Page 19 of Falling Like Stars

“Trespassing on someone else’s property, chugging cheap wine, and reading poetry,” he finishes with a grin. “How did you find this oasis?”

“Luck.”

“I meant, what were you looking for in the first place?”

Okay, so that’s a deeper question than I’m prepared for. I reach for the wine to buy some time. What can I tell Zach that doesn’t make me sound like a lunatic? Not the truth—that I collect little places in the world where no one can see me. That this one is perfect because I can pretend any tears that come unannounced are just more water in a tubful.

“I found it while doing a perimeter check for Ted,” I say. “Someone forgot to shut off the heat and I didn’t feel it necessary to alert them to that fact.”

Zach nods and sinks in the water until it’s up to his chin. “I’m glad you didn’t. Thanks for letting me crash your sanctuary.”

“It’s not technically mine, so…”

Another silence. Zach’s eyes are closed. His angular features soften; the tension falling away. He looks so different from his character, Boyd Shelton. He looks different in all his roles. Even as Felix Fleming, the wise-cracking gangster-with-a-heart-of-gold he played in Crazy 8 that nabbed him a Best Supporting Oscar nomination for this year’s upcoming Academy Awards. They’d given him a little pencil mustache, slicked his hair, and he put on a perfect old-timey accent. But it was as if he changed his face somehow. Different faces for every role, and those are the faces the world sees.

But I see him as himself.

I take another pull of wine. The glass scrapes the cement as I set it down. Zach opens his eyes.

“So, this is our last night together,” he says, “and I’ve only just begun to get to know you.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Not good enough.” He moves closer to take a sip of our wine. “I’m relentlessly curious about people. For my job, of course.”

“Sounds like another way of saying you’re nosy as hell.”

He laughs. “Let’s ask each other questions. Rapid fire. No stopping to think up the answers. If it’s too personal, say pass and we move on. We’ll cram a lot of getting-to-know-you in a short time.”

“Who says I want to get to know you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” he says. “I’m fucking delightful.”

“That’s debatable.”

“The basics first. Easy stuff. Like…what’s your favorite color?”

“Black,” I say.

“Is that why you wear the same black T-shirt and jeans to set every day?”

I nod. “That, and it’s just easier to have a kind of work uniform.”

“Like Steve Jobs and his turtlenecks.”

“I don’t think Steve Jobs ever had to help an actress stuff her boobs back into her corset, but sure.”

He laughs. “Your turn.”

“What’s your middle name?”

“It’s boring. Ryan. Yours?” He shakes his head. “Wait, I don’t even know your last name.”

“Walsh. Middle name, Emily.”

“That’s pretty.”

Zach’s smile is soft and the way he’s looking at me makes my stomach feel weird. “What umm…what are you doing after Covet wraps?” I ask oh-so-casually.

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