Page 30 of Over & Out

She rolls her eyes. “I knowallabout working with a mule of a man.” Dolly glances pointedly over her shoulder to where her co-owner, who happens to be her late husband’s brother, is aggressively wiping down the sneeze-guard. The two of them famously barely get along. She once confessed to me that she hangs on to her portion of the business only half out of respect for her husband. The other half is out of spite. But she still manages to look happy most of the time. Probably because she knows exactly how to handle her jerk of a brother-in-law.

“Sometimes I think I need a big change,” she says wistfully. “Other times I know that’ll just give Miles what he wants—me gone.”

Before I can go deep and tell her she should do whatever she wants with her life—she’s so young and has options—she laughs and waves a hand in front of her face, as if putting all that off for later.

“Anyway. I know just what you need.”

Dolly disappears around the bar. She comes back amoment later with a giant muffin on a plate. “I was saving it for tonight, but you need it more.”

“Dolly, I couldn’t.” It’s not just any muffin. It’s the Bean Scene’s everything muffin, which sells out within twenty minutes of opening every morning. They’re that good. Dolly won’t take no for an answer. I vow that the minute I’m done with this job, I’m going to recruit Annie, my last single friend, to aggressively make Dolly our friend too, even if it means churning butter in our bare feet on her homestead.

When I’m done with my soup, which is, of course, outrageously delicious, I open my laptop. The purpose of working after work tonight is ostensibly to go over everything Tru and I talked about in the kitchen before the two-hour video call scheduled with Adrian, Hopper’s agent and Tru’s brother-in-law, as well as Mabel Johnson, Hopper’s manager. Adrian’s an exceptionally stylish gay man in his thirties who splits his time between LA and Hong Kong, where his boyfriend lives. He’s sarcastic and sharp-witted and defers to Tru for Hopper advice. I can tell he respects her opinion. Mabel is a little cooler—she’s a tall woman of about fifty with cropped silver hair, who’s based full time in LA. She’s a shark, and I can tell she cares greatly for Hopper, but there’s something about her I haven’t figured out yet. I’m usually very good at reading people—a product of spending the second half of my childhood in a multitude of houses that weren’t mine. I know when people aren’t showing all of themselves, and Mabel’s definitely got something going on.

But Mabel isn’t the one I need more of a read on right now. The day I got this job, Lana and Shelby came overand spent half the night googling Hopper. I purposefully didn’t partake as they gasped andaahed around my laptop. As much as I was desperately curious to know more about him, the last thing I wanted was for Hopper to think I was some kind of obsessed superfan. But today I felt caught out when Tru was talking about his projects and contracts. What if someone asks me a question about him and I don’t know the most basic info?

So I pull up my search history, bring up the pages Lana and Shelby were on, and get reading.

And what an education I get.

The first page I open is an article calledExtra Deep Dive on Everybody’s Favorite Bad Boy, Hopper Donnach.

I swallow, hoping I won’t regret this as my finger eagerly scrolls the page.

You may know Hopper Donnach as the ill-tempered movie star who once broke a paparazzo’s camera for getting too up close and personal. Or as the charming Duke of Dulchester who jumps horses as high as his leading ladies’ wigs. Perhaps it’s through his nine-figure LASER superhero franchise from Spackle Comics, which has spawned a billion-dollar toy empire. Or maybe you’re one of the true fans, the ones who’ve been around from the very beginning, when he played the beloved son onFamily Time All the Timeat twelve years old.

But do you know the whole story?

The handsome but often cantankerous star has always been famously private about his personal life. But we did adeep dive and are here to tell you there’s a whole lot more to the Dashing Duke than meets the eye. From the difficult early years on the set ofFamilyto dealing with a tumultuous relationship with his reportedly alcoholic father. His close relationship with his mom—until she passed after a long illness—to his rumored engagement to a Spanish heiress. These are just the tip of the iceberg. We’ve got it all.

Watch the exclusive exposé…

I watch the exposé. And I find my heart, annoyingly, aching at the grainy images of Hopper and his mom. There’s a childhood photo they got a hold of somehow, where she’s got an eight- or nine-year-old Hopper squished in her arms, a birthday cake on a table behind them. He’s doing that thing where he looks like he’s trying to get away, but he’s smiling too.

The video flashes from that to the two of them on the red carpet years later. He looks to be only in his early twenties, but he already looks so serious. He stands in such a way that he looks to be blocking the reporters from interrogating his mother. And then, jarringly, they move to Hopper in a suit, looking closer to the age he is now, his head bowed as a casket is lowered into the ground. Mabel’s beside him, looking openly distraught next to his stony-faced version of grief.

Was his mom the only person who truly knew him? Mabel must too. But I can’t help but hear his words from the other day.

I shake these overly caring thoughts right out of my head. It doesn’t matter.

And I don’t know why I feel a prick of jealousy when I see the Spanish heiress pop up on screen. I already knew about her. The video clip is of her and Hopper at a gala. He looks like an old-timey movie star with his hair slicked back and eyes practically stabbing me through the screen when he looks into the camera. The heiress is gorgeous, with her mile-long legs, dark hair in a waterfall over her shoulder, and almond eyes. I have to fast forward before I feel like a muffin crumb–covered blob. Which is ridiculous because what does this have to do with me? Nothing.

There’s so much in just this story.Somuch. And the worst part? I don’t know how much is true and how much is made up. I can’t help but feel second-hand violation at the sheer volume and speculation of all of these posts and articles.

The exposé claims Hopper wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth the way I assumed, but grew up in a working-class town an hour outside of Toronto. He’s Canadian, like me, just from the opposite side of the country. His dad was his manager until he was twelve, when he abruptly left the family, apparently not under the best circumstances. These things are corroborated in various other articles, so I take them as true.

The other things I take as true?

Everyone talks about what a dick he is. And yet the red flags are all kind of pink. Yes, he broke a paparazzo’s camera in a “violent incident,” but the gossip columnist who seems the most forthright and least interested in,well, gossip, swears it was because the man had been trying to sneak photos of his mom in hospice. I’d smash his camera too, maybe more. He trashed that hotel room, but the rumor is he was going through something—someone saw him break down in the hotel bar earlier in the night—and apparently he more than paid for the damage. The place is being fully renovated currently. Coincidence? Or is Hopper footing the bill? Even if he is, I tell myself it doesn’t excuse what he did. But I can’t find any evidence of any other incidents like that. It seems that the stories of him having a history of being a destructive star who does that kind of thing regularly are just rumors.

I’m so absorbed that Dolly has to come by and gently remind me the coffee shop is closing. When I get home, I keep reading. I read until my head starts to nod. By the time I fall asleep that night, my mind is swimming with thoughts of the man I thought I knew. From what I’ve seen, yeah, he’s difficult. He’s slightly foul-tempered and possibly many other things. But I don’t think he’s the unadulterated asshole everyone makes him out to be. And I really,reallydon’t like how relieved that makes me feel.

Chapter 10

Hopper

True to form, my new assistant has started out every day of our first week without Tru with that thing outside my door. I jump out of my skin when the first gong sounds just like I have every fucking morning since it showed up here, but I manage to keep my cursing to a minimum. I hear giggles and muffled voices, so she must be giving Cindi a go too.

Joke’s on her today, though, because I’m fully dressed, having set my own alarm to wake up before the she-demon even got here. I even had time to respond to an email from my bank that made me mildly ill. It was asking if I want to continue the outgoing personal wire transfers to Carl Donnach I set up three years ago. I really fucking don’t. I can think of several other places I’d rather send this eye-watering sum to every month. But his face popped up in my mind, making my stomach churn. I grimaced before remembering I don’t have to deal with this myself. I called Mabel to handle it, renewing thetransfers but also doubling the monthly philanthropic donations.

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