by Kayley Cole
"I am sorry about your wife," I say.
"Don't lie."
"You're right. I'm not that sorry. You two never seemed happy together."
He grunts. "I suppose you're right. But that's marriage for you. I'd say that one day you'll find that out, but you won't. Never saw a boy run faster away from commitment than you."
"Captain, it's not hard to run fast in comparison to you."
"Shut up."
We walk the rest of the way in silence. The first part of Saffron Elementary that we see is completely painted black, acting as a symbol of my and Andrew's bulletproof years together. Since we had painted a pig with a police officer's hat, it's also a symbol for why police universally hate me. Andrew was always seen as an innocent bystander to my antics and recalling my pig artwork, maybe he was. Maybe he still is.
In all honesty, we shouldn't have hated the police. At least not back then. At this point, I have legitimate reasons.
I take long strides toward the school, easily outpacing Livingston. There isn't a sidewalk or road leading up to the west side of the school, so mud weighs down my shoes, getting heavier with every step. I don't want to go into the school, but Andrew said this is where a lot of people from town are staying until their house is fixed. This is what I'll need to focus on for my project.
I stop at the west door. As I grasp onto the handle, something catches my eye.
In film, there is a concept called a motif. A motif is a symbol that's used over and over again. It's usually connected to the theme of a film. In The Last December, I used cats to symbolize the idea of multiple chances at life. In Painted Enemies, white clothes always ended up stained by something, symbolizing how easily we could be tainted. And in Tip of the Flame, red hair was a symbol of an untrustworthy woman.
Ellie walks toward me, wearing a white, stained apron with a calico cat sewn above her heart. Her red hair reminds me of all those times I burned away my wings chasing after something I knew I could never have. I was Icarus, and she was the sun. I should have known better.
When she lifts her head enough to see me, her steps slow down, nearly stopping and her eyelids flicker as if she's not certain I'm truly standing here. Her gaze shifts away from me, noticing Livingston.
Her small steps lead her straight to me just as Livingston reaches us.
"Hello Miss Rue," he says, heaving for breath. "Sorry. We just got a call that a group of men broke into Flynn Market— stole a buttload and attacked Mr. Flynn. I have to go investigate. Miss Rue, you know Mr. Amberden."
"Of course," she says, her body stiff.
"Miss Rue works at this diner…”
"It's a music club."
"A music club. And they're helping to feed everyone here," Livingston finishes, weakly indicating to the school. He leans over, his hand resting on his knees. "She'll be great for helping you out. Mr. Amberden has some project in mind to help raise some money for the town.
He lets out a slow exhale and stands back up. His face is cherry red.
"I'm going to...I'm going to walk back down from the north side of the school. It's a little less steep. Miss Rue, please show Mr. Amberden the inside of the school. Mr. Amberden… just try to keep your mouth shut."
"I've had a lifetime of experience of trying to keep my mouth shut," I say. He looks at me with his eyes narrowed— a snake deciding whether to strike back or retreat. He grunts, wiping some sweat off his forehead and heads north. I turn to Ellie.
Not only are there the stains on her apron, but there's also dirt on the knees of her jeans. Her hair is a bit frizzy, a few strands seemingly escaped from her hairband. But she looks amazing. She's curvier than she was in high school and there's an abrasiveness to her features that seems to have replaced a lot of her naivety.
At least, I had thought she was naive back then until she stabbed me in the back.
"Eleanor," I say. "How are you?"
"You know I hate that name."
"I do know that."
She shakes her head. "I have to get inside. Please move."
"I was certain you would have left town. You talked about it a lot— moving to New York or Nashville. Anywhere there were more people to play to."
"I was a gullible idiot back then. I've changed. You have too. Please move."
"I should have known," I say.
"You should've known what?" she asks, finally looking right at me. Those blue eyes are no longer like the ocean, but a blue flame. I can't help but wonder how hot I could get them burning. "Jake?"
Something in my chest clenches as she says my name. She'll never be mine.
"That you wouldn't leave," I say. "You're afraid of change. You wouldn't ever leave here because it's all you know."
"And the only reason you could leave is because your parents had the money to help you leave." She moves around me, opening the school's door. I follow her in. I can hear the rumble of a crowd, but only a few people are standing around in the hallway we've stepped into.
I put my hand on Ellie's shoulder. She shrugs it off. I grab her arm, spinning her around.
"You don't have a right to be angry at me," I snap. "You're the one who betrayed me. I should be angry at you."
"Then be angry and leave me alone," she says, struggling to get her arm out of my grasp. "I know more than you think I know, Jake. I know your secrets. Don't make me betray you again."
I grit my teeth together. "You think I came here because of you? You should know me better than that."
"That you're a self-obsessed bastard?"
"Exactly," I snap. "I've never done anything without an ulterior motive that directly benefits me. It has nothing to do with you. I was the gullible idiot before. Now I know better and…”
"Oh, my God, Jake Amberden!" a woman's voice squeals. I turn to see a woman in her late teens or early twenties with tawny hair, bangs nearly swaying in her eyes, and a thin body that almost makes her look like a young boy. Common sense makes me think she's walking toward me, but instead she grabs onto Ellie's arm. "Oh, my God. Ellie. This is so great. This is exactly what you've needed. Jake has all the right connections, and he's from here. He could launch your career. You'd help a hometown girl, wouldn't you, Mr. Amberden?"
"I don't even know who you are," I say.
"Jake, this is Natalie Leger. You two have actually already met."
"We have," Natalie gushes. "When you were a senior. I was just a freshman, and we were at Ellie's house. You were there with Andrew, of course, but you waved at me. I never expected you to become famous. I've tried to convince Ellie to contact you before, but she's always refused to do it. But now you're here!"
"Oh," I say. I recall it being a small point of contention that I didn't want Ellie telling any of her friends about our relationship, but I don't remember any of them.
"You'll help Ellie, won't you? She's such a great musician."
"I'm here to help the town," I say. "And I'm on a schedule. Some of my camera crew and my assistant are at a hotel in Denver. I need to get this done as quickly as possible."
"You're filming a movie here?"
I shake my head. "A music video. I just need to find the right band."
Natalie nearly jumps out of her shoes. "Ellie writes songs for this great alternative rock band. They're pretty well-known around here too— like they have concerts in Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, a couple in Nevada…they're great. You should check them out. They're called Body Satellite."
The name tugs at the edge of my memory. "Are they from Denver?"
"Yeah," Natalie says. "They would have started becoming popular right before you became famous."
I glance at Ellie. "What do you think?"
She shrugs. "The band is great. They'd love the exposure of working with you. I need to go. I left some soup simmering on the stove."
She pivots on her heel, walking away from me like she always does. Natalie smiles at me, bouncing on her heels.
"I just finished volunteering. Do you want to go get
some lunch together? I could help you get in touch with Body Satellite. I have all the guy's phone numbers. We're all good friends."
"Ellie is good friends with all them?" I ask. "I thought she wasn't into boy bands."
"Oh, they're not a boy band. They're amazing. They're… you just have to listen to them. Here, I have their songs on my phone."
She pulls out her phone. Her finger flicks over the screen a few times before music starts playing.
It's good. The drumbeat is more complex than most rock bands can accomplish, there are intricate guitar licks and riffs, and the vocal dynamics only ever edge the line of boring before switching it up. I can imagine three different music video concepts as the lyrics seep into my mind, but more than that, I can see Ellie writing them.
"It's better if you never come back/you're not a bird I set free/ you're a lion/and if you return/I know it's just to attack/well-intentioned lions are always on the hunt/always chasing the sun/It's better if you never come back."
I rub my hand over my right arm. The lion tattoo is the third one I ever got. The first time Ellie traced her finger over its teeth, I knew I had to have her. I just didn't know that she was a hunter too. I didn't realize she was a mistake.
And, honestly, it doesn't make me want her any less.
Ellie
I let the water from the shower head pour down on me like a baptism. As my hair gets wet, it becomes darker, looking more like blood curling around my neck and shoulders. I try to wash away my own thoughts, but all I can think about is open wounds and closure.
Maybe the reason Jake has always lingered in my thoughts is because I never slept with him, though I wanted to. He said I was too young at fifteen, though I knew a few of the other girls in my class had already lost their virginity. I tried to seduce him so many times, I began to doubt my own sexiness until the one time— a week before we broke up— that he ended up behind me, his cock brushing up against the lips of my pussy. I was certain he was going to make love to me, but he stopped himself, and it all fell apart the next morning.
But the tension between us is more than how much I want to feel his body pressed up against mine with our body heat rising together. There's built-up resentment. There are secrets. There's a history that's filled with battles and broken treaties.
When I get out of the shower, I wrap myself in one of Andrew's towels. I squeeze the water out of my hair. I'm not a masochist. I don't need to dwell on Jake's presence in Saffron. He'll be here for a week or so and rush back to Hollywood with his model lovers.
I open the bathroom door, the cold air rushing against my face and calves, and nearly walk straight into Jake.
"Merde!" I take a quick step back, the hot steam from the shower cradling my back.
"Did you just swear at me in French?" Jake asks. He looks at me without any apprehension or embarrassment, though he is very deliberately looking at my face.
"Well, you surprised me," I snap, tightening the towel around my chest. "Why are you here?"
"Your brother."
"Didn't you just see him? I didn't think you were wandering around with the police captain because you needed protection."
He lets out a small breath that could have been a laugh or could have been exasperation. "I meant I talked to your brother and he insisted that I stay at his house. I didn't know you were staying here too."
"Stay here? No."
"I already told him I would."
"Well, call him and tell you're a liar and that you're going to stay in a hotel."
"Ellie, I can't. The police here hate me. I need at least one of them on my side," he says. His eyes flicker down to wear my towel is drooping. I shift my hand up and his gaze shifts back to my face. "It's not a big deal. We're adults. Our relationship was a long time ago."
"It wasn't a relationship. We were just kids, pretending we were in a relationship."
"Then it shouldn't be a problem. I'm assuming you're sleeping in this guest room then. I'll take the couch."
All my mid-western hospitality tells me I should offer him the guest room, but I'd rather have the space where there's a door. I fold my arms tighter around me, waiting for Jake to walk away.
"There was a package on the front door for you," he says. "I left it on the kitchen counter."
"Thanks."
He takes a step closer to me. I should step back. I should be angry. He leans toward me, his dark eyes reflecting the light in the bathroom.
"If you need me, I'm gonna be smoking outside."
He moves away from me so quickly, it takes me a second to realize I'm not breathing. I retreat to the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
My brother is such a jerk. Even if he doesn't know my history with Jake, he should have asked me before inviting another person here. Maybe he thought it would make me feel safer to have another man around. Even if he did, he's still a jerk.
I open my suitcase. I haven't emptied it into the dresser yet because I don't want to get comfortable here. As soon as my stalker is caught and the Harringtons return, I'll be moving back into their basement.
Even my best plans sound terrible in my head.
I get dressed, covering up in a big sweater and jeans while remembering the feeling of Jake's hands on my hips, rough and capable, as we danced to some dumb pop song. When I step back out of my room, Jake is closing the front door as he steps back into the house. I ignore him, walking over to the package on the counter.
The package just has my name written on it.
It's about the size of a cake box. It's wrapped in brown paper, and a bow was created out of yellow crime scene tape. There's also an abundance of clear tape, securing the corners. The last note the stalker had given me, I had Andrew check for fingerprints. The only fingerprints were mine, so I don't think I could taint any evidence.
"You don't want to open it?" Jake asks. I jump at his voice. He looks at me, and I can feel him breaking down every emotion that has seeped out of my body. I glance away from him and back at the box.
"No."
He turns the box toward him, reading my name at the top. I keep my eyes on the empty space where the box had been.
"Does this have something to do with a zealous fan?" he asks.
"How do you know about that?" I ask, taking a step back. "Does this have something to do with you?"
"You think I'm stalking you?" he snorts. "You know I don't do subtlety. No, the captain and your brother had made a remark about it, but wouldn't say anything about it."
"Oh." There's a piece of tape that has lifted away from the box. It would be simple to open.
"Is this fan a real threat?"
"They're not a fan. They don't like me."
He picks up the box. Even this small movement is drunk with aggressiveness. I use to love that feeling of constant protectiveness. "I'll take it to Andrew. Don't worry about it."
"No…” I try to yank it out of his hands. He jerks it back out of my grasp, and I stumble forward. He drops the box to grab onto my arms, steadying me.
"Take a breath," he says. I inhale, his command running through me like a high. When I was fourteen and he was eighteen, it was so easy to put my faith into everything he said and believe that he'd lead me to a better place than here. It would be some easy to fall into that mentality again. It's a comfort I haven't felt in a long time.
I snatch the box back up and take two steps back. I turn away from him, setting the box on the dining room table and ripping away the paper. All it reveals is a cardboard box.
"Ellie," he says, but I'm tired of hearing what he has to say. I tear off the tape. The side flaps pop open. I get onto my toes, looking inside the box.
The box is nearly empty. All that's inside is a DVD. I take it out and show Jake.
"Tip of the Flame," he reads aloud. "Five Academy Award wins— Best Picture, Cinematography, Best Director, Best Original Score, and Best Original Screenplay. Nice."
"Yeah, nice," I say. "Great. It's also your most well-known fi
lm. How would my stalker know that you were here and that we have a history?"
"Considering how much this town talks, I'm sure everyone knows I'm here," he says. "It's also possible they knew about us. We were teenagers. We weren't the most subtle people in the world."
"My brother still has no idea."
"Your brother never sees anything, even when it's right in front of his eyes," he says. "And considering I wrote the screenplay, some people might think the film was based on my thoughts about you. It wasn't, but I could see how people would make that conclusion."
I cross my arms over my chest. I've never actually seen the film. I have a strict policy of ignoring anything that involves Jake Amberden, but it gives him too much power to let him know I'd avoid one of his films despite the fact that people were raving about it for a year.
"You should call your brother," he says.
"Why? No matter how blind he may be about our past relationship, I'm pretty certain telling him that a stalker has connected the two of us would make him a teeny, tiny little bit suspicious."
"You know, you used to just agree with whatever I said."
"If you wanted someone who agreed with whatever you said, you should have had a child."
He laughs. "It wasn't an insult. I like this side of you. I wish we had fought more when we were together. Sometimes, everything just felt one-sided."
I close my eyes, waiting for that yearning feeling to fade from my chest. It had been one-sided. I was a girl that had been madly in love. He could have convinced me that my mother and brother were Satanists that went around murdering people and I would have rushed to call the police.
"We should tell Andrew, Ellie."
"He'll kill you for dating his little sister."
He laughs again. "Well, considering he's a cop with a gun, at least it will be quick."
I smile, but the joke doesn't land as well when I know my stalker is watching both of us now. The joke doesn't land when the last note I received from the stalker was talking about death.
This is my life now: trying to tread so lightly while still crushing everything under my feet.