently sleeping in for the first time in the last decade. I’ll not let you beat me up about it.”
“Sleeping in is one thing. You’ve been sulking and you know it. It’s time to do something.”
“Like a puzzle?”
“Like anything; I don’t care.”
“I’ve not been sulking. You know that’s not my personality. I get up once y’all leave. I felt like I was in the way that first morning.”
“You’re not in the way. We’re glad you’re here.” Val carries the pot to the waiting hot pad on the kitchen table. “I made grits and eggs and a sausage veggie hash.”
