Phoenix Reborn by Carina Wilder

reminding.
    “Yeah, well, I didn’t like the look of him. Make sure to call me if anyone like that tries to harm you, okay?”
    “Harm me? What do you mean?”
    “Ashling — there are things that you don’t know — “
    A man in a white polo shirt and jeans interrupted them, stepping before Hawke and extending a hand.
    “This must be Ashling,” he said. “I’m Wayne. I’m the location scout. I’ve been checking out your lovely town, scoping it for places where Hawke here can run around on screen.”
    “Nice to meet you,” she said, smiling as well as she could given that her mind was still focused on the stranger outside.
    Wayne invited them to accompany him to a table which he and Hawke had been sharing with two others: also producers, wanting to discuss the casting of extras, costumes and other film-related topics.
    But after a few minutes, Ashling began to get the distinct impression that Hawke was somehow in charge of the entire film, which struck her as odd for an actor. And impressive.
    “Hawke is funding this project,” said Wayne, noting Ashling’s confusion. “I’ll bet he’s been too modest to tell you that it’s his baby from start to finish, which is why we’re speaking to him about all the finer details before proceeding.”
    “I wanted to do a story of a boy who grows up in a small town and moves away, only to come back home again,” he said. “Not the most exciting pitch, I know. But they’re letting me have my way, so I thought I’d take advantage. To be honest, though, I knew that the only way that they’d let me come film in Woodland Creek is if I paid for everything.”
    “Why did you want to come to Woodland Creek?”
    “Isn’t it obvious?” Hawke winked at her, sending a rush of blood to places that Ashling had rarely thought of in recent months.
    “I — I’m not sure. But it all sounds good,” she replied, blushing as her eyes turned towards the table top in front of her. “Is it an autobiography, then?”
    “Sort of — though I’d say it doesn’t cover some of the more — interesting — aspects of my life.”
    Ashling closed her mouth rather than speak again, assuming that he was talking about the women in his past, or any number of other things that she’d prefer not to hear about.
    The next hour or so involved her sitting, quietly observing while the men spoke in animated tones. This was more her doing than theirs; she enjoyed quiet, just as she enjoyed watching others. She was an expert at silence. She’d spent her life studying others from a distance. And now, in the bar, she watched young women text one another as more and more entered, all gathering around the room’s perimeter to watch the famous Hawke Turner behave like a normal human being. This was the only thing that rendered Ashling uncomfortable.
    At one point when the producers had gone to the bartender to order more drinks, Hawke looked at her and, laying a hand across hers, said, “You okay? I’m sorry this is taking so long.”
    “Fine,” she said. “Just…is this what happens to you on a regular basis? Herds of women flocking to watch you?”
    “Not everywhere,” he laughed. “This is a small town, remember. People here haven’t figured out that celebrities don’t like being stalked. Besides which, I think they’re really watching you.”
    Ashling turned to observe and realized that he was right; somehow she’d missed it. The women in the room were either trying to find out who she was or why the hell Hawke was with her, knowing full well that she was that girl; the freak who’d burned their high school friend.
    “They’re jealous,” she thought. For the first time ever, she’d rendered people jealous.
    “They wonder why I’m drawn to you. I mean, aside from the obvious fact that you’re gorgeous,” said Hawke frankly. “Because they don’t know what I know.”
    “What do you know?” she asked, her cheeks reddening at his compliment.
    “I know what you are,