The car slows, then comes to a stop. I open my eyes and see us parked on a busy street lined with shops and restaurants.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Santa Monica. You’re meeting Brock for lunch.”
“I’m not going to the house?”
“I’ll take you there after lunch. You can leave your things in the car. I’ll be waiting here until you’re done.”
“You’re waiting in the car?”
He holds up a newspaper. “Gives me time to catch up on my reading.”
“You want me to bring you something? Maybe a sandwich?”
He chuckles. “No, but thank you for offering. Wait there. I’ll get your door.”
I open it myself and get out.
“Keep doing that and I won’t have a job,” Harley scolds.
“Sorry. Just seemed easier to do it myself. I’m not used to people doing stuff for me.”
He smiles. “Right this way.”
He leads me down the sidewalk to a cafe. A young blonde woman greets us at the hostess stand. She’s gorgeous. She looks more like a model than a hostess.
“She’s here to have lunch with Mr. Halliway,” Harley says to the hostess.
“Of course.” She smiles. “Follow me.”
“See you back at the car,” Harley says, patting my shoulder. He leans down to my ear. “Don’t be nervous. He’s not as intimidating as he looks.”
The hostess walks off, and I hurry to catch up with her. She takes me to a seat at the side of the restaurant by some windows that look out at a flower garden. This state really likes flowers. I passed by tons of them on the way here.
The hostess stops suddenly. “Mr. Halliway, your guest is here.”
She turns and walks away, leaving me face-to-face with my uncle. Even though I’ve never met him, I’ve seen him on TV. I didn’t actually watch the shows he was in, but I’d see him when I was flipping through the channels.
He looks different in person. His hair is darker, and he’s really tall. I always thought actors were short, but maybe it just looks that way on TV. Or maybe Brock is the exception. He’s got to be at least six foot two, maybe taller.
“Rumor,” he says, holding his hand out. “Welcome to California.”
“Thanks.” I quickly shake his hand, then sit down at the small round table.
I’m suddenly really nervous. Is it because of Harley’s comment about being intimidated by Brock? Why would I be intimidated? Because he’s famous? I don’t care about fame. I’ve seen famous people in New York and wasn’t intimidated by them. My dad’s an actor, and he doesn’t intimidate me. He’s not famous, like his brother, but still.
Brock sits down across from me, his long legs bumping me under the table.
“Sorry about that.” He scoots back. “These tables are too small.”
“You’re really tall,” I blurt out.
He chuckles. “Does that surprise you?”
“Why are you tall but my dad isn’t?”
Brock clears his throat. “I’d rather not talk about Devon.”
