“Canon?” a woman asks a second time.
Canon’s head snaps around. We turn to greet the woman standing in our path, holding a man’s hand on one side and a dog’s leash on the other.
“I thought that was you earlier.” Her smile widens. “Didn’t I say it looked like Canon, Ralph?”
For his part, Ralph looks self-conscious, recognizing he’s interrupted an intimate moment. His companion, however, is too obtuse or too rude to keep it moving.
“Well, it’s dark,” Ralph mumbles. “So I wasn’t sure.”
It is dark, but there are some lights on the beach, and the glow of moonlight reveals a middle-aged woman with silver hair. I can’t make out the color of her eyes, but I know that as they flick between Canon and me, they are curious.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asks Canon.
“Sure,” Canon says, his voice terse. “Sylvia and Ralph Miller, this is Neevah Saint. Neevah, Ralph and Sylvia.” He doesn’t elaborate and beneath the beard, the angle of his jaw goes stony.
“Uh, hi.”
I accept the hands they proffer, forcing a smile. I have no idea who they are, and running into anyone we know would be bad, but the tension their presence introduced tells me they are especially unwelcome.
“Oh, yes.” Sylvia’s eyes round and she looks like she just charted the route to Mars. “That’s where I know you from. I saw the announcement. Canon, you’ll have to share your new star with the world sooner or later, though I can see why you like keeping her to yourself.”
“In due time,” Canon says, his expression falling into familiar lines of inscrutability. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. We better get back.”
“Staying nearby, are you?” she probes. “We love our place here. Such a great escape from LA.”
“Right.” Canon takes my hand and starts walking away. “Good seeing you.”
It obviously was anything but good seeing them. Canon sighs heavily and shakes his head.
“Idiot,” he mutters under his breath, looking out over the ocean.
“You better not be talking to me,” I tease, tugging his hand. He doesn’t quite smile, but he does pull me into the crook of his arm, into his side as we walk. “Who was that?”
“One of the biggest mouths in Hollywood,” he says grimly. “Camille’s publicist.”