Bounce (30 page)

“No, I mean everyone who's not my best friend.”

He scowls. “Brooks?”

“Well, no, not Brooks.” Though he's given me a lot of compliments lately on how things fit now, how great I look on-camera. Garrett has. Bernadette. Everyone tells me I'm looking good and to keep going. “Anyway, it's just for the movie.”

Grey takes a bite and points at my sandwich. “Isn't the idea that you're going to do a lot of movies? Isn't this a start of your whole big career?”

For some reason, that thought panics me, but I tamp it down and take another bite—a smaller one.

“Well, yeah.” I don't think I can make it through a quarter of this meal, but I don't want to hurt him. The supplements shrink my appetite. Also, we're leaving in less than forty-eight hours, and they're talking about a bikini. The thought of my hips and thighs displayed on a sixty-foot-wide movie screen, in high-def, pretty much crushes my soul.

“So, doesn't that mean you're going to have to take those things indefinitely? And eat like a bird all the time?”

“Well, I guess I figured I'd lose fifteen or twenty pounds and then—”

“From where? Jesus, Sky. You're gorgeous. Every bit of you.” He looks so earnest, so personally offended on my behalf, that I want to launch myself into his arms and kiss him for a week.

“You're sweet.”

Another scowl but with a hint of a smile. “I'm not sweet. And I will seriously beat the shit out of anyone who makes you feel crappy about yourself.”

“I promise, no one is making me feel crappy.” And I realize they're not. No one's said there's anything wrong with me. It's more this feeling that things could be more
right
.

I take another couple of bites, though I'm not really hungry anymore. Then I wrap the rest in a napkin and tell him I'll take it with me for the road. “Unless you want it?”

“Nah,” he says and slides off the bed. “You have it. I'll have a second breakfast on the set.”

I laugh and get up, too. “Fair enough.”

Picking up my plate, he asks, “So, how about that shower?”

“Sure. Let's do it.”

Grey's eyes widen. “Really?”

“No, not really, you goof. You go. I'll clean up.”

“You suck, Skyler Canby. For real.”

I give him a little push, which feels exactly like I imagine it would feel to push a tree. “I know. I'm a terrible human being.”

He looks down at me, his expression sad and sweet and penetrating. “Yeah,” he says, softly. “You're the worst.”

  
Chapter 33
  

Grey

M
ust have been some night, Greyson,” Garrett says to me.

“What?” I snap out of a daze. Have I really been driving to the studio with a smile on my face like a complete asshole? Yep. I have. “It was nothing. Skyler and I hung out. That's all. We're roommates.”

Garrett nods slowly. “Huh. Are you now?” He's looking a little perplexed by me, a little worried, and I can just imagine what's going through his mind. He knows Sky went to San Francisco with Brooks on Friday night. I probably look like an even bigger asshole now that he knows I've been thinking about some other guy's girl. Time for a subject change.

“Garrett, there's something I want to talk to you about.”

“Uh-oh.” He lifts the Salted Caramel Latte I picked up for him on the way to his place. “I knew this drink was a harbinger of doom.”

“Naw. You've been drinking black coffee for weeks. A little sugar splurge now and then won't kill you.” The film business puts some effed-up expectations on actors. I don't like it. I mean, I stand behind keeping Garrett from binging on sugar drinks every day, but there's no reason to get military about his diet. It should be a balance. A lot of things should be about balance. Fuck yeah, balance.

Garrett beams at me. “Thank you, Greyson. Now give me your bad news before I go into hysterics. You know I don't have the patience to be patient.”

“I'm not going to the Virgin Islands.”

Garrett's smile fades. “What? You—well, goat shit! Double goat shit! Triple, quadruple goat shit!”

“That's a lot of goat shit.”

“It is, Grey. It is! Why? What happened? Explain!”

There are a few reasons I've decided not to go. My music, for one. I've decided I'm going through with the showcase. So what if my mom greased the wheels and helped things along with Vogelson? It doesn't mean we aren't deserving. And the guy's got a great reputation. He wouldn't sign a band on as a favor. Then there's my relationship with Adam and my family. Much stuff to sort out there. And finally, there's Skyler. I want to be with her in the Virgin Islands. I want it
too
much. I'm falling for her in a big way, and nothing good will come from me watching her flirt with Brooks for three weeks. As much as I want to be with her, I can't put myself through that.

“Don't answer, Grey. It's okay. I think I know,” Garrett says. “But just for the record? She thinks about you when I kiss her.”

“What? What the hell is that—” I brake sharply at a red light, which only makes Garrett laugh harder. “You're an asshole.” He's killing himself. Dude has a weird sense of humor.

“Actually when I kiss her, I think about kissing you, too!” he yells, and loses it all over again.

“Aw. Come on, man. ”

“It's only true some of the time.” He wipes tears away. “Your face right now, Grey. Your
face
!” He sinks against the leather seats, shaking his head. “God, I'm going to miss you. I hate that you're not coming. Hate it. But wow, I love sugar. This drink is so good. I don't remember it being this good. I can't believe you kept me away from these for weeks. It's true what they say. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder.”

All I can think is, it better not. I'm banking on the opposite effect. I could definitely use some
un
fonder feelings for Sky.

Sometime around mid-morning while they're shooting a scene where Emma Beautiful Emma runs into Knightley at a florist, as young would-be lovers often do, I find a chair in a dark corner of the studio and pull my phone out of my pocket.

I scroll up to my last group message to the band from this weekend, when I was thinking of calling off the showcase. I told them we needed to talk. Usually we all say gig or practice. We never
talk.
I know they picked up on it because their replies as we worked out scheduling logistics were pretty short.

I'm smiling as I type out a new message. It takes me a few tries since my big ole fingers aren't made for quick texting, but I get it and hit send.

Grey:
Are you idiots ready to burn it up tonight or what? 8 p.m. Last one there pays for the beer.

Immediately my phone lights up with replies.

Reznick:
Fuck yeah, motherfucker!!!

Titus:
WTF, Grey!! I thought you were breaking up with us! Thanks for the ulcer, you dick!

Shane:
Told you dumbasses nothing was wrong. Tight-ass, you owe me $40!!!

Titus:
Hold on, your sister's right here. Lemme see if I can borrow.

Titus:
Wait she can't talk she's busy.

Shane:
Does Beth read your texts?

Titus:
No, Dude. That was a joke.

Emilio:
Some people R trying 2 sleep, U shitheads

Reznick:
Loser, it's noon. And stop texting like a little girl. KK? LOL? TTYS! ILYSM!

And so on.

“No cell phones in the studio while we're shooting.”

I look up. Adam's standing above me. I slip my phone into my pocket. “Sorry.”

In the pool of stage lights, Garrett and Skyler are talking between takes. Skyler squints into the darkness, searching, and I wonder if she's looking for Mia, Brooks, or me. Probably not me.

“I was kidding, Grey,” Adam says, with a small grimace. “You got a sec?”

“Sure.”

I follow him out into the bright sunshine. The day is unseasonably warm, but we walk for a few minutes. I'm not sure where we're going or if there's even a destination. I haven't been alone with my brother in almost a month and a half, I think. Maybe longer. And it feels like the walking we're doing is just to let the two of us expend a little pent-up aggression.

Finally, Adam stops around the corner from some commotion. Bernadette and Kaitlin are stressed about shipping out wardrobe to the BVIs, which should have left two days ago. Adam and I stand there for a minute, listening to them hassle the shipping company rep. I would not want to get on Kaitlin's bad side. Girl's tough.

“I'm not going,” I say, finally, because I'm sick of waiting for him to talk.

“I heard.”

Garrett. The traitor.

Adam slips an envelope from his back pocket and hands it to me.

It's my paycheck. But I've already done the calculations. I hand it back. “That should cover the rest of the cleaning fees for your place.”

Adam shakes his head. “I want you to keep it. You're going to have expenses for the showcase, and the point was that you understood. Your actions have consequences.”

“That wasn't the point, Adam. The point was that . . . ​that I understood I was disrespecting you by trashing your house. I get it now. And I'm sorry. It was stupid of me. I think . . . ​things are different now. It's like I didn't have anything that was making me think ahead or to . . . ​I don't know . . . ​to get excited about. I don't think I was seeing clearly what mattered. What matters.”

“And now you do?”

“The band. My music.” My family, I add silently. Then my mind supplies an image of Skyler's smile, as an addition to that list.

He nods. “Okay.” A shaky smile appears. “Okay, Grey.”

“I'm not done yet. The Cobra you built with Dad?”

Adam lifts his hand. “No need. Mom finally broke silence and told me. Don't get mad at her. She's been—”

“I'm not mad.” She should be able to talk to Adam about what I did. And I know she was only trying to protect me by keeping quiet about what happened. “I'm going to replace the Cobra, too, when I can.”

“Talk to Dad. See if he still wants that car.”

“You don't?”

Adam lifts his shoulders, the gesture tight and tense. “I don't care about a fucking car. But I do want my brother back. How do we put all this shit behind us, little bro? I want you to come home. I want to hear you sing. Ali misses you. Mom's beside herself. You've even got Dad worried. Jesus, Grey. We're all just waiting for you to come back. You know that, right?”

I wrap him up in a hug, quick and fierce. Then I push him away and press my thumbs into my eyes. “You're an asshole for trying to make me cry.”

“You're crying?”

“Not what I said.” And like he's not in the same boat. Adam's grinning, but I know he's welling up.

We hear Bernadette and Kaitlin coming before they round the corner. Kaitlin breaks off in mid-sentence and starts in like she's going to deliver a status report to Adam, but they both pick up pretty quickly that this isn't a good time. “Sorry,” they say in unison, and keep going.

“So Dad's even worried?” I ask.

“He's flying out here.”

“I heard. For the showcase.”

“Not for the showcase, dumbass. For
you
. God.” Adam runs a hand over his face. “I feel so
relieved
.”

“Like you just took an epic dump? Me too.”

“You're really not coming to the Virgin Islands?”

“Can't. I don't qualify. And I don't think you do, either.”

“Can you be serious for a second here? Garrett's all flustered about it. He says you're his good-luck charm. And I want you there, Grey. If it makes a difference, Mom won't be there. She's been working on a fund-raiser with Ali's mom. Some big dinner at the LA Country Club. It's next Saturday afternoon, so she's staying behind.”