Sidecar Crush

It was why I’d agreed to go on the show at all. Kelvin had a point about my modeling career waning. In modeling years, I was ancient. My career in the fashion world had an expiration date, and it was fast approaching. Acting had always been what I’d wanted to do, so it was the perfect time to make that transition.

Kelvin had been trying to get me auditions, but until Roughing It, nothing had come through. I couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t some vapid model with nothing going for her but a pretty face. I’d had years of acting classes. Dialect coaching to get rid of my Appalachian twang. I’d starred in plays and musicals all through my teens.

Kelvin had assured me that being on Roughing It would open doors. The show was only half over, but so far, I hadn’t seen any doors opening. And I was afraid more were going to keep closing.

“I’m just worried this isn’t turning out the way we thought it would,” I said. “If I’m the hated vixen, no one’s going to want to work with me. Have we heard back from Burberry yet? About the winter line?”

“They’re passing on you.”

“What?” I’d been working for Burberry for ten years. “They passed on me? Why?”

“Babe, we’ve talked about this,” he said. “It was going to happen sooner rather than later.”

“You think this is about my age? Not about the show?”

“It’s probably both.”

I stood, the chair scraping across the wood floor. My career was starting to slip through my fingers. I could feel it happening. No matter how many times Kelvin assured me things would be fine—I’d make a seamless transition into acting—I couldn’t help but worry. This was my livelihood. And seeing how my dad was struggling with his health made it all the more important that I keep working. Someone had to take care of him, and the time when he’d need it was approaching sooner than I’d thought. I’d found out from Betsy that he hadn’t worked more than part-time since last Christmas. I didn’t know how much longer he could support himself.

He didn’t have anyone else. He’d never remarried, and I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. It was up to me to take care of him.

Kelvin closed his laptop and came over to stand in front of me. He ran his hands up and down my arms. “Babe, don’t worry. I have some things in the works that are really exciting. You’re going to be fine.”

I nodded. I’d trusted him with my career for most of the past decade. I needed to keep trusting him.

Someone knocked on the door and Kelvin groaned. The first day had been quiet, but yesterday Millie Waggle had stopped by with a plate of brownies, and Maribel Schilling had brought a tater tot casserole. I’d tried to explain that this was just the Bootleg way. Bootleggers were equal parts friendly and curious—bordering on nosy. And it wasn’t my fault he refused to eat Millie’s brownies. His loss. They were amazing.

“Knock, knock,” a chipper woman’s voice came from the front. “Y’all home? Can I come in?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the petite brunette who came in wearing a tank top and cut-off shorts. “Scarlett Bodine?”

“Leah Mae,” she said. “You know, I heard it was you stayin’ here and I wasn’t quite sure if I believed it. After all, your name wasn’t anywhere on the reservation. But here you are. Look at you, Leah Mae Larkin, pretty as a picture. And famous to boot.”

“It’s so nice to see you. This place is yours? It looks like you’re doing well for yourself.”

“Can’t complain.” She came in and put a foil-wrapped package on the counter. “That’s safe to eat, I got it from Clarabell over at Moonshine. Pepperoni roll.”

I gasped. “Oh my god, I haven’t had one of those in years.”

Scarlett shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Honey, you’ve been missing out.”

“Thank you. That was really sweet of you.”

“Sure,” she said brightly. “Cabin treating you all right?”

“Yes, it’s lovely.” I glanced at Kelvin to see if he had anything to add, but he was back at the table on his laptop. “Scarlett, this is Kelvin Graham.”