Page 37 of Reel Love

the paparazzi, the madness.

Because that is the job.

I've always understood that's the deal.

~ Avril Lavigne

Fatigue sets in on the drive from West Hollywood to Ventura. I must have fallen asleep during the ride. I wake to Tank nudging me.

“Time to go,” he says in his deep voice.

“You talked three times today, Tank. I think you just hit your quota for the year.”

He stares at me, neutral and wordless, as if his customary nonverbal presence is proof enough that he agrees with me. Still, there’s this inexplicable kindness in his non-expression. I can’t explain it.

“Thank you.” I stand and look up at him, taking the duffle he’s holding out. “You did well today. And I don’t thank youenough.”

“It’s my job.” Three words. Powerful and sincere.

I nod and smile. Tank walks me to the gate, uses his key to let me onto the dock and shuts it with a clang behind me.

I wonder, as I make my way past the boats to the one that will take me back home. Does Tank have a family? I picture him on a battery charging stand like the one I set my toothbrush on at night, powering down and re-energizing for the next day of serving my family. He and I aren’t that different, actually.

Stevens is sitting at the stern of the boat, his feet extended out along the cushions of the bench seating. He’s holding a book.

I walk slowly, breathing in the ocean air. Today is behind me. I’m heading home.

“Hey,” I say, boarding the boat before Stevens stands to give me his hand.

“Hi. Sorry.” He stands and walks over. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“What were you reading?”

“Oh. That? Just a book.”

I chuckle. “You don’t say. What book?”

He laughs. “It’s … uh … Gone With the Wind.”

“What? Really?”

“Would I kid about that?”

“I guess not. Wow.”

“Wow that I didn’t make up something more manly really quickly? Or wow that I’m reading that book?

“Maybe both?” I smile.

He walks to the front of the boat and I take my spot at the back. “I’m not avoiding you,” I shout as the engine starts up. “I just need to space out for a bit.”

“Take your time. I’ll just be up here, driving.”

About halfway across the channel with the wind in my hair and the spray misting my face, my heart finally settles. The crowd of paparazzi feels like a dream I woke from—vague and blurry, insignificant.

I take the seat next to Stevens. He looks over andsmiles. It’s a far cry from the blundering interaction we had when he first met me. I have to give him credit for getting over his nerves around me so quickly.

“So, hard day?” he asks as if I just got out of any job and am weary from the grind of my work life.

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