by S. E. Lund
I frowned, wondering what came up that would require him to go out of town. Was it David? Had something happened to him and Josh needed to go to look after him?
ELLA: Is everything all right? Is it David?
Josh didn't reply, and I wondered if that was the reason -- had he flown back to California and was unable to respond.
I was saddened that I didn't get a chance to text with him before I went to bed, but I was tired.
ELLA: I'm going to bed, but I'll text you first thing in the morning. I hope everything is okay. Let me know. XOXOXO
I put my cell away and cursed myself that I didn't check sooner.
I lay awake for a while, my mind going to all the possible issues that might take him out of town. Was it the paper? Was it David?
I hoped that when I woke up, I'd have an answer.
14
Josh
The phone call came early in the morning.
It was from the police department in Millbrook. I knew right away what that meant -- it was Penny and she was probably in jail and needed me to bail her out.
"Hello, Penny," I said, unable to keep the disapproval out of my voice. "I take it you're in jail and want me to pay for your bail."
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking with emotion. "Yes, I was arrested with some dope on me and they took me in."
"I'll make arrangements," I said, exhaling heavily. "But only if you agree that you need help."
"I need help," she said, sobbing. "I need help, okay?"
"Will you go into rehab if I pay for it?"
There was a pause. I knew it was of no use to go into rehab if you weren't ready and willing to accept help, but perhaps Penny was there, now."
"Yes," she said finally, her voice soft. "I will. I'm sick of this. Anything has to be better than this."
"Okay," I said. "I'll fly there, bail you out and I'll get you a place at this rehab facility in California. All the big stars use it and their program has been really successful."
"Thank you," she said, and I heard her sniffing. "Why are you doing this?"
I paused, having to think about why. It wasn't that I felt anything for her. I never had, but I could do something to help her. I could help her get sober and maybe start over. For Grant.
"Because I can. I'll see you later today."
As I dialed the rehab facility, I thought about why I was really doing it.
There was a residual bit of guilt I felt about being so cavalier about her back when we were fucking. I had never taken her seriously, for I made it clear to her that I wasn't in the market for a girlfriend and she had said she felt completely the same. She was focused on her future, getting a degree and a job, not marriage or children.
At the time, I felt no guilt about having casual sex with her whenever I came to Montgomery with Grant on leave. We kept the relationship, such as it was, secret, because she didn't want Grant to know. I thought it was no big deal. We used each other so it was mutual.
I had no idea she was hoping it would turn into more because she never once gave me the idea that she wanted anything more.
When I met Christie the following year and fell in love, I stopped going to Montgomery as often and when I did, I made it clear I was now seeing someone seriously and couldn't sleep with her.
I thought that was that. End of story.
Obviously, Penny didn't feel the same way. I didn't know if her downward slide started at that point or if she was struggling with addiction when we were together, but whatever the case, she'd fallen far since I had last seen her.
Luckily, the facility had a bed and could take Penny in that night, if I showed up with her. I made arrangements to fly from Montgomery to California and rented a car, so I could drive her to the facility.
My money was good for something.
I packed a small overnight bag and sent Ella a text to let her know I'd be taking a trip out of state and wouldn't be back until Tuesday.
I'd stay with David for a few days while I was in California and then I'd fly home, taking the red-eye flight on Monday. I would arrive back home on Tuesday morning.
Then Reg drove me to JFK to catch my flight, having just enough time to get there. I’d chartered a private jet to take me to Millbrook and then to California because of scheduling. It was just easier and the timing was better that way.
When I arrived in Millbrook about four in the afternoon, Penny was much more sober and in a very bad mood. Of course, she was hurting, and sick from withdrawal. She looked a total mess, her hair greasy, and her clothes wrinkled from having slept in cells. I paid her bail and she signed out of the jail and came out to the rental car with me.
"Now what?" she said sourly. "You gonna save me from myself?"
"You have to save yourself, Penny. I'm just offering you a place to go."
She nodded, and I hoped she understood. "I'm sick. I need something to take off the edge or I'll be throwing up on the plane."
She had to fly to California, so I had to get her manageable. I didn't approve of her doing her drugs, but she couldn't fly in the condition she was in and I had no intention of driving all the way to California.
I called the facility and spoke about her with Steve, the manager of the facility in California.
"She won't be able to go on the flight the way she is now. She's been in the jail overnight. Should I let her shoot up first?"
"Do what you have to do to get her here," he replied. "We'll take care of her once she arrives and make sure she's able to get clean."
I relented and gave her money so she could buy some of her drugs. We stopped at her place and she shot up and then packed a bag, showering briefly and changing her clothes before we drove back to Montgomery to catch the jet to LAX.
She was quiet on the flight and slept most of the way there, a blanket around her and the window screen down so it was dark. I spent the time reading financial reports and wondering what happened to her that made her start doing harder drugs. Once we touched down and disembarked, I picked up the rental and drove to the facility located in the hills outside LA.
We arrived at nine thirty and I carried her bag up the steps to the entrance. The place was dark, but I could see it was nice, with clean modern furnishings that had a boutique hotel feel to the place.
"This is nice," Penny said as we walked to the front door. "Better than I thought."
I held the door open and we went inside. We were met at the security desk by a middle-aged man with a balding head and a pair of half-eye glasses perched at the end of his nose.
"Penelope McNeil, I presume?" he said and waved us into his office. "Mr. Macintyre? I'm Frank Tillerson. We spoke on the phone earlier. Come in."
For the next half hour, we did intake for Penny and she signed papers. I'd already paid for the six-week program, so all we had to do was get Penny to sign the waivers and agreement to follow the rules.
"Well, that's it," Frank said. "I'll take her back to her room and get her settled for the night. That's all I need from you."
I went to Penny, who looked so small and afraid, her eyes wide.
"Good luck," I said and squeezed her arm. "Let me know how things are going."
She nodded but said nothing, so I left the room, left the facility, and got in the car.
I sat for a moment and read my cell, wondering if Ella had texted me, but she hadn't.
I was never so glad to be leaving a place as I was that facility, hoping that the experts could help Penny get clean.
I drove back to Brentwood and arrived at the mansion close to midnight. David was still up, waiting for me.
"Hey, bro," he said, standing at the front doors. "Welcome back. Busy saving people's lives, are you?"
I shook my head. "All I did was pay for the program. She has to save her own life."
"Well, you're my hero, even so."
I went inside, and we had a quick chat about Penny and what happened between us several years earlier.
"Most guys would ha
ve just written her off," David said, shaking his head.
"She was my best friend's sister. I fucked her maybe a dozen times over the course of two years. I feel responsible for her in some way. Or at least, I feel like I could help."
"Like I say, you're my hero," David said opened his arms for a big hug. "Now, I have to hit the hay, get my beauty sleep if I hope to finish this damn EP. I have a new musician coming in to take Terry's place this week and we have a lot to go over if I hope to finish it on time."
We hugged for a long moment, and then I went to my room and to bed.
Once I was undressed and lying in the huge king-sized bed, I sent Ella a text, feeling bad that I hadn't told her about the whole mess with Penny. I still felt bad for my role in her eventual personal crash, whatever that might be.
JOSH: Just to let you know I made it to LA and will be back on Tuesday. I'll be staying with David for the rest of the weekend but I'll call you so I can hear your voice.
Ella got back to me right away, like she was waiting for my text. When I checked, it was the middle of the night her time.
ELLA: Josh, I hope everything is okay with David.
JOSH: Sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night. David's fine. I had something personal to follow up on related to Grant's death. We'll talk about it when I get back. It's not something I'm proud of.
ELLA: You can tell me anything. I won't judge. Seriously, Josh. I want to be there for you if you need moral support or whatever it is. You were there for me when my life crashed around me.
JOSH: Thanks. We'll talk about it when I get back. It's still pretty raw.
ELLA: Okay. I miss you. XOXOX
JOSH: Miss you too. XOXOX
I imagined her in the hotel room at the Ritz lying in the bed, wearing her pretty black nightgown and worrying about me and what I'd left town about so mysteriously. I'd sit down with her when I got back and explain everything.
Of course, I tossed and turned for an hour, my mind going over everything that happened between Penny and me and my complete and total ignorance of how she truly felt. Had I been so callous as to not recognize that she thought there was more between us?
I woke up in the middle of the night with another nightmare, my body covered in sweat, my heart racing.
This time, it was Grant I was trying to rescue, pulling him out of his car, which had slammed into the base of the bridge, the engine erupting into flames. I couldn't save him, beat back by the fire, but I kept shouting his name, trying to pry the door open, bracing my foot against the side of the car and pulling with all my might.
"Grant! Grant! Grant!"
I sat up in bed, panting, struggling for a moment to remember where I was. Soon, my pulse slowed, and I realized it was just another nightmare. It was four o'clock in the morning. That was the fifth nightmare I'd had in the past two weeks.
I needed to get some counseling.
In the morning, I had a quick shower and joined David on the patio to watch the sunrise. It was glorious, and I stood beside him and breathed in the air.
"Pretty sweet, isn't it? You sure you don't want to leave the Big Apple and come out here for the weather?"
"You might be able to talk me into it one day, but not yet."
We spend the day together, and as much as I needed to get back to Manhattan, I wanted to take the time and spend it with David since I was already out there and Ella would be with Steph. David seemed to be doing much better than when I last saw him, although he was still pretty weak from the surgery.
"How are you?" I asked as we lounged beside the pool later that morning. "How's your recovery going?"
"Good," he said, but his voice didn't sound so good. He sounded exhausted. "Well, as good as can be expected." He gave me a smile, but it appeared forced, like he was playing for the cameras and wasn't doing quite as well as he made out.
"So, you've got a new musician coming in to help finish the EP?"
"Yeah, but I don't know if he's going to work out. He doesn't know any of the new songs and it’s going to take a lot of work to get him up to snuff."
"It takes time to do anything well, I guess," I said, trying to be supportive.
David shrugged. "Maybe this album's just a write-off. Maybe I have to accept that it's just not going to happen."
"Give it time," I said and reached over to squeeze his arm.
He exhaled but didn't respond. He wasn't doing quite as well as he made out.
"I'm worried about you," I said. "You have to give yourself time to get over the accident. You need to heal, and you need to deal with your survivor's guilt. You know that, right?"
He glanced over at me. "You, too, with the survivor's guilt? That's what Jake said. How can I get over something that's true? I can't deny Terry died because of me."
"David, Terry died because the other guy spilled his coffee and hit your vehicle. Not because of anything you did."
"It's because I wasn't driving. I should have been driving," he said, making a fist and hitting it against the chair's arm. "I shouldn't have had that extra beer."
"Well, then I'm responsible, too. I shouldn't have agreed to have another beer, either. If I had said no, you wouldn’t have had that beer and we would have left earlier and none of this would have happened. In fact, if I hadn't come out for a visit, if I had stayed at a hotel, it wouldn't have happened. You'll drive yourself crazy if you try to assign blame to yourself for what happened."
David shook his head, seemingly unable to understand or accept that it wasn't his fault. "I can't escape responsibility even if I want to. It should have been me. He had kids, man..."
Of course, that made me think of Grant and his two boys and a sense of darkness descended over me.
All I could think of was sleeping in, lying on the beach, and not worrying about anything -- not Penny, not David, and not mysterious Mr. Fedora.
I needed a break from all the drama.
I wanted Ella beside me.
15
Ella
After Josh texted me in the middle of the night I laid back in bed and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't help but wonder what personal thing had come up that he had to deal with relating to Grant's death. What could he possibly have done that he wouldn't be proud of relating to Grant?
Was it Grant's widow or kids? My mind did all kinds of mental gymnastics trying to figure out what he would not be proud of relating to Grant's death. Part of me wished Josh hadn't told me anything because now I was obsessed.
I tossed and turned quite a bit before sleep took me once more.
In the morning, I woke early and had a shower, needing the hot water to feel better. I was tired after waking up in the middle of the night and struggling to fall back to sleep.
When I came out of the office, Steph was in the main bathroom having her own shower. We met in the kitchen and looked over the room service menu.
"Josh said he wanted us to indulge ourselves, so we can order anything we want."
Steph's eyes widened. "In that case, I want the works. Eggs Benedict. Waffles. Fruit. Coffee. Juice," Steph said.
"You got it." I called up room service and we sat down in the living room and waited for our food to come.
"What's up with your man?"
"I don't know," I said and frowned remembering our strange discussion in the middle of the night. "He said he had a personal matter to deal with that he wasn't proud of. It had something to do with his friend, who committed suicide and whose funeral he attended. It means he had to fly to California. He's going to stay with his brother and will be back on Monday, so unfortunately, he's not going to be able to meet you."
"That's too bad," Steph said. "I wonder what he could mean by the not proud part."
"I have no idea. Your guess is as good as mine. Do you suppose it has to do with the man's wife? Maybe his parents? I just can't think of what Josh could have done that he wouldn't be proud of. He's a really good man."
Steph shrugged. "He'll probably tell you w
hen he gets back."
"I hope so. He's been having nightmares lately and I wonder if he isn't under a lot of stress and is feeling survivor's guilt."
"His friend did die. He's probably feeling bad that he hadn't kept in touch with him or something. When he gets back, he'll tell you."
"Why wouldn't he tell me now?"
"Give him time," Steph said. "His emotions are probably too raw. You know what men are like."
"I know," I said. I wanted to be patient, but I felt bad that Josh didn't feel able to tell me right away. Why?
Our food came and the two of us indulged, stuffing ourselves with the delicious food. Then, after I called Reg and arranged for him to come and ghost me for the day, Steph and I spent the morning walking through Central Park with Reg in tow. We stopped for a while by the lake and took in some sun, for it was a warm autumn day.
"I feel weird having Mr. Sunglasses following us. I wonder who Mr. Fedora is."
"Me, too. Hopefully, it's just a private detective doing some business research or something innocuous. What do you want to do?" I asked. "Anything special?"
"Just the usual tourist traps," Steph said. "I want to take the subway. I want to go down Fifth Avenue and I want to go to Ground Zero. Plus, maybe the Museum of Modern Art."
"That sounds like a perfect day," I said, happy to be going out and spending the day with Steph, doing touristy things. I'd been so busy with work and with Josh, that I hadn't done a lot of just wandering.
Our day was enjoyable and by the time we got back to the hotel at six that evening, we were both exhausted.
"What do we do for supper? Feel like going to the restaurant?"
"I'd love it," Steph said.
So, we got dressed up and went down to the restaurant lounge for a drink before a lovely meal of beef burgundy and dessert comprised of a special maple cheesecake.