I already knew I had to go back. I just...wanted to play pretend with him a little while longer.
"River," she said. "You're not delusional enough to think that you're going to stay here." She studied my face for a moment. "Christ, really? That's it? The guy you're shacking up with, the cripple? His cock is that magical that your brains have suddenly leaked out your ears?"
I felt the blood pump loudly in my ears. "He's a vet," I said, suddenly angry. I knew I had to go back, but she was reminding me exactly why I didn't want to return to Hollywood. "Fuck you."
She laughed. "Just to refresh your memory," she said. "You have a contract with the studio, which Mr. Ellis here is more than happy to refresh your knowledge about."
As if on cue, the man in the suit reached into his briefcase and withdrew a sheaf of paper. "The day after tomorrow," he said. "If you fail to show, you'll be in breach and the studio will not hesitate to enforce our contract. The studio's position is that you were sent here to do more in-depth research for your role. You did not flee the film set."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Screw you both."
"Unfortunately, River," my manager said, "You're the one who's going to be screwed if you don't show up for filming. Don't forget, I'm well aware you don't have the financial resources to afford a huge lawsuit."
She straightened the collar on her shirt, her face screwed up in distaste as she turned to leave. "I hope he's worth being bankrupted over."
The door closed behind them, the house enveloped in silence.
My head was spinning. Was he worth risking everything?
He's just a fling.
You know nothing about him.
This isn't worth it.
Is it?
I slid open the screen on the cell phone and looked at Elias' last text, with the address of the bar where he'd apparently gone.
I knew what I had to do.
"Look, I know it sounds crazy," Silas said.
"Yeah, Silas, it does," I said. "Are you fucking high or something?" Silas had a history of godamned problems, and I knew he'd done his fair share of boozing and drugging. It was one of the reasons he'd lost everything in college-his whole damn scholarship. I thought that part of things was past, that he was far gone from that bullshit.
But, hell, I'd never seen him paranoid, ranting like some crazy person with fucking conspiracy theories and shit.
"I'm just saying, I got curious, is all," he said. "It just didn't make any fucking sense he would be blasting away at the hill anymore. That mine hasn't been used in years. Why the hell would he go out there blasting it?"
I sighed. "Who the hell cares, Silas? Who knows what the asshole was doing?" I was willing to cut Silas some slack, but this bullshit about our fucking father's death not being an accident - it was over the line.
"You going to fucking do something or just stand there and look pretty?" Silas' boss, Roger, yelled from across the room.
"The hell do you want from me, Roger?" Silas called, letting out a heavy sigh. "I'm a bouncer, not one of your big titty bartenders."
"Christ on a cracker, cut me some fucking slack with the lip," Roger said, throwing a rag across the room. "Just fucking wipe something down while you're standing around. I'm short-staffed and we open in a couple hours. Unless your brother over there's too good for that shit now, fucking a movie star and all."
I shot him a look and he turned around, laughing. "Yeah, yeah," Roger said, picking up a bucket. "I'll mind my own fucking business. I've got to go get ice."
Silas turned to me. "Look, it just doesn't make any fucking sense. That's all I'm saying."
"And all I'm saying to you is, why the fuck is it relevant to my life?" I asked. "I don't give a shit how he died, if he got accidentally killed by a rock landing on his head because his drunk ass thought it would be fun to blast off the side of that hill. I don't give a shit if he died because a fucking UFO flew overhead and knocked him on the skull. I'm glad he's dead."
"I'm sure mom is, too," Silas said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that maybe mom did something," he said.
I shrugged. "Like whacked him on the top of the head with a rock?" I asked. "Can you really see her doing something like that - our mother? The same one who gets headaches at the slightest mention of something that might raise her blood pressure? She practically has fainting spells, Silas. She can barely handle life. If you think she killed our father, maybe you're the one who's delusional."
"She could have," Silas said. "Why is Old Man Easton visiting her?"
"I don't fucking know," I said. "Why does anything in this town happen? What, do you think the goddamned mayor killed our father now?"
Silas shook his head. "No. Maybe. I don't fucking know, is the point. I'm just saying that the way it supposedly happened doesn't make any sense. Not when you go out and look at the scene."
"Yeah," I said. "You're a real goddamned crime scene investigator or some shit now, huh?"