Page 101 of The Potter

Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him.

Some days, I get angry, thinking of the last thing he said to me, and other days, I think about our time in his house, doing naked stretching until we just full-out mauled each other on his Italian rug.

I wonder if he’s had it cleaned since we had so many romps on it. Part of me hopes he hasn’t, and there’s a certain scent lingering to remind him that what we had wasn’t just a doctor-patient relationship.

What we had was real.

But until Vance can accept the truth, we have nothing to discuss.

Taking a long drag, Remington nudges me in the side. “Why do you want to work for Maddox anyway? Can’t you get another acting gig?”

If it were only that simple. “I hate working for Maddox, but if I want to continue to work in show business, then I need the experience.” I sigh. “And right now, Maddox is the only one willing to take a chance on a newbie.”

“Fuck him.”

Remington can sometimes be a man of few words, except when it comes to threats.

“Right?” I take a swig of Remington’s beer as he eyes me warily. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He takes another puff. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

It’s the first time he’s sounded like a teenager.

“Cross my heart.” I even make the motion to solidify the promise.

“I just see the way you come home every day.”

“How do I come home?” Where is he going with this?

“You come home…” He swallows nervously. “Lifeless.”

I swear my eyebrows jump to my hairline. “Lifeless?”

“Maybe lifeless was too harsh a word, more like, your spark is gone. It doesn’t seem like you’re happy out here, Hal.”

“I’m happy,” I lie before amending, “it’ll get better. I just need to get through this movie with Maddox, the dick-gina, and then things will start looking up.”

Remington, wiser than his age, doesn’t miss a beat. “And what if the next producer screams at you, too? Or tells you that you need to lose twenty pounds to be worthy of his movie?”

“I see where you’re going with this, Rem, but not every producer in show business is a giant asshole.”

Sighing, he rakes his hand through his hair and adds, “I know you cry at night. You think I’m asleep, but I hear you call out his name.”

I sit up straighter. “I donotcall out forhim.”

“You do, Hal. You don’t need to be embarrassed about it. You loved Vance. Those feelings won’t disappear overnight.”

“You sound like you have experience with such feelings.”

Remington shrugs. “I suppose. Still doesn’t change the fact that you do it. Regularly.”

I don’t know why I’m getting so defensive. It’s not like Remington hasn’t seen me cry over Vance. He has. A lot.

But there is something wholly personal about calling out for someone in your sleep.

“Do you miss him, Hal?”

Gah, I want to lie. I want to look at Rem and say that I miss Vance about as much as a yeast infection. But I can’t. Remington might keep his secrets, but he’s never lied to me, and I won’t start lying to him.

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