by Grey, Parker
I wonder for a second which car is mine — there are two cars sitting at the curb. They both have drivers behind the wheel.
I check my phone, check the license plate and make sure I’m getting into the right car.
What’s that other driver doing here?
Why is he sitting in a parked car, and why do I feel like he’s watching me?
By the time we reach the grocery store I’ve forgotten all about that. The grocery store is fancy, of course, just like everything else in this neighborhood. Wide aisles, big displays of cheese.
I don’t even bother looking at the price on a small block of cheddar, because I know it will be more than I spend on most meals. Walking by the fish counter, I see trout on display, and I flash back to Nolan cooking river trout in his white t-shirt. This frozen fish filet would never compare to that, so I don’t even consider buying it.
I’m not sure I can make a meal like that one, and I think it’s best that I don’t even try. But if I know my weaknesses in the kitchen, I also know my strengths.
Steak and eggs. I can cook the fuck out of steak and eggs, and toast with salted butter. Especially when Nolan walks in the door after working long hours and smells that on the stove.
Couldn’t be a better surprise.
I grin wickedly to myself and pick up some fancy butter.
Well, maybe there could be.
Chapter Eighteen
Nolan
“I’m sorry, there’s no one on the visitor list,” the guard at the gate tells me.
I can’t see the mansions from here, but I know they’re there, behind the guard shack, behind the fence, behind the hedges. This is a neighborhood not just for the rich, but for the famous. For the people who need guards just to keep the paparazzi away from their windows and trash cans.
So I give the guard a smile.
“You didn’t even ask my name.”
“Does it matter?” the guard asks. “There are no names on the list. No visitors today.”
I just wait.
“Why?” The guard slowly starts to realize what I mean. “What’s your name?”
I hand him my driver’s license.
“Nolan Maddox,” he reads.
Then he hands me my license back and hits the button, opening the gate.
“Thank you very much,” I say before driving through.
When I round the corner and drive onto Thorne Beckett’s estate, I see the man himself settling into a chair on his porch, looking for all the world like a small town gentleman.
Of course, I know that the house behind him is far bigger and more expensive than it looks at first, and that the estate we’re on is worth tens of millions. And I know that his trademark gray wings of hair are carefully maintained, and that if he let it, his whole scalp would be white, at least the parts that weren’t bald. But even knowing that, I enjoy the happy sight of a friendly man waiting out on a porch for me.
“Is that a joint?”
“This?” Thorne takes a puff. “Want a hit, mate?”
I shake my head. “Isn’t it a little early in the day?”
“How else am I supposed to cure this hangover? Besides, you’re lucky I’m awake right now. I usually don’t get up before noon.”
I walk into his house and find the kitchen. He’s got an espresso maker, a real one, so I make myself a double, and bring it out to join him on the porch.
Me with my coffee, him with his joint, it should be a very pleasant morning, but I can’t enjoy it at all. I recount everything that happened with Marwin, and when I get to Emma, waiting at home for me, I can’t stop the worry from entering my voice.
Thorne puts out the smoldering joint and carefully sets it aside.
“He’s a hard one, Marwin. He didn’t get where he is by making rational decisions. He was born into money and power, and he’s held onto it by being cruel to anyone who threatens him.”
“We can stop him, can’t we? He doesn’t have that kind of power. To blacklist her like that.”
“I don’t know, mate.” Thorne smiles sadly. “I’ve seen it happen before.”
“I’m going to try. I may not have my name above the studio gate, but I’m going to put out some pressure of my own. I have to try.”
Thorne looks out at the trees.
“What if you can’t?”
I swallow hard, following his gaze.
“If being with Emma means killing her passion… I can’t,” I say simply. “I can’t do that to her. I’d rather she be happy without me, even if it makes me miserable.”
Thorne’s still not looking at me as he speaks.
“What will you tell her?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He sighs.
“If she knows that you’re leaving her so that she can be happy…”
“She won’t accept that,” I finish his sentence. “She couldn’t enjoy her life knowing that I had to give her up so she could have it.”
“That’s right,” Thorne says. “If you can’t stop Marwin, you have to make her forget you. You can’t tell her. You can’t even talk to her. If you do, you’re just gambling with her happiness.”
Now I kind of wish I had taken a hit of that joint after all, though deep down I know that it wouldn’t make the pain any better.
“Fine. If that’s what it takes to ensure Emma’s happiness, I’ll do it. I’ll cut her off, and I won’t see her until this is done, one way or another.”
Chapter Nineteen
Emma
The grocery bags are digging into my fingers and cutting off my circulation. I’m carrying too many, and it’s longer than I realized to walk from the curb where the car dropped me off to Nolan’s front door.
I’m already struggling to carry the bags as I walk the path from the curb to Nolan’s gate. To get past that, I need to ring the bell, and that’s not so easy right now.
Should I put the grocery bags down? Hell no. Got to keep the momentum going.
I pull my hand up to the buzzer, and even that motion makes the weight of the bags cut into my fingers even deeper.
Buzz.
So it’s one of these doorbells. Not even a doorbell really. I can hear it ringing his phone in the distance. And that’s a camera next to the button, maybe he’s watching me right now.
Buzz.
Still ringing. Hurry up, Nolan, I’ve got to get this food inside.
Buzz buzz.
I know you’re not still working. You can’t still be at the office, even you have to rest sometimes.
Buzz buzzzzz.
Maybe he’s asleep.
Buzz.
Or maybe— Before I can finish my thought the buzzer clicks and the call ends. The weight of the bags is too much, I drop them down next to me.
One of them spills to the side and a lemon rolls out into the gutter.
“Dammit!” I say out loud.
My hands are killing me. I flex them, try to get the blood flowing to my fingers again. I shake them out, and once feeling has returned I hit the button again.
It buzzes and buzzes, but Nolan doesn’t answer.
Can he still be working? That seems crazy.
I haven’t thought through my plan very well. I’m locked outside with raw beef and eggs under a sweltering sun.
I call Nolan, text him again. Nothing. Our text chain has grown awfully one-sided.
Looking at message after unanswered message, all clustered on the right side of my screen, I feel my cheeks flushing and suddenly I’m overcome with embarrassment. I deeply, deeply hope that no one can see me.
Even though I’m standing on a sidewalk with tall hedges and private, recessed mansions barely visible behind big gates, I look around, checking to see if there is anyone watching.
When I glance at the dark car parked on the street, I jump. There’s a man sitting behind the wheel. Has he been there all along?
Red-faced, I push the button again, but before it even begins to buzz I know the truth. It’s time for m
e to go. I pull out my phone to call a car, but I think of something I haven’t considered in a while. My bank account. It was low to begin with, and now, after a few paid rides and too much food from a store that was too expensive, it must be very, very low.
And I don’t live all that close to here.
The truth hits me like a ton of bricks.
I can’t afford a ride home.
Jen could come get me. It’s a long drive for her, and that’s a big favor to ask, but she would do it if I told her I needed it. But it’s not fast enough.
I need to get out of here, now. I can’t hang around this street, looking at this locked gate, looking at my phone with its dwindling battery and no notifications, for another minute.
Time to start walking. But the damn groceries, I could barely carry them from the curb to the gate. They cost a lot of money, more than I ever spent on a single trip to the store.
Nothing I can do about it now, though. That’s in the past.
They’re not the only thing stuck in the past, are they? Just memories, no reason to believe they’re coming back.
I leave the groceries there, half-spilled out into the gutter, and walk away as fast as I can.
Chapter Twenty
Nolan
“You can have a seat over there, and I’ll let you know when Ms. Barturo is ready to see you.”
It’s been a long time since I sat in an office waiting area. I settle onto the couch that’s too low with my knees pushed up too high, trying not to look at the receptionist across the carpet. She’s trying to look like she’s working and not reading the book resting open on her desk.
Go ahead, read away. You pretend that you’re working, and your boss will pretend that she doesn’t notice.
It’s the lifelong agreement between receptionists and bosses that allows the world to run.
The receptionist was nice to me. It’s the other men on the couch around me who give me the evil eye. They’re dressed up, wearing suits that are somehow both formal and silly, with patterns a little louder than I’d wear and colors a little brighter.
Models, here to audition for Arina Barturo, the biggest talent agent.
One by one, I watch them get up and strut into her office. At last, Arina herself comes out.
“Anyone else?” Arina asks the woman behind the desk.
“Just one more.”
Arina looks at me and does a double take.
“Nolan?” She turns to her receptionist. “Why didn’t you tell me Nolan Maddox was here. How long have you kept him waiting?”
The poor woman looks flustered.
“What do you mean? I didn’t realize he was—”
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “Besides, I’m not as busy as I used to be. My time isn’t so important these days.”
It’s true. Though it feels weird, I haven’t checked my email in hours. No more job, no more work emails coming in. Plenty of messages have been buzzing against my leg, but I’ve been afraid to check them. I know that some of them will be from Emma and I’m not sure I can stand to know what they say.
Arina smiles at me.
“I heard something about that. Come on in, let’s discuss.”
I follow her into her office and settle into the chair. She’s got pictures of her family up, husband, two children. I look at them in mid-air, jumping off a dock into a lake. Before I met Emma, I thought that future was open to me, but I didn’t want it.
Now that I’ve lost her, that future is something I’ll always want and never have.
“So you’re looking for a job?” Arina asks me.
I smile. “That’s right, I suppose I am. But not for me. I came to recommend a photographer. Emma Frankel.”
Arina frowns and turns her eyes away from me. “I think you know you’re putting me in a bad position.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say. “You’re going to side with Marwin over me?”
“I’m not siding with him,” she says. “I’m doing what’s best for us. If I hire your girl—”
“She’s not my girl,” I interrupt.
“If I hire her, that means that Marwin won’t cast any of my clients. I have to do what’s best for my clients.” She smiles. “Look, he’s up and you’re down. As long as that’s the case, there’s nothing we can do about it.”
I want to get mad, but I can’t blame Arina. She’s just trying to do what’s best, just like me.
The blame lies with one person, a person willing to hobble his entire studio to boost his feelings. It’s hard to beat a man who wants to lose.
But for the first time, I think a see a bit of light at the end of the tunnel.
Arina looks at me, surprised.
“Are you smiling? You’re taking this better than I thought you would.”
“Listen, what you just told me, would you be willing to tell other people that?”
“What do you have in mind?” She looks at me suspiciously.
I don’t have the time or patience to explain it to her. I just need to get to the airport. “I need to get to New York,” I say out loud.
“What’s in New York?” she asks.
I’m already jumping out of my chair, straightening my coat.
“Money. I’ve got to go right now.” I head out of her office, startling the receptionist, who was engrossed in her book.
“You’ll hear from me!” I shout on my way out the door.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emma
It’s been two days since Nolan ghosted me, and every day Jen says the same thing to me. She’s saying it right now.
“Come on,” Jen says. “Let’s go outside. Let’s go hiking.”
“No,” I answer. I look at her sideways. I have to look at her sideways, because I’m lying down on her couch, where I’ve been for the last fourteen hours.
Then Jen asks me something she never asked me before. “Why?”
“I can’t,” I explain her. “I can’t just go hiking. I’m not prepared.”
“What do you mean?” she asks. “Anyone can go hiking.”
“You have to go to a hiking trail to go hiking,” I say. “I can’t do that.”
“We’re going,” she says. “Come on.” She yanks on my arm, pulling me up right until I’m sitting up. “There are trails all over the place. I’m sure we could figure it out. Come on. Put your shoes on. Let’s go.”
After more of this prodding and yammering, Jen eventually pulls me into a pair of boots and railroads me into her car. We drive up into some hilly neighborhood of Altadena and get lost, which is fine with me, since I can just lean my head against the car window and not talk, while Jen curses at the maps on her phone.
“There’s no signal in the hills,” she’s muttering.
I don’t even bother to answer her. It’s been two days. At first I felt nothing, or at least I pretended to. At least until I reached Jen’s house, and tried to tell her what happened. Then I cried as the loss of Nolan hit me. And now, on top of the aching and the worry, I can’t stop thinking about how stupid I must have been.
Stupid to think that he ever actually liked me. Stupid to think that this was anything but an exercise, a warm-up run, for Nolan.
Stupid to think that he would want to be with me. Stupid to think that we would move in together, that we would mix our lives together.
So, so stupid.
“Here we are,” Jen says. She pulls me out of the car.
“Why are we here? Don’t you know that everyone hates hiking? Even the people who like hiking hate hiking. Look at them.”
I point to the exhausted hikers coming down the trail towards us, shiny with sweat in their fancy hiking clothes.
“Don’t point at them.” Jen pushes my hand down.
We drag ourselves up the trail, which is all uphill, which is another reason I don’t like hiking.
Okay, that’s enough bitching for one morning.
I try to notice something positive. It’s not raining. There are views of the hi
lls.
Nope, not helping.
On another day, I might have actually found a way to enjoy this, but today I only want to be… I don’t know where. Nowhere, I guess.
We hike forever, and my legs feel like they’re made of jelly. Heavy jelly. But when I turn around, I have to admit that the view looking out over the houses of Altadena towards downtown Los Angeles is very pretty.
“I still don’t like hiking,” I tell Jen. “But this is kind of nice. I can almost see why people think it’s worth it.”
“See?” Jen needles me.
We look out at the view while I catch my breath.
“All right,” I say. “Let’s head back.”
“Back?” Jen asks. “We haven’t even gone a mile yet. We’re not even at the top of the first hill. We’re just stopped in the middle of the trail.”
“A mile?” I ask. “You want me to hike a whole mile?”
I push past her and head back down the trail on my own. Jen rushes after me.
“Come on,” she says. “You can’t just watch TV all day. The sooner you get out and start doing things, the sooner you’ll feel better.”
“Who says I want to feel better?” I shout. “Maybe I want to feel bad right now. Maybe I’m supposed to.”
I march down and Jen just follows behind me. It’s a lot faster going downhill. Before too long I see the road, and is that the car? I guess we really didn’t go that far.
“Look,” I said. “Thanks for trying to help. But I can’t rush this. I can’t just go outside in the sun and forget what happened. Nolan’s gone, and I’d like to distract myself, but all of my job prospects disappeared too, and I have nowhere to go. So maybe I’m just going to feel bad, and there’s nothing I can do about it, so I might as well just get to it.”
Jen bounces next to me as we leave the trail and step onto the road. “Well, that’s not fair. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just because you dated an asshole, you shouldn’t have to suffer.”