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you’ve got an emotional one. You know what they say about people who surround themselves with material possessions, right?”
    Audra shrugged.
    “The man with the most possessions is the poorest of all. It’s whyI left L.A. If you set eyes on the house I grew up in, you’d fall over right where you stand.”
    “What do you mean? What was wrong with the house?”
    “Nothing, and everything. You know those houses you see on TV shows with the motorized front gates? The bars are a metaphor. You can go in and out, but every night you’re sleeping behind them like a prisoner in a cell.” He paused, readjusted his grip on her arm. “My old man is a movie producer. He works on films with guys like Jack Nicholson and Robert Redford.” Audra gawked at him, and Deacon grinned at her piqued interest before continuing on. “You know Faye Dunaway?”
    “Sure, who doesn’t?”
    “She came over for brunch a few times. She and my mother smoked cigarettes on the patio while discussing the pros and cons of wicker furniture. Thankfully, this was before she did Mommie Dearest . Because at ten or eleven years old, I would have shit my pants had I known Joan Crawford was milling around our pool.” He made crazy eyes at her, and Audra couldn’t help but laugh.
    “I wouldn’t have guessed,” she said.
    “Guessed what? That I come from money?”
    She nodded. Deacon looked more like a Texas Ranger than the son of a bigwig Hollywood producer.
    “Well, good ,”he said. “If you can’t tell, that means I’ve successfully wiped that part of my life away. You know, in a way, Mommie Dearest is a pretty good analogy for the lives we were forced to lead.” His statement was unflinching, as though he knew Audra came from the same place as him—a big house, absent parents. It was another correct assumption, one that led her to believe that she wasn’t as closed off as she had thought. He was reading her like one of his father’s screenplays. “Not all of us were beaten with wire hangers, but psychologically . . . emotionally ?”
    She nodded again, understanding what he was getting at.
    “But you let that go, Audra. What’s in the past is in the past. Those people, your parents, they don’t have to matter. They only matter if you give them that power. Take back your life, take back control. You put your foot down and tell them ‘I’m worth something, worth more than your fuckin’ money, Pops. I’m worth more than your most precious jewels, Mommy dear.’ ”
    Her heart fluttered inside her chest. She couldn’t tell if it was love or nerves. She dared to shoot a glance at him, and their eyes met as they approached the clearing that would lead her back to her parents’ home. It was as though he knew everything about her, knew just what she needed to hear.
    “You understand what I’m saying,” he said. “I can see it.”
    She looked away, nervous. “See what?” That he had her all figured out? That the longer he talked, the more she wanted to drag him upstairs and into her bedroom, lay herself out for him, and let him swallow her whole? If she took the power away from her parents, she may as well let the mystery man beside her have it instead.
    “You and I are really alike,” Deacon said. “Our parents come from the same tribe—the rich, the avoidant. And Jeff, he’s like us, too. His folks . . .” Deacon shook his head. He had no words for Jeff’s parents. “They grew him the way one would grow a tree, and then they chopped him down. Whoever made up that crap about blood being thicker than water didn’t have a clue, and that’s where we come in.” He motioned to the camp behind them. “You can’t pick your blood family, but you can pick your spiritual one. Spiritual, not religious. Spiritual on the plane of mutual understanding, shared hopes, communal faith. Once you find the people you’re meant to be with . . .” He shook his head as if to say that he couldn’t describe the ecstasy of such a