Someone Exactly Like Me by Debbie Cromack
11
Destiny
When I walk back in from the gym, I’m ready for another shower. But before I can do that, Candi calls.
“Hey, how are you?” I ask.
“Hey, girl. I have a break for a little while and took a chance you’d be around.”
“I am. I just got back from the gym.”
“Really? That’s kinda late for you isn’t it?”
“Um, it is, a little.” I stall, not sure I should tell her about Nicco. I mean, she’s my best friend and we share everything, but really, is there anything to share? Just because I’m having the hottest fantasies about him and finding him to be more interesting than I thought he’d be in real life doesn’t mean there’s anything to actually share with her, right? “How’s Hawaii?”
“It’s fine,” she says with a mischievous undercurrent.
“Have you been able to sight-see at all? Or is it all just work, work, work?”
“So far, it’s been all work, but I’m going to stay a few days longer since I have some time between jobs. Um, let’s back up a bit. Why are you so late in getting back from the gym?”
“I — I just got a late start, that’s all.” I’ve never been a good liar and she knows the different tones of my voice too well.
“Bullshit. Des, what’s going on?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.”
“Okay, let’s say I believe you, which I don’t. How are things going with Nicco and your tour guiding?”
“Good. Really good. On Sunday, I took him to the observatory and the sign to get a picture. He stayed for dinner that night. We got Hana’s and he made his first s’more.” I laugh, recalling him flinging his flaming marshmallow into the sand. “He torched his marshmallow. And yesterday I took him to the pier. It was nice, but ugh, I had a bit of an incident.”
“An incident?”
“It was so embarrassing.” I drop my head into my hand. “We were at the top of the Ferris wheel and, whoosh, it hit me, a panic attack.”
She gasps. “Oh, Des.”
“I know. It came out of nowhere. You know I haven’t had one in years. And I didn’t have my emergency medicine with me. It was awful. But Nicco was,” I pause. “Incredible. He was so compassionate and took care of me. Even stayed for dinner to make sure I was okay. And...” I pause.
“And?”
“And, well, we ended up falling asleep on the sofa.”
“Together?” Her voice raises a pitch.
“No, not together. I mean, yes, technically on my sofa together, but not together,” I emphasize. “Trust me, it was completely accidental.”
“Hmh.” For such a small sound, it packs a punch of suspicion. “So, he was there this morning?”
“Yes. He made scrambled eggs and toast.”
“That was nice.” I can see the wheels spinning in her head.
“Can, come on. I know exactly what you’re thinking and no. Be realistic.”
“Why? Why do I have to be realistic? Dreams aren’t always realistic and sometimes, miracles happen and dreams come true.”
“Candi,” I say sternly. “He’s Niccolo-fucking-Mancini. I have no business thinking or dreaming anything realistic about him. Also, he smokes. No. No, no, no. Besides, we both know my creativity suffers when I’m in a relationship. I need to be single in order to fuel my imagination.” I walk out to the back porch and sit on my swing, curling my legs under me.
“Um, yeah, about that. You know I say this with love, but girl, you’ve been single for a while now and you’re in a slump. So, I’m not sure your theory is holding up. What are you going to do, stay single until you die because you think that’s the only way you can be inspired? Seems to me, the minute Nicco walked into your life, your inspiration ignited.”
“Whoowh, you’re telling me.” Grabbing a pillow, I clutch it to my chest.
“What?” There’s that high pitch again.
“Oh my gosh, I had the wildest, most vibrant fantasy about him in the shower this morning. I mean wild.” I bury my face in the pillow and scream.
“Oooo.” She squeals. “Yes, girl! See, maybe this is exactly what you need.”
“Look, he’s a really nice guy. Actually, a lot nicer than I gave him credit for, well, only knowing the playboy side of him I read about. But honestly, it doesn’t matter. He’s hot rising to fame, and that puts us in two different categories. Someday when he realizes he’s so much better than the image he throws out there and decides to show the world what a great guy he is, some hot, famous woman is going to win his heart.”
“Not if it’s already taken.” The sincerity in her voice makes me sad because I know the truth is that Nicco and I could never be together. “Hey, I gotta go.”
“Okay.”
“What do you say you fly out here and spend a couple days with me?”
“Oh my gosh, you know I’d love to, but I don’t have the money right now.”
“What if I pay half?”
“Candi,” I gruff. She knows I don’t want pity-money.
“Please. I’m making a killing on this job. Besides, what else am I gonna do with my money?”
I sigh. I really want to go. “I don’t even know if I can get a flight this close.”
“Just try, please.” I can picture her pleading face.
“Let me check on flights and see if I can borrow some money from my mom. When should I go? I’m with Nicco tomorrow and have to help my mom with a charity event Friday morning.”
“Can you come Friday night? We can fly back Monday if that works for you.”
“Okay, you go and let me do some research.”
She squeals with delight. “I hope you can come. And, Des,” she says, shifting from excitement to tenderness. “I know Kevin hurt you, but please don’t close off your heart forever. You’re such an amazing woman and you deserve to have an amazing love story with an amazing man.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Let me know how you make out.”
She makes a kissing sound into the phone and we hang up. Letting the warm salty breeze wash over me, I consider what Candi said. She’s not wrong. Even though I’m holding tightly to my theory, right now, it’s crap. Even if it is crap, that doesn’t mean I have any business thinking there could ever be anything between me and Nicco. I do hope we stay friends after next week though.
Bending up my knees, I wrap my arms around my legs and take in a few more breaths of salty air, listening to the hushed waves crashing down at the shoreline. I go back inside, shower, and call my mom. Thankfully, she has airline miles I can use so neither Candi nor I have to pay for the flight. I got lucky and managed to get the last available seat on the plane. Reminder: bring emergency medicine, Nicco won’t be there to help you. I can cover my food and I know I can sleep in Candi’s bed. All in all, not bad for a last-minute trip to Hawaii. I text Candi to let her know we’re on.
Still sitting at my computer, I see my Word document, minimized at the bottom of the screen, with the few questions I started writing for my interview with Nicco. I get up from my chair, walk around to the back of it, and lean over it, looking at the little W icon at the bottom of the screen, taunting me. Straightening back up, I cross my arms and pace behind the chair, eyeing my computer screen, practically staring down the W. Nope, I can’t do it. I have to get out of this. But, I can’t. I tried. He won’t let me. Ugh.
I give the W my best evil-eye and go to the kitchen to make a late lunch. Once I finish eating, I continue avoiding writing the questions by making my priority washing the dishes. This is ridiculous. I’m being ridiculous. I’m a professional author for goodness sakes. I settle in at my computer and maximize the document to type up the rest of my questions. I don’t have much so far.
- What got you interested in acting?
- What’s your favorite song on your album?
- Who do you want to do a movie with?
- What’s your favorite food?
- Do you have a favorite tattoo? What’s the meaning of it?
Good gracious, these are fine questions for a generic interview, but it’s also stuff I can find online. I need to go deeper. I need to get inside his head, his soul. I need to know what motivates him, what keeps him up at night, what terrifies him. Hmm, while I know I need to know these things to develop my character, I have to admit, I want to know the answers for myself. The more time I spend with him, the more curious I am about him.
In order to have a believable story, I need to come up with what it is he needs to attain, his “why” behind needing to attain it, and what his solution is, albeit misguided, to attaining it. Then I need to throw some obstacles and conflicts at him and help him uncover his true need and the solution that gets him to that thing. I can’t very well come out and ask him all this. He won’t know.
And I have no idea how to ask him about his love life without basically calling him out as a playboy again, which, I’m discovering, there’s definitely more beneath the surface of this devastatingly hot, sexy man. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I’m better with fictional characters. Okay, more questions.
- What keeps you humble with your fast rise to fame?
- What was your childhood like?
- What motivates you when you’re having a bad day?
- What do you want for your future?
- What’s the one thing you want the world to know about you?
- Why do you sleep with women, but rarely have relationships with them?
- What turns you on about a woman?
- What scares you?
- What scares you about being in a relationship?
- What’s your biggest fear in life?
I stare at the screen, reading the questions. Ugh, this is hopeless. I write fiction, fantasy, not reality. I inhale and blow out loudly. Okay, I think what I need to do is ask him these questions tomorrow so he feels like he’s fulfilled his part of our deal. I’m sure he’ll tell me things I can use. Then, I’ll make up the rest just like I know how to do. Done.
I’m not in the headspace to write so I print out my questions and pack my beach bag for our trip tomorrow. Sunscreen, book to read, snacks, two beach towels, beach blanket, four rocks, notebook with question page tucked in, and a pen. I fold up a sundress to put on over my suit for the winery and dinner, and put it in a separate bag. Then I get out my small cooler that I’ll pack with waters and ice tomorrow.
With showing Nicco around town, I haven’t spent much time on social media. Since I’m not writing, I invest some time making a few new posts, interacting with people, making a TikTok video, and working on my Pinterest board. It doesn’t take long to get lost in pictures of Nicco and Ponza Island. There isn’t a whole lot else on my board.
Remembering that he took a picture of us together at the Hollywood sign, I pick up my phone and slide the bar, tapping on my camera app. Finding the picture of us, I stare at it. What goes on inside that head of yours, Niccolo Mancini?
My phone rings, startling me out of my mini-trance, and I drop it in my lap. It’s Nicco.
“Ciao, mia dolce ragazza. How’s your day going?”
I tingle between my legs, remembering my shower fantasy and him calling me that. “Hi, good. How’d your meeting go today?”
“It was great. I really liked him and we had a very good conversation. I really connected with him. We talked about work and also personal things.”
“That’s awesome. I’m so glad to hear it.” I’m thrilled for him that he’s one step closer to making his dreams come true.
“Oh, your mom called to thank me for the gift basket. She said she loved everything. Thank you again for your help in picking out things she would like.”
“Good, I’m glad. You’re welcome.”
“So, I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Believe it or not, I’m going to Hawaii,” I announce cheerfully.
“Hawaii?”
I laugh at the surprise in his voice. “Yeah, it was totally last-minute. Candi’s out there for a photo shoot and decided to stay a few days. She invited me to come join her. My mom had some airline miles and I can stay with Candi, so I’m going. I’m so excited.”
“That’s amazing.” He shares my excitement. “When do you go?”
“I’m helping my mom with a charity event Friday morning and I leave later that day. We’ll come back on Monday.”
“That’s a short trip.”
“It is, but that’s okay, it’ll be fun. Oh, did you want me to show you something this weekend?” I hope I didn’t throw a wrench into things for him.
“No, no. It’s okay. Go have a good time. When do you want to go to San Diego next week?”
“I was thinking Tuesday. Does that work for you?”
“Okay, yeah, that works. What are you doing next weekend?”
“Next weekend?”
“Yeah.”
I’m getting the feeling he wants me to show him around some more, but he’s not coming out and saying it. Surely four days, and one accidental night, together is as much as he can handle of me. “Um, writing probably. Why?” If he won’t get to it, I will. “Did you want me to show you something more than what we’ve planned?”
“No, no, it’s fine. We’re on for tomorrow at eleven, right?”
“Yes. I have a beach towel for you. And you’ll probably want to bring a change of clothes for the winery and dinner.”
“Okay, great. Got it. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Hmm, what was that about?