"Is it?"
"Definitely." And then, before he could say anything in response, I added, "Like, you never did tell me why you stay on the lower floors."
"Sure I did." He shrugged. "I like the stairs."
Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn't. Still, I had to say, "But I've never seen you take them."
His lips twitched. "If you want, we'll take them after breakfast."
"But you're missing the point." I tried again. "Like, do you stay on the lower floors so you're harder to find?" I leaned forward to whisper, "So you can stay incognito?"
He glanced around. "I'malreadyincognito."
This wasn't quite true.Around us, more than a few people kept glancing in his direction – the women in particular. But of course, they might've been ogling him for reasons unrelated to his celebrity status.
After all, hewasquite the specimen.
With a laugh, I said, "No offense. But I think you're wrong."
"Am I?"
"Definitely," I said yet again. "Everywhere we go, people stare at you. And I think most of them know who you are, too."
"Maybe," he said. "But they're never sure. That's the nice thing about being a writer. Now take Flynn, that guy's screwed."
I knew what he meant. Flynn had actually starred in the movies, which meant that his face was plastered everywhere. When Flynn had first moved back to our hometown, he'd caused a stir wherever he went.
Sometimes, he still did.
To Jack, I said, "You mean because everyone recognizes him?"
"Right," he said. "But me? I can fly under the radar."
I gave it some thought and decided that his logic made sense. At the book signings, he was absolutely mobbed. But away from all of that, he had a surprising amount of freedom and privacy.
Still, I had to say, "Yeah, butIrecognized you right away, meaning when I first saw you at Flynn's house."
His tone grew teasing. "Did you now?"
"Oh come on," I laughed. "You know I did."
"Maybe. But you already knew that Flynn and I were friends. And you saw me in a place that made sense. But let's say you passed me on the street, you probably wouldn't've made the connection.
He was wrong. I would’ve recognized him anywhere.
But then, at a sudden realization, I sat up straighter in the booth. "Sothat'swhy you don't stay in the same cities as your book-signings. You're hoping that people won't recognize you." I smiled. "Am I right?"
"It's one reason," he said.
"So, what are the other reasons?"
"Do Ineedother reasons?"
"No. But with the way you phrased it, I just figured there had to be more."
From across the table, he gave me a long, speculative look. "You don't miss a thing, do you?"
He'd said something similar before. But it wasn't true. I missed plenty. And the longer I got to know him, the more I realized that he had more secrets than I knew.
