"How'd you manage the house? Life insurance?"
"Mom didn't have any. Honestly, she barely made ends meet."
"Your dad?"
She shrugged. "Went into the wind w
hen I was a kid. But he paid off the house before he disappeared, which was how Mom managed to afford to live here. All she had to cover was the bills and the taxes and food."
"You, too," he said. "Once it all fell on your shoulders."
"Me, too," she agreed.
"You've had it rough." In some ways, she'd had it just as rough as he had, back in those days before Hollywood started throwing money at him, when he and Jenny were still suffering in Iowa. Before they'd run.
"I guess. I mean, it was horrible losing my mom and my brother, but I can't spend my whole life thinking how much the universe has screwed me. At least I still have my house--for now, anyway. And if I lose it, I have only myself to blame. And I have jobs I can walk to and some really good friends. All in all, I'm doing okay."
Maybe it was ridiculous, but her words, said so matter-of-factly, seemed to glow inside him, like a little beacon of hope. He lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. "You really are an exceptional woman."
"I think your perspective might be a little off, but I'll just say thank you and leave it at that."
"Good plan," he said with a laugh. "But if the house is paid off, what's driving the foreclosure?"
"The place needed massive repairs. I managed to get a short-term loan, but it was the balloon kind. Tiny payments up front, one giant payment at the end."
"And the end, as they say, is nigh."
"You got that right." She sighed. "I probably should have found a different way to get the money back then, but I was alone and freaked and stupid and--well, doesn't matter. That's the situation I'm dealing with."
"Can't you get another loan?"
She made a face. "Apparently, it's a miracle I got the first one. Turns out my absent father is on the deed as some sort of co-owner. I went to one of those legal clinics at the law school and they explained it to me. The bottom line is that no bank's going to want to lend me money. They can, but they won't."
She exhaled loudly. "I tried, though. I figured it happened once, maybe someone would do it again. No go. I'm pretty sure every bank in the State of California has turned me down."
"I could lend you the money. Promissory note. Lien against the house. Just like a bank."
For a moment, he thought she might agree. Then she shook her head. "It's a really sweet offer. But I've had some other friends offer the same thing, and I just can't do it. Besides, you've already helped me get a lot closer. I'll make it." She turned toward him with a sweet smile. "I'm absolutely determined."
He wanted to argue with her. To tell her it was no big deal. That it actually gave him pleasure to spend the money he earned in Hollywood to help out women like her who were struggling.
But he couldn't get any of that past that one simple word--Friends.
"Is that what we are?" he said instead.
For a moment, she looked confused. Then her eyes went wide. "Oh. Wow. Right--that was kind of presumptuous of me, wasn't it. But it's just that--"
"Friends," he repeated, then hooked his arm around her shoulder. "And if I play my cards right, maybe even friends with benefits."
As he'd hoped, she laughed.
"Okay, friend," she said. "Your turn. Did you always want to act?"
He shook his head. "Actually, I didn't get the bug until we moved here."
"You were sixteen then, right? What did you want to do before?"
Survive.