Page 98 of Act Like You Don't Care
“Yes?” I leaned over with my phone. “What about this place? Or would you rather not eat out now?” I set my phone down and looked him in the eye. “We knew it would get out at some point.”
“Yeah.” He stared moodily at his phone.
“Some of the stories are going to be like that. Click-bait, mean, hunting for money. Next week, they’ll be talking about how devoted a parent you’re going to be. You told me this yourself.”
He sighed and stretched. “I thought I’d be less bothered by it.” He put one hand over his belly, the first time I’d seen him make any physical gesture that acknowledged that little bundle growing happily inside him. “I feel stupid saying this, but after all the drama that my life has been, I’d like for his to be drama-free.”
I laughed at him. “Think about that, Tam.”
Tam smiled and shook his head, but there was something thoughtful and sad in it too. “I know. I haven’t been trying really hard to be low-profile. It’s part of the job. This is different, though.”
I nodded. “Unless you want to go live on a desert island, there’s always going to be something or someone.” Pushing my luck, I reached over and took his phone gently from him, closed the webpage, and set the phone face down on the little table. “Compromise. We’ll get delivery. Or, we can sneak over to my mother’s for brunch, but let me call first to see who’s coming over today.” I doubted that Jim and Odette would be there, since Jim was still sleeping on my couch, but it was possible. Mom didn’t like to see her kids unhappy. I wouldn’t put it past her to keep inviting Odette for Sunday brunch in the hopes that, as time wore the edges off of frayed tempers, the two might find their way back to each other.
Tam glanced down at his phone but made no move to pick it up. “No, let’s go out. I don’t want them to think it’s affecting me.” He frowned slightly, then raised his head to look at me. “Maybe we could drop in at your parents’ after? Even if Jim and Odette are there.” One side of his mouth quirked up as if he’d been reading my mind.
I returned his smile. “She owes you an apology, anyway.”
He shrugged carelessly. “I don’t expect I’ll get it. You want to borrow a clean shirt before we go?”
Tam
No carbs, no carbsI kept reminding myself as we cruised the neighborhood looking for someplace to eat. Fruit and protein, that’s what I needed or I was going to be Two-ton Tam before I got back to filming tomorrow. This kid had a thing for bread. “Hey, that place is supposed to be good.” I pointed to a mid-sized restaurant with a large patio and, conveniently, right across from a parking lot. “What do you think?”
“I’m up for an adventure,” Miles replied cheerfully and spun the steering wheel toward the parking lot.
I’d wanted to take the Mustang at first and really shine a spotlight on myself, but Miles had talked me into going in the SUV with the promise of going out to the company’s training site to do some stunt driving after. Even though I suspected that he was trying to herd me toward keeping a lower profile, I still jumped on the opportunity. I could take the Mustang out for a spin on my next day off.
The restaurant was busy but not so busy that I couldn’t charm my way into a table on the lower patio, close to the sidewalk. I could eat and chat up fans at the same time and if Miles being there raised any speculation, well—let them speculate. It was all publicity, now that the seal on my pregnancy was broken, so to speak.
Miles got coffee, I asked for water and a small glass of orange juice to tide my stomach over while we decided on our meals.
My stomach growled impatiently. “Shut up, kid,” I muttered while I debated over the merits of a California Special or a Montana Cowboy.
Miles stifled a laugh and closed his menu. “Already telling you what to do?”
“Ugh,” I said and decided on the California Special with an extra sausage. I didn’t need the calories, except I did according to the nutritionist. A highwire walker from the circus had more leeway than I did with what I could afford to eat versus what the nutritionist wanted me to eat. The server saw me close the menu and was on us almost instantly, refilling Miles’s coffee and taking our orders.
Miles’s eyes flicked over my shoulder and he took a casual sip of his coffee. “Cell phones,” he said, looking past me again.
“That’s normal, Miles.” I picked up the orange juice and tasted it. “There’s no way this is fresh-squeezed.”
“Just didn’t know if you wanted me to tell them to put the phones away,” he replied as if I hadn’t tried to change the subject.
“No. You can’t stop them. Isn’t this something covered in your bodyguard training?”
He made a comical face and played with his fork, tilting it so the sunshine glittered sparks against the fence separating us from the sidewalk. “It is. Doesn’t mean we can’t ask. And like you said this morning, it feels different.”
I laughed and reached across the table to tap the back of his hand. “You’re getting sunbeams in people’s eyes. And thank you. It’s nice to not be the only one weirded out by all this.”
He opened his mouth, but I never got to find out what it was that he’d intended to say, because someone stepped into the path of the sunshine streaming down onto our table, casting us in shadow. I turned my face up with my practiced public smile, ready with a joke and some small talk and wondering if Miles had a pen on him because I hadn’t thought to bring one.
Then I realized who it was.
My father. Some older man I didn’t know, with a Vinist look about him. And right behind them, my brother Solomon.
“Thomas,” my father said and that voice, the tone, the undercurrent of disapproval dragged me right back to when I was fourteen and I’d first screwed up my courage to tell him I didn’t want to get married, but instead wanted to become an actor in Hollywood.
I heard Miles’s sharp intake of breath and saw him get to his feet out of the corner of my eye. I waved him down and scowled up at the man who’d ruled my life for more than half of it. “What do you want? I’m not giving you money.” He looked worse than he had the last time I’d seen him. Seedier, like he’d been drinking, though I couldn’t smell any alcohol on him.
