I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m just mad at everyone. But that happens all the time.”
He chuckles, opening the door to his trailer. “Well, come on in, and let me show you that video I was talking about earlier.”
My brows rise in agreement as I walk up the stairs and inside, the door clanging shut behind me.
Rick leans in like before when he was telling me a secret. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s weird you have such affection for fish. Plenty of people are lonely, and animals, even fish, can help get us through hard times.”
Fantastic. Somehow, this feels worse than being called a crazy cat lady.
“Thanks, Rick. I’ll really keep that one deep in my heart.”
He smiles like he’s done his good deed for the day as he walks over to a laptop.
I point to it. “I have to be honest, I pictured, like, multiple screens and a whole setup for security.”
He shrugs. “That’s only in the movies and TV ... and maybe on sets with an actual budget. You know I still moonlight at OfficeMax on some nights.”
I press my lips together before I say, “You know, Rick, I didn’t know those were still around.”
He nods as he settles down in his chair, opening his laptop.
“You’d be surprised how many people try to break in for some Post-its.”
The device comes to life, and I have to smile at his screen saver—RuPaul’s Drag Race. Love that for him.
I stand behind him, looking over his shoulder.
“Now, the picture’s a little small, but I bet I can ...”
I jump in before he finishes. “No worries. I’m just hoping I’ll recognize him so I can track him down and get my goldfish back ...” Now’s the time to slip in that I’m not sad. “You know, my boyfriend actually got me the—”
“Okay,” he rushes out, cutting me off, finally figuring out how to make the picture full screen.
Looks like I’m doomed to stay the lonely fish lady forever. It’s just remarkably sadder and weird.
He hits Play, so I watch the screen before I hear him grumble to himself about needing to fast-forward. There’s no way I’m jumping into this generational gap and helping him figure it out.
The man is owed his dignity.
I brush my braids over my shoulder, watching as people come and go on the screen and costumes are carried, all at six times speed, before he says “Dang it,” followed by “Well, shit. Now it’s too far forward again.”
I’m trying so hard not to laugh, but I’m failing because this couldn’t get any more zany if it was written. God, Chase is going to eat this up when I get home tonight.
“Here we go. It’s right here,” he levels.
I lean in closer over Rick’s shoulder, my eyes trained to the screen as I see a guy in a black hoodie turn the corner, holding my damn fish tank.
I gasp. “There she is. What a motherfu—” I catch myself, not wanting to say that in front of Pop-Pop.
“Mmhmm,” he hums, making me like him even more. “Here it comes. When he turns this corner ...” He’s pointing to the corner of the screen.
My eyes narrow as I stare intently.
“There.” He pauses the video right as the man’s face comes into view.
Rick is talking, asking me questions. I hear him, but I don’t. Because the hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end, and my breath ... Oh god.
I stumble back away, my hands shaking. There’s no way. I’m not seeing what I think I am.
