The soft crooning of Fred Astaire drifted from the pool house. It was another warm night, the air still.
Hugo sat on a lounge chair, his legs stretched out, his head tilted back to look up at the moon. Kate approached cautiously, hugging her waist, wondering if she should mention what she’d overheard. She decided against it, not wanting to admit that she’d eavesdropped.
He must have heard her coming but didn’t turn to look. The light from the pool house cast his face into sinister angles, making him look like the dangerous boy she’d seen that first night, stabbing Lemmy in the kitchen.
“What happened with your play?” she asked quietly, stopping next to the lounge.
His eyes shifted to look at her. “I was fired. Or I quit. I’m not really sure which happened first. Turns out there is a limit to what I’m willing to do for a buck.”
Kate turned and sat at the side of the lounge, her lower back pressing against his thigh. There wasn’t quite enough room, but he didn’t move over. “What do you mean?” she asked.
His eyes reflected silver moonlight. “I told you how Flynn wants to add things to the play to bring in bigger crowds. I thought he meant more blood and fiendish laughs. Turns out it was more … carnal delights. More kissing girls after I kill them and ripping out their hearts. More of everything. Except clothing. Less clothing.”
She tried to hide her shock. She’d known it wasn’t the best of shows but hadn’t considered the details.
“He never paid me, and now he never will. He keeps a goon at the door who throws out anybody he doesn’t want to see. I’ve seen him break a man’s leg and throw him in the gutter. I had to call an ambulance.”
“Then I’m glad you quit. You don’t belong at a place like that.”
“It was only a stepping-stone.” Hugo released a long, worn-out breath. “I wanted to go home with presents for everyone, so they’d know I haven’t been wasting my life for two years. But as it turns out … I have.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve taken the road less traveled, and it wanders a little, but that doesn’t mean you’re not getting somewhere. It just takes time.” Kate squeezed one of his hands, only meaning to comfort, but he turned his hand and wrapped it around hers. And they were immediately back in that place they’d been two nights ago—warm skin that felt good together. Neither of them spoke for a moment, watching Hugo’s thumb slide slowly over the back of her hand.
Soft music serenaded them. Something about moonlight and longing.
“Tell me about your family,” she said.
“They’re just normal, nothing fancy.” His thumb explored one of her knuckles. “My mom is quiet and likes to read. She bakes bread every day, so the house always smelled good when we got home from school. We’d all sit around the table, and she’d cut these thick slices, and the butter would melt in, and that was always the best part of the day.”
Kate couldn’t imagine running away from that. “What’s your dad like?”
His thumb paused. “He’s all right but notices anything wrong and has to complain about it. He thinks movies are depraved and books are lazy. But he’s a hard worker.” Hugo’s hand looked like it knew how to work, and his forearm had a nice ridge of lean muscle.
“Esther seems nice.”
“Yeah, she’s the oldest. Always good at school and doing the right thing. She works at an insurance company now and gives most of her money to my mom. She said things are pretty tight right now because Dad hurt his back.”
It was Kate’s turn to caress Hugo’s hand, her finger finding the soft skin inside his wrist. “Are you the second oldest?”
“Yeah. Then there’s Rose. She’s really pretty and has a million friends. Brendan is fifteen. He just dropped out of school to work with my dad, but he never liked school anyway. Maureen is quiet and reads a lot. Shanny is nine.” He smiled. “Shanny is great. Always joking around. My mom was sick after she was born, so I used to give her bottles and rock her to sleep. Then, when she started kindergarten, I walked her to school every day.” He stopped abruptly, looking to the side.
A few days ago, his angular face had looked fiendish to Kate; now, she saw brooding sensitivity. A lock of his dark hair crossed his forehead, and she resisted the urge to brush it back. “Sounds like you and Shanny are close.”
“We used to be. She hasn’t seen me much in the last two years. And I barely even know Clare. She was only four when I left.”
“Your family sounds nice, Hugo.”
He looked at her. “I didn’t leave home because I have a horrible family. I was the one who was horrible.”
“I doubt that.”
“There’s just something inside me that hates following rules. Even when I was little, the teacher would say draw a circle, and I’d start drawing a square. I’d see all the other kids getting stars on their papers, doing what they were told, but I didn’t want to be one of those mindless sheep. So I ditched a lot of school.”
Kate had been one of those kids collecting stars. “You’re a creative thinker.”
“That’s what my mom says. So I dropped out of school to work with my dad, but then it was nothing but pipes and listening to him complain all day, so I started ditching him too. I’d jump on a freight train and ride around with the hobos, just for the fun of it. Be gone for a day or two. Then my mom would cry, and I’d feel bad, and try to be a plumber again.”
She could see why Ollie’s unconventional house had attracted him. “And then you came here.”
“Yeah.” But his frown deepened. “I had all these grand visions, about how I was going to be in movies, and my family would all go to the theater to see me, and my parents would be so proud.” He released her hand, his fingers slipping from hers. “But it’s been two years, and I’m starting to think I’m just fooling myself.”
“A new job will turn up, Hugo.”
“Washing dishes? It took me months to get that job, and I gave it up for the play.”
“A better acting job, more worthy of you.” But the words sounded hollow, even to Kate. She’d seen the dozens of headshots Tad received in the mail every day, and he tossed them in the trash. She couldn’t even promise Hugo an audition at Falcon Pictures, let alone a part. But something else occurred to her. “Now you can go to Bonnie’s party tomorrow, since you don’t have to work.”
He flashed a wry smile. “I thought I got out of that. It’s not really my crowd.”
“But that’s the point. I can introduce you to people.” She wanted to take his hand again, but it looked content resting against his waist. “I might even dance with you.”
“I’ve seen the Fairchilds’ parties. I don’t have the right clothes.”
“I’ll get you a suit from the wardrobe department. What size do you wear?”
“I don’t know. I don’t shop for clothes, Kate. I glue cardboard inside my shoes.” He looked to the side.
A new song drifted over them, a lonely horn stretching out low notes.
“You’ll get a new job, Hugo.”
He looked back at her. “People like you get jobs. One day in Hollywood, and you’re a production assistant.” He didn’t sound bitter, just stating a simple truth.
“Only because I’m famous.”
“No, because you’re the kind of person people want to hire. It’s written all over you.”
“You mean … one of those mindless sheep collecting stars?”
Hugo sat straighter. “Don’t ever apologize for deserving stars, Kate. It’s what I like about you. Being around you makes me feel like…” He shook his head slowly, searching her face. “I don’t know the right word for it.” He put a hand on the curve of her neck, as if touching her might help him find it.
Kate held her breath.
“Steadier,” he said softly. “Being with you makes me feel steadier, Kate, like I have a trail of stars to follow, mapping the way.”
“A constellation,” she murmured.
“That’s it. You’re my constellation, Kate.” He seemed to notice her silky robe for the first time, his hand sliding down the soft sleeve, his gaze following. He picked up the silky tie around her waist. “Reuben thinks you’re going to break my heart, and I’m a fool for walking into it.”
“Reuben doesn’t know everything.”
“He says I take things too seriously.” He kept his eyes lowered, wrapping the silky tie around one of his fingers. “Like … the way I’ve only kissed one girl. He says I need to kiss a different girl every night for a week just to get it out of my system, so I don’t fall so hard.” His eyes lifted to meet hers. “Do you think I should do that, Kate?”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
“That’s good, because I can’t do it that way. For me, a kiss has to mean something.”
Kate’s attention had stilled on one point. “Who was the girl you kissed?”
He shrugged limply. “I took her dancing a few times on the Santa Monica pier. Aurelio set it up. He took a girl from work, and I took her cousin.”
“So … it must have meant something if you kissed her. That’s what you said.”
“It was just her name that meant something. Rosalina.” He caressed the syllables. “I mean … how could I not kiss a girl named Rosalina? The way it rolls off the tongue.”
He was teasing her. “Like Kate?” she asked, a name of hard edges.
He laughed. “I like Kate just fine.” He touched the faint scar at the edge of her eyebrow. “What happened here?”
“I fell off my bike and got stitches.”
His fingertip moved back and forth over the scar, making her eyelid feel heavy. The finger moved down her temple, brushed hair behind her ear, and then found her earlobe. “Does it hurt when you get your ears pierced?” He rubbed the tiny hole.
“Only for a moment, then it heals.”
The lonely horn was joined by a cautious piano. A song for the middle of the night, when slow dancers barely moved.
“So … you’re going to stay,” Hugo said. “That gives me a little more time before you break my heart.”
“I don’t plan on breaking your heart, Hugo.” Her own heart floated in her throat, making it hard to breathe.
“Reuben says you probably date lots of different boys, and it’s just casual for you.”
“You need to stop listening to Reuben.” But her heart sank a little, because the arrow had hit true. She had dated lots of boys over the last year or two, and it had always been casual—including three kisses that hadn’t lasted long or meant much, and one kiss that had lasted long but still hadn’t meant much. Four names written in the special notebook in her nightstand drawer.
“I don’t mind,” Hugo said quietly. “For you it can be casual.” He slid his legs off the other side of the lounge and walked around. “I want to dance with you, Kate, but not at a fancy party.” He held out his hand and helped her rise.
They settled into proper dance position, her left hand on his shoulder, her right resting in his, their feet gently shifting to the music. Kate had danced this way a hundred times.
And yet, never like this.
Never alone in the moonlight with someone who pulled at every string inside her. Never so aware of the shoulder beneath her left hand—because she’d never danced with a boy wearing only a shirt, she realized. Always suits with shoulders pads and the whiff of expensive cologne. Hugo smelled like himself. She leaned in, liking the scent, and he pulled her closer, tucking their hands against his warm chest.
His other hand rubbed her spine. “This thing you’re wearing is soft,” he murmured.
She nestled into him. Dancing in a silky robe wasn’t on her list of things to do before she died—also in the nightstand notebook—but should have been. So much better than a stiff satin gown with a corsage in the way.
Their bodies conformed nicely, keeping up the pretense of dancing.
“I’m on the edge of a cliff, Kate.”
She tightened her arm around his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his neck. “I won’t let you fall.”
“Maybe I want to fall. Maybe I want to kiss you and never feel solid ground again.”
As he spoke of falling, something rose inside her. “That’s a lot to expect of one kiss.”
“After that, you can break my heart.”
“I won’t break your heart, Hugo.”
“That’s disappointing.” His breath warmed her temple. “Every good actor needs to be crossed in love at least once, and I was hoping you’d do that for me, Kate. Hoping it very much, actually.”
“Well…” She turned her head. “If it means that much to you.”
Their lips met.
They kissed slowly, washed in moonlight and lonely music. Warm lips and soft breaths. A tender exploration, barely touching the surface of something much deeper. A kiss in no hurry.
Hugo’s hand slid across her shoulder and cupped her cheek. “Not disappointed,” he murmured.
She silenced him with more kissing, her hand sliding up the back of his neck, making sure it didn’t go anywhere. The kiss deepened, the music disappearing. Only breathing and longing and Hugo’s hands sliding along the silky back of her robe. He pulled at her waist, bringing them closer, and she wished it were closer still. Her mouth reached for more.
After some time, Hugo separated enough to murmur, “Is it still one kiss if we pause to breathe now and then?”
“I think so.” Her lips moved to his cheek, and then his jawline. “I mean … if you’re going to pine over one kiss for the rest of your life…” She kissed the soft skin below his ear. “We might as well do it properly.” Her lips found his neck.
His head tilted. “Break my heart, Kate.”
She did her best to oblige.