Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Jesse

S till in the kitchen, Tallula blinks as if coming out of a trance, continuing her tale of destruction. "Make note that I made my ‘friends' livestream everything that went down. The world got to watch me maraude and make a fool of myself."

"But those friends were goading you on." I use air quotes around the word friends.

"Jesse, I could've stopped at any time. I went way overboard."

I cup Tallula's jaw, brushing my thumb along her soft skin. "You could've. You didn't. You made a public apology. Move on."

"You know about that?"

I squint slightly, hoping she doesn't get mad. "I did a background check to see who I was dealing with."

"Then you saw it all."

"No, I turned it off about a minute in."

"The last thing I did was take all the photos of Peter and me to his parents' house at four a.m., rang the doorbell, and made a big, fat scene about how terrible their son was. They threatened to call the authorities. Please don't arrest me. I mean, do it if you have to. I wouldn't want you to lose your job."

I smooth my hands into hers. I recall a few times she seemed oddly nervous in my presence. I thought it was because of the dare after detention. Now, I realize she should put her imagination to better use.

"You're wearing that sideways smirk," she says.

"I'm trying not to laugh."

"What's funny? Nothing is funny about this." She slouches dramatically.

"I can't be totally sure, but I think in a court of law, the jury would side with you."

"Do you think I'll have to go to court?" She launches upright, wringing her hands.

I take them in mine, twining our fingers together. "If Peter is smart, no."

"I apologized and paid for any damage to public and private property." Sadness drops her voice with every word as if none of it is enough. "I kind of ruined my life."

"He helped. But I say the best revenge is happiness."

"It's hard to admit this, but by then, I was C-list celebrity status at best. Maybe C+ given my association with Peter, but I'd severed it with a dull knife, making a mess of everything," Tallula frets.

"That doesn't sound like you trying to find happiness."

She continues. "As for my so- called friends, it's petty, but they mostly took his side because he'd just landed the role of Donny Wicks. It's a huge franchise. Total heartthrob role."

"Happiness is the best revenge," I repeat, wondering if she heard me.

"There was no way to spin it other than that I snapped." Her shoulders drop. "I thought I had it all. Now I don't know what I want other than my life back, but I only have myself and millions of social media users to thank for complete and utter public humiliation." She looks up at me. "And they weren't there for me when Peter came unhinged, er, I drove him over the edge."

"Tallula, you did no such thing. Please listen to me. Hear me. You said it yourself, he used you. You know, it would make a good screenplay—or if you stick around, it could work as a script for the stage." A soft laugh comes from my chest.

Tallula's forehead creases. "You're chortling."

"I'm laughing because if I listed all the terrible things I've done..."

"That's different."

"And I am now too. You can be anyone you want. Mostly, I'd like to see you be you."

"It's not so easy," she hedges as if trying to exhaust every possible objection.

"It's only as hard as you make it. Dragging myself out of a graveyard and coming back to life was hard. I think you can handle this."

She pokes me in the ribs. "Jesse. That's not funny. "

I know. It was very, very real. "I'm sticking to my guns. I wasn't laughing. It was more like a chuckle."

She defines several kinds of laughter then adds, "I had to learn the nuances for screenplay cues. I can tell, you're laughing at me."

I shake my head and squeeze Tallula's hands. "We could all stand to laugh at ourselves from time to time. I've hardly seen you laugh since you got back here. But when I do?—"

"There's nothing funny about Hogwash Holler."

"I'd argue that. But you didn't let me finish. When I hear you laugh, I feel a kind of happiness I didn't know was possible. It fills me in a way I cannot explain. It's like a balm I didn't know I needed for a wound I didn't realize I had."

The furrow between her eyebrows smooths out and her gaze brightens. "Really?"

"Yep. Some beignet buns, a bit of laughter, and—one more thing. Then I'd say we're even. Debt paid." I wink.

There is no world in which I'd require Tallula to pay me back for anything. But this is a good excuse to help her see what I see.

"What's the one more thing?"

"Come with me." Palms joined I feel like the past dissolves, taking with it all my pain and angst as I lead her upstairs to the hallway with a big mirror on the end. It's about as wide as a window and in a plain wooden frame. Nothing fancy, no frills like the golden, gilt frames at the Swan Estate .

Planting Tallula in front of me, I grip her shoulders and meet her gaze in the mirror.

"I see a beautiful woman. How about you?"

"I need to get my lashes redone."

"You don't. I see a strong woman."

"And my hair—probably a clarifying treatment and conditioning mask would help," she adds with a huff as if she doesn't like what she sees.

Taking a deep breath, I continue, "When I look in this reflection, I see the most beautiful woman in the world. A woman who is strong, smart, and sorry for the wrongs she's done. That takes humility. No offense, but I rarely associate that quality with actors or Marais Way princesses."

She shakes her head as if refusing to accept what I said.

"Tallula, I see a woman who is on the way to having the real life she's always wanted. That might mean making beignet buns, playing with her nieces and nephews, and maybe spending more time with the deputy sheriff. I'm not sure what else, but I think it'll be wonderful because you are. You've just never let your true star shine."

Tears fill in the corners of her eyes. I hold her gaze, unwilling to let her shrink from this vulnerable moment. I want her to see what I see—the real, true, amazing woman that she is.

She squeezes my hand and says a shaky, "Thank you."

"My pleasure. Oh, and the third thing is not to listen to Peter or a voice in your head that says you had a makeup glow under or whatever. If you ask me, you had a glow-up. I said it before. I like your natural look."

She turns in my arms, lifts onto her toes, and gives me the softest, sweetest kiss on the cheek. There's a flickering inside that turns into a flame as she walks toward her room and casts me a smile before disappearing inside.