His head tilts, eyes considering. “That sounds . . . serious.”
My laugh is brittle. “Serious is a good word to use. They’re very serious. Very successful.”
“What do they do?”
“My mom is a plasma physicist. She consults for NASA. My dad is a professor at Princeton.”
He sits back. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow.” I manage to restrain my eye roll, but just barely. Not at Alex’s reaction, but at the fact that my parents are genius-level smart and . . . “And I just got fired from my job as a junior marketer,” I mutter.
“Student marketer.” He leans in.
I laugh, this time with more warmth. “Yeah. My parents are geniuses and I can’t even make it as an entry-level ‘student.’ ” I cringe. Ugh. Why does he like me again?
He shrugs. “Maybe you were in the wrong field.”
“Maybe.” There is no field for me. I need the field where I can stay alone at home all day and avoid the rest of humanity. My field is introverted recluse. Anyone hiring?
“You told me about applying for work in theater when you first moved here. What about that?”
I shake my head. “That’s not a career, it’s a hobby.”
“Says who? I was told playing games was a hobby and look at me now.” He lifts his arms, as if showing off all of his scruffy glory.
“Yeah, you look like a million bucks. Is that a curry stain under your armpit?”
He laughs and drops his arms, putting his elbows on the table. “It could be. So, your parents. They are basically geniuses.”
I nod and grimace. “Even better, overachieving geniuses.”
His eyes are warm on mine. Understanding. “That’s a lot to live up to.”
I snort. “Tell me about it. They expected everything from me and Eloise. Even as children, we were expected to behave like mini-adults. No mistakes allowed.”
He frowns. “Mistakes are how you learn.”
I nod. “Oh, don’t worry, I made mistakes. I was an eternal disappointment.”
“And Eloise is, who, your sister?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you ever mentioned you had a sister.” His head tilts. “Eloise. Eloise Stewart.” His expression clears. A light bulb goes off over his head. “Wait, the actress?”
“Yep.” I lean back a little, my hands moving to my lap to squeeze each other under the safety of the table. “My little sister.”
“Wow. That’s . . . cool?”
I wince.
He laughs. “I mean, I guess maybe not.”
I look up from my lap and meet his curious gaze. “She’s great. She’s perfect. Smart, like our parents. She’s taking a break from Hollywood right now to go to Stanford, did you know?”
“No. So she lives nearby then?”
“Yeah. In Palo Alto.” I sigh. “She’s brilliant and gorgeous and meets every expectation, and I’m just . . . I’m just Jane.” I put my napkin on my plate and take one last sip of water before we slide out of the booth to leave.
Which is really the brunt of the problem between Eloise and me. We’ve been growing apart ever since we came out west together. She moved to Hollywood and went big time and I went . . . nowhere. I try not to think about Eloise. I don’t want to admit how much I miss her. She was my best friend our whole lives, but it’s been a few years since I’ve felt like I could truly confide in her. Where did we go so wrong?
Alex follows me outside and we walk up the street, back toward the Saloon.
“You’re not just Jane. You’re smart and kind and beautiful. You don’t need a degree or fame to be of value. We are not our accomplishments.”
“Says the really accomplished guy who founded his own company and will probably be a billionaire by this time next year.”
“Ha.” He waves a hand. “That’s what I’ve done, it’s not who I am. It’s not necessarily all yachts and parties and people fawning all over me all day long.” He rubs his chin. “According to my parents, I work too hard. And unlike you, I don’t have any siblings to distract them from my life.”
“They’re very involved?” My parents are overly involved. I mean, they were. It’s strange that it’s been months since I talked to them, at least for me. The last time I heard from them, I ignored Mom’s call and she left a detailed message offering well-meaning “suggestions” for my meeting.
“Oh yeah. I’m sure they’re still traumatized from when I was sick but,” he shrugs, “they do their best to be present and not oppressive. They call me weekly and visit over the holidays, and I visit whenever I can. Most of their calls lately are demands for me to take time off work. Do something, anything, other than work. They bought me tickets for a tourist bus, one of those double-decker things. I still have them in the glove box of my car, where they’ve been for the past six months. They’re going to expire if I don’t use them soon.”
I smile. Eloise and I did that tour when we first moved here. Before things got weird.
“Hey, Pickle Juice!”
We both turn in the direction of Leon’s shout.
“I really need to hear that naked lightsaber story,” I mutter.
The car honks at Leon, dividing Alex’s attention between his friend and me, his brows furrowed.
“How did you know about the naked lightsabers?”
Oops. “Um, I think you mentioned it earlier.”
His head shakes slowly, eyes narrowing on my lying liar face. “No, no, I’m sure I didn’t.”
“We got another gig booked next month.” Saved by Leon, who slings an arm around Alex’s shoulders.
Alex groans, temporarily distracted. “We might not survive till then since you don’t know how to look both ways before crossing the road.”
Leon waves it off. “People don’t know how to drive.”
“I might prefer death to another performance.”
Leon rolls his eyes. “Stop being dramatic. Things will pick up, my man. You’ll be there next month?” Leon points at me.
“Sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Leon grins.
“Leon!” Cue the blonde in the doorway of the Saloon.
Leon waves at her and then tosses me the dimpled grin. “My fan group awaits.”
Alex shakes his head. “Our fan group
