“I don’t know how this will work,” Dylan said, then wanted to pump her fists in the air in triumph.
She did it.
She said the damn line.
“Cut,” Gia said.
“Fuck,” Dylan said under her breath.
“Can we get a little less robot, more person?” Gia asked. “You know,acting?”
Blair blew out a breath through puffed cheeks.
Dylan slumped back against the bench, her prune-like confidence nothing but a dried-out seed at this point. It was going to be a very, very long day.
Chapter
Eight
“Hey, you,” Ramonasaid when she came out of the diner’s kitchen to see her sister sitting at the bar.
At this time of day, it wasn’t unusual to find Olive and her best friend, Marley, at Clover Moon hunting free pie. Today was Decades Day for Grad Week, and Olive wore a black flapper dress, complete with fringe and sparkles, beaded straps curving over her toned shoulders. Ramona had designed and made it herself, as well as the band of bedazzled silk tied around Olive’s head. They’d pinned her long hair underneath to create a faux bob, and her bright red lipstick was still firmly in place.
“Hey,” Olive said, her attention on her phone, thumbs flying.
“Hey, Ramona,” Marley said. Her short, dark blond hair was styled high and dyed a dark blue at the tips, and she had on a muscle tee and acid-washed jeans, and huge clomping combat boots. Ramona wasn’t sure what decade she was supposed to be from—she was a baby butch every day of the year, so she didn’t really look all that different aside from the blue hair flair.
“Pie?” Ramona said, setting two waters in front of them.
“What do you have?” Marley asked. Meaning what was Owen going to toss when they closed because it was already a day old.
Ramona surveyed the pie case. “Looks like peach and strawberry rhubarb.”
“No honey whiskey?” Olive asked, not glancing up from her phone.
“You know we run through that like water,” Ramona said. She grabbed a slice of each flavor and two forks, knowing the girls would share anyway. “Who are you talking to so furiously?” she asked Olive.
Olive’s fingers froze, and Marley became very interested in a slice of peach that had fallen out of the pie and onto her plate.
“No one,” Olive said.
Which meant someone, as everyone who spent any time with teenagers knew, and a major someone.
“A boy, huh?” Ramona said, and grinned.
“No,” Olive said, hiding her phone in her lap.
“As long as it’s not Jameson Reece,” Ramona said. “That guy has frat boy written all over him. Am I right, Marley?”
“What?” Marley asked, blinking at Ramona like a baby dear. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.” She went back to staring at her pie.
“It’s not Jameson,” Olive said.
“Henry?” Ramona said, still watching Marley as she shoveled pie into her mouth.
“Which one?” Marion asked as she passed behind them with three plates in her hands.
“Henry G.,” Ramona said, laughing. “Henry W. is dating Elizabeth Ng.”
