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  Sophie looked at the phone incredulously. “What?”

  “I don’t think you’ve thought this through. You’re going to be home this afternoon and we can—”

  “Actually, we’re staying another week,” Sophie said.

  “—discuss the situation and help you deal with your denial.”

  “My denial?” Sophie said.

  “Another week?” Brandon said.

  “Brandon, the only one in denial here is you,” Sophie said. “Really, I think we just got used to each other. I think it’s time we found other people who will meet our needs.” She closed her eyes as she thought of some of the needs Phin had met, could meet, would meet in the next week with any amount of encouragement at all.

  “We can meet our needs,” Brandon said. “We’ve always met our needs.”

  “I think I’ve discovered new needs,” Sophie said.

  “If this is about sex, don’t be childish. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

  “My freedom,” Sophie said. “I’m trying to do this the civilized way, but I really want out of this relationship. In fact, I am out.”

  “I’ll call you again at the end of the week,” Brandon said. “I’m sure the thrill will be gone by then and we can talk.”

  “The thrill might be gone, but I will be, too. Really, Brandon—” Sophie began, but he’d already hung up.

  “Is the new scene done?” Amy said from the door into the living room.

  “Yeah.” Sophie hung up the phone and shoved the PowerBook toward her. “That was Brandon. He thinks—”

  “Shut up so I can read this,” Amy said, and Sophie jerked her head up at the tone in her voice. She watched Amy read from the screen, looking a lot tenser than the scene deserved.

  “This is great,” Amy said when she finished, but she didn’t look happy. “And this explains a lot. I couldn’t figure out what all the crashing was about.”

  “He’s very inventive.” Sophie frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Amy said. “I have to show this to Clea—”

  “No,” Sophie said and closed the PowerBook. “What happened?”

  Amy bit her lip. “That dickhead Zane,” she said finally. “He just told me that if I don’t quit doing the video so Clea will go home with him, he’s going to tell Wes about my juvenile record.” She swallowed hard. “So I told him to go ahead. I told him Wes already knew and didn’t care.”

  “Does he?”

  “No,” Amy said. “And I think he’d care—he’s a cop, isn’t he? But I don’t care. I’m going to make this video and the documentary no matter what, and I don’t care what that dickhead does, but—”

  “But Zane must die,” Sophie said, nodding. “I understand. We’ll think of something horrible to do to him.”

  “That would help,” Amy said, cheering up a little.

  “Too bad Davy isn’t here,” Sophie said. “He always did the best revenge.”

  “Let’s call him,” Amy said. “Because I want something really bad to happen to Zane. Which reminds me, Clea wants another love scene. And that’s bound to piss Zane off, so—”

  “We should play along.” Sophie tried to look blasé. “You want me to sacrifice myself to the mayor again.”

  “From what I saw last night, it was no sacrifice.” Amy managed a weak smile. “And see if he’s got a letter sweater we can borrow. He looks like the type who’d have one.”

  Sophie frowned at her. “A letter sweater?”

  Amy nodded, not happy. “Clea wants to do this thing where she’s driving up the road on her way home remembering Frank in high school so that when she sees the real Frank, everybody will understand the shock. And then when Rob shows up as his son, it’ll make sense that she falls for him.”

  “I still don’t get the lett—”

  “She wants Rob to play Frank in her high-school memories.” Amy wrinkled her nose. “Corny as hell, but she’s calling the shots.”

  “Right,” Sophie said. “I’ll ask the mayor for a letter sweater.” And great sex. She stopped breathing for a moment just thinking about it.

  “Soon,” Amy said.

  Sophie tried to look noble. “I suppose I could go visit the bookstore now. He said he was going to be working there today. And maybe if I can’t find anything in the books, he’ll have some ideas.” I have some ideas.

  Amy looked down at the lamp scene. “I’d count on it.” She still seemed down. “You’re just toying with the mayor, right? You’re not getting involved?”

  “No,” Sophie said, cooling off a little. “It’s pretty much mutual toying.”

  “Because I don’t need a scene if this is going to be another Chad thing,” Amy said. “I really hate it that that happened to you. And the mayor has Chad written all over him.”

  “He’s not,” Sophie said. “He was very sweet last night.”

  “I hate Zane, too,” Amy said, not really listening.

  “We’ll take care of Zane,” Sophie said as she got up to go. “Really, nothing but good times ahead.”

  For once, at least for the rest of the afternoon, she was pretty sure that was true.

  Chapter Seven

  That same afternoon, Rachel’s father called her out of the garden onto the cement patio behind their house. She sat gingerly on the steel garden chair beside him, her weeding gloves on, wary of both the sun-warmed metal and her father’s topic of conversation.

  “So you’re working on this movie,” he said. “What are they doing?”

  “Just shooting people talking on the porch,” Rachel said.

  “Oh.” Her father seemed disappointed. Then he said, “You let me know what they’re doing. It’s important for the town.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s my civic duty to know what’s happening in this town,” her father said, puffing up a little. “These outsiders, they could be bad influences. So you tell me everything, you understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Rachel said, having no intention of doing any such thing. “The Coreys are painting the house this weekend and after school. There’s some news.”

  Her father didn’t look interested. “Maybe I should drop by, see for myself. Phin Tucker’s out there a lot, isn’t he?”

  “He showed Sophie how to change the fuses,” Rachel said, although she was pretty sure that wasn’t the only thing Phin was showing Sophie how to do. Even from the backseat of Phin’s convertible the night before, Rachel had picked up on the sexual tension in the front seat. When her mother had met her at the door and said eagerly, “Was that Phin Tucker who brought you home?” she’d said, “Mom, he didn’t even know I was there.”

  “So he’s involved with the movie people,” her father was saying, and without thinking, Rachel said, “Oh, yeah.”

  “Does that upset you? Does it upset you that I’m running against him in the election?”

  “Why would I be upset? You do it every two years.” Rachel stared out at the garden, the garden she’d have to go back to weeding soon, the garden she’d weeded every summer for her whole life.

  She wanted to go someplace where somebody else did the weeding.

  “I don’t want you to be hurt if he’s spending time with other women,” her father said. “And I don’t want you to think you have to choose between your father and your husband.”

  “Husband?” Rachel said. “Not in a million years. Mom’s got it in her head that we’re going to be together, but she’s wrong.”

  “I’m sure she—” Stephen began, but Rachel cut him off.

  “Look, Daddy, it’s Phin, for God’s sake. He taught me to ride my bike and stuck Band-Aids on me when I fell off, and he coached me in softball and yelled at me when I fell over third base in the tournament game. After that, it’s kind of hard to get hot looking at him.”

  “Oh.” Stephen looked uncomfortable, and Rachel added, “Sorry, Dad. More than you needed to know.”

  “No, no, you know you can tell me anything,” St