The Other Side of Someday (7 page)

“I’d never be in that situation. I’ll never kill someone.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest, feigning indignation.

Sebby chuckled. I would do anything to keep hearing that beautiful sound fall from his lips. “You want to know what I just learned about you that has absolutely nothing to do with sunrises or sunsets?”

“Enlighten me.”

“That you, Baylee, are stubborn.”

I shrugged. “I’m Irish. What do you expect?”

“Just pick one. Don’t think too much about it. Say the first thing that pops into your head.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “Sunrise. A sunset is like wiping the slate clean, but a sunrise is just full of hope. They’re both beautiful, but I think I like what a sunrise represents better.”

A small smile crossed his face. “Me, too.”

“Why?”

“Is that your question for the day?”

Curious about his own reasons, I nodded. “Sure.”

Looking away, he stared out over the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean and toyed with the lid on his coffee. “When I finished film school and was trying to make a name for myself, I worked long days. The thing about this industry is that it’s not a typical nine-to-five job. If you just want to punch a time clock, do something else. Even though I had a film degree, I didn’t have a lot of experience, so I did everything to make directors and producers want to hire me, even if I was just a runner or something. I eventually hung around different sets long enough that one of the directors allowed me to work as an editorial assistant when the film went to post. I wanted to learn everything about the process. Granted, they teach you some of that in school, but it’s mostly theoretical. I was getting hands-on experience on a daily basis, so I didn’t want to squander the opportunity.

“Every day before the sun came up, I would go into the post house where the film was being finalized. I would stay there, working until after the sun went down again. The days blurred together as I learned from the best of the best — the best editors, directors, producers, music arrangers. We were getting close to deadline and had to work overnights to make it.” A wistful expression crossed his face as he looked up at the sun shining above us.

“I’ll never forget that last night when the final cut was approved. We all went up onto the roof of the building to celebrate with some beers, only to see the sun rising over the mountains, shining on downtown LA. I had worked my ass off for months, even forsaking relationships, but as I stood drinking with this group of people who had become like a family to me, I grew homesick for my own family, who I had barely spoken to since starting to work on that set. That sunrise made me realize there are more important things in life than my career. Don’t get me wrong. I still vowed to do everything I could to be the best in my profession, but I didn’t want to lose sight of who I was as a person anymore.”

“So what happened?” I asked. I was enthralled with his story. It was apparent that Sebby was ambitious. I was envious of his motivation and drive to do everything he could to achieve his dreams. He probably had a strong support system in his family, people telling him to reach for the stars. I wondered what that was like.

“Job offers came in,” he continued. “I had built a reputation for myself as a hard worker, so I started to get phone calls from studios to help on various projects. I worked my way up from just a production assistant, then editing, then producing. It wasn’t too long until I got my first big break. One of the contacts I had made over the years got a project green-lit by one of the studios. Big budget. Huge stars. He asked me to be on his producing team and I agreed, but only on the condition that there would be no overnights. I didn’t want to miss another sunrise. He agreed, and that’s been my rule ever since. And if it weren’t for this rule of mine, I probably never would have run into you, so now I’m even more grateful for it.”

He smiled and peered at me. There was an honesty in his gaze I wasn’t expecting. He wasn’t trying to hide anything from me, wasn’t trying to pretend to be someone else. It was refreshing.

“I’m happy you have this rule in place, too.”

C
HAPTER
S
IX

T
HE
NEXT
FEW
WEEKS
seemed to fly by as I attempted to make my new condo into a home. Marcel was over at my place at least several times a week, going over all his big ideas for completely redecorating it. Every Thursday night, I went to Sophia’s for her weekly game night. I spent the rest of my free time reading or people-watching around Santa Monica Pier.

As much fun as I was having with everything else going on in my life, one particular person seemed to preoccupy my thoughts nearly every second of every day. I no longer had to drag myself out of bed in the morning to take Sport for his walk. Instead, I jumped up, excited about meeting Sebby for coffee as we continued asking completely random questions.

What’s your favorite movie?

What do you wish you could change about yourself?

If you could have dinner with one person, either dead or alive, who would it be?

Coffee together became such a regular part of my routine that when the last week of October arrived and Sebby had to head out of town, I felt lost as I walked Sport. Since I had nothing to look forward to, my pace was a little slower, my feet dragging on the pavement. A creature of habit, I lowered myself onto the park bench that I was certain had a permanent impression of both our asses in it.

As I took a sip of the coffee I had to bring today, my cell phone vibrated in my purse. I half expected it to be Marcel with some new idea for my condo. I was pleasantly surprised to see a text from Sebby, as if he knew I was thinking about him at that precise moment.

Favorite member of the Rat Pack?

A smile crossing my face, I contemplated a witty response.

Dean Martin. Sure, Frank had a fantastic voice, and Sammy was an unparalleled entertainer, but Dino was the whole package. And I’m all about the whole package.

A reply arrived almost immediately.

I’ve heard that about you. Miss me?

You’ve already asked your one question for the day. My turn. Do you like clowns?

Clowns, Dixie? That may be the most random question you’ve ever asked.

Perhaps. Just answer me.

I’ve never made it all the way through the movie
It
, if that answers your question.

I hastily searched the web, grinning when I found a picture of a vicious-looking Pennywise the Clown and sent it to him.

That’s it, Dixie. This means war.

Bring it, Nosebleeder
.

~~~~~~~~~~

W
HEN
T
HURSDAY
MORNING
ROLLED
around, I still had no idea what to wear to the Halloween version of game night I would be going to at Sophia’s, which I heard was notorious for being pretty epic. Everyone had that one holiday they loved, and Sophia’s was Halloween. From the sound of it, everyone else had been planning their costumes for the past few months. I couldn’t remember the last time I actually dressed up for Halloween. Will and I had been invited to parties, but he always found some excuse not to go.
 

As I sat on the park bench that morning, Sport at my feet, I grabbed my phone and typed a quick text to Sebby.

Halloween Party tonight. What should I dress up as?

You’re seriously wasting one of your questions on what I think you should get for a Halloween costume?

Sounds about right. What do you think?

I kept my eyes glued to my phone as I waited for his reply, each second that passed seeming like hours. Finally, my phone buzzed and I couldn’t open my messages fast enough.

Ginger from Gilligan’s Island. You’ve already got the red hair going for you. Just get a leopard print bathing suit and a life saver with the S.S. Minnow written on it.

Ginger? Really? I thought most guys had a thing for Maryann. Plus, where do you expect me to find a leopard print bathing suit at a moment’s notice?

You live in LA now. Leopard print bathing suits are a dime a dozen. And what can I say? I’m a sucker for a red-headed woman.

I hummed Bruce Springsteen’s song of the same name for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~~~~~

“W
ELL
,
HELLO
, M
ISS
D
IXIE
!” Marcel shouted as I let myself into Sophia’s condo that evening. I had taken Sebby’s advice and decided to dress up as Ginger. May as well use my red hair to my advantage. However, instead of wearing a leopard print bathing suit, I opted for a glamorous gold sequin gown and white feather boa. I spent hours and too much hairspray recreating Tina Louise’s hair, curling it at the ends and teasing it near the roots to give it the volume it needed.

“Hey, Marcel,” I said, hugging him, taking in his pirate costume. Sophia’s condo looked nothing like it did the previous times I was there. The lights were dimmed and dry ice “smoked” through the living area, giving it a spooky vibe. People I had never met before mingled, trying to avoid bumping into the coffins or headstones she had erected. “Looking good.”

“I hope so. Sophia invited this guy she did a commercial with a few months back and, let’s just say, I’ve been crushing on him ever since I met him.”

“Is he…?” I raised my eyebrows, unsure of what the proper etiquette was. I had never met anyone who would openly admit they were gay before. Sure, I had my suspicions about one of my high school friends, especially considering he was probably one of the most attractive guys in town yet I’d never seen him with a woman. I couldn’t care less either way, but I knew he’d receive backlash from the entire community, which wasn’t something a member of the town council could easily explain away. Still, I always felt bad he had to keep who he was to himself.

“You mean gay?” Marcel joked.

“What? It’s an honest question. I don’t know how these things work.”

“Do you want me to draw a picture, sugar?” He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the party and into the living room where Sophia had set up the whiteboard for tonight’s game of Karaoke Pictionary. Based on the already inebriated condition of some of the people in attendance, I had a feeling it would be one game I’d never forget.

“I don’t need a picture, Marcel,” I insisted, but he refused to listen.

“See what happens is…” He picked up the black marker and started to sketch on the whiteboard. “When one man finds another man attractive…”

I closed my eyes, trying not to peek at what he was drawing.

“…they want to do something to let the other know they’re interested.”

“I’m not an idiot,” I huffed, opening my eyes and taking the marker from him so he couldn’t turn his R-rated sketch into an X-rated one. “I get that. And I certainly don’t need you to illustrate it in black and white. I just didn’t know how you could tell someone else was gay. That’s all.”

“The same way you can tell if a guy is straight,” he responded quickly. He made it sound so obvious. “You just…know.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been wrong?”

“Have you?”

“I’ve really never had the opportunity to be wrong.”

“Well, I have.” He placed his hands on his hips. “And, over the past five years, I can remember only one instance of reading a guy wrong. It’s a risk you have to take. It usually pays off.”

“It doesn’t scare you, knowing there’s a small chance you might be wrong?”

“Of course it does, Miss Dixie,” he admitted, heading toward where Sophia had set up a bar stocked with more bottles of wine and alcohol than I thought we could ever drink. “But that’s part of life. Taking risks. I’ve met some amazing people and have been in some incredible relationships I never would have experienced had I let my fear overtake me. So you should do the same thing, especially with Mr. Nosebleeder you can’t stop blushing over.” He raised his eyepatch and winked.

“What do you—”

“Oh, please,” he said dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Since we met, we’ve been spending an awful lot of time together. And every time I’ve asked you how your morning has been, a stupid grin crosses your face because you’re thinking of your little Nosebleeder. It’s great you’re out there and meeting people. Just don’t be afraid to make the first move.”

“The only way that will ever happen is if he were to spike my coffee with a heaping shot of whiskey.” Marcel handed me a glass and I raised it to my lips, savoring the wine. Over the past few weeks, I had become rather spoiled in the wine category. My new group of friends seemed to have quite exceptional taste when it came to that delicious California nectar, and I was more than happy to reap the benefits.

“Why?” Marcel pushed.

“Oh no, you don’t. You don’t get to put me on the spot.”

“Do you like this guy?”

I avoided his eyes. “Maybe,” I admitted. Sebby was attractive, funny, and had a personality I couldn’t help but be drawn to. But wasn’t it too soon? Wasn’t it too easy? “But, like I said weeks ago, I’m not sure I’m ready to date. Anyway, he’d just be a rebound, and we all know those never end well.”

“Not necessarily. I’ve had some great long-term rebound relationships. I think you should make the first move. Look at things from his point of view. You’re recently divorced and have been pretty vocal about not being ready to jump into a new relationship right now. He may be playing the friend card because he thinks it’s the only shot he has at spending time with you. So put your big girl panties on and tell him how you feel. And speaking of big girl panties… Nice dress, Ginger.” He held his elbow out to me and I put my arm through his.

“Thanks, Captain Jack.”

We made our way across the living room and joined what had become my small little circle of friends, our Wine Drinking Karaoke Pictionary Playing Club, and the hours flew by. There was something about being dressed up as someone else that made everyone’s inhibitions disappear. My friends were always a lively bunch. Tonight, they were even more so.