Page 4 of Exile

I looked up at her and smiled back. “I heard he’s a good man. He’s a really good actor, too.” I looked at the wall again. “But there’s no picture.”

“Oh, we had to give that one a special place.” She pointed toward the bar area, where I saw a large, framed picture of Keanu Reeves with the whole staff. “He deserves the spotlight.”

I laughed softly and nodded to agree with her. “Fair enough.”

“Right? One more actor comes here often, but he asked us not to hang up his picture.”

I was immediately intrigued. “Who is it? Someone as famous as Keanu?”

“Probably even more famous.” She looked around, then leaned in and lowered her voice. “I’m really not supposed to tell you this, but you don’t seem like a stalker or anything.”

Oh, good.

“It’s Caspian King. He lives about fifty minutes away from here. He’s kind of a regular, actually. He comes here a couple of times a month.” She stood back up and grinned down at me.

No. Shit.

I pursed my lips. I had wondered what happened to him, especially after that famous interview. I was even worried because he had disappeared from the face of the earth after all of Hollywood had turned against him.

“Do you not know who Caspian King is?” she asked, looking shocked.

I had two choices here.

Tell her the truth or lie.

I liked telling the truth. Always and at all times.

But there was suddenly a subtle change of plans, and I figured checking on family members I hadn’t seen in years would be nice.

“No, never heard that name.” I tilted my head to the side. “What movies was he in?”

The woman’s jaw dropped. “Steel Pulse?Viper’s Wrath?The Art of Us?” She blinked, listing some of the most famous movies ever produced in Hollywood—starring my grandfather. “You have never heard ofThe Art of Us?”

She was perplexed, and I wished I could’ve told her I knew about that movie and the world-famous actor who starred in it.

“No, sorry.” I gave her a crooked smile. “Why does he not want a picture of him in here?”

She sighed heavily and waved her hand. “Ah, because this whole interview thing happened a few months ago. On the set of his latest—and probably last—movie, an accident involved his co-star, Harris Grand. A car stunt ended badly. Harris died. They were good friends, and the producers made everyone stay quiet about how that accident happened. Caspian, the man he is, didn’t let anyone silence him, so he told the truth on live TV. But nobody believed him. He lost it, angry at everyone who saw and knew what happened, and so he swore off Hollywood and ended his career.”

I watched her closely as she told me everything I already knew. I didn’t know every detail, but I knew the truth, too. Unlike my mother and many people on the internet, I believed Caspian.

“That’s horrible. How is he doing? You said he comes here often.”

“He’s very grumpy but still very respectful and nice. He always leaves nice tips,” she said with a wink.

“And where did you say he lives now?”

“I’m really not supposed to say.”

But she would tell me anyway because she thought I didn’t care abouttheHollywood actor, Caspian King.

“He lives in Hilton Beach. Very small village. Actually, I think half of that village is a campsite. Either way, he lives totally secluded. Someone once said he has a small house, nothing fancy at all. So he gave up on all the fame and became a normal guy.”

Sounded like a plot for the next blockbuster starring Caspian.

I pursed my lips and reached for my drink. “Fun story,” I said before drinking a few sips of my sweet tea.

“I know, right? Anyway, I’ll let you finish your food.” She left my table, and while I continued to eat my now cold steak, I changed the route I was supposed to take tomorrow.

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