Page 52 of Faking the Face Off

I can hear a cacophony of sounds behind her, evidence that she must be in a café somewhere.

“I need you at Claire’s. Now. It’s important.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer. “Mia?”

“Just get here, Ollie,” she says, and the line goes dead before I can push for more.

I lower the phone, staring at the screen for a second.

“What’s up?” Dixon asks, watching me curiously.

“Mia,” I say, shoving my phone into my pocket and grabbing my bag. “She needs me now.”

“You bailing on the tux fitting?” Sawyer raises an eyebrow. It’s one that needs plucking, too.

“Not like I want to,” I mutter, already heading toward the door. “Cover for me?”

Stockton smirks. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure the tailor saves the worst one for you.”

Dixon laughs, and I find a pair of dirty socks to toss at them as I push out the door. Whatever Mia needs, it must be serious. She wouldn’t call me like this if it wasn’t.

And even though I should probably text Anna again, let her know I might be late, my head’s already at Claire’s. She’ll understand. At least, I hope she will.

Claire’s isa quiet café tucked into the corner of an old shopping center on the outskirts of town. Nestled between a nail salon and an old, closed-down Blockbuster video store that never found a new tenant, it’s the kind of place where the coffee’s strong, the booths are cracked but comfortable, and everyone seems to know your name.

I spot Mia right away, sitting in a booth near the back with an older man I don’t recognize. She waves me over, her face tight with worry.

Sliding into the booth, I glance between them. “What’s going on? You okay?”

“This is Les,” Mia says, introducing the man across from her. He’s older, with a lined face that speaks of hard years and sharp eyes that seem to take in everything at once. “He used to be a part of GA, but he was also one of Dad’s closest friends.”

“Was?” I echo, my stomach tightening.

Les leans forward, his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. “Your dad’s in a bad way, kid. I saw him this morning, and he’s spiraling. Worse than I’ve seen before.”

“He’s in town?” I sit back, exhaling slowly. This isn’t news—not really—but hearing it out loud still feels like a punch to the gut.

“I called Mia,” Les continues. “Didn’t know who else to turn to, but I didn’t think she should deal with this alone.”

“Thanks for letting us know,” I say, my voice stiff.

Les nods, then pauses, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been where he is. I know what it looks like. And I hate to say it, but there’s only one thing you can do now: cut him off. Let him hit bottom. Let him get better in his own time, not yours.”

Mia’s eyes glisten, and I can feel the weight of her unspoken questions pressing against me.

“That’s easier said than done,” I admit, my voice rough.

“I know,” Les says simply. “But if you keep trying to save him, all you’re doing is enabling him.”

The words land like a stone in my chest. I glance at Mia, her face pale but set. She nods once, almost imperceptibly, and I know she’s come to the same conclusion I have.

We sit in silence for a moment, the clatter of dishes and murmurs of conversation filling the air around us.

“You know,” Les says after a beat, his tone lightening, “your dad used to talk about you all the time, Ollie. Said you had a heart as big as this diner.” He smiles faintly. “I’ve followedyour career, but that heart of yours, that’s why you’re here now, isn’t it? Why you volunteer with those folks in Gamblers Anonymous?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Feels close to home.”

Les leans back, a hint of pride in his gaze. “It’s good work. Keep doing it.”

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