Page 20 of Reel Love

“Can you give me a hint?”

“As to who she is?”

“Yeah.”

“No can do. That’s what I signed an NDA for. Any stipulations she places on me, I follow, unless it’s something unethical or illegal. So far she’s been neither of those things. If only she would be just a little more …” Joel trails off and a warm smile overtakes his face.

“Do you havefeelings for her?”

“Nah. Not like that. She’s like a big sister, or a good friend. Only we’re not really friends. I’m just her lackey, getting her groceries, driving her around. You know, like that old movie? Driving Miss Daisy.” He chuckles. “Anyway, thanks for doing this. It’s hard on her, you know? Being in the spotlight, not trusting anyone unless they’ve been screened. It’s not all glitz and glamor.”

I nod. I imagine it’s not easy. She must be pretty big to go to these lengths to avoid being in the public eye. Her assistant told me she can’t even take the ferry—too much exposure and people can be unpredictable. Who lives like that?

“It’s no problem. I’m glad to help. And, tell your sister I said congratulations.”

“I will. I still can’t believe my baby sister is going to beat me to the altar.”

Joel has me take over driving the boat around for a bit, even though I pilot larger boats than this one all the time. We chat about a lot of nothing and spend about an hour or so tooling around on the water. At one point, we cut the engine and I free-dive off the back of the boat, intentionally submerging myself for a few minutes in the cool blue depths of our ocean. I have friends who practice this way more often than I do. They can stay under for nearly ten minutes without tanks or a snorkel. After three minutes, I emerge, refreshed, my mind clear and peaceful.

We motor back to the slip in silence. I have just enough time to finish responding to some grant emails, shower and meet my mom at Harry’s painting class after Joel and I dock.

I’m surprised to see so many people on the beach when I get there. Mom’s waving like we’re in a crowd of a thousand, and shouting my name as if we aren’t looking right at one another. At least she calls me Stevens when we’re in public.

“Stevens! Stevens! Yoo hoo! Over here!”

“Coming,” I answer in a normal volume, since there are only twenty people milling around in a relatively secluded cove. A couple is off in the distance laying on towels on the sand. A family runs in and out of the shorepound at another spot. Butotherwise, the painting class has taken over the beach, four rows of five easels per row, each with their own folding stool propped in front of them, staggered so we can each have a clear view of the scenery.

I walk up to the front row and take my seat behind the easel next to Mom’s.

“Harry!” Mom shouts nearly as loudly as she called out my name. Harry walks over.

Mom beams at her. “You remember my son, Ren, er … Stevens. Well … we call him Stevens now. Anyway, he’s single. A marine biologist. He does tours out of the Alicante harbor. And he does important evaluations of marine life whenever a company wants to expand along the coast. Reh … Stevens, this is Harry. Of course you know her. You two went to Marbella High together. Isn’t that amazing? A shared history.” Mom sighs. “Harry’s an accomplished artist, and our teacher. Also single. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Mom glances between us. I smile at her and then give Harry an apologetic smile.

“Subtlety was never her forte,” I explain.

“It’s fine. My mom isn’t much better.”

“Oh! See! You two have that in common,” Mom says in an incredibly glee-filled voice. “Meddling mothers. What a coincidence! The second thing you’ve had in common in only a few moments. That could mean something, you know.”

“I need to start the class,” Harry says, smiling an amused smile at my mom and then smiling kindly at me.

“Oh, yes,” Mom says to Harry. “You go. We’ll be right here. Me and Stevens. Painting. Admiring you as you teach. All that.”

“Mom,” I smile softly at her. “Maybe dial it back to fifty percent.”

“Okay. Okay. But she’s cute, right? I told you she was.”

“She’s an attractive woman.”

“So, you’ll ask her out?”

Thankfully, Mom’s voice has shifted to a conspiratorial level.

I lean toward her. “No. I will not ask her out. I don’t know her. And I’m busy this week with a job.”

“So? Dates are for just that. You get to know one another. You could ask her out for sometime the following week. That will build the anticipation.”

---