by Mells, J. C.
Two hours later, via Skye and email exchanges, Ruby and I had drafted a copy of the statement I was going to record over at Harry’s. The way the woman had talked about all the positive work my coming forward could do with regard to girls out there suffering from the same disorder, it seemed like I finally had the purpose I’d been searching for.
For the first time since saying goodbye to Thatch, I felt hope.
{21}
Thatch
“You want cheese on your Turkey burger?” I asked Thaddeus as he watched me from his seat at the kitchen table.
“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “Daddy, can I ask you something?”
Okay, here it comes.
“Yes, little man, ask away.”
“Why do you pretend not to like Cali?”
Okay, I thought he was going to ask if she was coming back… not that.
“Why do you think that, Thad?”
I placed his plate of food in front of him and sat down next to him at the table.
“Sometimes you act angry around her and then sometimes you…” He paused here and looked at me thoughtfully, as if choosing his next words carefully.
“Sometimes I what, Thaddeus?” I asked as I cut his burger in half for him.
“Sometimes you go and look at her picture for a long time,” he answered softly, like he was preparing for me to get angry with him.
“You’ve seen the painting in my studio?”
Thaddeus nodded as he took a big bite of his turkey burger.
“Has Pop-Pop seen the painting, too?”
He nodded again, ketchup and melted cheese squirting down the front of his T-shirt.
“Looks like we need to get you a bib, Thad,” my father said as he entered the room. I wondered how much of the conversation he’d heard.
Thaddeus giggled. “I don’t need a bib, Pop-Pop.” He picked his paper napkin off the table and stuck it to his chest, using the ketchup as an adhesive.
My dad rolled his eyes at him before he turned to me. “Just so you know, she’s seen the painting, too.”
I guess that answered the question of how much he heard before entering the kitchen.
“I need you to go watch this,” he added, holding out his cell phone that was cued to a video on YouTube. “I’ll make sure Thad eats.”
“What’s on the video, Pops? Not more scenes of me leaving the gym I hope.”
“Will you just go into the living room and watch it, son?” He almost pushed me from the room.
I thought I’d seen just about everything they put out there today about California and me. Other than Shady Steve, who had been fired from the gym this afternoon, no one had come forward to confirm Cali had been helping us out as a receptionist. The tattoo community is pretty tight-knit, but I wasn’t so naïve as to think that would last forever.
Earlier today, Lake had shown up outside Reston’s claiming she was looking for her sister. She stayed and chatted with reporters for at least an hour after that. She knew beforehand Cali wasn’t going to be there and the tabloid reporters lapped up all the crap she spoon-fed them. Crap about California’s drug and alcohol addiction, how she was concerned her sister had gone on a bender so soon after rehab – and the list went on and on.
I went into the living room, got comfortable on the couch, and pushed play on my dad’s phone, fully expecting to see more of Lake’s interview from earlier today.
My breath caught in my throat when, instead of Lake, California’s face was the first thing that came up once the video started playing.
Hello, I’m California Huntington, and most of you will know me as the miscreant daughter of Brock Huntington. You’ll have read tabloid reports of my drug and alcohol addiction and about the fact that I recently completed a three-month stay at the Blaire Institute and Recovery Center. You’ll have seen clips on TMZ and other gossip websites of me stumbling out of clubs and late-night parties, not to mention all the scandals surrounding me in the last year or so.
I’m not going to deny I have abused drugs and alcohol in the past. This last year has been rough and very out-of-character for me, but none of you will know this, as none of you really know me. Your perception of me is what is portrayed in the media, and the rough patch I went through was nothing more than what most teens go through – only mine was displayed for the whole world to see. The drugs and alcohol abuse was just a side effect from trying to live with, and hide my real problem. It’s this problem, or disease, that I want to come clean about now.
I am bulimic. I have been since I was fifteen years old. In the beginning, I was convinced I had it under control. I ate healthily and regularly, and only purged the bad foods and empty calories. Then, a year ago, things got worse. The purging three times a week turned to five or six times a week, and it became entire meals and not just the junk food. It got so bad for a while that I would sneak downstairs to the kitchen in the middle of the night after starving myself for a few days, and eat the entire contents of the fridge before getting rid of it immediately. The shame and humiliation I felt afterwards could only be numbed by drugs and alcohol. I also used them to get through the starvation periods, too.
I’m very fortunate to have had the funds to seek the professional help I needed before my disorder became life threatening. I realize not everyone suffering from this disease is as fortunate. I want to do something about that, if I can.
The rest of what she said became a blur as I thought about all the telltale signs I’d missed. She talked about how many people were suffering from the disorder and how she wanted to open up a website to discuss it further. A link was provided at the end of the video and the video itself was already at over one hundred thousand views in the hour or so it had been up.
I remained on the couch completely stunned for several minutes after it had stopped playing.
“She’s something, isn’t she?” My dad said from the doorway to the room.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” I asked.
“Oh, I think she planned on it. Then, there just wasn’t the time once this whole Twitter thing blew up. In the end, I guess she felt it wouldn’t change your mind any, Thatch. You saw her as a drug addict like everyone else did, and her admitting to an eating disorder really wasn’t going to change anything, was it?”
“I guess not. You had no right to show her my painting though. Or Thaddeus either.”
“I didn’t even know Thad had seen it until he told me. I will take responsibility for showing it to Heavy though.”
“Your nickname for her has something to do with her bulimia, doesn’t it?”
My dad chuckled. “Sort of, yeah. It’s a word that has always had negative connotations for her in the past. I went about changing that. Now it’s associated with a term of endearment and not a negative slur.”
I got up from the couch and stood looking at my father.
“I really fucked up, didn’t I?” I asked him.
“It’s never too late to correct a mistake, son,” my dad answered with a wink.
“She’s not coming back any time soon, is she?”
“Not unless you go get her.”
“Pops, I don’t even know where she is,” I sighed.
“Well, it’s a good job I do then, isn’t it?”
***
After my father convinced me to go chasing after California like some sap at the end of a romance movie, I went to look for my son to explain to him I’d be gone for a few days.
Okay, so my dad really didn’t have to convince me too much. I was that guy and I was going to go find her. I just wanted her to know she was welcome to come back to Vegas and shouldn’t feel like she wasn’t wanted here, or that she had to stay away just for our privacy’s sake. I could’ve called her, but I wanted to look into her eyes and gauge her response in person. I think subconsciously, I was prepared to haul her ass back to Vegas whether she wanted to or not.
I suspected Thaddeus might be in the bathroom cleaning himself up after dinner. I opened the door and m
y heart jumped into my chest.
My son was standing on a stool in front of the bathroom mirror with a large pair of scissors in his hand. Huge chunks of blond curls were scattered in, and around, the sink.
“Thaddeus! What are you doing?”
The boy jumped at the sound of my panicked voice and the scissors fell to the tiled floor with a loud clang.
I scooped him up into my arms as he began to cry hysterically.
“It’s okay, little man, I didn’t mean to scare you. You scared me. You know you aren’t supposed to play with scissors. They’re sharp and you can cut yourself.”
“I…know…Daddy,” he sobbed. “I’m sowy.”
I carried him into his room and sat down on his bed, holding him on my lap.
“Why were you cutting your hair, little man? I’m not mad at you, baby. I would’ve helped you if you wanted to cut it.”
I ran my hand across his head. There were huge chunks missing from the top and one of the sides.
Thaddeus took some breaths and eventually calmed down enough to reply to my question.
“I thought maybe you didn’t like Cali because you couldn’t fo’get mommy. I thought maybe if I didn’t look like mommy so much, you’d like Cali more.” Then, Thaddeus started crying again.
My heart completely disintegrated inside my chest.
“Oh, Thaddeus,” I sighed, hugging him tightly to me. “I do like Cali. I like her very much. I was just coming to tell you I was about to go look for her and see if she wanted to come back to Vegas with me.”
Thaddeus stopped his sobbing and looked up at me with tear-stained cheeks.
“You mean like come back and be your girlfwend?”
“Yeah, I guess,” I smiled at him.
“Can I come with you, Daddy?” He asked in a small voice.
“No.”
Thaddeus’ little face fell. “Okay, Daddy,” he said in a heavy voice.
“What I meant was, no, not until we fix your hair, little man. We can’t have Cali seeing you like this, can we?”
His face lit up with a big grin. “No, we can’t! Otherwise, she might not come back with us!” he exclaimed.
“That’s right,” I replied, kissing the top of his head.
“Why don’t you go fix his hair while I throw some things into an overnight bag for the pair of you?” my dad asked from the doorway.
“Thanks, Pops,” I smiled, carrying my son back toward the bathroom.
{22}
Cali
I didn’t make it to my old apartment until after ten o’clock that night. I’d used the motel room across from Harry’s studio as a sort of temporary basecamp until the video was made and the finished edit was up on the internet. I spent two hours dealing with Twitter and exchanging calls with Ruby before I finally checked out and felt ready to face the scene of my abduction for the first time in over a year.
After parking in the spot allotted to my apartment, I sat there for thirty minutes before I finally got the nerve to exit the car. It didn’t help that it was dark outside and looked exactly the same as it had on that night I was taken.
“Come on, Cali,” I whispered under my breath. “You can do this, girl.”
I looked around me several times before hurriedly opening the trunk and taking out my bag. I practically ran up the steps to Apartment 237 on the second floor of the two-story building.
The place was exactly as I left it. Because it was still being viewed by prospective buyers, it was clean, and tidy, and ready to show. I walked through each room slowly and couldn’t stop myself from checking every closet and window, as well as looking under every bed just to quell my over-anxious mind. My abductors had never actually entered my apartment, but I still felt more at ease once I’d made the rounds.
I then took the longest and hottest shower I could stand.
When I was finally settled on the couch with a blanket and my e-reader, I saw I’d missed several calls from Lake and Tallulah. Those two must be going mental after my public announcement. I wondered if my dad had seen it yet. Bernie would make sure of it. I’d deal with all that tomorrow when I finally headed over to the estate to face them.
The thought of confronting my family had made me so anxious, I realized I hadn’t eaten dinner yet. Not good. It was well after midnight and I hadn’t eaten since a snack at lunchtime. Thank goodness for L.A. and twenty-four hour diners! I called for a delivery.
Forty minutes later, there was a knock on the door and I grabbed my purse and went to pay for my food.
I nearly had a heart attack when I saw who it was through the peephole.
“Thatch?” I asked in astonishment as I opened the door.
“Surprise,” he said with a hesitant smile. “Although, it looks like you were expecting someone else?”
“I ordered some food. But, what are you doing here?”
He looked exhausted, which was no surprise as he’d just made the four and a half hour drive from Vegas to L.A.
“I brought a tired little boy with me who’s fast asleep in the car. Are you going to let us in?”
“Oh my God, go get him,” I said, taking his bag and pushing him back toward the stairs.
As Thatch made his way back to the parking lot, the delivery guy showed up and I paid him, still in shock from the fact that Thatch was here. Thatch and Thaddeus were here… at my apartment… in L.A. What the hell was going on?
I waited in the doorway for Thatch to get back and it wasn’t long before he appeared again with Thaddeus cradled in his arms. The little angel was rubbing his eyes and clutching his toy rabbit to his chest; his aviator hat slightly askew.
“Hi, Cali,” he said in a sleepy voice, reaching both arms out to me for me to take him.
“Hey, angel,” I replied softly, pulling him into my arms. “I’m so surprised to see you here.”
“You went weally, weally far, but Daddy found you again,” he smiled and then gave a big yawn.
“That he did, angel. Looks like you’re ready for bed. Come on, I have a special room just for you.”
Thatch followed me as I took his son to my guest bedroom – a room that had never been used before. The sheets looked fresh, like the cleaning lady that came every couple of weeks had been changing them regularly.
“There’s a bathroom right there, sweetie, okay,” I pointed out the open en suite across the room.
“And I’m plugging your night light in right next to it, little man,” Thatch said, pulling the little airplane-shaped light out of his bag. “You need anything, you just call us, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy. N’night,” Thaddeus said as I tucked him into bed and kissed him on the cheek. “Make sure you say yes, Cali,” he whispered as I stood up to let Thatch come finish tucking him in.
Giving him a little wave, I walked back out into the living room and sat on the stool at the counter that separated it from the kitchen. Thatch followed me a few minutes later, after he softly closed the door to the spare room. He took the seat next to mine.
“Mr. Reston,” I said, as I started opening the containers that held my turkey club and chicken caesar salad from the diner. “Are you shamefully using your son as a means to get back into my good graces?”
He gave a low laugh that made the butterflies in my stomach go epileptic. “I wasn’t aware I needed to get back into your good graces,” he answered, accepting the plastic fork I handed him.
I moved the two containers so that they were directly between us on the countertop.
“I don’t know,” I teased, “I’m feeling a little Jerry Maguire right now.”
“You aren’t about to say ‘you had me at hello’ are you?” Thatch joked back.
“Well, in this case, it would be more ‘you had me at surprise,’ wouldn’t it?”
He took a bite of the club sandwich and I got a forkful of salad. We chewed our food and looked at one another thoughtfully. He took a large helping of salad and shoved it into his mouth. I stuffed the remaining quarter of the cl
ub he had taken a bite from into mine. He took a second quarter of the club and pushed it into his mouth on top of the salad. Trying to keep a straight face, I did the same. It became a game of who could shovel the most food into their mouth at once.
I won, of course.
I got up and ended the game by filling two glasses of water from the tap. I pushed one in front of him and took a few gulps from mine to help wash down all the lettuce still in my mouth.
“Do I have you, Cali?” he finally asked softly.
“You had me at ‘surprise,’ you idiot,” I smiled at him.
Thatch
As soon as she uttered the words I jumped her. I didn’t even know I had it in me to move that fast. I guess all my obsessive training for that damn show paid off in the end.
I kissed her hungrily, possessively, and obsessively. I kissed her like a man should kiss his woman, because that’s what she was, whether I was comfortable admitting it or not. She was mine.
“Wow,” she said when we came up for air. “That was some kiss. Whatever are you going to do to me next that could possibly top that, Mr. Reston?” she added cheekily.
“Well, Miss Huntington, I thought I might follow it up with some more kissing and then take you into the bedroom and fuck the breath out of you.”
“Ooo, the bedroom. Some might suggest that’s quite tame considering the locations of our past encounters,” she giggled, nipping playfully at my collarbone with her teeth.
“Trust me, there is nothing tame about what I plan to do to you in an actual bed,” I said, covering her mouth with mine again.
“Oh, Mr. Reston, do tell me more,” she said breathlessly against my lips.
“Talking is very overrated. How about I show you instead?”
I picked her up and carried her to the room at the end of the hall, which I assumed was her bedroom.
“Please tell me you have condoms,” I said as I set her on the bed.
“No. I wasn’t exactly expecting company and I’ve never brought anyone home before. I’m on the pill and I was fully tested at the Recovery Center.”