She’s not your business.
Dave shrugged. “Marta has Sienna’s career interests in mind, so does her agent. They tag team her, push her, but they’re good for her career. But at what cost, right? A person has to have more in their life than work, right?”
I nodded slowly, unable to keep myself from saying, “Maybe she doesn’t see it that way. Maybe work is what she cares about right now.”
“No.” Dave snorted. “No, not Sienna. What Sienna wants is an advocate, a partner. She needs someone who cares about her health and happiness. Not just the health of her career.”
I said nothing, gritting my teeth, letting his words hang in the air. I had nothing to add because it wasn’t any of my business.
She’s not your business.
Even if I wished things were different. Even if I wanted her to be my business.
She’s not your business.
As my momma used to say, no use buying a saddle for a horse that doesn’t want a cowboy.
Beau and Hank often had Mondays off. For them, that meant fishing in the morning and playing video games all day. I tried to join them the first week of every month at Sky Lake, and they’d oblige me by cutting the excursion short so I could still make it to work on time.
Though it was currently the first week of the month, I almost didn’t go.
Sienna was on my mind.
Now, Sienna being on my mind wasn’t unusual. But it was supposed to be unusually cold later this week and I knew—because Dave had told me yesterday—that Sienna didn’t have many extra blankets in her trailer.
Since my impromptu interaction with Dave over a week ago, he’d been seeking me out, telling me all kinds of things about Sienna. She liked to read The New Yorker, but he couldn’t get it delivered to the set, and it kept getting lost in transit to Hank’s cabin. So I ordered two months of back issues, plus arranged to have new issues delivered to my house.
I gave Dave the magazine with my address cut out, reminding him there was no reason she needed to know where they came from.
Last Friday he told me she’d been craving Chinese food, but they couldn’t find a decent restaurant and none outside of Knoxville. So I asked my friend and co-worker—he and his wife were from China—if they would mind preparing a meal. Dave and I put the food in takeaway containers to disguise the fact it was homemade. Again I reminded him there was no reason for her to know where the food had come from.
I also arranged for Daisy’s coffee to be delivered to Sienna in the mornings. She liked it better than her own coffee beans, or so Dave had told me.
Yesterday Dave told me his security guys had scoured Hank’s cabin and found only the blankets on the beds, and Sienna didn’t want them to go to the trouble of bringing those back and forth to the set. He also told me the production staff had brought them blankets, but they were polyester, scratchy, and gave Tim hives. So Dave asked if he thought it would be worthwhile to send Tim to Knoxville to buy blankets or if I had any at my house.
Hence, my mind was on Sienna. I needed to get back home, round up our extra blankets, and bring them to the set sometime this week before the cold snap.
“You’ve been real quiet, Jet.”
I glanced at Hank from my spot in the back seat, then moved my attention back to the window beside me. “I guess I don’t have a lot to say.”
“Seen Claire lately?” Beau asked, turning around to look at me. He was sitting in the front.
“Yep. Every Sunday. But you already knew that.”
“Is she going to sing in Cletus’s band?”
“I don’t know.” I was making a list, all the things I needed to do as soon as I got home. Cletus would be fit to be tied if I made him late.
“So . . .” Hank started, cleared his throat, then started again, “Have you seen Sienna lately?”
I met his eyes in the rearview mirror, keeping my expression blank. “No.”
Beau and Hank traded a glance. I looked out the window again.
“I’ve been calling her, but she seems real busy,” Hank pressed. Even though we’d left Sky Lake, I guessed he wasn’t finished fishing.
“Maybe she is.” I shrugged.
I knew she was busy. Because Dave told me she was busy, writing all the time, not sleeping much. He seemed to think I deserved a daily rundown of her activities. I didn’t need or deserve a daily rundown. She still wasn’t my business. Nevertheless, I was concerned she wasn’t sleeping enough.
I added a canister of my momma’s special sleep-tea blend to the list of items I needed to bring to the set.
Hank sighed like he was frustrated as he pulled into our driveway. As soon as he parked, but before he cut the engine, I bolted out my door and jogged toward the house. I had exactly twenty minutes before Cletus would be downstairs, hollering at me that it was time to go.