Page 42 of Playing Cowboy
“Maybe, but I’m actually serious, I mean, you’re telling me Nash is going to renege on his previous engagement?”
“Nash?Nash?!”Zelda insists, with a wry little laugh that can only be described as humorless.“Nash is already on a plane to Mexico, my young, naïve little friend!”
“He’s fleeing the country?”
Her braying laughter nearly splits the sliding glass doors wide open.I wince and glance back to find Grady still in the same position I’d left him in, none the wiser as my own little personal tragedy plays out a few feet away.“No, Silly, he’s filming some deodorant commercial down there while the studio tries to put together something else for him to star in.”
I sag with the realization that our VIP guest—and only VIP guest—couldn’t be back in the country and down to Kentucky in time for the grand opening even if he wanted to.Which he clearly doesn’t.“So that’s it?Just like that?”
“Just like that, Kid,” Zelda mutters as something in the background crashes and breaks.“Dios Mio,” she grumbles like some ancient Abuela, despite being all of twenty-nine and as hip and with-it as a music video director.“I warned you this was Hollywood, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did, but ...what choice did I have when I signed on, you know?”
“Same as me, Kid.”She sighs heavily.“Same as me—none.”
“And now?You?Me?Us?”
“I am getting demoted back to HR,” she grumbles.“Hence, the movers breaking all my damn shit at nine in the PM.And you?Well...”
I frown, already sensing the answer.“Well, what, Zelda?”
“Well, I mean, your promotion was tied toSmoking Gunsand now that the show is over, so is ....well...”
“So is my contract?”
“Thanks for saying it for me.”Zelda sighs.“On the bright side?Your contract calls for a ‘final season bonus’ and since Season three was it, well ...you’re entitled to a generous severance package.”
“Really?”
“I told you to read the fine print!”she teases motherly.
“Jesus, yes, I just ...do I have to be there to collect?”
A slight pause and then, “I mean, it’s not COD, so no, but ...what are you thinking?”
My mind is reeling: the Galleria.Cardboard scissors.Plastic ribbon.Flashing lights.TV cameras.My last chance to do right by the studio and, if I’m being honest, by Grady himself.“Can you do me a favor?”
“Jesus, I’m head of HR, Kid.I’m all out of favors.”
“Still, remember the promo stuff we had made of Nash when he visited the sick kids at Burbank General last season?”
“What, the cardboard cutouts and whatnot?”
“Yeah, do we still have those?”
“I’ll check with this moving company, but if they haven’t sent them to the furnace already, I suppose so.Why?”
“Can you ship them to me?”I ask, wincing in advance at the big ask.“I mean, down here?”
“What for?”
“For ...old time’s sake,” I bluff.
But Zelda’s too smart for that.“Wait, you’re still going through with the ruse?”
“Ihaveto,” I croak, thinking of the sleeping boy on his sticky couch.Of Parker in his grumbling old truck and greasy cowboy hat.And of making sure Ira Sullivan knows exactly who he’s dealing with.“I can’t let Pistol Creek down.Not after how much they’ve given me while I’ve been here.”
“Careful, Kid.”Zelda chuckles before signing off.“Keep talking like that, and you’ll wind up working for the Hallmark Channel!”
