“Rough morning?” Doug asked, throwing me a conversation crumb.
“Yes. I couldn’t sleep last night. I was so worried about the contestants. It’s not fair that someone else is leaving tomorrow night.” I’d never said anything so ridiculous in my life. Besides Oscar, I was fine with never seeing the rest of them again.
Doug pulled away, his hands still on my shoulders. “Yes, it’s so hard to say goodbye to everyone.”
The way he was looking at me made me wonder if there was some cryptic message he was trying to convey, but he let go of my shoulders and continued on down the hall. I forced myself not to look back.
Doug
I knew she felt guilty about the bad press I was getting, but everything was fine. My agent had called that very morning with all new offers coming in for a lot more money than I’d ever made. Movie villains, book deals from big five publishers, advertisers wanted me, even Broadway. I hadn’t heard my agent this excited in … ever. It was like he finally won the client lottery.
I couldn’t be mad at Willa. She’d put a rocket booster under my career. She’d never promised me love or even good press. Justin Justice was a force, a gravity, and she’d been pulled into it. Once I was away from seeing her every day, I’d get over the ridiculous disappointment I carried around with me. I’d move on.
I didn’t have too much to do on camera today, just listening in on auditions and providing feedback for clips that would be mixed in with the live show on Friday. Once Stanley assured me he had enough footage, I headed home to pack. I was finally moving.
Owen had found me a small house in Santa Monica. It was old, but had been well-kept by an eccentric old guy who valued his privacy. Besides the privacy hedges in the front and back, it was gated on all sides.
Yes, I’d felt slightly claustrophobic standing on my new porch, but that would pass. I’d get used to it.
Nelson had offered to help me pack. I texted him as I was leaving the auditorium, and he beat me to my apartment, using the extra parking spot next to mine.
He got out of his Toyota Corolla as soon as he spotted me. “Owen texted me the creepy pictures of your place. You sure there aren’t like people buried in the basement or something?”
“It doesn’t have a basement. But thanks for putting that image in my head.”
“You’re so welcome.”
I led up the stairs to my apartment. Tomorrow, Owen and a couple of his friends would come help me move the furniture out. For now, I just needed the little things packed up. After feeding Tiger, I began packing up in my bedroom, starting with clothes and shoes. Nelson worked in the kitchen, wrapping dishes and silverware in heavy paper.
It didn’t stop him from talking to me non-stop. “So, I have to know,” he shouted out. “Charmaine is making it into the top four, right? She’s so hot. You have to find a way for me to meet her.”
Charmaine was probably getting cut, and there was no way, legally or otherwise, I’d be setting her up with Nelson. “Forget Charmaine. How about someone you’ve actually talked to in real life?”
Nelson popped his head around my doorframe. “I’ve talked to Willa. And we danced together at Owen’s wedding. Since she’s obviously not into you anymore, maybe the two of us could—”
I put my hand up. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
Nelson shrugged. “What happened with you two anyway?”
“We’re just friends.” I didn’t want to think about Willa right now, about how much I missed hanging out with her. A part of me wished I’d never told her we had to stop doing that, except every time I remembered kissing her in my apartment, my heart ripped into little pieces all over again. It wasn’t real. What the heck was I doing trying to be an actor?
Nelson must have sensed I didn’t want to talk about it, because he didn’t press for more information about Willa. He went back to wrapping my kitchen breakables. “Hey,” he called out after a few minutes. “Can I have this popcorn maker? I know for a fact you haven’t ever used it.”
“And how do you know that?” I asked. I hadn’t, of course, but I wanted to know why he was so sure.
“Because the warranty card is still taped inside. So can I have it?”
“Genius deduction, Sherlock. It’s all yours.”
I had a whole collection of kitchen appliances I’d never used. Mom was addicted to As-Seen-On-TV stuff, and the infomercials so generously gave her two items for the price of one, or bonus junk like the popcorn maker. Whatever Owen and Tracey didn’t take went to my place.
We worked for another hour before Nelson begged to see the new place. I didn’t have a reason not to. I had the keys, and getting boxes out of my apartment doorway would only make tomorrow’s move easier.
We loaded up what we could fit in our two cars, and Nelson followed me over there.
“She’s a beauty,” Nelson said sarcastically.
We stared at the 1960s ranch-style home that was now mine. It was squatty, with small dark windows and dirty shutters, but as Owen had so helpfully told me, anything in California can get a makeover with enough money.
Staring at it wouldn’t make it any better. I opened the trunk of my car and started hauling boxes into the house.
Nelson reluctantly moved to help me. “You so owe me, Doug.”
“I just gave you my popcorn machine,” I said, shaking my head. “And the mini-rotisserie cooker.”
Nelson put down a box of my books. “Yeah, but I have a feeling I’ll be back here with a face mask on attacking this popcorn ceiling soon. Or that wall over there, dividing up what could be one big room. I’ve watched enough HGTV to know how this goes.”
I was about to point out that watching HGTV did not automatically qualify someone as a home renovation expert, but my phone rang and as soon as I saw who it was, all rational thoughts left my head. It was Willa.
