Maybe driving to Augusta for bubble tea had been a bad idea. If I’d just gone to the little tea shop in Lester Cove and subsumed my craving into a regular tea rather than insisting on jasmine

tea with salted cream top and extra popping pearls, Bonnie wouldn’t be a smoking heap on the side of the road, I wouldn’t be out three hundred bucks for the after-hours tow, and I’d be on time and dressed for the gala instead of schlepping my sweaty self to town in the hopes I wouldn’t be standing up the Renee Rhodes and making my craptacular day even worse.

I could practically hear my agent Rory sighing and muttering about harebrained choices. Joke’s on you, Rory. Taking the part of Mimic Morton in Mimicry 2: The Mimicking was harebrained. This is just…stressful.

Chewing on my straw, I put my back to the Lester Cove sign and held up my camera, squinting at the screen. I was mussed but not bad. Just a little shiny. My cheeks were pinker than I’d like, which made me look like a teenager and not a man in his twenties. And my hair was flat, the product I’d put in that morning before I left Two Moons Bed and Breakfast no match for hours of sweat, dust, heat, and me raking my fingers through trying not to scream. My retro-chic ironic t-shirt—off white with a big red crustacean and the words I Got Crabs In Maine between its claws—was visible in the shot under my open green velvet tuxedo jacket, making the entire scene look casual and pretty devil-may-care. It’d do, I decided and thumbed the record button and smiled. “Hey, folks! I’m finally here and super looking forward to the gala tonight! This is hella exciting—some of you know how much I love theater, and getting to take part in this festival with Renee Rhodes is a dream! I’ll keep you up- dated this weekend! Mwah!” I winked, blew a kiss, and shut off the app, still smiling until I was sure everything was closed. It wasn’t the Get Ready With Me I wanted to film for my socials, but it was better than nothing.

“Ugh.”

A low rumble and whoosh of gravel was my only warning as a car passed close enough to send me sprawling, the front corner of the bumper catching my leg, the momentum knocking me forward.

For a moment, all I could think was Well, I guess that settles that. I don’t need to worry about being late after all.

Then, a soft-cheeked face appeared above me, plum-colored lips pressed into a thin line as their owner peered down, salt and pepper hair a riot of loose curls escaping from a headband and making a curtain over us. “Oh my god, are you all right? I’m so sorry! Can you feel your legs? Oh my god!”

I struggled to sit up, a moment of panic hitting me when I couldn’t get a good breath of air before I realized my bag had become tangled around my upper body in the tumble. “I’m okay,” I gasped, tugging at the strap. “Just…”

“Here, let me!” The woman started figuring out the twists and turns of my bag with its complicated faux leather strap, muttering at it until she finally got it untangled and in my lap.

“Lord, I thought we’d have to cut you loose for a second! Me, I like my bags with those detachable straps. I can never decide between those long straps or a little handbag, so I figure, why not both in one?”

“A lady’s gotta have options,” I muttered, scrubbing my hands against my thankfully pre-distressed jeans. The tumble didn’t do much damage to them, just grunged me up a bit but it looked like it’d wipe off for the most part. “Now, the important stuff: did you hit your head?” she demanded, reaching to prod at the back of my skull.

“No! No, I’m fine. Just dusty. And sore. And hot. And thirsty.”

She rocked back to sit on her heels and offered me a kind, slightly harried, smile. “Well, that doesn’t sound okay at all, really. I’m so sor– ry I clipped you. I was trying to get back to the shop to do a final check since Belinda closed tonight. She’s a good worker for the most part but she does like to give away scones and such and, well, I under- stand some people might bat their eyes pretty and you want to give them a little something, but scones cost money.” She blinked, fingers fluttering as if she couldn’t decide whether to cover her mouth or press them to her heart. “Oh, listen to me go on! You’re at death’s door and I’m just pouring all this out! Let me help you into town, at least, and then I can see if Doctor Smithers has space in his schedule to see you.”

“I insist,” she added when I opened my mouth to protest. “I’m assuming you’re heading into town?”

“Um, yes. I’m supposed to be taking part in the Summer Theater Festival.”

“Oh, well that’s exciting!” She offered me a hand up, which I gratefully accepted. “Are you staying at Two Moons Bed and Break- fast? Oh, what am I saying! Of course you are! Unless…” She glanced towards the town, as if expecting the entire populace to be waiting at the border to eavesdrop as she lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Unless you’re staying with Renee?”

“Ah, no. I’m at Two Moons. Ms. Rhodes suggested it, though.”

“I’ll bet,” she muttered. “Renee is helpful like that. Well. Come on, let me at least give you a ride and grovel abjectly!” She waved to her car, where a tiny little doggie face popped up in the rear window, all button nose and caramel-chocolate fur.

“Oh, you’re not allergic, are you?” she asked, hands fluttering to her throat in dismay. “Oh! Well, maybe I can call someone. Ollie, he’s a good kid, works at the pet store, he might could come pick you up or—”

“I’m not allergic,” I assured her. “I’ve been around dogs on shoots and some people back home have those little purse dogs, you know?” “Purse dogs?” she laughed. “Oh my lord, is that what my Tony is?”

Her cackle made me grin, she was so delighted at the notion.

“Well, he does seem tiny…”

She wiped her damp eyes with the side of her hand, smearing her mascara just a little.

“Well, I you’re not allergic, is it you’re afraid?”

“No… I really don’t mind dogs one way or another,” I admitted. “Never had one myself—I’ve never been home long enough to feel okay with having a pet, really.”

She made a sad noise at that. “Well, while you’re in town, you’ll have to come play with my Tony. He’s an absolute doll.”

I smiled thinly at that—a playdate with a random dog seemed weirdly Hollywood, to be honest, one of those Goop-approved mental health activities or something. And from what I knew about those tiny dogs, they could be absolute terrors.

“So how about that ride,” she pressed, reaching for the passenger side door. “I promise Tony will snooze the whole way—car rides knock him right out!”

I hesitated. Even at twenty-five years old, the whole stranger danger thing was well ingrained thanks to my parents’ common sense and years of having to be on guard for people who thought taking advantage of a kid was an okay thing to do. But damn it, I was tired. And sore. And still had to hear from wherever they ended up towing Bonnie and find out what I could do next. So, ignoring my mother’s disapproving voice in my ear and every set teacher I had from age eleven to seventeen, I nodded. “I’d love a ride. Thank you.”