I whip around on him, rage boiling in my veins. “What did you say?”
“I said you seemed a little unfocused, mate.”
Mate? What was he even doing, talking like he’s English? I know for a fact he’s from Boston. I’ve met his mom. “I am not your mate.”
Ty sighs and runs a hand through his stupidly coiffed hair. “Miles, it was years ago. In the big scheme of things, does it even matter? Just let it go.” Ty turns to the table and grabs a cookie.
Let it go?Let it go?The room goes red. I swing my arm back and am imagining the satisfying smack it will make when it connects with his face, when my arm gets stuck. Elsie has a hold of it behind me.
“Come on, Miles. Let’s get you a new shirt. I’m sure Patty will want to try to get out that stain, too.”
Ty doesn’t even look in our direction. He has no clue how close he just came to getting knocked out.
Elsie leads me to the costume room, which was a sitting room before we took it over. Each footstep away from Ty calms me down, and I realize how close I almost just came to really crossing the line.
We pass Skye in the hall. I reach my fingers toward hers for just a moment and mouth,Karaoke tonight?
She smiles and nods.
Once we step into the sitting room, Elsie looks me dead in the eye and says, “All this shit you have with Ty, you have to ease up. Or if you can’t—put it in a box and take it back out when the film is over. Hate him all you want after filming.” She throws up her hands. “Hell, knock his block off, get arrested. I’m sure it will be great press for the premiere.”
She’s right. I thought I had let it go, as Ty so eloquently put it, years ago, but clearly not. I can’t focus on it right now. “Okay.”
The day flew by,shooting taking up most of it. After the sun went down, the cast and crew all met out by the vans to head to Thistle House. Skye said she’d ride her bike and meet me there, so it didn’t look weird with us coming together. But when I look around at the faces loading into the vans, even Callum is here.
He slaps me on the back. “Miles. Are you going to sing?”
I smile. “Not sure anyone really wants to hear that.”
He laughs. “Ah, it’s all good fun. We’re all crap singers—well, except Skye, and she hasn’t sung at one of these in years. Voice of an angel, that one.”
I’m really hoping she sings tonight. Maybe she will. I’ve asked her a few times in the past week, and she said that she might. Callum gets into the van and takes a seat right next to Thora. I get in, and Ava pats the seat next to her.
The ride is quick, and the energy in the van is palpable. Thistle House is decked out for the holiday. Jack-o’-lanterns line the front, ghoulish faces flickering from the candlelight within. We all headinside, bounding in like excited puppies. The place is wall to wall packed—everyone’s crowded in with pints in hand, some with masks on. Paper skeletons hang from the ceiling. Each table has a small carved pumpkin on it; some of the faces are silly, while others are downright frightening. Karaoke is already in full swing. They moved the tables to set up a small stage. Someone is on it, belting out and somewhat butchering“You’re So Vain”by Carly Simon.
I spot Skye standing by the bar, talking to her friend Kate. She looks amazing. Tight black jeans and a fitted red and black striped sweater. Her hair is curled around her face in large, shiny waves. One stray curl is creeping toward her eye, and I long to brush it behind her ear, for my fingers to linger along her neck. Skye catches me looking, and I can see the twinkle in her blue eyes from across the room. She turns to the bartender, then waves for me to come over. I weave my way through the crowd. The bartender hands her another pint of dark, dark beer, which she hands right to me.
“Happy Halloween,” Kate says.
“Yeah, I’m surprised to see all the jack-o’-lanterns. I didn’t know you all celebrated it here in Scotland.”
They both laugh at this. Skye says, “Are ye kidding me? We practically invented it. Well, the Irish did. They carved turnips to ward off Stingy Jack.”
“Stingy Jack?”
“Aye,” Kate says. “He tricks people into buying him beers and things. Sold his soul to the devil for one last drink, but tricked him so the devil couldn’t collect.”
Skye is nodding enthusiastically. “So, when Jack died, he couldn’t get into heaven, and the devil wouldn’t let him into hell. He roams the earth with his little carved turnip, trying to catch people out.”
“I never knew.”
Skye musses up my hair a bit. “Read a book sometime.”
I laugh. I want to pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, but instead I say, “I’ll read you.”
She sticks her tongue out at me.
Kate raises her beer. “To Stingy Jack.”
