by Heidi Lowe
Even she couldn't give a name to what happened in 2007; or rather, she knew its name but refused to say it. I was surprised when she'd brought her up in passing, relaying the pot-smoking story to me.
“What was Nancy like?” My curiosity had gotten the better of me. In fact, I'd always been curious, but it wasn't exactly a subject I could have raised with my boss. “Here's your laundry. Oh, and by the way, what was your dead girlfriend like?” Asking Greta was the next best thing, as she and Nancy had been friends before she'd introduced her to Autumn as a possible contender for a bass player.
“Nancy was just Nancy.” Here she smiled, gazing off in reverie. “Our nickname for her was Scientist. Not because she was particularly good at science, just because she found a solution to every problem when we were running around losing our heads. She was so calm, so to the point. No bullshitting with her. And boy did she speak her mind.”
“She sounds the opposite of Autumn,” I said in disbelief.
“She was. And they fought like cat and dog. About everything!” She chuckled. “Couldn't agree on anything. If one said day the other said night. Autumn hated her when they first met. Used to do everything she could to provoke Nancy. Said she was stuck up and didn't have the right vibe to be in a rock band.”
“She actually said that?”
Greta nodded. “So imagine my surprise when she told me, three months later, that she was in love.”
“And then did the arguments stop?”
“God no! Well they were never really arguments, just disagreements. Never anything serious. They didn't break up and make up a few weeks later, nothing like that. They knew, in that lifetime at least, there was no one else for either of them.”
That lifetime. What did she mean? It all sounded so final. Was it just as I'd imagined, feared, that there would never be space in Autumn's heart to love again?
Greta must have seen the wistfulness show itself on my face, because she added, “But we're in a new lifetime now.”
“I think she knows she can't love anyone the way she did before, that's why she hasn't dated anyone since.”
“She thinks she can't, so she doesn't try. But it's when you're not trying that love comes and bites you in the ass.”
I knew that better than she may have thought. I hadn't been trying to fall in love with Autumn, but it happened.
She eased back into her seat, stared off out the window at the blue sky, then said, “You know, you remind me a lot of Nancy.” She added nothing more, didn't look at me, and put her headphones in for the rest of the short flight.
I didn't know what to make of that.
Everything that Greta had said played on my mind over the next few days as we jetted from city to city, to sold out stadiums and screaming, adoring fans vying for a piece of their favorite musicians. I thought about what she'd said and hadn't elaborated on, that I reminded her of Nancy. It troubled me more than it should have, because I didn't think I was anything like her. From the Youtube interviews I'd seen of her, we weren't similar. We shared the same hair color, but that was about it. If Autumn looked at me and saw what Greta did, no wonder she had never liked me. I didn't want her to look at me and see her dead girlfriend; I wanted what she'd done to me in the garage to be because of me, not because of anyone else. I wished I could have grilled her further, but the answers I sought could only come from Autumn. And after days of watching her pick up new women in every city, and be so flagrant with her promiscuity, I couldn't bare to look at her let alone delve into her subconscious. My heart had never ached as much as it did on that tour. I doubted that she even noticed. It was as if my heart was saying, You wanted to fall in love, and you wanted it to be real. Well, this is as real as it gets. Because the two things went hand in hand. If the possibility of heartbreak wasn't real, then the love wasn't. You had to be open to the pain if you ever hoped to find the cause of it.
“What are the women like in this state? Give me the low down,” the cause of my anguish said once we'd checked into the hotel in Helena, Montana, and arrived in her penthouse suite. I didn't know whether she was speaking to the porter, who'd brought up her bags, or me. Either way I found the question indecent, and pretended not to have heard. But once she'd tipped the porter, very generously, and he'd left, she said it again.
“I don't know,” I said tiredly. “Just like every other woman in every other state.”
“They don't all think like you, do they? Because then we'd all be screwed! Or not.” She laughed at her own filthy joke, and didn't notice the scathing look I shot her.
“Am I supposed to be keeping track of all the women you've entertained this past week? Because I've lost count.” I knew my comment was snarky, and bitchy, and all the things an assistant didn't have the right to be, but I said it anyway. The last thing I wanted was to listen to her talk about hooking up with other women. It was bad enough I had to witness it. I was lying, however, when I said I had lost count. Five, including the woman on the plane, the bitch who'd stolen my spot. Some things were hard to ignore.
“Entertained. I like that word.” The insult seemed lost on her. “Yeah, I'm an entertainer, in every sense of the word.” She climbed out of her clothes right in front of me, and reached for a bathrobe. She chuckled to herself. “Why would I ask you what the women are like here? You hadn't been touched before I stuck my hand down your panties.”
She didn't even turn around to see the blush she'd caused; she didn't need to. She must have known that it would come. Each moment in her company produced one, ranging from minor to severe, depending on what she'd said to me.
So she hadn't forgotten about it. Her behavior post encounter had, up until then, suggested otherwise.
“Why must you be so vulgar?” I grumbled.
“Because I know how uncomfortable it makes you. And I love making you uncomfortable. Watching you squirm. It's the highlight of my day.” Her robe was open when she spun around and drifted across the room to me, the nipples of her bare breasts conveniently covered by each side of the white fabric. Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for her vagina. It never got old seeing her naked, though it should have by now. She seemed to get more beautiful every time she shed her clothes.
Half of me prayed that there would be a repeat of what happened in the garage – the thing that had occupied every spare thought, and invaded those thoughts already occupied. Every time we were alone my inner slut prayed she would take me, then and there, no matter where we were.
But the other half of me, the frigid prude who reminded me that I would be out of my depth, shivered with fear. She would destroy me, leave my body in tatters, and send me to my parents' house violated. Even the thought of that, turning up deflowered, set my loins on fire; the burn was so intense I thought I would go up in flames!
“I can't remember ever making a woman as wet as I made you the other day, before I'd even touched you.” Her croaky laugh was low and sexy and cruel. “It makes me wonder if you walk around like that constantly, hot for your boss.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, suddenly furious. Before she'd forced her way into my panties I hadn't thought much about sleeping with her, but now, sure. I hated that I couldn't tell her this. “I'm not hot for my boss. It was a moment of weakness that I'll never let transpire again.”
She shook her head slowly, laughing, bright white teeth blinding. “Tut, tut, you know if you're lying I can always find out.” Just as before, she reached for the zipper of my pants. This time I drew away.
“You know this is sexual harassment, don't you?” I couldn't have sounded less submissive if I'd tried. Stopping her wasn't really what I wanted to do, but something I had to do, to hold on to what little dignity I had left.
“Not if the recipient wants it.”
Jess would have begged to differ. Her knowledge of employment law, I was certain, trumped Autumn's.
“This recipient doesn't want it.” Hopefully she believed that. “This recipient wants her first time to be special, not in an
impersonal setting like this, with a woman who only wants me to prove that she can have me.”
“Where are you going?” she said as I stormed to the door. “I didn't say you could leave yet.”
“I'm going home. You said I could have today and tomorrow off.” If she'd changed her mind, I didn't give her the chance to say so, I was already on the other side of the door by the time she opened her mouth to speak.
I jumped back into the hired car, where my suitcase still sat on the back seat, and took off towards Ferndale, simple, quiet Ferndale, where there were no sexy, damaged rock stars waiting to tempt me.
“You've lost weight!” was the first thing my mother said when I let myself into the house that afternoon. Then she threw her arms around me, the embrace lasting a long time, before she added, “Yes, you've definitely lost weight.”
I tutted. “I have not. You're just saying that because you're looking for something negative to say about San Francisco.”
“There are plenty of negative things to say about that place, honey. I wouldn't need to look very far.”
“Where's Dad?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Working on something in the shed. He's been out there since four this morning. Don't ask me what he's making this time. Whatever it is won't look anything like the thing it's supposed to be!”
I gave a genuine laugh. Home. The usual drama that had once bored me to tears I now looked on with fondness. Only once you had stepped away from something could you truly appreciate it. I'd missed them.
“Hungry?” my mother asked, taking my jacket from me.
“I could eat something, sure.”
“Leave that there,” she snapped, as I went to lift my suitcase upstairs. “Your father will take care of it.”
I smiled to myself as she ushered me into the kitchen and then sat me at the table while she whizzed about preparing something for me to eat and drink. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be waited on; I'd grown so accustomed to doing the waiting on. It was great to be home.
ELEVEN
It was just after seven in the evening when I got the phone call from Autumn. My father had been showing off his latest piece of craftsmanship, a two-man canoe that he'd cobbled together with the help of an instructional Youtube video.
“Sorry, Dad, I have to take this,” I said with a groan, watching Autumn's name lighting up the screen. “It's my boss.”
“I thought you had the weekend off.”
“So did I.”
I went into the garden. “What is it, Autumn?” The sigh I let out when I spoke was loud enough that she couldn't ignore it. But knowing her it would only please her to learn that she'd disturbed me.
“Where are you?”
“With my parents. You know this.”
“Well I need you to come and get me.”
“What? From where?”
“I'm at the hotel. I've been thrown out.”
I put a hand to my forehead. Was she for real? “What did you do?” What the hell did it matter? She'd broken a rule, and now it was Elle to the rescue, as usual.
She hesitated before saying, “I got caught smoking pot in my suite. How long will it take you to get back here?”
“It's a forty-five minute drive!” I protested. “And it's my day off.”
“I'm failing to see how any of this matters. So, I expect you here in forty-five minutes.” She rang off.
My fingers itched to hit the redial button, wait for her to answer, then scream down the line that I quit, and she could stuff her stupid job. But like the dutiful slave I was, I hopped into the hired car and set off towards Helena, cursing her all the way.
She was waiting in the hotel lobby with her panoply of luggage, looking pissed off, but surprisingly sober. She didn't say anything snarky when she saw me. The porter even helped load her bags into the trunk, which I found surprising, considering she'd just been thrown out.
“You've stayed in hundreds of hotels over the years. How did you think you would get away with something like this?” I started as we set off.
She eased into her seat, putting her feet on the dashboard. “I don't need a lecture.”
“I'm not giving you one, I just don't understand how this could have happened.”
“I got high smoking something illegal somewhere I shouldn't have. That's how.”
I glanced at her. “You don't look very high, or sound it for that matter.” Not that I'd had a lot to act as reference. She was her usual, rude, bad-tempered self.
“I guess I sobered up quite a bit waiting for you to get there. You said forty-five minutes.”
“There was traffic.” Lie. I'd purposefully taken the longer route to the hotel in order to be late. My victories didn't come often, so when they did I clutched them with both hands. “Where am I taking you?”
“I can't be bothered to go to another hotel. Checking in, all that jazz, don't have the patience for it.”
“So where do you want to go?”
“How about you take me back to your parents' place?”
I almost crashed the car!
“What? Why would you want to go there?” She would give them both heart attacks! I couldn't subject my innocent, God-fearing parents to her.
“To see where it all began, how you turned out the way you did.”
“That's not a good enough reason.”
“Are you ashamed of me?” She laughed. “Do you think I'll embarrass you in front of your folks?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Parents love me. I'll be on my best behavior. I promise.” She laughed again, extinguishing any faith I had in her words. “Or would you rather see me out on the street?”
Actually, yes, I wanted to repeat, but didn't. She would never end up on the street; not with her cash and looks. Some attractive woman would take her in long before the night was over. But I decided it was best not to leave my boss out on the street, fending for herself. There was a spare room; I was sure my parents wouldn't mind her staying the night, however unorthodox it was.
“Fine. But you ought to know that they're a little behind the times. All right? They're simple people who see the world through a very narrow lens.”
“In other words, they're like you? Got it.”
I glared at her, and braced myself for what I thought would be the longest, most harrowing twenty-four hours of my life.
“It's so nice to meet you. I've heard so many wonderful things about you,” were the first words Autumn exchanged when we stepped into the house. This was shortly followed by a huge hug, starting with my mother, then moving on to my father. Both of my parents wore the same astonished looks as me. They'd had less than pleasant things to say about her once I'd informed them that I had to collect her from her hotel, not telling them what her offense was, of course.
“Thank you so much for letting me stay here tonight. I know it was short notice. I am truly grateful.”
Who was this new, polite stranger, and what had she done with the old, mean Autumn Anders? Gratitude wasn't something she'd ever expressed, at least not with me. I kept waiting for her to burst out laughing, to drop the act, wondering how long she could keep this game up. But not only didn't the facade fade, she upped the ante. Within half an hour she was sitting in the living room with my parents, drinking some of my father's best cognac, and amusing and shocking them with stories of her wacky years in showbiz.
“You must have been all over. What were your favorite and least favorite places?” my father asked with rabid fascination, leaning forward eagerly, waiting on her every word. I was sitting beside Autumn, just watching on dubiously, trying to work out what was happening. She was making a liar out of me. I'd told my parents that she was Medusa, the cruelest woman on the planet, who didn't get along with anyone. This person before them was none of those things.
“Brazil, I felt like I was home when I got there. Welcomed with open arms. The people are lovely. And, surprisingly, my least favorite place was Norway. Beautiful scenery, but
the people are as cold as the weather. My father's family still live there.”
“Will you be doing a worldwide tour again soon?” This came from my mother.
“Possibly. Management handles all of that. We just turn up.”
“Did you hear that, Elle? If you're on your best behavior you might get to travel the world.”
I cringed hard. What was I, five years old?
I felt Autumn's hand on my thigh as she squeezed it, smiling at me. “Oh, you don't have to worry about that. She's always on her best behavior. I wouldn't go anywhere without her. I wouldn't even know what to do without her.”
For the second time that night, my mother and father and I all wore the same astonished stares.
“That has to be the strangest thing you've told us all evening,” my mother said with a little chuckle. Gee, thanks, Mom!
Her hand lingered a little while longer, and neither of my parents seemed to think anything of it, or even notice it for that matter. If they'd known what she'd done and said to me in the garage, they wouldn't have seen it as innocent.
“Elle's a wonderful assistant. Best I've ever had. Devoted, diligent, efficient, not afraid to get her hands dirty. You should both be very proud of her.”
A couple of minutes later, after she'd officially won my parents over by singing my praises, making me sound like the best thing since sliced bread, and prompting me to side-eye her until my eyes hurt, we had a little while alone while my parents disappeared to the kitchen.
“You shouldn't toy with them like that,” I said, feeling slightly ridiculed knowing that she couldn't have meant any of the bull-crap she was spewing.
She grinned. “Whatever do you mean?”