“Of course. Anything.”
“Careful of promising me anything,” she teases.
“Anything. If I can make it happen, get it, or do it, I will.”
“I’ve always wanted to ride in a helicopter. Maybe our big date could include that?”
“Easy.” Touch my index finger to my lips, then to her lips. “Anything else?”
A shake of her head. “I just want to feel better.” Her eyes close, jaw clenches. Tears leak out. “One more good day. That’s all I want.”
I shake all over, restraining at great effort the barrage of hellish emotion threatening to subsume me.
Instead of crying, I sing.
One Day More,from Les Mis.
I close my eyes and let the song wash over me:
“…One daymore
Tomorrow you'll be worlds away
And yet with you my world has started
One more day all on my own
Will we ever meet again?”
When I finish the song,Jolene and her mother are both crying, and so am I, despite my best efforts.
“Dammit, you impossible man,” Jolene whispers. “That was mean.”
“I’m sorry?” I say, huffing a laugh.
She squeezes my hand. “You’re amazing. Did you do Les Mis?”
“Yeah, in high school. I was cast as Jean Valjean the week before I went to the Swan Song show. Then that whole thing happened and we sold more tickets because of that stupid YouTube video than the previous three years’ shows combined.”
“Because you’re incredible.”
“Thanks.”
She winces, jaw clenching. “Thank you. For singing to me.”
I hate leaving.
It’s the hardest thing I think I’ve ever done, walking away from her when I feel like she needs me most.
* * *
“There’sno way around your obligation to the movie.” Marty puffs on a cigar, blows the smoke toward the sky; we’re in his backyard, with Jen. There’s an open bottle of wine, but I’ve barely touched my glass. “I might be able to get you a few weeks? About the best I’ll be able to do. This was already on a tight timeline because Shania has another project scheduled, and honestly, so do you. It’s just not possible to push the whole thing back because something more important came up. They’ll recast you, and the movie will suck, because you’retheguy. The hype around this is huge, Wes.Huge.”
“I know,” I hiss. “Fuck, Iknow.”
He examines the glowing end of his cigar. “You gotta man up and do it, Wes.”
I glare at him. “Don’t tell me to man up, Martin. Donot. I’m not flaking out, goddammit.”
