Where You Are
I arch a brow. “Is that a nice way of saying I wouldn’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about?”
He laughs, turns one palm up. “Well… unless you’ve become a closet car aficionada in the past few months…”
It took Stan, the on-set mechanic for School Pride, half a day to teach me to unlatch the hood of that car for a scene. “Er, no, I wouldn’t say that. But I can drive, as long as it’s an automatic—um—motor?”
“Transmission.” He’s chuckling again. “Yeah, Emma the car enthusiast—not-so-much.”
“I guess it’s a good thing I’m moving to New York, where I won’t need a car.”
His smile falters, but he recovers quickly. “If you object so strongly to yellow, how will you put up with taking taxis everywhere?”
I smile. “I was thinking I might actually learn to use the Metro.”
“There’s one of those normal, everyday things I’ll never be able to do—use public transportation,” he says.
“Definitely not, especially with your I-heart-Reid-Alexander stalkers.”
“My what?”
Crap. I forgot he wasn’t aware of Jenna’s term for his fans. “Er, nothing. You seem to like being recognized everywhere you go, though.”
He shrugs. “It has its benefits. And it’s part of the job. Anyone who doesn’t understand that going in is unrealistic.”
“Maybe. But not everyone gets as famous and well-recognized as you are—most actors aren’t. Graham and I didn’t have much of an issue, jogging in the mornings, but you couldn’t even step outside the hotel without being mauled by fans.”
He toys with his spoon, rotating it through his fingers, over and under. “People love what I do, and I love doing it. Those are the most important parts of the equation. And I’m rich enough to buy more seclusion, if I feel the need for privacy, so I can’t really complain.” He tilts his head, watching me closely. “You’ll have a surge of recognition once School Pride is out. But if you don’t do any more movies, it’ll probably die down. Is that why you wanted out?”
“No. I’m not afraid of fame, though I’d never be as comfortable with it as you are. But I do crave some normalcy. I’m excited about going to college. Scared, but excited. And I love the idea of acting on a stage instead of in front of a camera. After college, I guess I’ll do what everyone else does. Weigh my options and make the best choice I can at the time.”
He nods his head. “Fair enough.”
*** *** ***
GRAHAM
My family couldn’t be less thrilled that Brooke will be attending my graduation ceremony with them, and staying over two nights. I’ve already endured and ignored Cassie’s and Brynn’s opinions on the matter; I finally had to bite the bullet and tell Mom. Her reaction: “Well, shit.”
Luckily, Cara’s in bed. She’s at that age where she mimics everything. Brynn can’t get through a conversation without at least one inappropriate word, even when she bleeps herself… which Cara has also picked up. A couple of days ago I got all sorts of looks when our line at Dean & Deluca stalled and Cara demanded loudly, “What the bleep is going on up there?”
“I can’t exactly ask her go to commencement by herself,” I say. Behind my mother’s eyes the gears turn furiously, trying to figure out how to make that exact thing happen.
Dad recognizes the distracted look on her face for what it is—plotting. “Audrey.”
“Hmm?” Pulled from her reverie (where she is no doubt personally loading Brooke on a flight to Uzbekistan or somewhere equally distant), Mom blinks innocently. Dad and I know better than to fall for her angelic expression.
“Audrey, Graham’s friend is coming to watch him graduate. He’s invited her; we aren’t going to uninvite her.”
This probably isn’t an ideal time to admit that Brooke invited herself.
“Can’t we at least put her up in a nice hotel, where she’ll be more comfortable?” Mom’s voice is sugary with a veiled edge of for-the-love-of-God-please.
Brooke was a demanding guest two years ago—questioning the thread count of the guest bed sheets, asking where we kept the new toothbrushes and razors for visitors, and even putting in an order for a specific brand of bottled water. Mom spent the duration of Brooke’s visit seething, and she hasn’t forgiven or forgotten.
“Between Columbia and NYU commencement ceremonies, the hotels are all booked and have been for months.” Dad’s voice of reason falls on deaf ears.
“She could stay nearby. In Jersey, say.”
“Mom!” Torn between amusement and exasperation, I’m not sure what to add to the exclamation.
Dad sighs. “She’s staying here, Audrey. We’d better get the guest room set up.”
“And alert the servants,” she mumbles. “Oh wait. That’s me.”
I slide an arm around her shoulders as she rinses dishes and I prepare to load the dishwasher. “Mom, Brooke has matured over the past two years. I doubt you’ll have the same issues you had with her as before.” I should be crossing my fingers behind my back.
“I won’t be holding my breath, Graham.”
***
Emma is a few minutes late signing in, and I assure her it’s no big deal, even though she was out to dinner with Reid. In San Francisco. One of the most romantic cities in the US. When she can’t help but gush about the renovated 1920s building, the glass jellyfish chandeliers and the amazing food, I listen patiently. Thank God for the fuzziness of webcam technology, which allows my tight smile to feign rapt appreciation.