Page 69 of If the World Was Ending

Hunter’s mother was standing on the snowy sidewalk outside the classic steak-and-burger joint, waving excitedly. He waved back and picked up his pace. When he got closer, her smile dropped. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing! Let’s eat steaks!” Hunter said enthusiastically. Catherine frowned, which made him think maybe he wasn’t a good actor after all.

“Hunter, did you get wrecked last night?” she asked sternly. “I didn’t wait up, but I should have.”

“No. I was home by two and stone cold sober,” Hunter told her. “I had one drink all night.”

She was still frowning but allowed Hunter to escort her into the restaurant. Once they got a booth, had peeled out of their winter wear, and were seated with menus, she studied her only child. Hunter could feel the scrutiny without even looking up.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, scanning the menu.

“What happened to your neck?”

“What? Nothing.” Hunter paused and reached up to the exact mark he had forgotten Colby had left on his skin. He tugged the collar on his shirt over to cover it. “Must have happened on set. From a stunt.”

“It wasn’t there yesterday,” she said simply. “What kind of stunts are in a romantic comedy?”

“Sometimes bruises take a while to form,” Hunter said, and she frowned again. “And there’s such a thing as physical comedy, Mom. Are we really going to do the third degree here? Now? I’m fine. It’s nothing. Let’s just move on.”

Catherine’s eyebrows stayed up, but she changed the subject. “How was your friend’s performance?”

“Good.”

Hunter reached for his napkin and unfolded it even though they had not yet ordered anything. “And you hung out afterward with… what’s his name?”

“Colby.” His chest tightened.

“And are there girls in the band?”

“He opens for—” Hunter sighed. “Why are we talking about this?”

Catherine shrugged. “Fine. How about you tell me about this physical comedy movie? Was it fun? Did you enjoy filming it?’

“I mean, it’s something. It’s a huge project, but my role was small. I had forty-seven lines. But it was paying work, which is the dream. I’m a working actor. Full-time. At least right now.”

“So the money is good?”

“Good enough that I can start paying you back,” Hunter said quietly.

Catherine was shaking her head before he even finished the sentence. “No. Not right now. Wait.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need the money,” Catherine said flatly. “And you might need it later. Do you have another acting job lined up?”

“Not yet. I’ll start auditioning for stuff again when I get back to LA. But I promised I would pay you back, and I want to start,” Hunter insisted. His mother had lent him so much money through the years for emergencies like new brakes for his car, utility bills he couldn’t cover, and meds he couldn’t afford. He had enough now that he could give her back almost half of the running tab he’d been keeping. “It would mean a lot to me, Mom.”

She smiled, reached across the table, and patted his hand. Before she could agree, though, the waiter appeared. “Ready to order?”

They looked at each other across the table, and Catherine smiled. “We’ll share the warm pretzel for a starter. Extra dipping sauces, please. And I’ll have the skirt steak, rare, with chimichurri and a fully loaded baked potato.”

“Same steak but medium-well and the steamed veggies instead of potato please?”

The waiter thanked them and walked off to place their order. Catherine sighed. “You’re so Los Angeles with your anti-potato agenda.”

Hunter laughed. “I’m gonna destroy that pretzel with you. That’s not LA at all.”

Catherine laughed, but Hunter noticed it wasn’t as full as normal, and her face slipped back into something way too serious. He assumed she was still worried about him. “I’m fine, Mom. I swear. Please take the money.”