Page 70 of The Kissing Part
“Actually, the Vancouver project was cancelled.”
I still. No Vancouver job. No DC job. Shit.
“Why?” I ask.
“I had to get out of my contract to do this other project. It starts filming after the Fourth of July. Oliver was able to assemble everyone he needed ahead of time. His crew often follow him from project to project. He got the financing, and it’s a go.”
I frown. “So you’re telling me you pulled out of the Vancouver project that you said would give me a job and is the whole reason I lost the DC job? This is really going to hurt my company’s bottom line. Why wasn’t I included in this decision? At least we could’ve talked about it. How long have you known?”
“It was just official today.”
I clench my jaw. “When did you unofficially find out about this?”
“Friday. But my agent swore me to secrecy. It was a delicate situation. We were trying to avoid a lawsuit.”
“You could’ve trusted me.”
“Okay, I see now that I probably should’ve mentioned it earlier, but I don’t see what difference that would have made. I have to take this project, which means I have to drop the other one. You understand how important this role is, right? I could show you the script.” She goes for her phone.
I grab it and put it facedown on the table. “You dangle a job in front of me; then it’s gone. I imagine the Vancouver people are pretty pissed you pulled out at the last minute. You think they’re going to want to hire the guy you recommended now?”
She’s quiet for a long moment. “Okay, I get why you’re upset, but I hoped my offer of a three-month all-expenses-paid trip to LA would make up for it a little. I don’t want work to get between us again.”
“Well, it did. And you can’t buy me off with a trip.”
“I’m sorry.” She stares at her plate and mutters, “I feel like I’m always apologizing to you.”
That pisses me off. “And I’m tired of hearing it.” I push my plate back. “You’re still lying to me, Shay, acting like nothing changed when you had this major news that affects me too. We were together all weekend, and you could’ve said something at any time.”
“That’s not a lie!”
“It’s a lie of omission. And you lied when you said you’d stay in touch. Instead you stayed in touch with my sister, my cousin, Mom, everyone around me, but not me. Let’s leave Owen in the dark. He’ll just go along.”
She huffs. “Are you going to bring up our past every time you’re mad at me? How many times can I apologize for not staying in touch when I was sixteen years old on the brink of my big break? And this is not a lie. I do have a bigger, better job thanks to my agent. This Vancouver film was for an indie darling. They can replace me easily, in fact I already found someone for the role, and after this Oliver Nuckowski film, I’ll have my choice of projects.”
I go cold. Once again, it’s all about her and her career. Who cares who gets shut out as a result?
“Why can’t you just be happy for me?” she asks.
I stand. “I’m out.”
“You’re going out?”
“I mean I’m out because we’re over. Pack your things. I don’t want to see you when I get back.”
I storm toward the door, but I still hear her yell, “Owen, please! Let’s talk about this.”
I stop without turning around. “Text Zander before you leave!”
As soon as I get outside, I run, adrenaline racing through me. I don’t need this. I was fine before she swept into town, and I’ll be fine when she leaves.
When I finally wear myself out, I find myself at the Happy Endings bar. The worst of my anger has passed, replaced by the sting of betrayal. I can’t trust her. She thinks she can just yank me out of my life and change the plan whenever it suits her with no regard for what I want.
And then she dangles a three-month trip in front of me like I can be bought. Screw that. I’m not impressed with the glamour of Hollywood. I grew up on movie sets.
My cousin Cooper is behind the bar tonight. His light brown hair is rumpled as usual, his jaw scruffy. “Hey, cuz. Is this a beer night or whisky?”
I meet his sympathetic brown eyes. He can read people like a book, or maybe I just look as bad as I feel. “Whisky.”
