Rum took his cap off and slapped it on the lounge. “You’re a fucking liar, Delany. If I look at your internet history I’m going to find porn and dog shelter searches.”
He wouldn’t find porn.
“I repeat,” Rum said. “What happened in Australia, and I don’t want a trip advisory. I’ve been, it’s great. We should go surf there. Better, we should go make a movie there. My point is you spent a weekend with a woman and then you got post-show blues and you made yourself feel better by getting another dog.”
“Bullshit.” He said that too vehemently, making Cyd take off. “The shelter called. All I did was say yes.” He gestured at Cyd hiding behind another lounge. “How could I resist?”
“All right, all right. Have it your way.”
He got up and poured them both drinks from the cocktail bar while Rum talked about a party he’d been to and some scandal about a director he was thinking of working with. Who cared how many dogs he owned? The shelter where he’d gotten Fred and Ginger did call his office, but they’d done that before and if he’d gotten a new dog every time they named a stray after a dancer and tried to guilt him into it, he’d have had to abandon the house to its canine residents and their staff by now.
Oh fuck. It was bullshit.
He’d started looking at shelter websites on the flight from Sydney.
“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Rum said when Haydn handed him a scotch and dry.
“I’m listening. Your agent wants you do to Shakespeare.”
“And you didn’t think that was the wildest most insanely bad fit for me you’d ever heard of?”
“Right.” He went back behind the bar. That was an appalling idea. “I wasn’t listening.”
“
What’s going on with you?”
“I got a new dog, which means I am a little distracted.” He launched into the plans he had for raising greater awareness of aid piracy and reaching out to governments as well as high-net worth individuals.
“That’s not what you’re distracted about.”
No, it wasn’t. He’d poured every spare second into working on the aid-rescue project, trying to make up ground before he had to disappear on location. It was the thing that corralled his distraction and pushed it out of sight for a while. He was like Cyd, but instead of hiding behind a chair he was hiding in work.
Apart from Dad and people he paid to listen to him, he didn’t have anyone other than Rum to talk to who he trusted with something so personal. He’d have trusted Teela, but that was unproductive thinking.
“I might be re-evaluating my life choices.” Dad had never understood why he was convinced remaining single was his best option. He’d just accepted it because he understood how money and fame could corrupt and he loved his son.
“Very new age. Very not you. What does that mean?”
“I thought I had it all squared away, you know. I like my life the way it is. I like my work and now I’m starting to figure out how to use my influence to do some good.”
Rum made a bowing motion. “We both know you’re king of the world. I can only aspire to follow in your footsteps.”
“But you haven’t rejected the idea of having a partner.”
“I have them frequently. So do you.”
“I mean a forever kind of partner.”
Rum sat forward suddenly spilling his drink down his leg. “Holy shit. I was guessing you were going to say you were going to start directing or open your own production company. This is about the cute shorts in Sydney.”
“It’s about staying open to opportunity.” Haydn covered his face with his hands. “Oh fuck, it’s about the woman in Sydney. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“I don’t see why that’s a big deal. Bring her over. Do what you do when you like someone.”
He tossed Rum a bar towel. “She’s got a business. She wouldn’t want that.”
“Sun had a business. Katy did too.” Rum used the towel on his pants. “What’s the difference?”