“There is. But there should be a happy medium, you know? Without going the full off-grid.”
“Isn’t that what you’re living? Reading books, chilling in your apartment, but also out there functioning in the real world?”
“Not sure how well I function, but sure, I guess.”
“You use a computer and cell phone. You’re perfectly capable of intelligent conversation, and you toss in the words ‘hashtag humble brag.’ You hold down a job that requires dealing with the public, with its good and bad. You just kneed a guy in the balls, and then tased the fucker.”
“I did, didn’t I? Honestly though, I’m not sure I’ve found my happy medium. If it were really up to me, I might choose to live permanently in my own little bubble. Vivien and I could have been better prepared for the world with a little more exposure to it.”
“Do you not get lonely?”
“Sometimes,” she said, evidently surprised at the question. “But mostly I like my life.”
“Happy enough.”
“Exactly. Besides, I’d rather be alone than with people who don’t get me—which is most people.”
Hell. She could be reaching into his brain and copy-pasting his thoughts. He spent his days surrounded by people, but he always felt distanced—felt hehadto keep his distance. Not with her.
“You start reaching for more,” she continued, “and it only makes what you’ve got seem like less. Better to be grateful for what you have. Same with anything people strive for, I guess—money, power, fame. No offense.”
“None taken.”
They drove on in a comfortable silence. As they reached the freeway, he noticed she was asleep, her face so serene it deserved a halo. What the hell was he getting himself into? With the missing sister, for starters, but also with Lana? Even he couldn’t figure out if his motivation was altruistic or selfish.
He let the fuel gauge fall as low as he dared before turning into a gas station, pulling the baseball cap low. Several cars were hooked up to pumps. To the east, the sky was lightening, etchingthe mountains in charcoal shadow. He laid a hand on Lana’s cheek and murmured her name.
She inhaled, slowly opening her eyes, and flinched when she saw him.
“Sorry, did I startle you?”
“No. Well, yeah. I’d just kind of forgotten what was happening.” She straightened and stretched, a deep crack sounding from her sternum. “But here you are, Griffin Hart, driving my car.”
“This is not very manly of me, but do you mind pumping the gas? In case someone recognizes me and posts about it, or I get clocked by security cameras.” He pulled out his wallet and took out some cash. “This one’s on me, since you’re supplying the wheels.” Predictably, she hesitated. “Look, I don’t want to be that guy who throws his money around like he owns everyone, but it makes sense to spend mine. I don’t use it for much. Can we please not make it an issue?”
“Okay, thank you,” she said, getting out. “Look at you, hiding away with your wads of bills. It’s like being on the run with Raskolnikov.”
“With who?” he said, lowering his window as she started to pump.
“Crime and Punishment? My pop culture references tend to fall flat. How about Jason Bourne? I knowthosebooks have been made into films—we have the movie tie-in editions at work.”
“Familiar with Jason Bourne. I’m just concerned those goons from the set might be waiting for me to pop up. Maybe buy me sunglasses too?” He handed her more cash.
“You think the security footage might end up online?”
“It’s happened. Plus, there’s a website that does live tracking.”
“Of celebrities?”
“Just me, as far as I know. Where-is-Griffin-Hart-dot-com. If I go to a store, or wherever, there’s usually someone doing a live feed.”
“That’s next level.”
“Started as a joke, I guess. My publicist keeps promising me it’s some kooky internet trend that will pass, but it just seems to snowball. It’s like it’s on the tourist map now—the walk of fame, the Hollywood sign, Rodeo Drive, Universal Studios, Where-is-Griffin-Hart-dot-com. Like Celebrity Pokémon.”
She hung up the pump. “Wow, your life.”
“This is why I can’t do normal things—drink at a bar, shop, date.” Her head lurched a little on the word “date,” in a why-are-you-telling-me-this way. And yeah, it was out of context, and more a reminder to himself than a warning to her. “I’m very aware that I’m a joke, a meme, a character. Not quite human.”
