by Daniel Riley
“Don’t do that,” she said. “There’s only one side of this where the person’s eyes are falling out of their head every time the object of his greatest desire slips into the frame. Don’t try to put that same shit on me. I went back to his apartment, I slept on the couch. In the living room. A different room. Who knows if the same can be said for…whatever the fuck you did last night. Whatever fantasy you played out before you got back here—if you’re even telling the truth about that part.”
“What are you doing?” he said. His face was stricken with a hot rictus of disbelief. “What is it about her? Seriously, what is it about her that makes you so fucking crazy? I would never ever ever do that, okay? It makes me insane that you’re making me even say that to you.”
“It wouldn’t matter if you had,” she said. Her face was strained in its own characteristic ways: pink, puffy, brittle around the eyes. “I hope you know that. You had one left. We’re still here, it’s not technically over. I couldn’t say anything if it happened, so just tell me the truth, okay? Just tell me the truth, and there’s nothing I can say about it.”
“Whitney…What is wrong with you? I don’t even know who the fuck I’m talking to right now. Nothing happened. Nothing would ever happen. We did this already. 1-2-3 is over. I would never—” He stopped himself short. “Or is this just your way of giving yourself cover for what actually happened between you two last night? Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”
“Don’t put it on me to take it off you.”
“It’s okay, Whit. You only had your two as well, right? Apparently by your understanding of the rules, your third is still on the table. Still free to cash in your third until you get on that airplane? Fair’s fair. But you’d have to tell me about your third. You’d have to say it, ’cause that’s part of the rules, too.”
She was silent. It was the first time either of them had drawn a conscious breath since she’d walked in the door. She hadn’t even sat down yet. They’d been standing the entire time near the entryway. She moved to the couch.
“I understand that,” she said.
“Well?” he said.
“You think I fucked him.”
“I have no idea. I truly didn’t until you started getting weird about it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Okay,” he said, “then why do I feel like you did all of a sudden?”
“You don’t believe me?” Her eyes were bloodshot. Her face had a sort of directionless disdain.
“You tell me: Is there anything else I should know?”
“What are you trying to say?” she said.
“I’m saying: You have a third guy waiting for you out there unless you spent it last night. Or unless you already spent it before, in which case JJ Pickle is way off—”
“1-2. Two guys,” she said emphatically. “Just like I told you the other night. Can you say the same thing to me?”
His eyes were redder than hers. Red lightning, red saucers. He hadn’t slept for longer than thirty minutes at a time all night, cracked phone on the pillow beside his head, committed to not missing her call if it miraculously sprang back to life. It had made him go nuts. Hour after hour after hour after hour. He was scared for her at moments. He hated her at others. Now, he was so dehydrated. He moved to the kitchen. He poured two glasses of water, and two glasses of whiskey.
He sat at the opposite end of the couch from her, just out of arm’s reach. He stretched forward to give her her drinks. She sipped from the water glass. She smelled the whiskey and her eyes articulated that it was the last thing in the world she wanted, and then she took a mouthful anyway.
“Well?” she said. “Answer the question.”
“What question?” he said.
“What happened between you two?”
“Nothing happened.”
“How do I know that?”
“Because I’m telling you.”
“But how do I know she didn’t hypnotize you? Didn’t just put you under her deceitful little spell? How do I know she didn’t turn you into a pathological liar, too?”
“She is a confirmed pathological liar. But I didn’t have sex with her. I would never do that to you.”
“You didn’t have sex.…Did you kiss her? Did you get to feel up those glorious tits? Did she suck your cock?”
“Whitney.”
“Do you know who her father is?” she said. “It’s not who she says, you know.”
“Is it a Mr. Silverstein?”
“You knew all along?”
“I don’t know anything, I just know that was the name she was under at the hotel. That’s what she responded to when the concierge called to her.”
“That little twat. All that crap she spun to you the other night, to all of us, everything’s bullshit. Bob Silverstein. She’s Bob Silverstein’s daughter.”
“Come on…”
“It makes sense, even if you don’t think about it too hard. The way she moves through the world. All the dots connect.”
“The hotel was way nicer than I expected. I thought it must’ve been some deal, some last-minute clearance. But that means she was lying all afternoon, too. This new shit about her mother being a waitress in the Valley. It’s like she forgot she’d already told me a completely different story. And this thing she said about her fucking roommate being murdered in Paris? She really committed to it, and then made me feel like I was an asshole for believing what she was saying. How she’d been running from the police, and that’s why she came down here. I have no idea what’s true or what’s not from any word that came out of her mouth these last few days.”
“She said the same thing to Jack.”
“Really?”
“The same story about the roommates.”
He nodded and rubbed his forehead.
“Why should I believe you about what happened with her?” she said.
He looked up, incredulous again. “Because I have no reason to lie. Because, you’re right: I could’ve. That could’ve been my third. But I didn’t, it wasn’t. It would’ve hurt you. And I wouldn’t do that.”
“But you wanted to.”
“I didn’t want to. I’m just explaining that I have nothing to hide because it was technically inbounds. I’m not hiding anything.”
“Did you take a shower in her room?”
“No.”
“But you were in fact in her room. You were at the concert in the rain—and so you went back with her.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t take a shower at the hotel?”
“No.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“And so you took a shower together?”
“I didn’t take a shower.”
“Why do you smell like her shampoo?”
“Because I was in her room for a few hours. Because she took a shower.”
“Did you see her shower? Did she let you watch?”
“I didn’t watch her take a shower, no. Jesus.”
“All those hours in her hotel room and nothing happened.”
“Whitney.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” she said, staring at the black hole of the television set. “What would it matter, anyway? What would it change?”
“Everything. It would change everything. If I did anything, it would change everything. But I didn’t.”
“Me neither.”
“Okay. I believe you.”
“I didn’t do anything, but I took a shower. And he took a shower. Not together. We ordered cheeseburgers. I slept on his couch.” She took a longer draw of her whiskey.
“You said that already.”
“I need you to believe me,” she said.
“I do,” he said.
“I need you to believe me because I don’t believe you.”
“Well, that’s not very fair, is it?”
“I just don’t see it happening the way you say it did. You just sitting there in your wet clothes, all cont
ent and unbothered by everything, resisting, while she’s there for the taking. I know she doesn’t give a shit about what happens to us, what trouble she causes in other people’s lives. And I’d kind of be insulted if she didn’t try.…But I just don’t get why it wouldn’t have happened, why you wouldn’t have…after all this, after last month.”
“Because I wouldn’t. Because last month is last month, which means it’s over. Because we don’t do things like that to each other.”
“Just tell me you fucked her. Just please do it now, and get it over with. It’s fine. You have immunity. It’s in the rules, it’s okay. But I just can’t find out later, okay? It can’t be a year from now and I see some text come in on your phone and it’s a picture of you getting dressed in her hotel room, afterward. I need to hear it now so that I never have to be surprised by anything.”
“We didn’t do anything.”
“Just tell me, Will. We’re still here. We’re still in it. We haven’t left yet. It’s okay. Please. Please do this for me. Just tell me the truth.”
The shock was still in his face. He squinted at her and then lowered his head, trying to see up through her mouth and nose and into her brain, trying to get a look at what was really going on in there. He finished his drink. He sighed. And then he spoke. “Fine,” he said. “But it goes for you too, then. I’ll tell you, but you have to tell me what really happened, too. And you have to go first.”
“I told you the extent of it,” she said. “We split off with you two at the Fòrum. We walked around, the storm caught us, we went to a movie, we drank some beers in the theater, we went to his place in the rain. I took a shower, the rain eventually stopped, we came here once, you weren’t here, we ordered cheeseburgers, I came here again. That was the second time. You were still gone. You still weren’t here. I went back to his place again and passed out. It had been a long day—a long several days—and I felt like shit and just needed to get some sleep. I slept on his couch. I woke up. I walked here. This time, you were home.”
“I believe you about Jack,” he said.
“No you don’t.”
“I do. I really do. Why wouldn’t I? It’s better for everyone this way. But do you believe me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Just believe me. It’s better all around. For you, for me, for us. It’s easier—and it’s true.”
“But I’m telling you,” she said, “it would be fair, okay? It would be inbounds. It’s okay if it happened. I just need you to tell me now and not later.”
“Why do you say it would be fair?” he said, maneuvering to peer inside her head again. “You keep saying that. Like you want it to be the case so badly. What are you not telling me? There’s something right up in the front of your brain. There’s something that you’re clearly getting at, that you want to tell me. I really believe you didn’t do anything with him. But what is it?”
She shook her head. “There’s nothing,” she said. “What is it that you really want to tell me?”
He shook his head as well. “That nothing happened,” he said. “That she’s as crazy as we thought. That she’s out of our life forever now. That she’s fucking bonkers, but sometimes fun to talk to, and that she’ll go on with her blessed life, and never think of us again, and be extremely A-OK in the end. Besides all that? There’s nothing to add. Do you understand?”
She sucked on her teeth and watched his head nod, as though he might coax her into nodding along with him. She finished her whiskey and rubbed her head. She closed her eyes and exhaled and let a string of Okay okay okays trail from her lips as they both drifted into silence.
The buzzer woke her. It didn’t make sense. She sat up on the couch and it spun her and it made her nauseated. It was still bright out, certainly not evening yet, but was it today or tomorrow? White sunlight and crisp shadows shone on the walls opposite the windows. She hadn’t seen crisp shadows in days. She hadn’t remembered dozing off. She sensed Will moving from the bedroom to the door.
There was no intercom but he buzzed the buzzee up anyway. They heard the heavy tread on the stairs and Will peered through the eyehole.
“Who is it?” Whitney said.
“It’s Jack,” Will said.
Will put his hand on the dead bolt and turned to Whitney. There was a new starvation in his eyes. “Tell me now, once and for all: Did you or didn’t you? Just tell me before I open this door.”
“No! For the last time: No.”
Will held on her, and licked his lower lip, and then turned the bolt and swung the door wide.
“Hey…Will…” Jack said, stopping short of the threshold, a look on his face that suggested he was counting on it being Whitney. He had a stuffed travel duffel over his shoulder, striped in the green and black of his team colors.
Will scoured Jack’s face, searching for confirmation of Whitney’s assertion. But it was blank and blameless as ever.
“Hey,” Whitney said, emerging within sight of the doorway. “I thought you had to catch a flight?”
Will moved aside and Jack stepped tentatively into the apartment. He reached for his back pocket and pulled out Whitney’s passport and credit card.
“Jesus,” she said. “I hadn’t even noticed. What would I have…”
She took them from him and he explained, “They were on the floor of the bathroom. Must’ve fallen out when you took a shower.”
As the words were coming out of his mouth, Jack seemed to be comprehending them, and he looked at her, panicked, with the question all over his face: Had he said too much? He kept his body pointed in Whitney’s direction, relying on her to lead.
“Thank you, thank you, seriously. What a pain in the ass you’ve saved me. Imagine us getting to the airport after all this time only to…I really hope this didn’t delay you too much. You said your flight’s at—”
“Nah, plenty of time. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t have another problem, since it’d be hard to get it back once…Anyway, at least I knew where to find you.”
He looked as unrested as they did. It had only been the final night of the first part of his life.
“That’s not all you’re taking with you, is it?” she said.
“I have a car downstairs. Couple bags. But the team’s shipping the rest. Shouldn’t be too—”
“Well, thanks,” she said.
“Hey, before I go,” Jack said, turning to Will but only glancing at him, not holding him in his eyes, “you haven’t heard from Jenna this morning, have you?”
Jack’s face was cautious, but Will could tell he wasn’t capable of concealing whatever it was he wanted to say, whatever he was getting at. Will could see that more than concern, there was even a little disdain creeping into Jack’s face.
“Not this morning,” Will said. “Just for a few hours after the festival yesterday. I was back here by eight. Why?”
“I got this crazy email this morning. Right as I was packing up. It was from that guy Gram. He had my email from when I made the reservation for Sunday dinner. He said he knew that I knew where she was, and that he needed to get in touch with her. I have no idea what he was getting at, if it was some trick or something—I didn’t respond. But he said the police were looking for her. They’d been in touch with him, they’d somehow got his address because she’d written it down at some point coming into the country. I don’t know if she told you, but he kinda came at her after she stayed at my place the other night. Called her names, really made her feel uncomfortable. That’s why she wound up crashing with me. I guess you never know, with the stuff she says, how much of it is…But if any part of it was true, it sounded bad. Anyway, this note from Gram, I didn’t know if it was some kind of trap or what. She didn’t mention anything about police when you were together, did she?”
Will’s eyes were still, his mind rolling through the half-true stories and the half-fake ones, but all he did was jut out his lower lip and say, “She didn’t mention anything, no.”
Jack nodded slowly. �
��Well, all right, then. I sent her an email saying Gram had been in touch, and then I got a second email from him in the car on the way over here, but no response from her. Not even a call from the hotel to say Nice knowin’ ya or whatever. I guess you can’t expect…Anyway, maybe she’s already at the airport. Maybe she’s even already in the air.”
Jack was watching Whitney for a cue and Whitney was watching Will. Her face was still humming from her nap, her head wasn’t screwed on straight. What did Will know about it, really? Will shrugged again: innocent of knowledge, unhelpful.
“All right, well,” Jack said, “I guess I’ll see you guys. Sorry to barge in like this, I know you’re getting ready to go too, and have stuff to…I just wanted to make sure you got—”
“No, no, thank you,” Whitney said, looking back and forth between the two boys, trying to key in to whatever it was that wasn’t being said. “You just saved us days, probably, at the embassy. I think I would’ve lost my mind looking for it.”
Jack waved off Whitney’s gratitude but didn’t move to leave yet.
“Fly safe, then, huh?” Will said.
Jack snorted—message received. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and started toward the door. Will could tell that all of a sudden Jack maybe hated him.
“And you have my email and Will’s email?” Whitney said. “I’m dead serious about you being in touch about ideas and scripts and—”
Will snorted this time and looked at the floor to conceal his grin.
Jack adjusted his bag again, and his eyes drifted toward the stairs in the hallway.
“Yes, thank you, I really appreciate that,” Jack said, smiling stiffly at Whitney. “It was really nice getting to hang. And please look me up if you’re ever in—”
“Before you go,” Will said, cutting him off, his smile wiped away. “Just one final thing for you, JJ. I don’t want you to think about your answer, I just want you to hear my question and respond—”
“Will,” Whitney said.
“—There’s nothing you can say that will change anything here, I promise, I just want your unvarnished opinion on something.”