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evening.
    “I guess. Maybe I’ll find something spontaneous to do. Actually, Emile, I’ll head to Malibu, not Bel Air. And take the afternoon and evening off yourself.”
    Josh laughed when he saw Emile’s face. “Now, that put you in a spot, right? Got any clue what to do?” He clapped Emile on the back and got up. “If you fancy, Louise, I’ll drive past your house around two o’clock. Send me a text if you want to accompany me to Oxnard.”
    “What’s in Oxnard?”
    “My boat thing?”
    “I thought that was in Portland?”
    “The boat, yes, but the shipbuilder I plan to use to restore the boat resides in Oxnard.”
    “Thanks for the offer, Josh. But no, thanks.”
     
    The drive to Malibu took them an hour; Emile had gone back to the Bel Air house, while Floris accompanied Louise. During shoots in town, Louise preferred to stay in Bel Air, as the studio commute was much shorter—that or the helicopter from the Malibu helipad—but the house in Malibu had the ocean view and the beach.
    When they arrived, Floris went into the fitness room while Louise tinkered in the kitchen. She had thinking to do. Though she’d had an exceptional career, she had enough self-awareness to know that she had reached the apex. Her last guarantees were already below twenty million dollars. They had done well at the box office, but Louise felt that was due to lack of competition. Louise drank a glass of fresh orange juice from a pitcher the fridge and wondered suddenly how much fresh orange juice had gone to waste in the past because she hadn’t shown up at the Malibu house. Her phone gave a ping.
    Josh. Oxnard adventure? Last chance.
    Louise’s finger lingered over the screen. She had an afternoon off. And the evening. And a fridge full of fresh orange juice. She didn’t know what to do with herself already. And couldn’t envision herself with a book or a movie, or in-house doing chores.
    Another glance at the display. Oxnard adventure? Last chance.
    Sounded like a promise.
    When she hit “yes”, it felt like an accident.
    In 15 came the swift reply.
    Now what do you wear for a trip to Oxnard? Louise thought.
     
    Josh drove a 1950s Porsche 356, cream white, top down, something you expected a sophisticated movie star to drive. Louise had sun-screened her face and brought a scarf to protect her hair from bleaching and blowing too much. Josh drove within acceptable limits—he enjoyed taking his toy out for a ride—the Tahoe with her bodyguard Floris somewhere behind.
    Josh noticed Louise’s silence. “The blues?”
    “Kind of. At lunch I thought it was a great idea to have a day off without any obligation. But then at home it suddenly felt . . . Well, I’m not sure how it felt.”
    “Adrenaline junkie. When was the last time you had time off and simply stayed home, read a book, watched The Simpsons ?”
    “No idea. Ages ago. Five years. Ten. Never?”
    “Been there in my twenties and thirties. Always an excuse not to do nothing.”
    “Why?”
    “My psych lady and I are working on it,” Josh admitted.
    “Has it gotten better?”
    “Yes and no. I picked up hobbies. Like working on this beauty.” Josh patted the wheel. “Did most of the work myself.”
    “I didn’t know you had this practical streak. And you can pick up sailing again. Now that you inherited a boat.”
    “Maybe. Haven’t seen her yet. All I have is a video and pictures, but it didn’t look too good. First let’s hear if the specialists can salvage it.”
    They rode on in silence, the infinite Pacific to the left, sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.
    “It’s rare to see you so quiet, Lou. Sure you are all right?”
    “Do you think we’re friends?” Louise asked. “No jokes or flippant answer, please.”
    Josh almost gave a We-went-to-bed-once quip but held his tongue and thought about the answer. After a few minutes he said, “No, I don’t think we are.”
    “Hm. Now that was honest,” Louise said. “Still, I decided to spend my