by Carrie Lomax
“You’re no fun anymore.” Penny clutched her walker and paused “Where are we going?”
“Outside.”
“Right.”
The early summer day was warm. The lawn backed up to a forested area. A concrete pathway wound between the tress.
“C’mon, Pen, let’s walk. Get you some exercise.” Bob had followed them out, carrying a lightweight fuzzy jacket.
They ambled beneath the silver-barked trees, Penny setting the pace. A pink child’s scooter lay on the ground, forgotten.
“Bob’s daughter’s.” Trent moved it aside so Penny could pass easily.
“Is he her caretaker?” Janelle asked as Bob hovered at Penny’s side.
“Yes and no. They started seeing one another a while ago, and he’s taken on a lot of that role. Turns out he was one of her biggest fans, back in the day. Even with the brain injury, she’s a dream come true for him. I was skeptical at first, but he’s all right.”
Janelle hung back to observe Trent talking with Penny. He was affectionate and considerate, but mostly she noticed his relaxed movements. He was open with Penny in a way he’d never been with her, unless their bodies were entangled. Janelle sucked in a lungful of cool spring air.
When they’d completed a circuit of the path that curved around a small pond, they finished their drinks. Penny offered food, but Trent caught her eye and jerked his head toward the door.
“I have a lot of work to do; we should get going.” Janelle squeezed Penny’s hand and stepped back.
Trent leaned in and kissed Penny on the cheek, whispering. Penny lost focus for a minute. “You take care of the new girl here. She’s pretty.”
Janelle smiled tightly and pulled the collar of her spring jacket closed around her neck. It would smell of cigarettes, and she couldn’t wait to take a shower and wash her hair. Yet she’d liked Penny. Even in her diminished state, it wasn’t difficult to see the liveliness that had made her so much fun on camera.
It was Trent who worried her. Watching them together had opened up a pit of devastation in her stomach she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t her jealous streak kicking in. It was worse. All she knew was that the crater was expanding, swallowing her heart with every step.
* * *
“Penny’s pretty messed up.” Janelle didn’t speak until they were back on the highway. Trent hated her stillness. It meant her clever mind was spinning, and when that happened, Janie got ahead of herself. He imagined she’d looked just like this when she’d planned her surprise rental across the hall.
“Yeah. She’ll never recover.” Now Janie would understand why what they had was temporary. He couldn’t lose someone he cared about as much as he’d loved Penny. Not again.
“Especially if she keeps smoking like that.” Janelle stared idly out the window.
“Don’t fucking joke about it, Janie. It’s her only vice now.” How could she make light of it? He’d tried to get Penny to quit cigarettes with about the same success he’d had convincing her to stop making porn movies. Or heroin.
“That and Bob.” She smiled.
“He’s a good guy.” Trent’s tone was gruffer than he meant it to be. He hated the way Janie’s offhand comment cut, though he knew she didn’t mean anything by it.
“I don’t doubt it. She’ll need care for life; I hope they can stay together.” She was quiet a moment before continuing, and Trent had the sense that Janelle was testing him. “I set up two appointments to look at apartments tomorrow afternoon.”
“Cancel them.”
Janelle’s body tensed as if he’d slapped her. “Why?”
“It was great, but I never meant things to go on this long. It would’ve been better to make—”
“—a clean break,” Janelle finished bitterly. “Saw that one coming.”
“Yeah. I can’t let what happened to Penny happen to you.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. First, I don’t plan to take up heroin. Secondly, you’re not in control. Everyone gets hurt. Penny went on a wilder ride than most people, but she seems happy, all things considered.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Janelle startled at his harsh tone. The tip of her tongue appeared between her lips. A bolt of white-hot desire nearly made Trent lose control of the car. How could he want her so badly when she was so blasé about his life?
“Penny’s well cared for, and Bob seems like a good man. It doesn’t sound as if she regrets anything she’s done, except the drugs and releasing the video without your consent. You’re the one who can’t let go.”
“Because I’m the one who has to live in the real world.” Trent swallowed. “Fucking hell, Janie. If I had the option of living in the sticks with everything paid for and a nice little family, you think I wouldn’t take it?”
She was silent for a beat. “No, Trent. You wouldn’t.”
“Really.” The speedometer hit ninety. Trent eased his foot off the accelerator, though he wanted to smash his foot down on the pedal.
“You’re too ambitious. You’d never be happy with the sweet little wife and family living a quiet life in obscurity. You’re always aiming higher.”
“The hell I am.”
“It’s not a criticism, Trent. You’ve accomplished so much.”
Trent snorted. “Yeah, fucking on tape is an awesome credential.”
Janie stayed silent, for once. No teasing, no sass, no smart comeback. “Nobody cares about the tape. It’s history.”
A mile ticked by, then another. “Penny might be the one with the walker, but you’re the one who’s broken.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“You are the most emotionally damaged person I’ve ever met. If you want to wallow in misery over your mistakes, have at it. I won’t play along anymore. Penny’s made her peace. She’s moved on. But you’re still stuck in the past, and I don’t want to be stuck there with you. I lo—I care about you, but it’s not enough to fix what’s broken in you.”
More miles ticked by. A semi-truck pulled in front of him and Trent was forced to hit the brakes. Traffic slowed to a halt. Trent’s blood pressure spiked so high he didn’t need a cuff to know it was through the roof. “It’s not your job to fix me.”
“Someone needs to, Mace.”
They each stared straight ahead, blindly focused on the river of red brake lights stretching into the distance. Janelle side-eyed him, a fact Trent only caught because he was doing the same. As if they were enemy combatants peering over walls.
After ten miles of stop-and go traffic and thick, sullen silence, Janelle screwed up her courage to strafe him with words. “You still love Penny.”
“You’re only figuring that out now?” Trent returned fire. He didn’t. He loved what she’d been, what they’d been. What they could never be again. His affection for Penny was as bittersweet and faded as a vintage photograph.
“Then why did you move in with me?” Janelle demanded, fighting a useless battle to control her wail. “Why lead me on?”
“You knew I wanted to end it.” The words came out in a menacing growl. He’d known this moment would come. He’d braced for it. He’d planned for it. This wasn’t supposed to feel so raw.
“You’re the one who called me here to help you with the New York pitch.” Janelle punched at buttons on the dashboard in a futile effort to blast more air conditioning into the car. Between the traffic, the sun beating directly down and the anger simmering between them, the car interior was stubbornly stuck at eighty degrees. “You’re also the one who initiated sex. I was trying very hard to leave you alone until you suggested we give Hannah and Sean a run for their money.”
“It was a hypothetical statement, Janie. Not an invitation. You’re the one who pounced on me.”
“Oh. So, I’m the one responsible, is that it?” Janelle’s face was tinged red under her tan, and it wasn’t from the heat.
“Any man with a pulse would’ve taken you up on sex. You started it i
n Las Vegas, and you did it again when I asked you to help on the pitch. I wasn’t planning to sleep with you.” Trent spotted an opening and gunned the engine, yanking the car into a narrow space. The driver he’d just cut off laid a fist on the horn. Two minutes later, the car he’d been in front of passed by. So much for shortcuts.
Across the center console, Janelle stared out the window at the river of cars. Her jawline was set hard. Trent thought he saw her chin tremble, though it might’ve been the vibrations from the car.
“You’re saying I forced you into dating me.” Her tone was flat and barely audible.
“I’m saying you’re the one who wanted this. You’re the one who moved in across the hall. How would you have reacted if I’d moved across the street from your parents?” His throat was tight and his palms slick on the steering wheel.
“I’d have brought you food and introduced you to the neighborhood, like any normal human being,” Janelle replied. “All you did was slam the door in my face.”
“Yeah. Because no matter how you’ve been building this up in your head, I never said I wanted more than a few nights in Las Vegas. You just showed up and refused to take no for an answer.”
“That is not fair.” Righteous indignation undergirded Janelle’s tone. Good. Angry was better than tears—although sometimes you got both when you pushed hard enough. Angry tears were the worst. Penny had always zoomed right past yelling to screaming and crying, and this conversation had him flashing back to the awful, drug-fueled fights that had been the flipside to their tumultuous relationship. When things were going well, they’d been better than any high. But with Penny, the good times had never lasted.
Janelle must be calling on every resource she possessed to keep her temper under control, despite his deliberate prodding of all her most vulnerable places.
Jesus. He wasn’t twenty anymore. He couldn’t fight like this. Despair crept over Trent. Even if what he said was true, it wasn’t the entire truth. He hadn’t fought that hard to keep her out of his life, because he’d wanted her in it. He just didn’t want this. Arguing over who and what they were.
Janelle choked back a sob. “I wouldn’t have slept with you in Las Vegas if you hadn’t made me rethink my experiences and try new ones. I also never asked you to move in. You dragged in the mattress like a…like a troglodyte claiming a new cave.”
Penny never used fancy words for caveman. Up to this point, Trent had been hearing an echo of this fight in his head. Arguments about who did or didn’t do or say what, when. Fights about who they were. As individuals. Together.
You said you’d give up making films, Penny.
It’s my job. You knew that when we got together. You said you loved me anyway. Being able to see me, not my work, is what made you special.
You said you’d quit when you made enough money. So, quit. We’ll go live somewhere quiet. We have enough for a house in the suburbs. We can have kids, travel.
Trent, baby, I don’t want to quit acting.
Penny. It’s not acting. It’s fucking other men on camera for money, and if it doesn’t stop, I’ll leave.
She’d forced him to make good on his ultimatum, but the temporary separation had been worse than he or Penny could bear. She’d adopted heroin as a substitute for him. Trent had doubled down on poker and cocaine. They’d been as dysfunctional lovers as Sid and Nancy, or as Heathcliff and Catherine. But instead of dying tragically, he and Penny had lingered on into maturity and adulthood, long enough to regret their mistakes and make new ones. As he was doing now.
Trent slammed on the brakes. Instinctively, he flung out his right arm to keep Janelle from hitting the dashboard, his forearm connecting solidly with her chest.
She slapped the back of his hand. “Those are off limits during arguments.”
Trent couldn’t sort out where he’d gone wrong. There were so many choices. His emotions were too raw, too Technicolor bright, blinding him. He’d been wrong to get involved with her from the start, not that he’d let it stop him. But the real travesty had been in letting her believe that there was hope for them. For him. Janelle had pried and dusted off his crusted-on armor, letting light in through the chinks and cracks. It had been nice to believe, for a little while, that he could have what he wanted: a normal life.
In that moment, he knew how to end things for good. To prove to Janelle that he didn’t care, that she couldn’t hurt him. Trent had protected her for long enough. This time, he had to protect himself.
“What makes you think I’d want to touch you again?” he asked softly, detached. The traffic jam began to clear. His heartbeat slowed in his chest. Trent could feel his blood pressure falling so rapidly, he was on the edge of passing out.
“Which is it, Trent? Am I a siren you can’t resist, or a disgusting blob you’re trying to scrape off the bottom of your shoe?” Janelle’s voice shook. He’d never heard her break like this. Not even with the Rich Jerk. Disconnected, shut down, Trent could sympathize with her. He was being a monumental asshole. It was for the best, though. She’d ignored his warnings. This wasn’t a clean break, but it was final. He’d take it.
“You kept telling me how you were a nice girl, Janelle. Remember? A good girl. I can’t tell you how appealing that was, after the shit I went through with Penny. But now I know better. You’re not a good girl. You’re not nice at all. You like dirty sex, the rougher the better. And you say I’m ambitious? Who’s the one who started a brand-new consulting firm that’s taking off like a rocket?”
“We’ve both been successful out of the gate, with a lot of help from Olivia. Your company’s barely a year old.” Cold fury made Janelle’s voice sharp as an ice pick, but Trent heard the glacial, subsonic crack of pain underneath.
Pity. It was the first emotion he’d felt for her, and now the last. Fitting. “Janie. When I start dating seriously, it’s going to be a girl who’s everything you said you were but aren’t. She’ll be nice, and sweet, and any kids will take priority over her job. Always.”
Janelle was silent. Still. Trent finally glanced over when she sniffed wetly and bent forward to rummage through her handbag. Tears streamed down her face, wide rivers polluted with mascara.
“I hope you’re as happy with her as I was with Ben,” she replied softly, never glancing at him. “I would never have asked you to give up Penny. I know you never will. But I won’t be your third wheel.”
Trent pulled the car into the garage. Janelle slammed out of the car and was gone. He sat there, drained but amped for a screaming match, frozen with paralyzed shock as he tried to understand what he’d just done, and why. Janelle never looked back.
17
Four days later, desperation was getting to him. Trent had slept in his apartment the night of their fight, returning to the studio only long enough to pack for his overnight trip to New York when he’d heard her leave and lock the door. He’d been too pissed off to see straight, tossing his clothes into a box and hauling them across the hall.
When he’d arrived home on Monday evening, Janelle had disappeared from the studio, leaving only his bed in the middle of the empty room. A few pathetic paper dishes and plastic cups were all that remained in the cabinets.
Everything was disposable. He’d been disposed of, as he rightly deserved. She hadn’t left a note, just disappeared from his life as quietly as she’d come.
He’d swallowed past the hollow place in his chest. Trent couldn’t ignore how badly he missed her. Nor could he stop mulling over what he’d done—not only in the car last weekend, but ever since Janie had showed up on his doorstep with an open invitation to a future he claimed to want, but been afraid to reach for.
“Do you have any idea where she is?” Trent forced his body into stillness. The trendy bar around them buzzed with activity. Earlier, he’d had a meeting with a client in the city. Olivia had been there for a pitch, and to have lunch with Stella. Trent had asked her to meet for a drink because she was the one person who might know Janie’s whereabouts. He
’d tried calling her parents, but they hadn’t called him back. Presumably, Janelle had told them it was over. An amber Scotch sat untouched before him, his stomach unwilling to accept it.
Olivia sat back and popped an olive into her mouth. “Yes. Why should I tell you, though?”
“I need to see Janelle.” Trent ran his fingers through his hair. He was pretty sure it stood up every which direction.
“Why? So she can tell you off like you so righteously deserve?” Trent toyed with his drink. Olivia softened. “How in the world did you screw it up so badly? That girl adores you. Or did until last weekend.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“From what?”
“From me.” Two words, cut jaggedly from his core.
“You mean the sex video? Nobody cares. They’re practically a rite of passage.”
“Where’s yours, then?” he shot back. He hated how other people dismissed the impact of that damn video on his life.
Olivia pursed her lips. “Are you crazy? Me? No way. But come on, Trent, you’re a guy, you were famous, and you dated a porn star. Anything less than a video and everyone would be wondering if there’s something wrong with your dick.”
“This isn’t the conversation I wanted to have with you.”
“Likewise.” Olivia regarded him with warm, dark eyes. “Seriously, Trent. Janie’s beautiful, and she’s crazy about you. How’d you mess that up?”
Trent’s body was nothing but a seething mass of regret. Self-sabotage was a bitch. He’d done it by burning every bridge he could find after his parents died. He’d done it again when he enlisted, hoping to get himself killed because he didn’t quite dare to do the job himself. Pushing Janelle away was the only way to destroy the joy and light she’d brought into his life. Another way of killing himself.
“Same way I always do.” Silence stretched between them.
“Trent.” Olivia’s hand closed over his, a bond of friendship and trust. “It’s worth the risk. Yes, you might get hurt. But you’re hurting now. You haven’t protected anyone. Not Janie, and not yourself either.”