Stupid Boy: Senior Year - Winter 24

Chapter 24: Defenseless

Wednesday January 11

Today was the last 'official' day of filming. The plan for the rest of the week was to complete on-location scenes. There were only a few B-roll sequences to finish--mostly wide landscape shots; no actors needed. My contract said I had to be here through Sunday in case we had to reshoot anything. They would spend the next few days deciding if they had everything they wanted in the can before everyone scattered.

I'd just finished back-to-back scenes and wouldn't be required for a little while, so I planned to go to the coffee shop on campus. I could use a serious caffeine injection due to my lack of sleep over the past few days. Plus, I needed to get away for a few minutes. That I'd ever thought being a movie star was a fun way to make money was starting to make me question my sanity. With our tight schedule, it had become our norm to shoot from nine in the morning to the wee hours of the night. A trip to the coffee shop was more of a sanity break than anything else.

I found Lexi and Manaia at my side as I headed for the door. Manaia had the drone under his arm and released it as soon as we got outside. The students at Pepperdine had gotten used to us filming on campus and generally left my fellow actors and me alone now. I had noticed that they'd figured out that the drone signaled that I was walking around campus, and the number of cute girls around seemed to mysteriously increase. Lexi likened my drone to a cute puppy or baby. It was a chick magnet, but had the added benefit of not having to be fed or cleaned up after.

With my long legs, and being a man on a mission, I was soon leading our merry band. When I turned the corner at the library, I ran into a girl and knocked her books out of her hands.

"Jerk!"

I looked down, and it was the actress who'd played Juliet in the play we'd filmed. I gave her a neutral look and did my one-eyebrow-raised look. She realized it was me, and her face went red.

Lexi was suddenly around me to make sure the poor girl was okay while Manaia picked up her books. She looked me in the eye and shrugged.

"That's a pretty good move with the raised eyebrow, but is that the best you've got?" she challenged me.

Well, hello there. She had my full attention.

"I suppose you have some skills in that regard," I surmised.

"Check this out."

She got her phone out and intently flipped through it to find something. When she found what she was looking for, she raised her head.

"You might want to video this. Prepare to be blown away," she said dramatically.

Only an actor would be so brazen. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I felt that if someone suggested you capture something for posterity, it would be either something amazing or an epic fail. Either way, I could make her famous when I uploaded it to my social media feeds. I smiled and nodded when I was ready.

Her thumb tapped the face of her phone, and the music started. I started to smile when her eyebrows began to move. It was both awe-inspiring and worrisome at the same time. Since I had a niece and nephews who were preschoolers, I recognized the song--Baby Shark Dance. Kyle, Mac, Nate, Duke, and I had shaken our booty to it more than once while my toddlers watched on in fascination.

What broadened my smile into a wide grin was that each of her eyebrows kept time to the beat as she swayed to the music. I was going to have to learn how she did that, if for no other reason than to entertain the little ankle-biters. It was like she was having a party on her forehead. By the time the song hit the 'doo, doo, doo, doo' part, I was envious of her talent. It was hard enough to raise only one eyebrow. This was amazing. She might have created a new fad, brow dancing. Her eyebrows snaked back and forth and did all kinds of silly things. I knew right there and then that I would be spending quality time in front of a mirror in the near future.

When the music ended, I didn't know whether to buy her a coffee, slink away, or cheer.

"I'm not quite sure what to say to that," I admitted. "Interesting choice of music."

"I babysit my sister's kids. They give me the same look you just did," she said.

"You deserve a reward. Let me buy you a coffee," I said to settle on the proper response.

Lexi went with her to order coffee as Manaia and I watched the video. I was torn between sharing this with the world or keeping it to myself. Did I really want others to gain knowledge of this talent before I mastered it? In the end, I decided that humanity needed something to put a smile on their faces. I was sure it would supplant the most recent cat video that was all the rage as the most-watched right now. I might even earn some kind of award for discovering the next big thing like Myspace had been for social media. Then again, that had been a failure. I was sure brow dancing would become a real thing. For some reason, Manaia wasn't as enthused as I was.

---

I hate crying for a part. Actually, I'd never cried for a role before. It was sprung on me that I had to act like I was crying to win Haru's undying love.

"I'm going to look like a total wimp. That is not in line with who my character is. I'm supposed to be this cool surfer dude who's a chick magnet. I'm not the guy who weeps to try to win a girl back," I complained to Mr. Nomura.

"And here I thought you were an actor. I have every confidence you can pull this off," he said, playing it straight.

"Are you seriously telling me that you would do it?" I asked.

"What are they paying you again?" he asked. Mr. Nomura tapped his chin with his finger like he was weighing the pros and cons of this impending fiasco.

"I might as well let her cut my manhood off and wear it as a necklace. Better yet, what do they call ritual suicide over there?" I asked, showing how politically correct I was at the moment.

"Seppuku."

"Why don't we suggest I do that instead?" I asked. "At least I wouldn't embarrass myself."

"There are times I would like to help by cutting off your head," Mr. Nomura offered.

Note to self: If I see Mr. Nomura with a sharp sword, it might be time to leave.

"Go talk to Mr. Otsuki. He listens to you," I pleaded.

"Why don't you do the scene as written, and we will see if it works?"

"I'm not falling for that. I know how this works. We do one take, and then it's over. As soon as it airs, I will be forever known as the guy who weeps at the drop of a hat. There will be memes of me that will be used for years to come."

"Since when do you care what people think about you?" he tried.

"Pulease! I'm a teenager," I said.

Yes, even I saw the irony of using that as my defense. Every teen wants to be perceived as grown up. Mr. Nomura made no attempt to hide his amusement at what I just said. I thought for a moment that I should probably cancel our dinner plans for tomorrow. The last person I needed to hear about this blunder was my uncle. He loved to point out that everything I did was somehow tied to me not being grown up yet.

"I could throw a fit," I offered.

That made him laugh.

"Okay, okay. I'll go talk to him before you shoot the scene. I'll just tell him it's an American thing."

"Whatever it takes. Just tell me: would you get all weepy to win a woman back?" I asked.

"Nope," he answered emphatically.

"I didn't think so."

I was glad he was my mentor and could fix this.

---

Shoot me now. I cried like a baby. All I had to do was think about this week with my dad's scare and Brook being forced to move. It was surprisingly easy, and I felt better afterward. That still didn't make it okay in my book, though.

Note to self: track down the writers and end their lives for that one.

Note to self: never piss off the writers.

---

Lexi handed me my phone when I had a break.

"Call Wolf, Tim, both your brothers, and your dad," she ordered.

I decided to call my dad first. I hadn't talked to him since he was taken to the hospital.

"Bless your heart," he answered, imitating my Grandma Felton.

I could hear my mom laughing in the background.

"Tell him that I'll never buy him crying again. He almost made me believe it," Mom yelled so I could hear her.

"How did you all see that already? I just shot that scene like an hour ago."

"Lily follows some of your castmates on social media, and one of them posted the video."

"I'm starting a list, and I think she just made it," I said, half-serious.

I might have to call my fixer to 'fix' a few people.

"She's just doing her job," Dad said to defend Lily.

I decided to own it. I'd learned that was better than letting them continue to torment me.

"Well, I'm glad my crying jag went viral. It'll give the internet trolls something else to laugh at."

"That's awfully big of you. Frank said he thinks it makes you more relatable."

I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with my dad. He'd actually talked to my PR guy? What had my world come to?

"Relatable?" I asked against my better judgment.

"Yes. Because most people don't really know you, and everyone says you appear a little too perfect. Luckily, we all know you're not."

I could hear my mom snicker, and Dad shush her. If my dad hadn't just about died on me, I would have unleashed a choice comment or three in retort.

"Uh... thanks, I guess," I said as my brain locked.

This was one of those instances where I would have the perfect comeback after I hung up.

"You're welcome."

"Uhm... what did you say, Lexi?" I faked. "Sorry, got to go."

I could hear my parents' laughter as I hung up. I suspected that the rest of my friends had similar comments, so I felt it was better that I not call them back. See? I knew crying was a bad idea.

I turned around, and both Manaia and Lexi had big smiles on their faces. Yep, I just added them to the list. Maybe Paddy would give me a group discount.

---

"Let's just see where this goes. I'm all in," I said.

"Cut! That's a wrap! Good job, people!" Mr. Otsuki said for the last time.

I'd already said my goodbyes. It was nearly four in the morning, and I was exhausted, but happy. We were done! I found Manaia and Lexi in the dressing room, looking like death warmed over.

"Is that it? Can we go home now?" Manaia asked.

"Just finished."

"Good. Let's get out of here," Lexi said.

I helped her stand up, and Manaia followed us out to the parking lot. I looked up at the moon and took a deep, cleansing breath. The air smelled like smoke. Over the last few days, they'd gotten the wildfires down to something manageable. The news said they hoped to have everything under control come the weekend if the winds didn't pick up again.

"What's your plan for tomorrow? Please say we can sleep in," Manaia almost begged.

"Take the morning off. I want to get eight hours of sleep at a minimum," I announced.

"I'll put it in the log," Manaia said.

They tracked my plans for each day so they could arrange the right level of protection.

Manaia had released the drone when we walked out the door. He put his hand on my chest when his phone app beeped.

"You and Lexi hang on. The drone has spotted something," he said.

"Let's just go," Lexi complained. "It's never anything."

"Until it is," I said and pulled her back into the building.

"Hey, is it okay if I work as your PA until you leave?" Lexi asked when we were safely back inside.

"Do whatever you want. If you would rather take a few days before you go back to work, I would understand. I'm just going to do a bunch of nothing until I fly out," I explained.

"Mind if I do a bunch of nothing with you?"

Was she flirting with me?

"How about we just hang out as friends? Maybe I can run and get you a coffee or something," I suggested, reversing our roles.

"I'd like that."

Manaia was back.

"It was a group of teenagers skateboarding," he reported.

"At four in the morning?" I asked.

"Yeah, go figure. Come on, I want to get home."

That sounded like a good plan.

---

Thursday January 12

I woke to the sound of someone knocking on my door. The clock on the nightstand said it was noon. I had to get up, or my sleep pattern would be seriously off.

"I'm awake!" I called out.

Aunt Bonnie stuck her head in the door.

"We're meeting Cindy and the other people from Ohio State in an hour."

"At the house?" I asked.

"No, at some fancy restaurant. Lexi set it up as a thank you for their work. After lunch, we're touring your new home."

"Guess I'd better get in the shower."

I was glad Lexi had thought to do something for them. I'd been focused on the series and other personal matters this week.

When I got out of the shower, I checked my phone. That was a mistake. My friends were more than amused by my crying scene. The producers of the J-drama had put out a trailer to hype the show, which included a quick clip of me in tears.

I saw a message from Ari saying that Netflix was in negotiations to air the episodes worldwide. They'd picked up several shows from Japan, China, and Korea. I admit that I'd binge-watched a few of the Asian shows and enjoyed them. I was happy for the cast because it would expose their talent to the world.

I was disappointed that I didn't see anything from Brook. She'd been upset about the move. I figured she needed some time, so I left it for now.

---

Fritz had given Manaia the day off and was my security for the day. He picked up Lexi, my aunt and uncle, Grandma Dawson, and me and took us to Little Beach House Malibu. I was glad that Lexi had chosen this particular place because I liked it and would have picked it if asked.

They were busy today, so we weren't able to all sit together. I found myself at a table with Cindy, Dean Lloyd, Professor Donaldson, and Professor Katz. We'd scored a table on the terrace with a spectacular view of the ocean.

"When I researched the area for the trip, this was one of the places I wanted to come. If I'd known you were a member, I would have called you sooner," Professor Katz said.

"What do you mean?" Professor Donaldson asked.

"This is part of the worldwide Soho House private members clubs. The club is a little different because it caters specifically to people in creative fields," I explained.

"Fancy," Cindy said with a smile.

I rolled my eyes at her. I was glad when our server appeared with menus.

"Can I get breakfast?" I asked. "I didn't get home from filming until four this morning."

"Breakfast service stops at 11:30, but let me ask. What can I get you to drink?" she asked.

"I'm going to have the yerba mate tea," I said.

"What is yerba mate?" Cindy asked.

"It's a holly found in Central and South America. When I filmed The Royal Palm, which was shot in Cuba, I discovered that they didn't have Coke products there. They did have a soda made from yerba mate that was interesting. The tea has the strength of coffee, the health benefits of tea, and the euphoria of chocolate, all in one beverage," I explained.

"What does it taste like?" Dean Lloyd asked.

"It's an acquired taste. I would compare it to the first time you try coffee. You're not crazy about the bitter taste, but once you figure out what it does for you, then you crave it. Yerba mate tastes like a combination of dirt, grass, and what you would guess the ashes in your fireplace taste like."

"That sounds gross," Cindy said.

"It's weird. The more you drink it, the better it gets. It's like a fine cigar. Your palate changes over time, and it becomes enjoyable. It's hard to describe," I offered.

"I'll try it," Dean Lloyd said.

They all decided to get it. They didn't end up liking it, but I was impressed that they were adventurous and willing to experience something new. They agreed that even though it tasted nasty, they loved the jolt of caffeine. That it was on the menu meant I wasn't the only one who had discovered it.

"Cindy tells me that you might have more projects for us," Dean Lloyd said.

"Cindy and I went to high school together, and because of that, I know she understands my taste in decorating," I said.

I wanted to make sure they knew it was because of her they might get access. I went on to explain that I'd obtained the condos in a legal settlement and didn't even know if they would need any upgrades.

"Well, I'd be willing to jet off to Monaco for you," Professor Katz offered.

"Get in line. I've already had one of my employees volunteer to go to Whistler for a ski vacation," I shared.

"I think what Professor Katz is trying to say is that we would love to have a chance to offer internships for other projects. The Malibu house has been a nice change from what we normally offer, and I would like to continue to do projects like this," Dean Lloyd said.

"Like I said. I'm not even sure anything needs to be done to them," I said to hedge my bets.

I ended up having to order off the regular menu and had the turkey club.

---

When we arrived at the house, my first thought was that the neighbors must hate me. There were construction trucks everywhere, and you could hear heavy equipment running in the back. We pulled into a full-on construction zone. Before I got overwhelmed, they took us inside the house, where they'd taken over an area as a staging center.

They had artist renderings of what was planned tacked to the walls. Cindy explained it to my family.

"The idea is to give everything an overall Tuscan-inspired feel with three main goals: a home to accommodate David's extended family, a place to relax, and finally, a place to entertain."

I zoned out a bit as I took in what I was seeing.

"... and the tennis court..."

"What tennis court?" I asked.

"I forgot; that was supposed to be a surprise," Cindy said.

I remembered her asking if anything was missing and me jokingly saying that we needed a tennis court. Based on the plans, I didn't see where they could put one with the space being eaten up by the garage/apartment/security center at the back of the property.

"We figured out that we could put it on the roof of the garage," Professor Donaldson explained.

Yep, I already knew how Coby would die. He would climb the stairs to get to the third story where the tennis court was, scale the twelve-foot fence surrounding it, and plunge to his death. Then again, knowing him, Coby would bounce and not have a mark on him. If he didn't die, Duke might. I could see the boys hitting balls over the fence and my hound bounding down the stairs to rescue them. After a couple of trips, he would be worn out.

Barring those impending catastrophes, I loved it.

I also had the realization that the garage was going to be huge if its footprint was large enough to accommodate a tennis court.

Turned out, I didn't need to decide anything. That was what my grandmother, aunt, and Lexi were there for. While they took care of that, Uncle John, Fritz, and I went to see the construction with the dean.

"You know that I might have to kill you," Uncle John said.

"Why? What did I do now?" I asked.

"You saw Bonnie. She's going to want to redo the farmhouse after seeing this."

"Don't blame me. She told me she married you for your money," I teased.

Dean Lloyd took us to the back of the property, where they were putting in the foundation for the multipurpose garage, security hub, apartments, and now a tennis court.

"Buildings are designed to support a vertical load, including the floors, roof, and all the stuff inside, against the pull of gravity. Earthquakes present an interesting problem. Seismic waves cause horizontal movement that will push a building off its foundation regardless of the advanced engineering techniques employed," he explained.

"That's troublesome," Uncle John said.

"It can be a real problem with bigger and taller buildings, mainly because the sideways movement will cause the building's own inertia to topple it. One solution is called 'base isolation.' Basically, the building floats on systems of ball bearings, springs, and padded cylinders. Together they act like a shock absorber that negates the shaking of the ground."

"You said bigger and taller buildings," I prodded.

"We may have overengineered this building just a bit," he admitted.

"At what cost?" I asked.

"What does peace of mind cost?" Dean Lloyd asked.

"Sounds like a big number," Uncle John quipped.

"It added three percent to the budget."

"And this is beyond the building code requirements?" Uncle John asked.

"Yes."

"Total budget, or the budget for just this building?" I asked.

Dean Lloyd flinched.

"Good catch," Uncle John said. "That's the danger in letting academic types run a project. They want to try the newest gadgets or techniques, which may not be the soundest financially. They don't have to make a profit and are spending your money, not theirs."

Dean Lloyd's face colored at that observation. To his credit, he didn't refute it. All that kept me from being upset was that I knew Jack Mass had been involved, and if this were truly egregious, he would have put a stop to it. I would talk to him before I got upset. It also told me that if I let them do more projects, I would have to hire someone like Jack to oversee them.

"So, it will be safer?" I asked.

"Yes. I would expect it will also save you money on insurance," he said to throw me a bone.

As we worked our way back to the house, it looked like a bomb had gone off around the pool area. They'd taken the roof off the pool house because they planned to add a second story. The contractor was in the process of jackhammering out the pool deck, and the pool had been drained so it could be resurfaced. If I hadn't seen the drawing of what this area was going to be, I would have been worried. I'd sent Cindy pictures of the pool area at L'Horizon Resort & Spa in Palm Springs, and she planned to incorporate some of those features. To the side of the pool, they'd dug a big hole. I assumed it was for the hot tub.

Dean Lloyd saved a tour of the house for last. They hadn't done much work in there yet because I had a tenant living there. The plan was to stucco the exterior and add stone features to carry through with the Tuscan look and feel. Since we were getting a massive garage in the back, they planned to enclose the one in the house and make it into a downstairs area for the kids. That was where the bulk of the bedrooms were.

The idea was to use the second floor as more of an adult area with the master bedroom on that floor. It would have floor-to-ceiling glass panels that could be opened and slid back so they disappeared from view. The house was on a high-enough elevation that you could see over the roofs of the houses downhill from us, resulting in a great view of the ocean. It would also allow us to enjoy natural cross ventilation and help bring the outdoors into the home.

They were extending the second-story balcony and adding a staircase to the roof. I'd asked that they model the roof area after Rita James' beach house. It was designed as an outdoor living and entertainment zone that had spectacular views of both the hills and the ocean.

After the tour, my grandmother took me aside.

"When this is done, it's going to be almost like a resort. I could see retiring here."

"You trying to tell me something?" I asked.

"I guess I am. While I love the farm and helping you, I was retired when you asked me to manage it. I've been thinking it might be time to consider getting back to retirement."

"Are you saying you want to move in with me?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes and no. What do you plan to do with this place while you go to college?" Grandma asked.

"I guess I planned to rent it out."

"And after college?"

"I would probably move here. At the very least, it would be a nice place for the kids."

"Have you thought about maybe having your parents move here along with the rest of your family? I know that Pam plans to go to Pepperdine, and if Coby were here, he would have his mother nearby," she suggested.

"I talked to Pam about living here in one of the apartments while she goes to school."

"I just want to put it out there that after Rob's scare, it wouldn't surprise me if your parents reevaluate their situation. Your mom and I have talked, and she loves it here. I think she's as sick of the winters back home as I am," Grandma Dawson said.

For what I was investing in this property, I would feel better if I knew my family could enjoy it while I was off to school. In some ways, it would be a game-changer for my college plans, too. UCLA was actually closer than USC. It would be nice to be able to have a reasonable drive to come home and see my kids.

That made me think about Peggy, Ashley, and Scarlet. Would they want to move here? I'd had Cindy design the home with enough room for everyone. I would even have enough room for Grandma Dawson if she really did move here.

"If you want to, I would love to have you live here," I said.

"Are you serious? I would understand if you wouldn't want your grandmother moving in," she said to give me an out.

"Well, it isn't like it would happen tomorrow; they still have a lot of work to do. But if I'm off to college, I would feel better knowing you were watching over this place for me. When I graduate, we leave that open."

"Smart boy. By then, you might be packing me off to an assisted living place," she said and smiled to let me know she was teasing.

"That's Uncle John and Dad's job. I get to pick out the home they go to when they get old."

"Are you okay with me leaving the farm?"

"You bailed me out when I bought it. I want you to be happy, and I'm sure we can figure out someone to manage it. The good news is you've given me plenty of time to find someone."

"You really are my favorite," she said as she patted my cheek.

"Hang on. Let me get that on video so I can send it to Greg," I said, pulling my phone out.

We had a running feud as to who was our grandmother's favorite.

"I take it back. You really are a 'stupid boy.'"

---

When we got back to the house, Fritz wanted to have a word with me before I decided whether I should take a nap or lie out in the sun. I wanted to be able to rub it in that I had a tan when I got back to school, the land of the pasty white during the winter.

"I need access to all your new condos to install security. Caryn said you had lent the condo in Canada to her for a vacation. Do you think you'll do the same with the others?" he asked.

"Probably all except for the one here in LA. I plan to offer that one to Tracy Dole as housing for when she goes to USC in the fall. Why?" I asked.

"We'll need to make a few modifications if you plan to share the space. You probably want to have coded locks instead of the kind that needs a key. We can remotely change the combination after they leave and have permanent codes for you and people you trust. We would also want to turn either a small area or closet into a secured space for the security hub. That would also serve as a place where you can store personal belongings," he explained.

"If you're sending someone to do all that, could you have them take pictures?" I asked. "I want to see what they look like so I can figure out if I want to redecorate or not."

"Not a problem. I think I'll be sending Chuck and then transfer him to LA. Paul will be going back with you and take over as your security."

I gave him a curious look.

"What's going on?" I asked because the change seemed sudden.

"Chuck is from the LA area," Fritz said.

This was way scary because I picked up on his body language and could tell there was more to this story.

"And," I prompted.

"He and Scarlet had a misunderstanding. Your mom asked that we make a change. Before you ask, I don't know the details. Your mom only said it was personal in nature and wouldn't say anything other than it would be best if I could switch him out," he shared.

Since my mom hadn't said anything, I made the wild assumption that it had been settled with that change. I would hate to think that Chuck did something I would have to kick his butt over. Even though Scarlet and I were just getting to know each other, it didn't mean I wasn't protective of her. If it rose to that level, I was sure my mom would have let me know, and Chuck wouldn't only be transferred. Fritz had zero tolerance when it came to any kind of abuse towards women.

"Well, I guess that works. I've always liked Chuck, but with Cassidy and Paul, I should be fine. I also want to let you know that Manaia has been great. We got off on the wrong foot, but I actually like having him around," I said.

"Your dad and I had a bet as to if and when you two would come to blows. Your dad had more faith in you than I did."

Surely, I wasn't that bad. I hadn't kicked anyone's butt since that recruit's dad when we visited Oklahoma for a recruiting trip. I'd not liked that Manaia thought he could boss me around.

"One last item," Fritz said. "Your mom wants me to figure out a way to put a GPS tracker on both your brother's kids and your own. She wanted to install a chip in them like your dog has."

"My initial response is to have some concerns with that," I admitted.

Even though Duke didn't show any dire effects from getting his installed, I thought there might be a moral issue with it. Then again, what wouldn't I do to make sure my kids were safe?

"The problem is that it isn't really possible to microchip your kids as if they were puppies. Even if it was, it wouldn't serve the purpose. The chip behind your dog's ear is merely the equivalent of a barcode so he can be identified if he turns up at the pound or vet's office--it's not a GPS tracker. A GPS tracker would be too bulky because it requires a cellular receiver and battery to work," Fritz explained.

My first thought was, how would you charge the battery?

"I'm sure someone has figured out an alternative."

"There are some I'm looking into, but I want to make sure whatever we decide on is Coby-proof. If any of them can figure out how to break it, he's my leading candidate," Fritz said.

I wasn't about to argue that. Coby was also the first one who would climb the fence and be gone. The more I thought about it, the more I was probably okay with chipping my son.

---

I told Fritz to go ahead and do his security bit. I looked at my phone and did the mental gymnastics it took to figure out what time it was at home. School was out, so I called Cassidy.

"What's up, Buttercup?" I asked.

"Brook is leaving us. You have to talk to her," Cassidy complained.

"And tell her what?" I asked.

"Tell her to come live with me. Brad is off at college, and we could move him into the basement or garage."

I bet Brad would take that well.

"Let me ask you two questions. Have you asked your dad?"

"No, but..."

"Slow down. Did you tell Brook about your plan?" I asked.

She didn't answer me.

"Did she say 'no'?" I asked.

"But you could convince her," Cassidy implored.

"I do think your plan has some merit. There's just one problem."

"What?"

"She's my weakness. The truth is that Brook leaves me defenseless. I can't tell her not to move with her family. Her parents are going through a rough patch, and they don't need to be worried about what she's up to. I'm sure she wants to be there to help them through it," I said.

"But David, I know Brook would stay if you asked."

"All I can say is let this be easy on both of us. Brook made the hard decision to move. I admit that she had to be the one to make the choice because I couldn't willingly let her go. She put me out of my misery and took responsibility. I have to respect that. Cassidy, it's killing me inside, but how can I make this any harder for her? I have to support her on this," I explained.

"It's not fair. I'm losing my best friend," she pouted.

"I thought I was your best friend," I teased.

"You are, but you know what I mean."

"I do, but I need you to do something really hard: you have to back her on this. Brook is hurting right now, and she needs to know that we both are there for her."

"If I'm brave, can I keep your car?" she asked.

I burst out laughing, which made her laugh.

"Sorry, I had to take my shot," she explained.

"Nine times out of ten, that would have worked. You know I would do anything to keep you from hurting, and I know that Brook leaving is going to be hard. How about we figure out ways we can keep in touch with Brook and let her know that we love her?" I suggested.

"Has Halle called you yet?" Cassidy asked.

"No."

"Good. Now that you and Brook are no longer dating, it would be a terrible idea if you hooked up with her. You need to take a step back and figure out what works for you," she suggested.

The 'no longer dating' comment almost buckled my knees. It was one thing to think it and an entirely different matter to hear it said aloud. I had to push that emotion into a little box inside and close it off, or I would be a mess and call Brook and beg her to stay. I decided to focus on Cassidy and her feelings to distract me from dying inside.

"Since when did you get so smart?" I asked.

"I watch what you do. It's the same advice you would give me if I broke up with Don," she said.

"We could go out," I suggested.

"No. I saw what happened when Tami messed you up. I'm not going to be your rebound girl."

"Have any suggestions for 'rebound girl'?" I asked.

"I sure do. Rosy Palm and her five sisters."

If I ever forgot that Cassidy had grown up around Marines, that last statement would etch it in stone.

"On that note, I'm outta here," I said.

"David," Cassidy said in a quiet voice.

"Yes, Buttercup?"

"It's going to be okay, isn't it?"

"Yes. All we can do is love and support her. Things will change, but she will always be our friend."

"You promise?"

"That I do. Now go talk to Brook and let her know that everything will be alright," I said.

"I will," she said. "And David, thanks for helping me understand what she's going through. I forgot how hard this was for her and only thought about how it affected me."

"Don't feel bad about that. Your feelings are valid. It sucks that Brook's leaving. I'm glad you came up with a possible solution. In the end, we need to do whatever she wants."

I cringed when I heard myself channel my uncle with the 'your feelings are valid' line. As much as I hated it when he said it, it was true.

"Even if she's wrong?" Cassidy tried one more time.

"Even if."

"Okay," she said and hung up.

Talking to Cassidy was a wake-up for me. Brook leaving wasn't just about the two of us. She had touched many lives, and her moving would be hard on everyone--my family included. My parents had become close to Brook's mom and dad. Once my mom had figured out how serious I was about Brook, she had supplanted Tami in a lot of ways in my mom's eyes. Which, to be honest, was an excellent thing, in my view.

---

While I talked to Cassidy, Tsuyoshi Nomura had arrived. Everyone went out to the pool area to drink some wine and enjoy the California weather. I'd kicked everyone out of the kitchen because I was cooking dinner tonight as a special thank you to Mr. Nomura and Lexi for their help with filming the J-drama.

Mary Dole, my partner in the restaurants, had helped me refine my cooking skills. She had taught me that proper planning was the key to executing a successful meal. That, and following a recipe. Timing when everything would be served, when done correctly, made for a flawless presentation. She contended that a great meal was more than just well-prepared dishes; it was part theater. That meant that it had to be presented in an appealing manner and delivered at the appropriate time. These were concepts I understood.

I'd asked her for some ideas as to a meal that would be something new for me to make. She'd sent me a menu and the recipes that went with them. I was excited to give it a try. For the appetizer, I was making a fruit, nut, and cheese tray. The cheese was baked brie in a puff pastry with jalapeno jelly. Mary had advised that after it came out of the oven to let it cool for ten minutes before serving. That way, the cheese would have a chance to firm up a bit instead of oozing all over the place like molten lava.

For the main course, I was making a skillet cod with lemon and capers. When she suggested it, I was a little uneasy. Cooking fish carries an air of fuss, but Mary assured me it was easy. The tip she gave me was to make sure the fillets were extremely dry before putting them in the pan in order to get the crispiest, golden-brown crust on the fish.

For the sides, I was making roasted vegetables and a black bean and corn salad. The vegetables were a combination of cauliflower, mushrooms, carrots, and eggplant, and the salad was made with red peppers and avocado with a lime-cilantro vinaigrette. The key instruction for the veggie dish was to spray a cookie sheet with oil and then season the pan with salt, pepper, and garlic before covering it with vegetables. Once they were on the cookie sheet, in a single layer, I was to drizzle them with olive oil and then season the top. When it all came out of the oven, I was to transfer it to a serving dish, drizzle the veggies with lemon juice, and taste it. If they needed it, I would season with more salt and pepper. The final part was to crumble feta over the vegetables, sprinkle them with parsley, and serve.

For dessert, I would make a caramel-pecan tart with a shortbread crust. Mary assured me that I could make it ahead of time, and it would be perfectly paired with a cup of coffee.

I had a plan of action and had made sure I had all the ingredients for the meal when Aunt Bonnie came in.

"Mind if I help?"

"I take it the conversation out there is boring."

"No. I would rather spend time with you than listen to them talk about you," she explained.

"I probably didn't need to hear that... Anyway..."

"What are you making?" Aunt Bonnie asked.

I gave her the rundown.

"I'm very good at making shortbread. Why don't I tackle the tart?" she suggested.

"Have at it. Baking isn't my strong suit," I admitted.

We got busy cooking. It was nice spending time with my aunt. It helped us to get to know each other better, and I found she was both fun and thoughtful. Aunt Bonnie was easy to be around, and we were soon enjoying each other's company.

---

"What wine are you serving?" Aunt Bonnie asked.

"I was told to pair the fried fish with a California sparkling wine. I was assured it would match up well since most wines lose something when you serve them with fried seafood. Not so with sparkling wine, whose bubbles cut through the weight of fried food as if the wine were made for the dish."

"You sound like an expert."

"Hardly. I had to ask. I plan to drink mint sun tea since I try not to drink much alcohol."

"Because you're too young?"

I just shrugged. Aunt Bonnie had been a teen not so long ago, so I assumed she knew that most teens partook now and then.

We invited everyone in to eat. During the appetizer, which was a success, there was mostly small talk. It wasn't until the main course that the discussion turned to me.

"David was blindsided the other day and came to me for advice," Mr. Nomura said to kick off the festivities.

He went on to describe the Japanese websites and how the cast had been feeding them information.

"You need to be careful with stuff like this," Grandma Dawson said to weigh in. "This kind of thing can be a real problem down the road."

"How so? I'm just in high school. How can something like this harm me down the road?" I asked.

"It would be very easy for them to come after you and tag you as the icon for white male privilege," Mr. Nomura said.

I thought about the picture of me on the yacht. Just the word 'yacht' proved his point. Then there were pictures of me at different parties where the setting screamed affluence and privilege. It didn't matter that I was from a small town in the Midwest and lived in a middle-class neighborhood. Frank Ingram, my publicist, had taught me that we had to control the narrative. I'd checked out the gossip sites and clicked on blogs about the young and über-rich, and it had sickened me to see them acting like they were above it all.

"There will be reporters who want to get to you for a headline, or God forbid that you go into politics someday. Your opposition will dig until they find dirt, and they always find dirt," Uncle John said.

"Even what I did as a teen?" I asked.

"Over the past twenty years, I've seen it get to the point that I'd call it ridiculous, except for the fact that it seems to be real. Heck, for Bill Clinton, they dug up that he smoked pot. I still remember his ridiculous lie that he never inhaled. Then there was George Bush, who was painted as a frat boy. Nowadays, with social media, it's easy to dig up stuff. All it takes is one homophobic tweet as a joke for you to be disqualified thirty years later," Grandma Dawson warned.

"Okay, you've scared me a bit. I think I've tried to not do anything stupid," I said.

"You've done a good job of avoiding that sort of issue, and I would hope you continue to do so," Mr. Nomura said.

"It's not just politics, David," Uncle John said. "What you do now can have a profound effect on you no matter what you do in the future. You see how the mob mentality is starting to make it okay to delve into your personal life and expose it to the world. Once something about you is out there, and if it doesn't fit in with some influential group's way of thinking, then you might as well pack it in. Being labeled a privileged white male is already a problem. It doesn't take too much of a leap to see the masses boycott your business or drum you out of politics."

"Why bother, if they're going to find dirt anyway?" I asked.

"As Tsuyoshi said, so far, you've done a good job of not shooting yourself in the foot. What you need to do is emulate someone like Tom Brady," Uncle John said.

"Tom Brady is an American football quarterback," I explained to Mr. Nomura.

He gave me the adult version of the eye roll.

"Just because I live in Japan, doesn't mean I don't know who Tom Brady is."

I held up my hands in surrender.

"Brady does it by being as boring and private in his views as he can get away with. This would fit your All-American Boy persona," Uncle John said.

"I hate to say it, but you probably shouldn't get involved in any political discussions or support candidates in the future," Grandma Dawson said with a frown. Then she smiled. "That is until you decide to put your hat in the ring. We don't want to create a record for you to run on until we have to, politically speaking."

"Good advice," Mr. Nomura added.

---

Aunt Bonnie was the star when she said she made dessert. I had to agree. My favorite pie is pecan, and now my new favorite dessert might just be the caramel-pecan tart with a shortbread crust. Pairing it with coffee would give me both a sugar and caffeine buzz for days.

My uncle and Tsuyoshi seemed to be kindred spirits; they went out back to enjoy a companionable scotch and cigar. Grandma Dawson and Aunt Bonnie decided to use the media room and watch a movie. I'd set it up so my Netflix account would automatically come up. I'm not sure what Lexi was up to.

I went to my room and called Brook.

"Hey, Hotness," I said in greeting.

"I assume you talked to Cassidy," she said.

"We did have a little heart-to-heart."

"Thank you for that. It has been killing me how upset she was."

"I'll be here to make sure she's okay," I assured my ex-girlfriend.

"Who will be there to make sure I'm okay?" she asked.

"I will, but you don't really need me," I assured her.

"Why's that?"

"Because you're the strongest woman I know. You'll own your new high school within a couple of weeks, and then you're off to Princeton, where you'll kick serious butt."

"But what if I falter?"

"I'm just a phone call away. It's not like I can't catch a plane and be there in a few hours. When I get back, the first thing I'm going to do is get my pilot's license," I said.

I only needed two more hours of flight time before I could take the test and then survive my check ride to get my private pilot license. Next, I would work towards obtaining my instrument rating so I could fly in less than ideal conditions. After that, we would see. If I got serious, I would probably work towards multi-engine or even jet qualifications. For grins, I might look into learning to fly helicopters. That would be a tremendous asset if I lived in LA. It would sure beat the traffic.

"Someday, I'll have to tell you how special you are. You don't know how close I came to taking Cassidy up on her offer to let me live with her."

"When do you leave?" I asked.

I didn't want to talk about her possibly staying because it was all I could do to let her go.

"We fly out tomorrow."

"So, I won't see you before you're gone?" I asked.

"No, sorry. I have to enroll in my new school," Brook said, and then I could hear her sound happier. "Guess where I'm going?"

"I'm hoping an all-girls boarding school."

"You got it on the first try. Except I won't be doing the boarding stuff. Some of my cousins go there, so I'll at least know a few people."

"The first day you're there, pick out the toughest girl and kick her butt. It'll cut down on the bullying," I suggested.

She laughed at me.

"I'll let my mom know what you suggested; I'm sure she'll love that. I was already in one fight, and Mom came a little unhinged when that happened," Brook said.

"The girl in question had it coming," I said in support.

"That she did," she said and then got quiet. "I wish I wasn't leaving. The only thing that makes it bearable is knowing you will always be my friend."

"Me too. I love you," I said, and then we said goodbye.

It was official. Brook Davis was leaving.

---