Bootycall 2 - J. D. Hawkins Page 0,10

myself smiling softly at the gesture.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be at my new place, so I’m using my dad’s address for mail at the moment. But thank you for bringing it by. I woulda been screwed trying to get on the lot tomorrow.”

Dylan nods and shuffles gently on the doorstep, angling for an invitation with his dimpled smirk and fluttering eyes. “So…I guess I should go, then?”

I’m about to tell Dylan yes, that this is completely out of the ordinary, not a good time, that I’ll call him when I’m done, and every other clichéd excuse I can give, when my dad shouts from the hallway.

“Who is it? Oh!” I turn around and see him standing behind me. “Dylan Marlowe! Nice to meet you! I wasn’t expecting you to drop by.”

They shake hands vigorously, my dad smiling happily, and Dylan giving his best ‘old-fashioned good-boy’ smile.

“I was just stopping by to drop something off for Gemma, so if it’s a bad time then—”

“Not at all. Come on in! We were just about to eat. Grab yourself a plate.”

“Thank you very much.”

Within minutes we’re sitting outside in the yard with full plates. My father has a grin as wide as his face, and Dylan has made himself very comfortable.

“These wings are fucking amazing,” he says, still chewing.

“Thanks,” my dad says, winking at me. He takes a small bite of his burger. “My daughter tells me the movie’s turning out pretty nicely so far.”

“Yeah, it’s going well. Thanks to Gemma.”

I shake my head when Dylan winks at me.

“I’m not really doing that much,” I say. “Just keeping an eye on things.”

“Don’t believe her,” Dylan says, his mischievous dimples out on display, “she’s on top of everything. She’s only supposed to be watching me, but I’ll tell you this – she’s the first person people look for when they need something.”

I try to hide my upcoming blushes by focusing on my plate.

“That’s my girl,” my dad says.

I glance at Dylan, who’s chewing his food with a big smile on his face.

“Gemma told me you used to build sets, which is one of the toughest jobs in the business. I salute you.”

Dad shrugs, but I can tell he’s pleased at the compliment. “Yeah. It’s different now, I imagine. They do everything with computers. I got out at the right time.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t miss it, Dad.”

He chuckles gently. “I’m just saying you can’t beat something real.”

“I agree,” Dylan says. “It’s not just about slapping flats together. You need an artist’s eye, a real imagination, and then a lot of elbow grease to make it all happen.”

“Of course you do,” I say, swapping a furtive glance with Dylan quickly – but not quick enough to hide it from my father, who shifts in his seat when he notices the way Dylan and I play off each other.

We settle into a peaceful enjoyment of the good food, the mild sun, and the smell of freshly mown grass. In the distance, birds chirp in a neighbor’s apple tree, and the cool air covers us in a lazy haze of contentment.

“So,” my dad says, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, “you single, Dylan?”

“Dad!” I protest, completely mortified.

“What? Simple question.”

“I’m single at the moment,” Dylan says, his eyes flicking between my dad’s smirk and my frown.

“How come? Handsome guy like you, movie star. Still sowing your wild oats?”

“Dad!”

My dad raises his eyebrows in mock-innocence as Dylan laughs.

“You don’t have to answer that, Dylan,” I say.

“I’m just…pretty particular,” he says, turning his head towards me.

Dad nods approvingly. “Not easily impressed, huh? I can think of someone else like that,” he says, looking at me.

“Are we all done?” I say, breaking the uncomfortable tone. “I’m going to clear this mess up.” I stand and start stacking the plates.

“Here, I’ll help,” my dad says.

“No, it’s ok. I’ll do it,” Dylan interjects. “The least I can do to say thanks for the food.”

My dad shrugs, and flashes a quick look of appreciation towards me.

“I’ll go off to the garage then, leave you two alone to talk business. I’ve been meaning to replace my spark plugs for weeks now, and I’d like to do it before I visit your mother tomorrow.”

“Ok, Dad, see you in a bit,” I say, as he turns and leaves me alone with Dylan.

Dylan starts collecting the plates and bringing them into the kitchen, and I follow behind him with the condiments and napkins and other things.

He clears his throat, hesitant. “I thought your mother was…”

“Dead? She