He left to do his exit interview shortly after, and I tidied up my workstation. Once done, I went to the part of the mansion that housed the offices, hoping to catch Charlie. He’d have to check out of the hotel tomorrow, so I didn’t have many chances to say good-bye.
Luck was on my side when he stepped out of one of the rooms they’d used for the interviews. He spotted me right away, and his face broke out into a smile. “Hey, Ray, you here to see me off?”
“Can’t let you leave without saying good-bye.”
He held out his arms, and I walked into his embrace, resting my cheek on his chest.
“This has been fun, but I’m kind of relieved to be going home.” A rumble went through his chest when he laughed. “My body is too old for showbiz.”
“You’re not old,” I chastised, then leaned back to look at him. “And I don’t think any of us were prepared for what it’s like to bake in front of a camera.”
“Promise to keep in touch?”
“Of course. And don’t forget you promised to visit Humptulips.”
He kissed my cheek, getting close to the corner of my mouth.
“Am I interrupting something?” Grayson’s rumbly voice sounded from behind me.
Charlie smirked at him, and I suspected the placement of the kiss wasn’t an accident. “Not at all. We were just saying good-bye.”
Giving Charlie one last squeeze, I stepped back, smiling at him. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Never. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
I nodded, and after one last glance at me, then Grayson, he left.
I turned, facing one of my only two remaining friends at the set. “You ready to go?”
He held out his arm, posture stiff, a frown marring his forehead. “Sure.”
We walked out together, arms linked. The small contact was the only thing I needed to make a shitty day seem not so bad anymore.
Nine
Ipushed the sushi on my plate from one side to the other in the hopes it would change appearance. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. “It looks like tiny slugs.”
Grayson put the disgusting-looking food in his mouth, not seeming in the least perturbed by its appearance. “It’s fish eggs.”
I made a gagging noise before remembering that we were in an upscale restaurant that served tiny portions and charged more for them than I had ever spent on groceries in a week.
He kept eating the other unidentified morsels on his plate, enjoying every bite. When he noticed I was still staring at my food and probing it a little, he put his chopsticks down. “I thought you wanted to go to a sushi place?”
“I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. But sushi won’t go into my top ten of foods—or top one hundred. The little roll thingies were okay, and some of the deep-fried stuff doesn’t look too bad. But the rest, no thanks.”
“You’ve never tried sushi before?”
I cringed. His question made me feel like the country bumpkin I was. “Nope.”
“I didn’t mean to say that it’s weird you haven’t. It surprised me is all. You were always the first one to push us to try something new.”
I moved my food around my plate so at least it looked like I was interested in putting the slippery mass into my mouth.
“Things change.” I took a tentative bite of one of the California rolls, sighing in relief when it didn’t feel or taste odd. “I’m not the same person you left behind.”
His features tightened at my last statement, and I froze. It wasn’t meant to come out like an accusation, but it did. I guess I’d been too busy concentrating on finding food that looked the least offensive to censor my response.
I wished I could take it back. “That’s not what I meant.”
