Stunt Doubled: A Movie Star Standalone

But I had to say something. “Is it a western?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I can see why you’d think so. Come to think of it…” He trailed off and twisted his body, reaching for something in the backseat. I gripped the armrests tighter as the truck swerved, but we hadn’t even passed another car yet, so there probably wasn’t much to worry about.

Mac straightened up and handed me a cream-colored cowboy hat. “This is for you.”

I stared at the thing in my hands. Had I ever worn a cowboy hat? Not unless it was during some Halloween I was too young to remember. “Um, thanks.”

“Aiden got one for everyone on the crew at the start of the shoot.”

Great. My first gift from my father in nearly two decades, and it wasn’t even really from him. Plus, it felt weird to be holding something that had come from a famous movie star. My cheeks flushed as I remembered how I’d acted around Tanner and Ford today. It wasn’t like me to get tongue-tied around good-looking men. Growing up, Tonio had had many handsome friends—he still did, in fact. It would’ve been pointless to spend all my time gawking at them. Instead, I’d always appreciated their looks but paid more attention to who they were inside. That was what mattered. The rest was just icing on the cake.

And yeah, sometimes it was fun to lick the icing, but the cake was the important part.

“He always gets everyone a gift at the start of each shoot,” Mac continued.

“That’s nice of him.”

“He’s one of the good ones,” Mac agreed. “You should see how some of the stars act. Like they’re too good to even talk to the rest of the crew.” He shook his head. “They don’t even realize that their movies would be crap if the rest of us weren’t around to make them look good.”

Mac launched into a monolog of sorts, telling story after story of Hollywood stars, both the ones he considered to be good sports and the ones who were overly impressed by their own hype. He seemed to want me to guess who each story was about, but I mostly just nodded and inserted benign comments from time to time. The surreal feeling was back, not because we were talking about celebrities, but because we were talking at all after two decades.

Throughout the ride, he asked nothing about me. I watched the sun set in a pretty spectacular way as I thought about that. Was it because he didn’t care? Or was he trying to be tactful? Lord knew I didn’t want to talk about it. I hadn’t told him much of anything about why I left, just that I needed a fresh start.

But anyone who tried could find out that I’d had a successful online presence. My blog, my Instagram, and my TikTok channel had all been quite popular. My friend Emma called me an influencer, but I didn’t think of myself that way. I valued living a healthy lifestyle. I always felt my best when I exercised regularly, and I enjoyed sharing my views on fitness with others. I took everything down once the attacks started, but nothing was ever gone for good on the internet. Anyone who wanted to could piece together the career I’d had.

The question was, did Mac have any interest in that? Somehow, I couldn’t quite picture him sitting in front of a computer, though his generation was fairly proficient. Instead, he seemed like he belonged outdoors, in a big space. Like a desert, in fact. This landscape suited him quite well, though we were now on a bigger road, and I’d seen a few signs of civilization off in the distance.

I knew I should be grateful that he didn’t want to dredge up the recent past, like some of my friends and family had, but it bothered me that I didn’t know the reason why. Him being tactful was a whole different feeling than him not giving a damn.

Then again, if he’d given a damn, he wouldn’t have left us decades ago. I wished I could put in my earbuds—which had miraculously survived my fall today—and block out the intrusive thoughts. But that would be too rude even for the parent who’d abandoned me.

Instead, I waited until Mac was between stories and jumped in. “Where are we eating?”

“A steakhouse. You’ll love it. The beer’s so watered down that it’s barely worth bothering, but the steaks are fantastic. You eat meat, don’t you?”

“Yes, sometimes.” I did care very much about what I put in my body, but every once in a while, I had a weakness for red meat.

“Good. You’ll love it.”

“And where will I stay after that? In Moab?”

A look I couldn’t quite identify flashed across his face. “I’ve got it all taken care of. I’ll tell you at dinner.”