Page 9 of Forget About Me

“Come on, Dad. The doctor said you need to get regular exercise.”

“I was up and around all day, in and out of the van, climbing stairs. Speaking of which, I went over some things with the bookkeeper today. She said you haven’t cashed any of your checks.”

I put Puck down and straighten the leash. I’ve been avoiding this discussion. “Dad, I’m just helping out.”

“But you’re missing work while you’re here, right?”

I don’t want my dad to worry about me, but it’s embarrassing to talk about the kind of money I make modeling. Plus, I am working at the theater. My weekly salary there wouldn’t cover a dinner out in Los Angeles, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I got a subletter for my place out west, and I have savings. You don’t charge me rent, so I don’t feel comfortable taking money from the shop. Can we just call it even?”

He frowns. “Well, that brings up another thing I wanted to ask you about. Barney upstairs was asking how much longer you’re staying in the garage apartment. He needs to store some stuff.”

My dad is essentially recovered, so I don’t really need to stay. My agent would be happy if I got on a plane the minuteRomeo and Julietcloses at the end of the month. I’m not quite ready to go, but I don’t want to screw things up for my dad’s paying tenant. “Well, I haven’t decided. I don’t have to be back until November, so I was hoping to stay a bit longer. But I guess if Barney needs??—?”

He waves a hand in the air. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll tell him to put his crap in the basement. If you’re staying into the fall, we’ll have to do something about a heater out there. That’s what had me moving the office inside the house in the first place, you know. It’s drafty out there in the winter.”

I didn’t know. I never asked why my dad had moved his desk into my old bedroom and my stuff out to the garage apartment. I just enjoyed having my own space when I came home from college for holidays. What a self-centered little asshole I am. “Okay. I’ll look into it.”

“I can get a deal on some insulation we can put up and maybe some new windows. If you’re really staying.”

“Yeah, I’m in no hurry to get back.”

His scruffy brows rise.

“I mean it, Dad.”

“You’re sure you’re not putting your career on hold because of me? I don’t want you to do that. I’m fine.”

His grouchy tone is most likely fueled by frustration with his own vulnerability. Which I get. I’ve been there.

When I was a kid, I wished I was a real member of the Minola family, rather than just an extra at their table. They were a three-ring circus that I wanted to run away with.

But this crotchety old guy would do anything for me. So whether he likes it or not, I’m sticking around until I have to go back. It’s not like being away from LA is a sacrifice in any way except financially. The overexposed flash of my life there is colorless in its own fashion.

Then I remember something. “Actually, there’s a Shakespeare Boston meeting tomorrow about the next play. I’m thinking about trying out for it, if it’s okay with you that I’d stay longer.”

“Of course, you’re always welcome.” He waves me away. “Now get outta here. Gotta watch the end of the game.”

“Okay. Good night.”

I hadn’t planned to audition until the words came out of my mouth, but it’s the obvious thing to do. It’ll give me a reason to stay and keep an eye on the old man and maybe even figure out a way to make things right with Lucy.

Plus, now I have a dog to take care of.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s go for a walk around the block.”

I hear her before I see her. Her xylophone-like laugh echoes throughout the Pet Palace. Puck seems to recognize it too, since I doubt it’s the smell of catnip that has him pulling me toward the feline supply aisle. His feelings for Lucy are a lot less complicated than mine.

Rounding an endcap stacked with toys, we find her. She’s got a hand on the upper arm of a good-looking guy, probably in his late thirties. Maybe she offers personal shopper services to all the vet clients. Or maybe she’s dating this guy. Heck, maybe she’s married to him.

The green-eyed monster raises its ugly head. I inform it that it gave up all claims to Lucy when I walked away from her. As an old family friend, I should be glad to know that she found love and happiness elsewhere.

I just can’t seem to muster that feeling. I still want her for my own.

If only I deserved her.

We’d all be better off if I just exit as if pursued by a bear, so I tug on the simple leash the vet’s office let me keep. Unfortunately, Puck has his own plan. Three little yaps from him catch Lucy’s attention. Her eyes spark with irritation at me, but she squats and holds out her arms to the furry weasel who breaks away to shower her with kisses.

I nod at the other male human, keeping things civilized, but when he squeezes Lucy’s shoulder I have to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from batting his hand away from her. His smile is smug as he says, “This must be your client. Thanks for your help, Lucy. I’ll tell the girls you say hello.”

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