Page 158 of Faking the Pass
“Besides, we’ve all planned a sort of intervention to convince you to go after Rosie,” he confessed. “Don’t tell them I told you. We all miss her. And nobody’s real excited about the return of Presley the Grump.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
“Camping or reaching out to Rosie?” he asked.
“Both.”
Chapter 39
The Only Thing Ice Cream Can’t Fix
Rosie
A couple months after I returned to California,Once Upon a Charmreleased in theaters.
It had been a massive box office success, and I’d managed to get through the promo appearances with Randy and the red carpet premiere without too much trouble.
The good news was I had started to get some other scripts through my agent as a result of it, some of them very decent.
The bad news was that any new projects would have to wait until after I’d filmed the sequel. I was supposed to report to the set in a couple of weeks, and I was already dreading spending long days on the set with Randy.
But I’d survive it—somehow. I’d certainly survived worse.
Losing Presley.
Not that I was in great shape or anything. Danielle had been a saint, not only for putting me up on her couch since my return but for putting up with my frequent crying jags and general mopiness.
I was never going to get over Pres, but Iwouldbe getting my own place soon. My new contract guaranteed me a nice pre-production advance, which would be deposited next week.
“I’m sure you’ll be relieved to get your couch back for its intended purpose—watching marathons of Real Housewives of… everywhere,” I teased her.
A struggling single mom, Danielle was a bit obsessed with the fantasy presented by the shows, a life of abundance—and of course the loving husband part.
“You are welcome to stay as long as you like, and you know that,” she said. “Anyway, even after you get your own place, you know you’re gonna be right back here on this couch with me to watch the season finale.”
“Fine, I admit it. You got me hooked,” I accused her.
“What about your real love life?” she asked. “Any word from him?”
“Who?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Randy, of course,” she joked.
Then she said, “You know who. I know you didn’t watch the Superbowl, but I’m telling you, he looked sad, even after they won.”
“He’s not sad,” I assured her.
At least I hoped not.
“He got his record. He’s won more Superbowls than any other quarterback ever. He’s gotten everything he ever wanted.”
“Has he?” she asked. “You’re about to get the biggest paycheck of your life, a week from now you’ll be on stage presenting at the Oscars, andyou’renot happy.”
She wasn’t wrong.
My response was a whisper. “I don’t know.”
A little stronger, I said, “Anyway, it’s about to start.”
