“Enraged?”
“Like fire.” It’s burning my stomach, lava, hot and thick enough to choke on.
“Good. Good. Now, I want you to go there and I want you to show the Shittiest Man Alive that he doesn’t get to have his filthy little sex cake and eat it, too.”
“Ew. I draw the line at cake-sitting.”
“Agreed. It’s a waste of perfectly good cake.” She giggles and I join her, totally wiped out, but not nearly as alone as I was an hour ago.
Anger, it turns out, feels way better than self-pity.
“You good?”
“I don’t know. I kind of feel like you’re sending me into Mordor right now.”
“Omg, is that one of your Lord of the Rings references? Please don’t ever say anything like that to the media. Or at sex camp. Or to your husband.”
“Don’t call him my husband.”
“The man to whom you are legally wed. Wedded? Wed.”
“The man you advised me to legally—”
“Potato, potah—”
“Will you come?”
“You know I would.” And she would, if she weren’t scrambling to save what she can of my career. “Now go.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I reach for the ignition, picturing myself showing up at this sordid sex place Zion apparently goes to every summer, planting myself in front of him, his expression when he sees me… Beyond that, I have no idea.
6
Zion
Probably most people wouldn’t get it. But to me, Camp Haven is home. Liev’s amazing house doesn’t hurt and his woman greeting me at the door with a beer and a hug doesn’t either, but it’s more than that.
I know what it means to pretend. I do it constantly. Everywhere but here. Hell, it’s easy being on set and saying someone else’s lines when I’ve gotta improv the rest of the time.
Liev’s partner, Grace, meets us at the door in her usual summer outfit: a hacked-up band T-shirt, cut-off jean shorts, and flip-flops, with miles of pale skin, featuring tattoos of her own design.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she says, not quite letting go of our hug as she draws me inside.
Liev’s eyes follow the movement, but there’s not an ounce of jealousy there, not a second’s hesitation. Grace is his, so totally, so fully his that he doesn’t have to worry. He never will. The two of them are solid. I envy their closeness, even if I know that life isn’t for me.
“You still lettin’ him chase you through the woods?” I give her an extra squeeze before letting go.
“You know it.” She flashes me a smile, shaking her head when I refuse her offer of a bottle opener and tap the cap off on the edge of the counter instead.
I take a long pull on the beer, let my arm drop and look up to catch them both watching me, their expressions half wary, half amused.
“What happened?” Grace asks, looking from me to Liev. “Am I allowed to ask?”
I shrug. “Ah, sugar. You know I’ll tell you anythin’.” I lean in. “Especially if it’ll get you riled up enough to let me—”
Liev hip-checks me out of his way. “I’ll call the paparazzi here myself if you don’t lay off Grace, you asshole.”
I wink her way, grin at her eye-roll, and let her fill my hands with bowls of chips and dip before following them both out to the dark, quiet porch.
