Page 11 of Falling Like Stars

“What else do you do?”

Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I assumed this was a side job.”

“You know what they say about assuming,” she says, and now her voice has an edge to it.

“No offense,” I say. “All the PA’s I know do it as a side hustle or to learn the ropes before moving onto something else.”

Rowan arches a brow. “You hang out with PAs on the regular?” She snorts. “What am I saying? This is the same international movie star who introduced himself to me with his whole name.”

I grin. “I hate to assume…”

This gets a reluctant laugh out of her that makes me feel like I nailed a scene.

Her eyes narrow. “Your parents are still together, aren’t they?”

“Yes. How can you tell?”

She lifts one delicate shoulder. “Something tells me you were spared a dysfunctional childhood. You have a solidity about you.”

“Kind of you to say,” I reply. “Irony of ironies, you’re right. My folks are still together. They’re happy. They raised my brother and me with a lot of love.” I take the offered wine glass. “I waited until my twenties to dive into dysfunction.”

“Ah.”

“How about yours? Still together?”

“No,” Rowan says, her eyes darkening. “My dad died when I was thirteen and my mom went off the rails. I sort of raised myself after that.”

“I’m sorry,” I say gravely. “But that explains why you’re so capable.”

Ooof, real smooth, dude.

Rowan gives me an amused look. “Is that what I am?”

“Yes, and I would know,” I say lightly to salvage the moment. “I’m a keen observer of the human condition. Can’t you tell?”

Rowan snorts a laugh. “Where did you read that?”

“InTouch Weekly.”

“Do you always quote what they say about you in magazines?”

“Of course. To impress the chicks,” I say, grinning now, offering back the glass that’s almost empty. “Is it working?”

“Oh, sure.” Rowan smiles at me over the rim. “Not at all pretentious or cringy. But I thought you didn’t put much stock in the tabloids.”

“The gossip, no,” I say. “The praise? That’s all true.”

She laughs. I had no destination in mind when I climbed into the tub but feel like I’m getting somewhere with Rowan. She’s a small woman—maybe 5’3” to my 6’2”—but she’s got fire in her and a solidity too. There’s a metric fuck-ton of phoniness and bullshit in this business, but she seems immune to it. Completely unimpressed by the sheen of “movie star” that’s been laid over me. She sees me…

And you’re a mess.

A short silence falls. Rowan’s clearly not one for small talk but I don’t want to stop talking to her, either.

“How did you get started in the business?”

“In the menial, mindless business of being a PA?” She smirks. “I answered an ad on Craigslist.”

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