A Little Too Much

by Lisa Desrochers

  “I don’t want you going back there.”

  I shove out of the couch. “Tough shit.”

  For a full minute she doesn’t say anything, then, “You really think she’s dying?”

  “Yes, Mallory. I’m pretty sure she’s dying.”

  She sags into the door frame but hate still runs through her voice as she says, “So, what are we supposed to do, just pretend she didn’t abandon you to the system? Just pretend that everything that happened to you there wasn’t on her?”

  “She’s dying,” I say, slumping back into the couch. “I think maybe it’s time to forgive and forget.”

  “I will never forget,” she says low through gritted teeth, and that’s when I realize this isn’t about me.

  I straighten up. “What did she do to you?”

  She looks at me a long minute, then spins for the kitchen. “Don’t go back there.”

  I pull myself up and follow her. She’s at the sink, peeling a potato when I walk in. “So we’re just going to let her die all alone.”

  She keeps peeling.

  I move to the counter and pick up a potato. “You have another peeler?” I ask, pulling open the utensil drawer, but when I look up at her expectantly, I see the tears tracking down her face and dripping onto the counter.

  “Mal?”

  She swallows hard and sniffles, but doesn’t look up from her potato.

  “What’s going on?”

  Her whole face pulls tight and she drops both the potato and the peeler into the sink. “Do you remember the day I left?”

  I mostly remember the yelling. “Sort of.”

  She looks up at me with sad eyes. “You were only ten.”

  Mom and Mallory were always fighting about something. I don’t think they knew how to communicate at anything less than a yell, and it usually ended with Mom hitting Mallory. But I remember, at the end of that fight, Mallory was gone and never came back. When I asked Mom, she said Mallory had gone to college. End of story.

  “You went to college.”

  She shakes her head. “Is that what she told you?”

  “Yeah . . . didn’t you?”

  She scoops the potato out of the sink and puts it on the counter. “Eventually. But that was just after graduation, Hilary. I was in the city until August.”

  “Why did you leave, then?”

  She hauls a deep breath, then looks at me. “Do you remember Doug?”

  My mind does a quick inventory of the string of Mom’s live-in men. “The big blond one with the gold tooth?”

  She nods. “It was graduation night. I was drunk and Carrie and her boyfriend gave me a ride home. Doug was on the couch, watching some old horror flick when I came in. I guess Mom was already passed out in bed.” She lowers herself into a chair, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her face in her hands. “I don’t really remember much . . . just that I stumbled into that little table behind the couch in the family room and knocked some things off it. Doug helped me up and sort of carried me to our room.” She looks up at me. “I don’t remember why you weren’t there . . . probably sleeping over at McKenzie’s or something.”

  McKenzie. My friend from “before.” I’d forgotten about her.

  “I remember he left and I started tugging off my clothes, but then I looked up and he was in my door, watching me . . .” A tear leaks over her lashes and she wipes her face with her palm. “I screamed, and Doug took off, but when Mom staggered in a minute later, and I told her what happened, she blamed me. Called me a tramp.” She looks up at me with the most tortured eyes I’ve ever seen. “I wanted to take you and go. I wanted to get us both out of there.”

  It feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut. “But you left me.”

  “I was only seventeen. When she threw me out a few weeks later because Doug whistled at me, I didn’t even have time to grab my stuff. She was crazy, waving a kitchen knife around in the air and threatening to kill me. I kept thinking I’d come back for you . . . that I’d bring you to Dad’s with me. I even went to the house one day to grab you. But you were with McKenzie, and you seemed so . . . normal. I knew I was leaving for college in a few months, so I . . .” She drops her face into her hands. “I just left you there.”

  “If you’d taken me, I’d just have ended up in the system sooner, Mallory. There’s nothing you could have done to change that. I couldn’t have gone to Florida with you.”

  She lifts her head and looks at me. “Don’t go back there.”

  What do I say? “I don’t think . . .” I breathe deeply and lift my eyes to hers. “I don’t think you should leave it like this, Mallory. I think you need to . . . I don’t know . . . maybe if you saw her, if you talked about it—”

  “No!” She springs from her chair. “I’m not going to talk to her! I’m never going to forgive her. I’m happy she’s dying, Hilary. I want her to!”

  “Mommy?” We both spin on Henri’s voice. He’s standing just inside the kitchen with the empty apple plate. Max is behind him in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

  She wipes her eyes and drags a forearm under her nose, sniffling as she moves quickly toward him. “Nothing, baby. Everything is good.” She smiles and takes the plate from his hand. “You want more apples?”

  “Yes, please,” he says.

  He comes to me, where I haven’t moved from the table. “Will you build Legos with me, Auntie?”

  I stand and ruffle his hair, then pull him into a hug. “Sure, buddy.”

  When I glance up at Mallory, she’s pushing an apple slicer down a Granny Smith like nothing ever happened, and I know as far as she’s concerned, the discussion is over. But I’m not going to let it drop. I can’t.

  Chapter Sixteen

  WHEN I GET to the audition a few minutes early, there’s already one girl in the small break room that I’m lead to. She’s taller than me, and brunette, with a long, thin neck and pretty face. She looks like a dancer, which makes me a little nervous. But I’m not sure she has the body to pull off the partial nude. She’s a little scrawny, to be honest.

  “I’m Hailey,” the petite woman who greeted me says. “If you’d like coffee or tea, help yourself.” She waves an arm at the counter where there are pots of both coffee and hot water and a tray of muffins and croissants.

  “Thanks,” I say as she turns to leave.

  I grab a teabag from the basket, but as I’m pouring hot water over it into the styrofoam cup, I hear someone else come in.

  “Help yourself to coffee or tea,” Hailey says again, and when I turn to size up the competition, I almost choke on my own spit.

  Blondie.

  How the hell did she get the audition?

  “Anna?” Hailey says and the pretty brunette stands. “We’ll start with you.” She leads the brunette out of the room.

  Blondie pours herself a cup of coffee as I slide into the chair the brunette was just in.

  We sit in silence, ignoring each other’s existence, and I go through my lines in my head as I mindlessly flip magazine pages. I spent some time online last week checking out pictures and video of Jared Meeks, the actor we’re reading opposite. He’s hot—longish dark hair and sexy stubble, a great smile, shockingly blue eyes, and muscles on his muscles. I’ve lived my moment onstage with him over and over—the house lights down, stage lights up, the delicious sheen of sweat on his body. I’ve practiced my lines a hundred times with that image in my head. I am so ready for this.

  It’s a half hour later when Hailey is back. “Bambi?” she asks into the room from the door. I think it must be a joke until Blond Bitch stands and smirks down at me on her way to the door.

  “Freakshow,” I mutter with a scowl at the closed door once they’re gone.

  I get up and refill my tea. “You want me. I know you do,” I say into the empty room on my way back to the table. I lower myself into my seat and close my eyes, visualizing how I want this to go. I picture myself, smooth and composed, walking onto the stage. Jared holds his hand out an
d I take it. “It’s my pleasure to meet you,” he says, squeezing my hand gently, and I say, “I’m a huge fan of your work,” and smile. His eyes scan my body and come back to meet my gaze, and I can tell by the appreciative glimmer in them that he likes what he sees. “Shall we take it from the top?” he asks, and I say, “Perfect.” He lets go of my hand, which he’s still holding because, let’s face it, he wants me, and I say, “You want me. I know you do,” like it wasn’t already obvious to everyone in the room.

  “Hilary?”

  Hailey’s voice cuts through my imagery and I blink my eyes open. She stands aside in the door. “We’re ready for you.”

  Was that fast? Or was I just lost in my fantasy for longer than I thought?

  I stand and she leads me up a short hall to an entrance marked stage door.

  Deep breath.

  I step through the door onto the stage and we pass through the curtain. In the row of seats up front is a curly-haired blond guy who reminds me of a mosquito, with bugging eyes behind thick glasses. And next to him is my leading man, Jared Meeks. I smile down at them and fist my hands into my skirt when I feel them start to shake.

  No way.

  No way I’m going to lose my composure now. I’ve got this. It’s mine if I just hold my shit together.

  “So,” Hailey says from behind me, “Are we ready?”

  I glance at her, then back down at Jared. “Yeah! I’m ready whenever you are.”

  But Jared doesn’t move. He settles back in his seat and leans toward the curly-haired Mosquito Man, whispering something in his ear. They both laugh and I feel all the blood drain from my face. Are they laughing at me? Already?

  My eyes flutter up from them, and halfway back, on the right side of the seats, I see Jess. She’s giving me an encouraging “go on” look. I turn and find Hailey looking at me expectantly.

  “What?”

  She squints at me. “Do you need a prompt?”

  “What?” I ask again. What the hell is going on?

  “For your first line? Do you need a prompt?”

  “No! I know the line. I’m just . . .” I flick a glance to Jared, who’s stretching like I just woke him up . . . or maybe I’m putting him to sleep. I look back at Hailey, totally confused. “I thought I’d be reading opposite Jared.”

  “Not today. When we have our girl, she’ll go opposite Jared, just to make sure the chemistry’s right.” She grins. “It’s your lucky day. You get to go opposite me.”

  This is so not how I imagined this. But this part is still mine. I’m going to blow their socks off.

  I square my shoulders and put on the confidence of a woman who’s about to proposition a man who’s totally off limits (because he’s married to her dying sister), but who she knows can’t resist her. “You want me. I know you do.”

  “I do. You’re sexy and strong, and I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  I unbutton the top button of my blouse while Hailey’s delivering her line. “Then take me,” I implore, unbuttoning the second and revealing my red lace bra.

  “It’s not right for us to give in to our desire, Tara. There are other people we need to consider. I have to think of Breanna. I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt her now, when she’s already so fragile.”

  I unbutton the third. “Who cares what’s right. We need each other like oxygen. We belong together.”

  Hailey steps closer and trails a finger along the butterflies on my collarbone. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. The doctors say Breanna only has a few more weeks. Days, maybe. When she’s gone, wild horses won’t be able to keep me away from you. But for now . . .” She trails off, lifting her hand to my cheek.

  I grab her hand in both of mine and hold it to my face as a tear leaks over my lashes. “No! I can’t! I can’t wait for you another day. Tomorrow will swallow us whole if we let it.” I lower her hand and slide it under my shirt onto my boob (which would be so much more effective, not to mention enjoyable, if it were Jared’s hand) as I unbutton the next button. “We can either live life scared,” unbutton, “or live life.” I unbutton the last button and my shirt slides off my shoulders to the floor. “There are no other choices.”

  Hailey pulls her hand off my boob and scratches her nose. “That was great, Hilary.” She turns to Jared and Mosquito Man. “Is that good, or do we need to do it again?”

  Mosquito Man raises a hand. “We’re good with the read. What you singing, honey?”

  I slide my shirt back on and spend the next five minutes belting out my most heartfelt rendition of “I Had a Dream” from Les Mis. When I’m done, Hailey tells me it was great and they’ll be in touch.

  I scoop up my bag and strut as sexily as I can off the stage. Jess launches herself at me when I get to the bottom of the stairs. “You were so awesome!”

  “I don’t know why they didn’t have me go opposite Jared,” I lament.

  She shrugs. “It’s the director’s call.”

  “Well, his call sucked.” I lean my forehead into hers. “Were you here for the other two auditions? How did they look?”

  “The first one was pretty nervous. It took her three tries to get through the read without forgetting something. And she didn’t really act it, if you know what I mean.”

  “She kept her shirt on,” I say, knowing without having to ask. Amateur mistake. They want someone with a hot body, you need to show them that’s what you got.

  “Yeah. And Bambi—”

  “Bambi,” I interrupt, rolling my eyes. “That’s got to be a stage name, right? I mean, any mother who would actually name her kid that should be shot.”

  Jess shrugs. “That’s all I’ve ever heard anyone call her.”

  I shake my head. “So how did she look?”

  “She was way over the top.”

  I lift my eyebrows at her. “Meaning . . . ?”

  “No bra.”

  Shit! That bitch.

  I glance back at Mosquito Man, who’s still talking to Jared. He shoves Jared’s shoulder and they both crack up over something, then shoot a glance my way.

  “Don’t worry, Hilary. You totally nailed it,” Jess says, and I force my eyes back to her. “I could almost feel the shift in your karma up there. The universe is smiling on you.”

  “So when are we going out to celebrate your soon-to-be celebrity?” I ask to distract myself.

  “We’ll find a free night after we both have our rehearsal schedules,” she says, nudging my shoulder with the word “both.”

  I can’t help smiling. “From your mouth to God’s ears.”

  “Karma, Hil. The universe owes you.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say, looping my arm over her shoulder and heading for the door.

  IT’S WEDNESDAY, NOT Thursday, but I’m sitting at Argo Tea anyway. There’s just something about being here that makes me feel calmer, and I need to feel calm right now. I’ve been on pins and needles since the audition yesterday.

  I’m holding my cup to my face, breathing in the steam and staring out the window into the gray of an overcast winter New York day when my phone rings. I jump, thinking it might be Hailey about the part, but then I realize it’s Creed.

  Alessandro.

  I have the fleeting notion that he knows I’m here, but then I realize that’s stupid. He might know me better than I want him to, but he’s not psychic. I connect and lift the phone. “Hey.”

  “Hello, Hilary. I’m just confirming we’re still on for tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. It’s your turn, right?” It’s actually mine, but I was so stressed about the audition that he said he’d take this week.

  “It is, and I think I might have something that will lift your spirits . . . literally.”

  “Oh?” I ask, swirling my cup on the table.

  “Wear something loose and comfortable.”

  I sip my tea. “That’s all I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your definition of
‘loose and comfortable’?”

  “Something you’d work out in.”

  I stop cold, remembering what he does to stay in shape. “Please tell me we’re not boxing.”

  He blows a laugh through the phone. “No. I’m afraid of you.”

  The twinge of disappointment surprises me. Now that I really think about it, there’s something appealing about the thought of boxing Alessandro . . . maybe it’s that I really want to punch him . . . or see him half naked. “Yeah, well . . . someone I know taught me to throw a pretty mean punch.”

  “I’m not foolish enough to get in front of it,” he says in a measured tone. “Besides, what I have planned is far more interesting.”

  I take another slow sip of tea. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

  “You will.” I hear the smile in his voice and smile back, but then the phone beeps in my ear. I peek at the screen, but don’t recognize the number. “I’ve got another call,” I tell Alessandro, my stomach tightening. “Talk later, okay?”

  “Tomorrow. Meet me at my apartment at eleven.”

  I don’t have time to voice the “Whoa!” as my stomach loops at the thought of being in his apartment again. I hit connect. “Hello?”

  “Hilary McIntyre?” a woman’s voice asks.

  My looping stomach stalls midair. “Yes?”

  “Hey. It’s Hailey Dunning . . . from the When You Least Expect It audition?”

  Everything freezes. Even my blood stops cold in my veins. “Oh. Hi.”

  shitshitshit

  I realize my free hand is twisted so tightly into my kinks that I’m about to rip a chunk out, scalp and all, but I can’t make myself let go.

  “Hey . . . sorry this took so long, but I just wanted to let you know that the director has decided to go another direction.”

  My face crumples as a stone drops in my stomach. I untwist my hand from my hair and hold it over my mouth as I swallow back the tea rising in my throat. “Oh . . . okay . . . thanks.”