Lyle picks up on the subtext anyway, though, and gives a commiserating grimace. “Ah, yes, say no more. Creepy, controlling uncle—I’m totally up to speed.” Looking into Grady’s eyes, his grimace softens out into a woozy grin. “Actually, scratch that. Please keep talking. Say whatever you’d like. Read the phone book, for all I care. I’m just happy to listen.”
Laughing, I shake my head at Lyle, though my mind is puzzling over what happened to Grady’s texts. “When were you messaging me?” I ask him.
“Over the past few days,” he replies. “And some when I was on the way down today.”
Lyle continues to moon at Grady, apparently unconcerned by this mystery. “You came all this way just to see our little Nina and make sure she was okay? What a good friend you are ...” If there was a sound to accompany the heart-eyes emoji, it would be Lyle’s voice right now.
“Err, thanks,” Grady says, with an awkward laugh.
I only half hear them since I’m busy scrolling through my phone. I frown as I see that there are, in fact, texts from Grady, but for some reason, I was never notified about them, even though it shows they’ve been read. I shake my head. Maybe there’s some strange glitch happening with my phone? I know that Deja said wehave some weird stuff going on with the limited service out at the cabin. That must be it.
I smile up at Grady, putting my phone away. Whatever might have happened with the texts, I’m just glad he’s here and that I get to see him.
“Are you here for a while?” Lyle asks, still not taking his eyes off Grady.
Lyle had informed me on the way here that he’d need to drop me off quickly because he needed to return to set. That all seems to have been forgotten now that he’s conversing with my handsome Irish friend.
Stifling a laugh, I look to see what Grady’s response will be.
“Unfortunately no,” Grady returns. “I’m only here for the day. Just passing through on my way to the Bar and Pub Expo up in Knoxville.”
Disappointment floods through me, but I tamp it down. It was so nice of Grady to go out of his way just to stop in and see me. I won’t be greedy and ask for more.
“Are you done with work for the day?” Grady asks me. “Do you have some free time?”
I wince, shaking my head at him. “No. I wish I’d known you were coming. But I’ve already missed so much work this morning ...”
Grady sighs and runs a hand through his hair. I can see the effect this has on Lyle, since—let’s be honest—Grady has incredible hair. It’s dark and curly and just the right length to always look a bit windblown. “Ah, shame.” He gives me an unconvincing smile. “But I understand, work comes first.”
Lyle manages to shake himself from the hair-induced stupor to give me a pointed look. “Don’t be ridiculous. Take a few hours to go visit with your friend. I’m sure Deja wouldn’t mind if you make up the work another day. And anyway, it’ll keep you out of Perry’s way if he’s still on the warpath.” A sudden thought seems to strike him, and he looks between Grady and me hopefully. “Unless ... why don’t you bring Irish McHandsomeson here to the set?”
I look at Lyle in surprise. “Isn’t it supposed to be a closed set?”
“Usually, yes,” he hedges, “but today we are filming an on-the-town date, and we always need good-looking extras.” He glances at Grady to gauge his interest level. “Are you an actor, by chance? You totally could be, for the record.”
Grady and I exchange a look. This is always the awkward part—when we have to decide just how much to reveal to a layperson about our previous vocations. If you haven’t lived a consecrated life, it’s hard to understand just what it entails, and people can have some very strange reactions. At the same time, it feels uncomfortable lying about a huge part of your past that still shapes so much of your present.
I see the indecision weigh out on Grady’s face for a moment before he admits, “I’m between jobs at the moment, deciding what to do with my life.” A hesitation before he adds, “I was a priest up until about a year ago.”
Lyle brings a fist up to his mouth and bites down on it, hard. “Hmm,” he says in a strangled tone that is probably him doing his best not to overreact.
Remember how I said people can have strange responses to learning about our former religious lives? Yeah. That’s one of them.
To his credit, Lyle recovers quickly, or at least makes his best attempt to do so. “Well. If you’re still undecided, I happen to be pretty connected in the Hollywood scene. You could come out for a visit sometime. Anytime, really. See if you have any interest in acting or production. I’m sure an ex-priest would be quite a novelty, even in an industry that’s seen pretty much everything.”
Grady nods, his expression impressively blank. “I will, yeah.”
Lyle’s face lights up at that. I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’ve been friends with Grady long enough now to know that that’s basically the Irish way of saying “not a chance.”
And anyway, being on set is not exactly my idea of a good time. Aside from all the lights and cameras and the fuss, the thought of Uncle Aaron hearing about me appearing on camera and stealing Harmony’s spotlight makes me feel queasy. I know I’ve decided not to care so much about what he thinks anymore, but I’ve spent years and years of living my life based off his rules and whims. That’s going to take more than a few days to get over completely.
“I don’t think it’s such a good idea,” I hedge.
Lyle looks at me, assessing my face in a way that makes me feel like he already knows me way too well. “Come on, Wild Card. Deconstruct a bit, huh?”
The look on his face lets me know that he gets it. And I believe he really does, based off some of the experiences he’s shared with me. The other day he told me about the first time he wore pink sunglasses out in public and how he wasso terrified to let anyone see him, he sat in his car for thirty minutes before he was brave enough to get out. In Oklahoma, with his conservative family, it would have been such a big deal to walk down the street wearing something like that. But in LA, nobody even noticed or cared.
It’s amazing how much our own perspectives can shape the way we think the world sees us. How one person’s pink sunglasses could be another person’s ... well, pink sunglasses. They’re so benign, it’s hard to imagine anyone taking offense to them.
