Catch a Falling Star (24 page)

being about how good I was. That summer, I
hated
dancing.”

“So you turned down the scholarship.”

“Yes.”

“And proved that jerk right.”

186

Tears started to spill down my cheeks, blurring his face.

“Oh, don’t do that. Don’t cry.” He hurried to brush them from

my face.

His sweetness startled me enough to slow my tears. “I’m sorry.

It’s just . . .” I fished for the words that clouded my brain. “I just,

mostly, don’t think I’m right for that sort of world. For that world

of winners and losers and
pushing
through
. I’m not sure I’m built for

that, don’t even know if I
believe
in that sort of world. Not when I

think about that family last Saturday who was just trying to find a

home, think about Bob who just wanted to get a job —
any
job—

and how hard that is for him. And I have so much already: my

family, my home, my job. I like my life here. It might seem boring

and small, but I like it. I have so much, so who am I to spend time

pushing for more? It’s just greedy.”

Adam leaned into the front seat, dug around in the glove box,

and returned with a tissue. “Listen, if you’re happy teaching dance

to those old people, if that’s enough for you, and you don’t want to

go to New York and be some big-shot dancer, that’s fine; it’s sweet,

actually. So you want to make the world better, devote yourself to

those families on Saturdays — that’s a beautiful thing. I just don’t

understand why you can’t do both. Why didn’t you just keep danc-

ing here? Don’t let some jerk with a spray-on tan be the reason you

gave up the thing you used to love the most.”

I dabbed my eyes with the tissue, watching the night sky bloom

into violet. “What frustrates me is that there was so much weight

given to one choice over the other. If I had taken the scholarship,

left Little, then I’m brave or amazing or whatever. But people

didn’t want to just let me stay here. Wouldn’t stop telling me what

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a mistake I’d made. They said I was scared or letting myself down

or not expanding my horizons. I hate that expression, by the way.

What if I like my horizons? What if staying means I’m loyal and

care about my life here? But people didn’t see it like that. So I quit.

It was just easier than listening to them.”

“People always have advice when it has no impact on their own

lives,” Adam said quietly.

“Yeah, true.” I wiped at my eyes, embarrassed. I wanted to roll

down the window, to escape the heat starting to build, to put an

end to this conversation. I didn’t really want to be having this talk.

It felt like scraping my heart on a cheese grater. “I just feel like

other people are always encouraging me to take all these big risks

or whatever because they mostly never did. They were hanging out

at the river or taking a nap. But, hey, they want
me
to go make

something of myself.”

“Having talent has its own sort of responsibility.” Adam pushed

open the door, letting the cooling pine air into the car.

I studied him. “I don’t want to sound like a quitter or a whiner

or whatever, but the truth is that I don’t like to compete. I don’t

like it when people up the stakes on me. It’s like the higher up you

go, the crazier the people get who show up alongside you. Anytime

the stakes are too high, I just don’t like the company around me.

It’s like there’s some sort of fast pass for narcissists that exists when

there’s a winner on the line.”

When he took my hand, he was chuckling.

My stomach twisted. “Don’t laugh at me. Not all of us are cut

out to be superstars like you.”

188

He shook his head. “It’s not that. I’m not laughing at you.

You’re just bringing up all these things that came up in rehab for

me. It’s kind of scary, actually, how you just sounded like me two

months ago.”

My heart squeezed. Was it possible that our worlds might not

be on separate sides of the galaxy after all?

His hand let go of mine, and its absence felt like the dark parts

of space. He took a low, quiet breath. “Sometimes, I regret not

having a regular life. A regular childhood. You know, baseball

teams and pizza parties. People think it’s so amazing to be in the

movies. And it is. It’s great, but it’s hard not to wonder what it

would be like to be . . . normal. To have just chosen my own path

rather than had it all decided already.”

I opened my car door, too, so we could catch a cross breeze.

The sky darkened even more and I thought of all those little stars,

all the ones we couldn’t see, hidden out there in the dark, spar-

kling without anyone seeing them at all. I didn’t mind being that

sort of star, the kind no one saw but still held its own small part of

the sky.

Watching him, I wanted to say something to him about regret,

about how I didn’t really believe in the idea of regret because it was

always based on what
might
have happened. People always held up

the now, the concrete now, and compared it to what might have

been, and that wasn’t a fair comparison.

Instead, I told him, “I’m just trying to make the best choice I

can, with all the information I have at the time, and then, if it doesn’t

work out, I’ll figure out something else. That’s the best I can do.”

189

“I get that. More than you know.” He smiled at me, but his face

was already retreating behind its curtain and, before I could

respond, he was out of the car, leaning in. “I’m sorry to do this,

but I’ve got to run. I’ll get Mik to drive you back to your car, okay?

I have an epic shoot tomorrow, but the Fourth is going to be great,

I promise.” He gave me a sort of half smile, not really meeting my

eyes, and then disappeared into his trailer.

I just emptied my heart and he’s
got to run
?!

What just happened?

Feeling foolish as Mik drove me back to Snow Ridge, I realized

that after all of that, we hadn’t even talked about Beckett Ray or

reporters or the script or anything else. I was getting distracted

and trusting him. I needed to stick to the plan.

No more improvising.

190

yesterday’s sightings

Things Are Looking Up in Little, CA

Morning, sky watchers. Wel , tomorrow is the Fourth of July. All

hail the Stars and Stripes. We’ve been wondering why the

flag used stars to represent the fifty states. So, after poking

around a bit with our pal Google, we found mostly that they

are representative of the heavens, of the human need to

look up and feel inspired by all that dark, all that scattered

light. To aspire. One blogger we came across said he felt like

the stars give people a chance to imagine their own

possibilities; they provide a reminder that each of us has the

capacity to make our best future, to find our purpose. That

sounded pretty good to us. So, while you’re kicked back

tomorrow night, looking up at the fireworks, take a minute to

consider the stars, the ones always up there reminding us of

what might be.

See you tonight, under the sky.

191

sixteen

parker was dressed for the river. I knew the look well. Between

the months of April and October, it came into the café
a lot
. He

hadn’t shaved and wore a pair of raggedy Bermuda shorts with his

T-shirt and flip-flops. He appeared almost normal, like some of

the Hollywood shine had dulled. As he perused the script, he

tugged at the bill of his faded blue ball cap; it was inscribed with

the name of a movie studio I’d seen pop up on movies usually fea-

tured at the Dream, a theater that showcased artier films than the

Vista. He hurried through our schedule for the day. I’d been in

dozens of dance shows over the years, starting with my first satin-

drenched, Bambi-eyed Bon Bon in
The Nutcracker
when I was four,

but nothing compared to the production Parker had just outlined

for me leading up to my fireworks kiss with Adam.

Sitting again at the iron table tucked away in the backyard of

The Hotel on Main, he must have recognized a certain look on my

face, a certain glazed overload, because he sat back in his chair, the

garden already warm at seven a.m. “You all right? You look a bit

peaked.” He took a sip of the orange juice Bonnie had brought us

fifteen minutes ago when we’d started. She’d looked a bit less

chipper than she had for our first meeting in her garden, the skin

192

beneath her eyes bruised with fatigue. I knew firsthand that after a

while, Hollywood or not, work was work.

“What time do we report for the parade?” I asked.

“Ten thirty. You’re in the first car. A vintage Mustang.” He

held up a picture of a car, slick and shiny like a candy apple. I

thought of the pink scarf Chloe had given me, wondered if they’d

let me wear it. Parker tucked the picture back into a folder.

“Fabulous, yeah? But no lingering. We’re going to rush you in and

rush you out. For security reasons.” His phone buzzed. He eyed it,

then texted a quick reply. “Oh, and here’s your dress.” He handed

me a white eyelet sundress in a clear plastic bag. I noticed the label.

“Oh, wow. Um, I’m pretty sure I’ll get that dirty. And that I can’t

afford it.”

He blinked his river-green eyes at me and rubbed at his scruff

of beard. “You don’t have to pay for it, love. The designer sent it.”

“Sent it to me?” I held the dress as if it were made of glass.

He was checking his phone again. “You’ll look gorgeous in it.

With some sandals. Nothing tarty, yeah?”

“Um, have we met? I’m not even one of those girls who can

pull off ‘tarty’ kitty at Halloween. I always go as a baby. Or a

pirate.” I hooked the dress onto the back of my chair, careful not to

let it drag on the ground.

A smile softening his face, he reminded me to change out of

the dress for the lunchtime barbecue at the fairgrounds and then

put it back on for the afternoon barbecue at Snow Ridge Senior

Living.

Nodding, I said, “Thanks for letting me go to that. It

means a lot.”

193

“It’s a great publicity stop.” He scanned his phone, frowned at

something, and then added, “A shot of you with those geriatrics

you teach to dance. Priceless.”

Not amused, I sipped my orange juice.

He flipped through a few more pages of the script. “We want

you to arrive at the private party for tonight’s Fourth of July gath-

ering no later than six.” He paused to make sure I was keeping up.

“I’ll be there at four to make sure things are going smoothly, and

the guests will begin arriving at five. We want shots of you two

strolling the vineyard. It will be a perfect build for the fireworks

kiss shot.”

“So romantic,” I mumbled.

He flipped the script shut. “We
sell
romance, love. We don’t

necessarily live it.”

“We’re watching fireworks there?”

“You and Adam. And invited guests. And three hundred lucky

Little locals.”

There had been a contest running all week on our local radio

station to win tickets to the exclusive private Fourth of July party

being hosted in honor of Adam’s Little film shoot. I’d scored

some tickets for Dad, Chloe, and Alien Drake, but when they’d

announced yesterday that they’d given away the last ticket, I’d

suddenly had quite a few people trying to contact me. One more

reason I was glad I didn’t have a Facebook page.

I watched Parker start to rearrange things in a red backpack

that still had its tags. Inside, I noticed a thick book, a bottle of

water, and a white-paper-wrapped sandwich of some sort. Not one

of ours. “You’re not going to the parade?”

194

He shot me an almost apologetic look. “I’ll be back for the

party, but I have a rare day off, and you guys are so snotty about

your river I thought I’d see what the fuss was all about.”

“Here.” I pulled the script across the table and wrote out a

series of directions on the back of it. “Go here. You’ll avoid some

of the people up from Sacramento for the day. This spot’s pretty

much locals only. When you get to the sign where it says ‘no river

access’ keep going. A resident just put that up to try to keep people

out.”

“Cheers.” He stuffed the script into the backpack. As he swung

it over his shoulder, he opened his mouth to say something, but

then closed it again, his eyes settling on me. His look felt heavy,

searching.

I squirmed a bit. “What?”

“Nothing. See you tonight.”

I’d been to every Little Fourth of July parade since I was a kid but

never in a featured car. And, of course, never with a movie star.

It changed things.

Not only did Mik run alongside of us, but three other Mik look-

alikes joined him to ward off the masses. They sweated in the heavy

sun as they ran, their huge arms bulging in matching black T-shirts