The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue (Guide #1)(30)

Cash flicked his cigarette out the window and then lay across the luggage in the back with his hands behind his head.

“Damien Zimmer has said the Wiz Kids cast and creative team is like a family. Would you agree?” Sam read. “Your answer: Definitely. That’s all you said.”

Cash groaned. “Damien Zimmer has despised me from day one. Every time I get any recognition he writes me into a coma or puts me through something horrendous as punishment. After I was on the cover of TV Guide, he put a dangerous stunt into a script and it broke my ankle. After I won a People’s Choice Award, he put my character in a coma for twelve episodes. The list goes on. Next?”

“Your costar Tobey Ramous just booked the lead role of a huge studio franchise. Are you jealous of his success?” Sam read. “Your answer: Not at all. Having a friend in a huge movie just means I get to attend a huge premiere to support him.”

“Of course I was jealous,” Cash confessed. “But Tobey really needed that gig for his self-esteem. We were really close friends until Us Weekly did a poll asking which of us was hotter. For whatever reason, I won and Tobey didn’t take it well. He started lifting weights and doing steroids to cope and our friendship shriveled up with his balls. Next?”

“Are the rumors that you and Amy Evans are more than friends true?” Sam read. “Your answer: No. That’s a rumor the Wizzers who like our characters’ relationship started. I’m glad they’re so invested in the show, though.”

Mo was anxious to hear his real answer and sat up in her seat like a puppy waiting for a treat.

“The only relationship Amy Evans is in is with herself,” Cash said. “Meanwhile, every girlfriend I’ve ever had has been harassed and chased away by the Wizzers who refuse to accept the show isn’t a documentary. Right before she dumped me, my last girlfriend got a box of hair in the mail. It came with a note that said, We know Amy and Cash are in love. Get out of their way or this will be all that’s left of you! Sincerely, the Bumtrees. The police traced it back to a group of fourteen-year-olds in Moose Jaw, Canada.”

Mo cleared her throat. “For the record, that’s exactly why the shippers changed their name to the Peachfuzzlers,” she informed the car. “The Bumtrees were giving the fandom a bad name… or so I heard.”

Cash gave her a suspicious look over his sunglasses.

“Right…,” he said. “Let me guess, you’re one of them?”

Mo shook her head but her blushing cheeks told a different story.

“Oh come on, Mo,” Joey said. “Your cat’s name is Peaches and Dr. Bumfuzzle and Dr. Peachtree’s relationship is all you ever write about?”

“You write about it?” Cash asked. “As in fanfiction?”

“Fine, I’m a Peachfuzzler—there, I said it,” Mo confessed. “But in my defense, the events of today are much stranger than any fanfiction I’ve ever written or read.”

“Nothing is stranger than fanfiction,” Cash said, like a sailor recalling his encounter with a horrible sea creature. “Well, that’s enough of that. Hope I didn’t ruin Wiz Kids for you, but that’s what growing up is all about—learning nothing is sacred in this world.”

Topher, Sam, Joey, and Mo each looked a little more devastated than the next. Perhaps driving across the country with their favorite actor wouldn’t be as thrilling as they thought? They were only twenty minutes into their trip and Topher already regretted inviting him.

“I can’t tell you how therapeutic it is to speak so openly for a change,” Cash said with a big grin. “Being deceitful is so draining, and I’m only dishonest when I have to be. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be one of those people whose whole life is a lie and who have to keep the truth from their friends and family.”

Although they didn’t notice each other, Sam and Joey both went quiet and looked out their windows. They knew exactly what it was like and didn’t want anyone to catch the truth in their eyes.

“Lord, I’m as exhausted as a religious picketer in Vegas.” Cash yawned. “I’m going to take a nap back here. Would you guys wake me when we stop for lunch? I’d set my alarm, but I lost my phone last week.”

“Sure,” Topher said.

Cash got comfortable but then quickly sat back up, as if remembering an important piece of information to share.

“By the way, I made up half the shit I just told you, but I think you get the point I was trying to make. See you at lunch!”





Chapter Eight

MADNESS AT MCCARTHY’S

As the 1994 Chevrolet station wagon cruised down the interstate, the picturesque suburbs of Chicago faded from view and were replaced with the vast cornfields of southern Illinois. The fields were beautiful as they swayed in the light summer breeze, but the conscious passengers were afraid mentioning it would wake the actor in the back and subject them to another upsetting lecture about truth-shaming.

Although Cash was the only one asleep, the whole car suffered through his sleep apnea. He snored like a polar bear and twitched like a cocaine addict with PTSD. It was the most restless rest any of them had ever witnessed. Joey kept a hand wrapped around the Ichthys key chain on his backpack in case an exorcism was needed.

After the first one hundred and thirty miles of their two-thousand-mile journey, the travelers were ready for lunch. And judging by the strange gurgling noises coming from Cash’s stomach, he was ready to eat, too. Topher evaluated each roadside establishment they drove past and figured a diner called McCarthy’s was their best choice, so he pulled into their parking lot.