Totally and Completely Fine(50)

“Okay,” I said, still not sure how that was going to make them any money.

“We want to run acting classes, as well as produce shows with local performers,” Ollie said. “The big headlining stars will be an occasional bonus, when we can get them.”

“You’re not trying to bring Hollywood or Broadway to Cooper?” I asked, feeling slightly relieved.

“Absolutely not,” Gabe said.

I’d gotten a taste of what it was like to be spotlight-adjacent whenever we’d visit him in L.A. or go to a red carpet event with him. It was a bunch of people taking your picture and shouting at you. It was terrifying and overwhelming. I didn’t want that coming here.

The town could only take so many visitors at once.

And they were already squirrelly on newcomers. It had taken Allyson months to convince people she wasn’t here to turn Cooper into the new San Francisco.

“I’m taking a break from Hollywood,” Gabe said. “Why would I want to transplant it next door?”

That was the first I’d heard about him taking a break from film. Was it on purpose or something he’d been forced into?

I thought about Ben.

Why hadn’t he gotten the Bond role? He was perfect for it.

“There are other things in my life worth my attention these days,” Gabe said.

That was probably the real objective behind the theatre—an opportunity for Gabe to stay in Cooper. To spend more time with family. With Lena. Without going insane from boredom.

Raising a theatre from the dead would certainly keep him occupied.

“How does Chani feel about this?” I asked.

“She’s…adjusting,” he said. “I’m not giving up my place in L.A., so we can go back whenever we need to, but I think we’re both looking forward to being away from the paparazzi.”

“Until you invite them all here for the opening,” I said.

“Until then,” Gabe agreed.

It had been a circus when Gabe came home for Spencer’s funeral. A horrible, fucked-up circus.

I didn’t want that near my kid again.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

“As long as we can get the production up and running,” Ollie said.

I caught the way they looked at each other, and it made me nervous.

“Look at this,” Gabe said, his hands still on my shoulders.

In front of me was a pile of sketches. I picked them up and began flipping through them. They were simple but beautifully done—a few different versions of figures that looked vaguely like Gabe and Ben in a variety of outfits.

“Are these going to be the costumes for the show?” I asked.

Ollie leaned over and plucked two images—one of Gabe and one of Ben—out of the pile and put them in front of me.

“We’re hoping so,” he said.

“They look great,” I said. “Very…hobo chic.”

Because they were. Both costumes were suits in various states of disrepair, patched elbows and knees, ragged hems, and sleeves half torn off. Each of them had a broken-down hat and shoes with their toes sticking out.

I found myself staring at the one for Ben. Whoever the artist was had done a very good job capturing his essence.

God, he was gorgeous.

I remembered that I was a cruel and fickle bitch who didn’t deserve to look at a sketch of him.

I put the drawings down.

“You like them?” Ollie asked.

“They’re good designs,” I said. “Who’s making them?”

There was silence.

“No,” I said, finally realizing what this was all about.

“You don’t even know what we’re asking,” Gabe said.

I put my hands on my hips.

“You’re asking me to make the costumes for the show.”

Gabe exchanged more looks with Ollie.

“Yeah,” Gabe said. “That is what we’re asking.”

“And that’s why the answer is no,” I said.

It was Ollie’s turn to try, and he did so by pulling out a chair and gesturing for me to sit.

“Lauren, darling,” he said, “we all know how good you are with a sewing machine.”

“Whatever bullshit Gabe has been telling you about my skills is clearly a lie,” I said. “I can make pockets and hem pants.”

“You made that ladybug costume for Lena,” Gabe said.

“That was years ago. And it was mostly felt and a glue gun.”

I had been pretty proud of it—she’d looked downright adorable with her little pipe cleaner antennas.

“It was beautiful,” he said.

“It was,” Ollie said. “I’ve seen pictures.”

“You’re both delusional,” I said. “I’m not a seamstress.”

“We’re not expecting you to make two suits from scratch,” Ollie said. “But we thought you could help deconstruct ones we buy.”

I examined the sketches again.

“And maybe add a few details,” Gabe said.

“What are those few details exactly?”

“Just some knitwear,” he said.

“Just some knitwear?” I shook my head. “Do you know how long it takes to knit something? There’s a reason that knitters rarely take commissions. It’s time-consuming and expensive and never appreciated.”