I smiled in victory when he cringed at my comment. He knew it was hopeless to discuss anything at that point. “Be safe, Cary. Love you. Miss you.” I pushed him out the door.
“Love you, too, Lauren.”
“Thanks again for everything. Oh, and look after Blake.”
He stopped, looked at me, and placed a firm, soft kiss on my forehead. I could feel him nuzzling through my hair as he inhaled before walking off.
As I shut the door, listening to his voice through the speakers in the background, I knew it was going to be a long two weeks.
I went to sleep most nights listening to Cary playing his acoustic guitar. One song had few words, but it was incredibly lovely, and affective.
Rain continued all week, yet the movie set was busier than ever. They were trying to wrap up everything by Thursday, which made it Jackson’s busiest week. Our primary form of communication was texting, which I should have been thrilled about, because every time we did speak, we argued about me staying at Cary’s place. As much as I tried to convince him there was nothing more between Cary and me, he continued to be skeptical. I didn’t tell him he had every right to be.
I needed the time to figure out what was next for me. That included sorting out the mixed feelings I had for Cary and Jackson. I hated going back and forth, but as hard as I tried to let my mind take over, my heart always chimed in.
My job was almost over, and I’d spent the last months hiding out from the paparazzi. I was going to take the time for me, with no distractions, but as usual, my plans failed. It was difficult not to be distracted when dating Jackson, and with Cary calling every day to check up on me.
Jackson and I decided one night to have a text date. He was reshooting scenes late into the evening and had to film throughout different locations in the city. While I ate, he would text me on their way to another shoot. I had to stop eating when his texts became sexting, and he made me choke on some broccoli.
My reduced work schedule left me spare time. I went to the spa, the fitness center, and checked out some books from the library.
For reasons, unbeknown to me, Cary and Blake increased their calls to several times a day. After I informed them I was okay, and an adult, they called only once a day, usually waking me. Blake wasn’t grasping the concept of time zones.
A few hours after Cary left, a deliveryman arrived at his door.
“Mr. Baine mentioned you would need these right away.” He handed me all my art supplies, along with some new ones.
My heart swelled at the trouble he had gone through to find my supplies. I knew he truly cared.
I painted the rest of the week, mostly on the terrace. The sun came out a couple times, and at night, I was able to paint the city lights.
Although, Cary’s building was in the heart of the city, I could barely hear the noise, making it surprisingly peaceful.
I decided I might take Cary up on that offer to come stay more.
Later in the week, I went to the University of New Orleans art shop to purchase oil paints. They had the best prices for art supplies. While there, I took a detour to the campus bookstore to look through their course guides, checking if anything caught my attention.
As I was leaving, I saw a flyer on the student board offering art courses in Paris, but kind of dismissed it at the time. However, when I was roaming around the art store, the idea kept nudging at me.
While it was something I loved, I’d never thought about pursuing art as a career. I returned to the bookstore and took a brochure. Back at the apartment, I called the information line.
The advisor was very helpful, answering my many questions. She was sending me everything I needed to enroll for their local summer courses, and if I decided I liked it, I could continue on to the fall semester.
It was a big step. Not only college in New Orleans and studying art, but maybe one day, doing it in Paris. I always dreamed of going, but I knew I wasn’t ready for Paris . . . yet.
The offer to go to Sitges, Spain with Jackson still hung over my head. It wasn’t as though going to a beach paradise wasn’t tempting. However, Jackson would be back and forth between the next film and doing promotional work for Primal Darkness. Meaning, we could still see each other if I decided not to go.
I checked on Mamaw after work. Her schedule was busier than mine. She had a church function every day of the week, and several doctor’s appointments. Her recent doctor’s visit wasn’t good. Her blood pressure numbers were high, and they were working on lowering them with new medication.
While I was there, Mamaw saw the art class brochure I pulled from my book bag. She was surprised when I explained my plan to try out some art courses in the fall, then maybe study in Paris next summer.
She smiled and nodded in encouragement. “Enjoy your summer, child. If you want to go to Paris, go. If not, try it out in the fall. You’ll like it, you hear,” she said warmly.
Enjoy. I needed to get a T-shirt with the word “enjoy” on it.
In spite of the weather, Cary and Blake’s absence, and my busy boyfriend, I enjoyed the rest of the week alone.
By Friday, melancholy had set in. I was ready for everyone, someone, not to be busy. Being alone with my thoughts wasn’t what I hoped it would be. Especially, lying in bed at night, where all I thought of was Jackson and Cary. Why I was thinking about Cary tormented me the most.
Jackson had to fly to L.A. and would return tomorrow for the production wrap-up. We’d had no time to see each other, something I needed to accept. He’d be heading to Spain soon with an even busier schedule.
Jackson’s schedule had been changing a lot. Even his plans for us in the summer were rapidly deteriorating. With minimal free time, he spent the entire week apologizing for not being around. I told him I understood, but he still felt guilty. That was what I was trying to avoid if I went to Spain. He was stretching himself too thin, and I didn’t want him to feel obligated to entertain me while there.
My last day of work was Wednesday. Ashley was busy breaking down everything. She had hired a crew to do all the heavy lifting, while using food trucks at the shooting locations to simplify meals.
I invited her to join me at the spa at Cary’s, as a small thank you for giving me the job and for always being there. I’d enjoyed working for her, and I considered helping her out again that summer on an upcoming job. I shouldn’t have been surprised when she mentioned me taking art courses; nothing in my family was kept private, not even a thought.
Chef Marcel had called wanting my dinner request. I asked him to surprise me, which he did. That night, he made a scrumptious mustard-crusted catfish and my favorite pralines. The mix of creamy, sugary goodness with the perfect portion of pecans in each candy drop, reminded me of Mom’s recipe.
After dinner, I cozied up on the couch and watched classic movies all night. I started with East of Eden, because it had James Dean. Then Suspicion, with another one of my favorite men named Cary, ending the night with A Place in the Sun. I fell asleep on the sofa before it finished.
The night was stormy. Lightening brightened the room, and thunder rattled the windows, waking me from a sound sleep. I went to my room and tried to settle back to sleep, but I couldn’t. I tried reading, watching TV, nothing. So, I played Cary’s CD again. I tried to listen to it throughout the week, but it brought up too many memories. Nonetheless, I hoped it would comfort me enough to sleep.
Listening settled my spirit at first. My body calmed, but my mind was still agitated. Cary’s voice was soothing, but the longer I listened, the more restless I became.
The CD was not working, so I thought tea might. Mother always made me tea when I had trouble falling asleep. Cary’s pantry had a tea arsenal; it took me a while to pick one. As the water heated, I roamed the halls. I walked past Cary’s office, and it was clean—scary clean. His albums and awards meticulously placed along the walls.
Continuing down the hall to his bedroom, I sheepishly cracked open the door, as if he were there. I’d been in
his room before, but with him not home, it felt weird.
Who was I fooling? It was wrong, but I went in anyway.
As soon as I stepped through the doorway, I could smell his natural, clean scent. I crept around the room, taking in every detail. I opened his closet—the curiosity too much—and it was huge. He had one wall of casual clothes, all color-coordinated, and another wall of dress clothes, with a separate section for ties, and as many shoes as a shoe store. He had the coolest glass unit that stored his watches, tiepins, and other accessories.
Before leaving, my eyes zeroed in on a pair of cufflinks that were semi-hidden in the back. I’d seen them before. Jackson had them on during one of our dates. It wasn’t unusual for guys to have the same cufflinks. It was just that those were of the fleur-de-lis, which wasn’t common.
Closing the closet, I walked over to his bed. His scent was thick, and as I breathed him in, exhaustion set in. My body succumbed, and I collapsed onto his bed.
I pushed back the covers and lay face down in his pillow. I could hear the music playing from my room. He was singing in the distance, as if he were there. I took a slow, deep breath and held it, not wanting to get rid of the intoxicating smell.
Suddenly, I felt a heavy weight fall on top of me. I remained stock-still, as the weight crushed down harder. My heart couldn’t take the pressure anymore, and it wanted relief.
Everything around me became surreal. Cary’s singing seemed to get louder, while the battle going on between my mind and heart were about to break. I couldn’t deal with fighting it anymore. My mind started to tell me I had no choice. My heart had held on to it for too long. It barred every thought, emotion, and feeling that had to do with love.
I couldn’t understand why it had to be at that moment, but it was time to admit my fear of falling in love, and going through the pain my mom did when she lost the love of her life.
Maybe it was because everything Cary surrounded me, or the fact my heart was tired of holding in the truth. Regardless, it was happening with or without my permission. I never wanted to be in love, not like that.
Strong shocks started shooting out of my heart. Perspiration dripped from my skin, as panic and anxiety took over. I tried to calm my breathing, but my heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
As Cary’s music chanted continuously in my head, the words haunted me. “I’m in love.”
He kept singing it over and over. A dam of tears broke through as I felt my heart freed from its prison. My body embraced the pain, as my heart continued to pour out its release, until it went numb.
I couldn’t rationalize it anymore. I was too tired to fight. I had to come to terms with my true feelings, no matter how much it hurt.
I loved Cary.
I’d always loved him.
My mind knew that.
Yet, how was admitting it to myself going to free me?
That was why not all of it mattered. Being true to me wasn’t going to change the fact Cary and I couldn’t be anything more. He made that clear, and I couldn’t make him love me. Accepting those facts was how I had to move on.
I continued to listen to every word playing in the background. I looked over at Cary’s picture on the nightstand. As my eyes closed, I thought, He’s exquisite and his beauty inside and out crafted to perfection.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I realized the heavy feeling was gone. My heart mended itself, and my mind refocused, as I tried to make sense of what happened.
When my mom left, I’d decided I was not going to fall in love, for it always brought pain. Protect your heart, was my motto.
That night, years ago, when I kissed Cary, it was indescribable. I couldn’t believe he kissed me back. I’d felt hope for the first time. Hope in the possibility of love. When he’d released me, and I looked into his eyes, all I saw was fear. It crushed me. I knew what was coming next. It still haunted me.
Since then, Cary had tried many times to talk to me, but I refused. He eventually backed off. He knew why I agreed to go to Minnesota; he said I was running away. I had to leave because I needed time to mend my heart.
When I kissed Jackson, words couldn’t describe the surge of desire I felt for him. I needed more of him, and when I looked into his eyes, I saw that same need reflected back.
Tears started falling again. “No! No, this is good,” I started talking to myself. Let the tears come. Once I got them all out, I would never have to cry over Cary again.
They wouldn’t stop.
Enough! I screamed inside my head.
Clarity set in as Jackson’s face entered my mind. I truly cared for him, and I wanted us to work. I was extremely lucky to have him. I wasn’t going to ruin whatever chance we had because I couldn’t deal with my feelings for Cary. Cary had made his mind up, and so had I. The past was the past, and the future was looking clearer.
I started to climb off his bed when the phone rang.
“Did I wake you?” Cary asked.
“Not at all.” I couldn’t find a breath, surprised as always by his timing.
“I know it’s late.”
I glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Why?”
I could hear the concern in his voice. He was still one of my best friends, and I wanted to tell him it was entirely his fault, but I knew that was never going to happen.
“It’s storming here.”
“You’re afraid of the lightening monster?”
“Not little ones. This one was huge.”
Cary chuckled. “We’re heading out. This was the only time I could check in.”
“I’m fine. Tell Blake hey, and I’m proud of him. Oh, and Mamaw wants him to call her.”
“I will.” I thought he was about to hang up. “Lauren?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound fine, love.”
He knew me too well. I sat up and tried to make sure my voice was calm. “It’s been a very long and draining day.”
“I have tea in the cabinet—”
“Tea, I forgot!” I leaped off the bed and ran to the kitchen.
“Lauren?” I heard the strain in his voice, as he kept calling out my name.
“Sorry, I left the water on.”
“It turns off automatically.”
I looked down at the pot. “I see that.”
“Is that my CD?”
“What? Oh, yeah.”
I didn’t notice the music was louder in the kitchen.
“I see it put you to sleep.” He laughed.
“Funny. No, it helped.” What I didn’t say was it helped—until it uprooted buried feelings.
“You were asleep?”
“I was going to go back to my room and sleep—” That was a big mistake.
“Where were you?”
A huge mistake. “The kitchen.”
“Oh?”
Why was he always so inquisitive? I knew he was calculating in his head.
“Actually, well, I was having a difficult time sleeping, and I’ve discovered you put me to sleep.”
“Okay?” He dragged out the word.
“Please don’t think I’m weird.”
“Too late. Tell me.”
“Um . . . you put me to sleep. Your music, your scent, your bed. It all helped me fall asleep.”
There was silence, then a small sigh. “My bed?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure everything is clean when you return. Cary, I couldn’t sleep, and I started exploring the house. Oh, I didn’t snoop. Just walked around. I came into your room, which smells like you, and the bed was inviting. I laid down and fell asleep, but only for a moment, though.”
Way too much information, Lauren.
“You weren’t asleep?”
“No. I was heading back to my room.”
“Why?” He sounded breathy.
“Because . . . I was in your bed, Cary, and I know that was wrong.”
“Love, please, if sleeping in my bed he
lps you sleep, then sleep there. I don’t mind.”
“That’s all right, Cary.”
“I’m serious. Stay in my bed.”
I could feel my heart tugging open, and I forced it closed. I was not going to mess up my relationship with Jackson or Cary.
“Thanks, but I’m already back in my room,” I lied.
“Lauren, if you need anything, you call me anytime. I don’t care when.”
“All right.”
“Sorry I called so late.” He paused. “I sensed . . . I needed to ring.”
“I’m fine, and break a leg.” I chuckled nervously.
“Get some rest, love.” He sounded worried.
“I will.”
“Lauren, love you.”
I hung up.
It was amazing how production crews could transform places overnight. Shooting was finished, and just as quick as it became a zombie land, the plantation was back to its original condition. One would never have guessed that was where they filmed Primal Darkness.
I was going to miss working there; it was an incredible experience. Whether it was seeing the woods transformed into city streets in minutes, walking through makeshift buildings, or viewing the interiors of various houses set up in the barn. The best was watching it snow in eighty degree weather. Only in Hollywood, or should I say, Venice.
The plantation was beautiful at night, enhanced by the rippling river that flowed along the grounds. The wrap party was set up in the hall next door to the main house. The hall was simple, but the grounds surrounding it decorated with thousands of tiny lights and garland that hung from the edges of three, large, white tents. The river reflected the light, which seemed to twinkle in sync to the music of the country band that played in the distance.
A lot of people were involved in the production, and that was the first time everyone was in one place. Even in the crowd, I saw Neesha heading to an empty corner, and I followed.
“Lauren, you came.”
The Devil has a British Accent: Book One: Jackson (White Carpet #1) Page 22