“Is your dad here?” I knew full well her dad was in there. Nobody pissed Miranda off more than Mr. Reynolds.
“Come on in, Cami,” Mr. Reynolds said somewhere in the office. “Miranda, remember what I said.”
She huffed and pushed past me. I watched her storm out, wishing I could fix things and knowing I never did anything to deserve her cold shoulder. Whatever friendship we had dissolved the night Eddie put his lips on me. He stole Iris from me, too. She hadn’t returned a text or call in weeks. I’d finally stopped trying.
Once she was out of sight, I entered the inner sanctum of Mountain View Theater. It wasn’t what I expected. Mr. Reynolds sat behind a simple desk with a pen cup, a blotter and a monitor. That was it. He leaned forward with his hands clasped.
“Have a seat,” he said, nodding to one of the two matching chairs in front of the desk.
I sat down, taking in the rest of the room. There was a bookcase with non-descript tomes and two filing cabinets. A new family photo hung on the wall. I knew it had been taken recently because Miranda complained about it and because it included Gracin Ford. Mr. Reynolds had basically adopted Gracin into the family. It helped he was also Carly’s boyfriend.
“What can I do for you?” Mr. Reynolds asked in a fatherly manner.
It was enough to make me cry. A small sob escaped. Then another. Before I knew it, I was full on blubbering incoherently. Even I didn’t know what I was saying.
“Take a deep breath,” Mr. Reynolds said, a touch of annoyance in his tone. I may have once been Miranda’s best friend, but that didn’t afford me the privilege of fatherly advice from this man. “Another.”
“Sorry.” I took a third just to keep myself under control. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Reynolds. I’m just ... overwhelmed.”
“What’s going on?” He leaned back into his chair and wove his fingers together over his stomach.
The entire story wanted to spill from my mouth, but Mr. Reynolds couldn’t care less about my family problems. He knew my parents, sure. That was as far as it went.
He checked his watch.
“I’m looking for a job and was wondering if you were hiring,” I said as calmly as I could. If I had to admit, it wasn’t very calm.
His eyebrows furrowed, and he suddenly sat up. “I thought you were leaving Branson after the summer season.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement. And a true one at that. I shrugged. “Things changed.”
“Might I ask what exactly has changed?”
“I need to stay here for a little while longer. That’s all,” I said. God, I wanted to tell him everything. Maybe Mom could work for him. Maybe he could pay her more. Then I could go to Nashville. Or New York. L.A. was officially out.
“What kind of job?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever.”
He nodded, slowly at first, then it picked up speed. “Yeah, I think I could find a place for you. Nothing fancy, of course. I’m assuming you’d want to start after Hank Walker leaves?”
“No. I’d like to start as soon as possible, sir. I mean, if that’s alright with you.” I sucked my lip into my mouth and bit back more verbal vomit. “I could work the days I’m off the show for sure. Then as much as possible after the show ends.”
“Okay, come to the office at the resort on Monday. I’ll get you a uniform and a schedule. We’ll go from there.” He reached over the desk, and I shook his hand. He held mine tight. “Cami, you’d tell me if there was something going on, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said before remembering my place. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Reynolds nodded once then went back to his computer. “I’ll see you Monday at nine.”
“Yes, sir,” I said again as I stood. Clearly, I’d been dismissed. I moved toward the door but was stopped by his voice.
“And I mean nine in the morning,” he added.
“I’d be there at six if you wanted.”
He smiled, but his gaze didn’t leave the computer.
I left his office and glanced at my phone. There was less than two minutes before I was expected backstage. I cut through the theater, leaping over a vacuum cord. The theater was spotless before each performance. I’d never even taken the time to get to know the woman who cleaned it. Stopping at the stage, I turned around. It wasn’t just one woman. There were four running vacuums. My heart sank into my chest. Was this my future? Was I giving up my dreams already? Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes.
Sighing, I dropped my head and climbed the short set of steps to the stage. Someone cleared their throat, and I lifted my gaze. Dylan stood in the center of the stage, his eyes cold and lifeless.
The tears spilled over and I hurried backstage so he wouldn’t see them. The dressing room was quiet as I entered. Whatever had happened back here had cast a shadow over tonight’s performance. I sat at my table and picked up the makeup brush I’d unpacked earlier. It felt heavy in my fingers. Crystal reached out and took it from me before it fell from my hand. Just that simple gesture broke me. Heavy sobs erupted from my chest. She pulled me into a hug, whispering that everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t.
She ran her hand down my hair, comforting me in a way my mother hadn’t done in years. Not that it was Mom’s fault. She was rarely home. I wondered if she knew what I’d done. If she knew how much I had sacrificed to keep our family above water. If she knew that I’d done everything to keep her from drowning.
“You wanna talk about it?” Crystal asked softly.
“Yes and no.” I pulled back from her and stared into her kind eyes. It was crazy how we ended up here. “Everything has changed.”
“How so, baby?”
I
