“I think he wants to yell at me for not inviting the cameras to observe my wild sexual exploits.”

Ava’s eyebrows shoot skyward.  I hadn’t said it out loud yet.  Of course anyone with half a brain would have figured it out the night he disappeared and I wandered home looking fairly used and disheveled.  But I hadn’t admitted it.  I guess it’s time to admit it.

“I wish…” I whisper but I can’t seem to finish the sentence.   There’s that good old thick knot in my chest again.  It has Oscar’s name on it.  I was an idiot to think I could just fuck it away.

My elbows are up on the table now and my head is down, my fingers laced behind my neck.  Those two words keep bouncing around the room.

I wish.

I wish.

I wish.

I’m drowning in wishes.  Things I wish I hadn’t said.  Things I wish I hadn’t done.  Things I wish I had said.  Courage I wish I could have found.   Years I wish I hadn’t lost.

Soft arms surround me.  My sister presses her head against mine.

“I know,” she whispers back.

I stay inside that comfortable hug for a full minute, holding on to my little sister and trying not to leak snot on her shoulder.   When that’s over I pat Alden’s head and start down the hall, figuring I ought to make an effort to look slightly better than ‘fucking homeless’.

But before I get to the shower I take a detour.  I’ve been avoiding the Blue Room since my first week here, spending less than five minutes on my required self-interviews.  Typically I gloss over anything that might be important and instead summarize events like the cleaning of the chicken coop or the loading of the dishwasher.  Whenever Cate Camp pulls me aside for an entreaty to ‘dig a little deeper’ I just pretend like I don’t hear her.

Since almost everything I’ve been doing since I got here just isn’t working I make up my mind to try something else.  Determinately I wind my long hair into a knot and push a few stray strands behind my ears.  I’m wearing a ratty old gym ensemble, I slept very little last night, and I haven’t even washed my face.  In other words, I’m not classic camera material.  But that will have to be okay.

I flip the camera on and settle into the papasan chair.  This time, when I look straight at the lens it isn’t intimidating.  There’s nothing to be afraid of here.

This is me.  The real me.

I clear my throat.

“Hello. I haven’t really let you meet me yet.  I’m Loren Elizabeth Savage.  Yes, of the famed movie star Savages.  You probably know about my family.  And you may have heard a few things about the rest of us.  Some of them might even be true.  But there’s still so much you don’t know.  No matter how many cameras there are in the world there will always be a lot you can’t see.  I was in love once.  Really and truly in love.  Like what you see in the movies.  Like what you read about in stories.  It was as incredible as it was heartbreaking.  I hope you’ll stick around and listen for a little while.  Because I really want to tell you about it…”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

OZ

It wouldn’t make any sense for Atlantis Star to have changed in the last three days when it probably hasn’t changed much in decades.  But when I blow through Consequences and make the turn off down the dirt road that leads to the old movie ranch it looks different to me. Smaller somehow.

The crew’s truck is parked where it always is when they’re around, in the shade of an old mesquite tree about thirty yards off from the house.  The leader, an amiable type of guy who goes by the unfortunate name of Rash, is tinkering with some equipment in the yard.  He looks up at the sound of my truck and offers a wave.

I don’t bother being discreet about my arrival.  I roll right up to the doorstep of the big house.  Rash has his camera on his shoulder and he’s filming me now but that’s fine.  I’m beyond caring who might be watching what at this point.

Before I get my hand on the doorknob I see Monty Savage coming from the direction of the barn.  He’s got his shirt off, like he usually does, as if his thick chest is allergic to fabric or needs chronic admiration to remain solid.  He stops cold when he sees me and I brace for some noise but he just lowers his head and keeps walking.

Since the front door is unlocked I stroll right on through it.  A small blond tornado whips past my legs.  Ava’s boy, Alden.  He’s laughing as only kids know how to laugh.

Ava is laughing herself as she follows the kid.  Her laughter dies abruptly when she sees me.  She puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head, looking none too friendly.

I close the door behind me.  There’s no one else in sight.   “Is she here?”

Ava looks me up and down.  Of course I don’t know what’s gone on here in the last few days but judging from Ava’s expression it’s nothing good.  I remember the deathly silence between Ren and I after we finished fucking our brains out.  I remember the almost desperate look she gave me before opening the door to the truck and trudging back to the house.  But at the time I thought it would be better if we just left things unsaid.  I was too wrapped up in my own feelings to notice her pain.

From the look on Ava’s face though, she understands her sister’s pain all too well.  And she’s decided who is responsible.

“Ava?” I prompt gently.

“She’s here,” Ren’s sister says.  Her kid tears back into the room and crashes into her legs.  She hoists him to her hip and jerks her head toward the hall.  “Last bedroom at the end.  Knock first, Oz. And if she tells you to leave then you should.”

“Fair enough.  I will.”

Alden claps his hands together a few times and I give him a little wink.   I just lied to his mother but that will come out soon enough.  Today, I have no intention of leaving even if Ren throws a frying pan at my head.

One of the lesser Camera Creeps tails me as I head down the hall.  Just before I turn a corner I see Brigitte lurking in the small piano alcove.  She notices me but says nothing and doesn’t move.  Usually she tries to insert herself in the middle of whatever might give her camera time so it’s a little out of character for her to stand down but I’ll take it.

When I get to Ren’s door I almost just barge through it but decide to scrape together a few manners.   I rap my knuckles on the wood five times and wait.

Ren’s sigh reaches me from the other side of the door.  She was probably enjoying some mid morning solitude away from the cameras.

My entire body freezes when the door creaks open.  Christ, I’m nervous, more than I was that first day I drove up here, weeks ago.  Because back then I put on an armor of arrogant attitude.  Now I’m going to face her with honesty.  It’s tougher than it sounds.

“Hi,” I manage to say, noting the way her eyes widen.  I can’t read whether the look on her face is anything other than shock.   Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are slightly red.  She’s cried recently.  Her dark hair hangs down straight and appears damp, fresh from a shower.  She’s barefoot, wearing a plain black cotton dress with thin straps that falls to her knees and doesn’t have a speck of makeup on.  She’s so blindingly beautiful I can’t stand it.

Ren recovers from her shock and crosses her arms over her chest.  “You’re back.”

“I’m back.”

“For how long?”

“Depends on you.”

She cocks her head to the side, her soft lips slightly parted.  “I don’t understand.”

I have to touch her.  I act like I’m trying to push a piece of nonexistent hair out of her face.  She doesn’t shrink away when my fingers brush her cheek.  But the shiver that rolls through her is involuntary.  The idea that her tears were probably caused by me twists my gut into knots.  If that’s the case then I have a new goal.  I’m never ever going to be the cause of her tears again.