“That’s very gratifying. Thank you.”
I read fury in him as he balled up his fist to throw a punch. He hated that I wasn’t afraid of him, and he wanted to give me a taste of why I should be. At the last moment, he held himself back. That showed pretty decent self-control.
Welp, Dad always said I could try the patience of a saint.
“Have a nice evening.” Relieved to feel my phone chime with the map, I walked the dirt path toward the road, where Molly waited for me with her golf cart.
“What was that about?” she asked as I came near. “I thought he was going to hit you.”
“He wanted to.”
“Why? For god’s sake, we did everything we could for Maddie and Gina. I hope they’re all right. Poison oak is the worst.”
“He warned me off Stone Wilder pretty hard.”
“Really? That’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Is it? Everyone still believes I’m pretty poison. It’s entirely possible I’ve been twirling my mustachio again.”
Her face fell, but she said, “Not funny.”
“It's pretty funny.”
“No, it’s not. And as far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t joke about the way people treat you. It’s not fair.”
I got in the cart beside her. “Why can’t I? It’s either laugh or cry.”
“There’s a third choice. Don’t react at all.” The cart zipped forward. “They don’t know you. They’ll never know what happened to you. If they judge you based on sketchy information, that’s on them.”
“I do a pretty good job of keeping cool, I think.”
“Youactcool while inside you’re a seething volcano of rage. I just don’t want you to blow.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. If you did, it’d be the Red Wedding, IRL.”
It made me laugh to picture the cast and crew ofBlood Academylittered around the craft services table covered in blood.
How dark was that?
“Tonight, I’m eating carbs,” I muttered.
“That’ll teach ’em.”
“Damn right.” I gasped. “Except no. Tomorrow’s the ad shoot, and I can’t bloat.”
Molly’s glance withered me. “You can afford to have carbs, honey, even if they photograph you in nothing but the fucking watch you’re modeling.”
“Shows what you know.”
“I know you’re a skinny twink.” Molly jerked the golf cart to one of her patented screaming stops when we arrived at our RV.
“Are you having something nice delivered for me?”
“Remind me again what you want the food to say? Man things?” She winked. “Charles and I decided on pig n’ smoke and fancy beer.”
“No beer. Two bottles of decent red wine.”
