Jenna had once been told by the owner of the local video store that any movies in which she had a part were impossible to keep on the shelves.
Allie had been right. It was creepy. Big-time creepy.
No matter how many times she rationalized that it was all part of what she’d done for a living, she’d never been comfortable with the fame and curiosity about her. Not here, at least. Every time she met a person in this town, whether it was the local bartender or the librarian, Jenna wondered what they were thinking and which, if any, of her movies they’
d seen. In L.A. no one cared. Everyone was in the industry in one form or another. But here…in this tiny, provincial burg in Oregon, attitudes were different.
Now, staring up at Travis in the hallway of Harrington Junior High, Jenna said, “Believe me, fame’s a pain all the time.”
“And yet everyone tries to achieve it one way or another.”
“I guess.” They walked across the hallway to the glassed-in office. Travis held the door open for her. “Allie forget her backpack?” he asked. “Or is that yours?”
Jenna glanced down at the pack in question. It was unique—a canvas print in pink-and-purple camouflage and, in Jenna’s estimation, ugly as sin. Allie loved the damned thing because Robert had sent it to Oregon last Christmas. It had been delivered in a huge box, no doubt packed by Robert’s most recent wife, and filled with gifts Jenna suspected Robert had never seen. The backpack had been purchased at a spendy boutique on Rodeo Drive and probably had cost a small fortune. “No, this one isn’t mine,” Jenna said with a grin. “You were right on the first guess. This one belongs to my daughter. Mine is at home. It’s similar—camouflage, but trimmed in gold lamé. It’s for evening wear. I save it for important dates.” She offered him a smile and noticed that his blue eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Maybe we should go to dinner sometime. A big date. You can bring it along.”
“Wouldn’t be caught dead without it,” she said, handing Allie’s backpack to the secretary. “Will you see that Allison Kramer gets this?” she asked.
“No problem,” the secretary assured her as she took the pack and also an envelope Travis left for Dani. “Lunch money,” he explained to Jenna as they walked outside together. “She left it on the counter, and I thought I should just let her go hungry. Maybe then she’d remember, but…” He lifted a shoulder.
“You couldn’t do it.”
“Nah! Maybe next time.”
“Yeah, right,” she mocked as the icy bite of the wind blew across the playground that connected the junior high to the elementary school. Empty swings swayed, chains rattling with the gusts.
“They’re predicting the heaviest snow of the season tonight,” Travis said.
Jenna glanced at the leaden sky as they hurried to the parking lot. “I believe it.”
“Got time for a cup of coffee before the storm breaks?”
“I’d love one, but I’d better take a rain check. I’ve got some problems with my Jeep and pump and who-knows-what else.”
“Something I could help you with?”
Jenna grinned. “Careful,” she said, “you don’t know what you’re getting into.” She yanked open the door of her truck and Critter started wagging his tail wildly as she hoisted herself up behind the steering wheel. “But I might just take you up on it if Hans can’t fix the problem.”
“Do. Really.”
“Thanks. I will.”
She pulled the door shut and forced the old truck into gear before she maneuvered the big rig out of the icy parking lot. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Travis, hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jacket, walking to his truck. He was fit and good-looking, with sharp features and eyes that didn’t miss much. His hair was a warm brown that, she suspected, lightened in the summer, and whatever baggage he carried around about being a single father, he managed to stash away somewhere. Jenna had heard it rumored he’d lost his wife to some disease, but she wasn’t sure if that was unfounded, small-town gossip or a hard-and-fast fact. Someday maybe he’d tell her.
If she gave him the chance.
“Come on, let’s ditch.” Josh’s arm was around her shoulders and his face was only inches from hers as they sat, smoking, in his pickup, a relic from the 1970s that he’d “cherried-out” with huge tires, chrome rims, mag wheels, and a stereo system that could almost blow the roof off the cab. The body of the truck was lifted so high that Cassie had to use the running board to climb inside. Josh thought it was cool. Cassie thought it was kind of stupid. “We’re already tardy,” he was saying. “Why not make it a day?”
“Cuz my mom will kill me,” Cassie argued. “I can explain why I’m late to class, come up with something, but if I miss the day, she’ll ground me for life!”
“She’s always grounding you,” he grumbled.
That was true, Cassie thought, dragging hard on her cigarette and letting the smoke curl out of her nose.
“You’ll talk your way out of it.”
“I already have to deal with last night.”