Page 25 of Out of the Gold

“I thought you might be interested—”

“Listen, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I’m not . . . interested.” He sits to put his cross trainers on, resting his hands on his knees. “You know, you’re a quite talented costume designer.”

His change of topic gives me whiplash. Followed by a nagging feeling of insincerity. I pull the knitting needles out of my hair. “Uhm, thank you,” I reply, equally insincere.

“I mean it. I’ve been watching you, considering I don’t have much else to do while you’re sewing me into that damn suit. I’ve never seen stitches like them before.”

In the off-chance Chase means what he says, I reply, “That’s because I invented them.” I redo my bun.

His eyebrows express his surprise. “Wow. That’s cool.”

Re-securing my knitting needles, I warm to the topic. “Judith explored it during pre-production, but everyone dismissed the idea as too complicated. I spent the better part of a couple of weeks coming up with the stitch. When I showed it to my boss, she seemed impressed.” I clear theBackstagetab from my cell phone and toss it into my tote.

“She has a good eye.”

His praise would make me feel on top of the world but for the brittle actor mask settled over his face. I tilt my chin. “What are you playing at?”

Chase stands. “I’m not playing. I’m telling you the truth. I’ve never seen someone as skilled with a needle as you are.”

I squint. “Really? Not around too many costume designers, are you?”

He straightens to his full height. “I’ve been in countless movies. So, yes, I’ve met my fair share of designers. Geez”—he collects his wallet from a drawer—“I was just trying to give you a compliment.”

Maybe I misread him? Closing my eyes, I rub my thumb over the tip of my knitting needle. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude. I get a lot of condescending remarks about my chosen career.”

His face softens. “Then you’re not hanging around the right people. You’re very talented. Don’t let anyone say otherwise.” He motions for me to lead us out of the trailer.

Biting my lip, I twirl on my heel and place my hand on his forearm. His very masculine, very strong forearm. “I really appreciate your compliment. I, I’m happy you like the superhero costume. And thanks for reminding me that ‘people’”—I make the sign of air quotes—“don’t really count.”

He reaches toward a piece of my hair that’s fallen out of my bun but before making contact, draws back. “I’ll tell you what one of my acting teachers told me when I was at Yale. It’s a quote from Albert Einstein. ‘Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.’”

“So are you saying I’m a great spirit?”

He taps his thigh with his pinky. “It’s also important to remember not to let someone’s opinion of you go to your head.”

“Who said that?”

He chuckles. “Me.” He turns me around and pushes me forward. “Now let’s go.”

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