I tried to act like I was truly sharing in the fun of this juvenile secret-sharing time by nodding approvingly at her charade, but my mind was racing.
Apparently Raymond Jacobs had already started the next phase of his "plan." It had barely been a week! I thought I was supposed to get more time than this. But I guess that's the number one rule of blackmail: There are no rules.
We all piled into the car and headed off to my favorite dive Mexican restaurant for lunch.
Hannah looked content in her seat, staring out at the passing streets of Brentwood and probably fantasizing about what my big secret could possibly be. Maybe a clandestine affair with the gardener like she'd seen when we watched Desperate Housewives together at my house because her mom would never let her watch it at her own house. Or maybe I was leading a double life with a husband and two kids who lived in Oregon whom I only saw twice a month. Whatever it was, she knew it would be good.
As I stared out my window, my thoughts were far from gardeners and desperate housewives. All I could ponder was whether or not Raymond Jacobs knew about Jamie. And if he didn't, it certainly wouldn't take him long to find out.
"SO WE still on for Tuesday?" Jamie asked when he called later that night.
I thought about his business card lying on my dining-room table. About my unsuccessful attempts to cancel our date because I knew my life was too complicated to add him to it. And about my fear that Raymond Jacobs would discover there was yet another Kryptonite and exploit it as well.
But I knew there was only one answer to his question.
And that answer was yes.
Because Jamie was my escape.
It was becoming more and more clear with every moment I spent with him, and when I saw his face on the other side of my front door on Tuesday night, it was confirmed.
I had never really had an escape before. For the past two years I had been held captive in a prison of my own thoughts and fears, knowing full well that there was a key to unlock the door, but so afraid of what was on the other side that I just simply had chosen to remain locked inside. And just as soon as I realized what this strange feeling of release was, I knew I wanted more of it. I knew I wanted it all the time. The pieces were all adding up. The street signs were all leading to one thing, and one thing only.
I wanted out.
There's a name for the condition I was in. It's called cloud nine. I imagine it's called that because you feel as if you're floating. And I was. I was floating, high above my everyday life. And it looked so small from up here. I felt so peaceful. So serene.
For a moment, I actually believed that it was.
But that's the problem with cloud nine: It can be deceiving. The sheer state of ultimate bliss can cause you to ignore things you wouldn't normally ignore. Like the several curious stares I got as Jamie and I entered the sushi restaurant that night. I barely noticed them. And the scattered whispers that spread throughout the room as we sat down? I barely heard them.
I should have been asking myself why they were staring. What are they whispering about? Do I have something on the front of my dress? But like I said, everything is benign when you're looking down from a cloud. And as far as I was concerned, they were all simply commenting on what a cute couple Jamie and I made, and how happy we looked together, just as I was doing every minute of the evening.
So I merely noted their existence and then quickly forgot all about them as soon as Jamie looked across the table at me and smiled.
"You like sushi, right?"
"I don't trust anyone who doesn't," I replied.
"That's my girl."
My heart flipped. My girl? As in possession? Ownership? Exclusivity?
Two weeks ago a comment like that would have probably made me run for the hills. But tonight the sound of his words made me want to jump into his arms, wrap my legs around him, and never come down.
Of course I wouldn't. How stupid would that look?
With Jamie I didn't have to be anyone else but myself. Because, let's face it, I never got the guys. That was Ashlyn's forte. I stayed home on Saturday nights and watched whatever lame-ass TV show the networks had programmed for lonely girls who stay in on Saturday nights. Ashlyn was the one who got all the looks, while I was hardly noticed. Ashlyn had all the interesting things to talk about, all the amazing stories to tell. I used to crunch numbers for a living.
But Jamie liked me, anyway. He laughed at my jokes, complimented my outfits, and made my knees weak when he kissed me. In his mind that other person, the one who had gotten me into so much trouble over the past few weeks, didn't even exist.
"Okay, so what do you like?" Jamie asked me, glancing over the sushi list.
"Um, let's see. Tall men, fast cars, loud music, and hallucinogenic drugs," I replied, counting out the list on my fingers.
He glanced up over the top of his menu. "Damn," he said with a mocking trace of disappointment in his voice. "And I left my mushrooms in my other pants."
I sighed loudly. "I guess I'll have a spicy tuna roll, then." I set my menu down on the table and looked up at him. But for some reason my eyes went right past him and landed on the two men at the next table. They were staring at us and exchanging remarks. Then one man took out his BlackBerry, clicked a few buttons, showed the screen to the second man, and they both looked over at me and nodded to each other.
My heart started to pound.
How could I have missed it before? The looks? The whispers? It was so obvious. All those people had seen the fucking Web site! They'd all been forwarded that dreadful link, and now they recognized me. From my pictures. And they watched me walk into the restaurant, all smitten and googly-eyed, looking like I was in love and they...
Oh my God! A sobering realization settled in. They think I'm on an assignment... with Jamie!
"What's wrong?" Jamie asked, sensing my mood alteration and turning around to follow my glance. "Is there a celebrity here?"
But I barely heard him. I sat motionless in my chair. Frozen. Panicked. I couldn't believe what was actually happening. How would I ever get myself out of this one? And even if I did, what did I expect to do? Eat in for the rest of my life? Wear a wig whenever I was in public with Jamie so that no one would be able to corner him and tell him the truth?
And then my eyes widened even farther. One of the men was actually standing up and walking toward our table!
I blinked, hoping – no, more like praying – someone might have slipped a hallucinogenic drug into my green tea. This could not be happening.
I knew I had two choices. Hide behind my menu all night and pray that I wouldn't be noticed...or run. And I figured that since waitresses usually come and take your menus away anyway, I really didn't have a choice.
"You know, speaking of celebrities," Jamie continued, obliviously, "I was having lunch with a colleague once and Jennifer Garner was sitting at the next table—"
"You know, I really don't feel very good," I interrupted suddenly, throwing in a clichéd cough for credibility.
"Oh, really?" Jamie asked, concerned. "Is there something going around again?"
I clutched my stomach. "Maybe. I think I should go. Raw fish probably won't help much."
"Sure, of course. If that's what you want." He was being extremely accommodating.
And before he could finish his sentence I was up, out of my seat, pushing my chair back with a loud scrape against the floor. "Good, let's go," I said in a voice that I hoped sounded calm and composed but more than likely was on the verge of cracking.
Jamie quickly removed his napkin from his lap and stood up. "Are you sure you're all right? Do I need to take you to the hospital?"
"No! I'll be fine. I just need to lie down for a minute." I grabbed his arm and literally pulled him toward the back door of the restaurant, the opposite direction of the menacing man making his way to our table.
"But the front door is this way," Jamie pointed out, placing a tender hand on my arm and gently leading me in the other direction.
My breathing sped up as I saw the man get closer. I needed to come up with a reason to leave through the back door or even through a window in the bathroom, but there just wasn't any. At least none that would sound logical and convincing. There was no way out of it. We were going to come face-to-face.
The man's eyes locked with mine and a knowing smile crept across his face. He knew who I was. And he knew why I was trying to escape.
"Excuse me." He stepped in front of us. "You look awfully familiar," he said, looking straight at me.
"Really?" I said casually, attempting to step around him, with Jamie in tow. "I get that all the time." I pointed haphazardly at my face. "One of those faces."
But he stepped in front of us again. He eyed Jamie warily, as if to warn him with a look. Beware, this girl isn't who she says she is.
"Ashlyn, isn't it?" the man asked.
Oh, holy shit.
Jamie looked from me to the man and then back at me again. The curiosity on his face was hard to miss.
I tried to take deep, steady breaths as I plastered a look of unfamiliarity on my face. As if the name Ashlyn was as foreign to me as the name of an unknown Russian ballerina listed in the program for Swan Lake.
"Sorry," I said with an apologetic smile. "You must have me confused with someone else."
I took another step toward the safety of the front door. Jamie followed quickly behind, clearly a little thrown off by the whole situation and probably eager to get the hell out of there so he could question me about it.
"I don't think so," the man said, taking hold of my arm.
I closed my eyes in silent defeat. This was it. The end was here. Haku Sushi on Main Street would forever be known as my Waterloo.
He looked toward Jamie. "I'm sorry to be the one who has to tell you this, but—"
And then, unexpectedly, Jamie's hand landed directly on top of his and he proceeded to "gently" remove it from my arm. "I think you have the wrong person," Jamie repeated, looking the man sternly in the eyes. "Why don't you leave her alone."
The man took a step back and threw his arms up in the air. "All right, man. It's your funeral. But don't say no one tried to warn ya."
And with that he turned around, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked back to his table.
"Wow, the fresh air feels nice. I feel better already," I said to Jamie, after we exited the restaurant and strolled through the parking lot. I was kind of hoping there might be a small, tiny, minuscule chance that he might not ask...
"So what was that about back there?"
Yeah, I knew it was a long shot.
I looked into his eyes, so filled with innocent curiosity. So longing to know everything and anything about me. Especially the things that explained why someone would mistake me for a girl named Ashlyn, and then try to deliver some type of warning about me. I felt a pang of guilt, followed by a very unavoidable realization.
I had to tell him.
If this were going to continue, if I were really going to give this thing a chance, he would have to know. I would have to be 100 percent honest with him.
I swallowed hard and leaned against the side of his car. "Jamie..." I began. I could feel the truth welling up inside of me. It was time. Time to come clean. Time to reveal everything and finally begin the truthful and trusting relationship I knew we could have if we were only given the chance.
"I honestly have no idea who that was," I finished with a sigh.
Okay, so maybe not quite yet.
"It's true. I do have one of those faces. People confuse me for other people all the time." I looked to him for a sign that he was buying it.
Jamie was either satisfied with my shameless lie or he didn't feel like pressing the issue. "Hmm," he responded. "Interesting. So how are you feeling? Do you want me to take you home?"
As much as I hated thinking about ending my night with Jamie early, I decided it would be smart to continue with the "coming down with something" charade, so as not to give him any other reasons to be suspicious of me. I nodded weakly and said, "I think that would be a good idea."
He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and touched my face. "Okay, cutie. But I have something to ask you first."
Oh, great, I thought. He's not going to let it go. He's going to keep drilling me until I crack. Until I crumble under the pressure and spill everything right here and now.
"What's that?" I asked casually.
"Well, my company's sending me to Paris in a couple of weeks and..."
"And you want me to water your plants?" I asked with a mocking smirk.
He laughed. "No. But wouldn't it be awkward if I did?"
I smiled, suddenly feeling very comforted by the light change in topic.
"Actually...I want you to come with me."
These are the moments in life when you would expect the expression on your face to be something along the lines of enthusiasm, excitement, exhilaration, one of those E words. But not for me. No, for me it was actually more of a muted stun. One of those jaw-dropping, not-quite-sure-if-it's-really-a-joke, waiting-for-the-punchline-to-come moments.
"C-c-come with you to Paris?" I finally got out.
He smiled and nodded his head with excitement. "Oui."
"You're serious?" My tone was overflowing with doubt.
"Yes, I'm serious. Will you come?"
"Um, yeah!" I immediately responded, without thinking. Without reflecting. Without doing anything, really. And suddenly, my maladie imaginaire was nowhere to be found. I jumped up and down ecstatically like a little girl just told she was going to Disney World for the first time. And frankly, I couldn't remember the last time I had actually jumped up and down...well, without an aerobic jump rope in my hands.
"I can't believe this! Paris?"
"I'm glad you're so excited," Jamie mused.
"Are you kidding? It's Paris! I love Paris!"
Translation: I love Paris when I'm not there with someone else's husband.
Jamie reached down and grabbed my hand. "Good." He stared into my eyes for a long moment, and then added, "Honestly, as soon as they told me I was going, I thought of you. For some reason, I just couldn't imagine being there without you. Is that crazy?"
I quietly shook my head. That was the craziest part of all: It wasn't crazy. And trust me, I know crazy.
"C'mon," he said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. "Let's get you home and into bed."
I beamed as I sat down in Jamie's car and he closed the door behind me. It was the smile of someone who didn't have all the evil spirits of Pandora's box chasing after her. The smile of someone who could just smile, knowing that the man she was falling in love with was taking her to Paris.
And right then, at that moment, in the parking lot of a trendy sushi restaurant in Santa Monica, the world slowed down, the door to my prison cell unlocked, and my heart finally opened.
26
Last Tango Before Paris
THE TIMING couldn't have been more perfect.
I had a secret to tell Jamie and he had invited me to the most romantic city in the world. There wasn't a better time and place to tell him. Because strolling down the banks of the Seine in the city of love, with the moon overhead and the water down below, makes any dark and dirty secret sound like poetry.
Even mine.
Or so I prayed.
Besides, he couldn't be mad at me. Not when I would follow the shocking and unsettling story of my questionable past with the even more shocking and unsettling decision I had just made about my future.
The one I was now proud to share with all three of my friends.
"It's over," I said to an impatient John, an eager Sophie, and a seemingly bored Zoë, as we sat at the Urth Café and ate overpriced sandwiches and salads for lunch.
"You mean Jamie?" Zoë asked in a panic, suddenly no longer bored. "But I thought you were going to Paris with him!"
I shook my head. "No, we're still going." And then for a brief moment I got lost in another one of my d
aydreams about me and Jamie in Paris having wine and cheese picnics on the Eiffel Tower lawn. I had been having daydreams like this ever since he asked me to go. Although, I must admit, most of them were much more titillating than wine and cheese.
"What's over, then?" Sophie asked, concerned, snapping me back to the present.
"I'm quitting," I proclaimed. The sound of my own voice, announcing it aloud, sent a surge of vibrant energy through my body. It was the first time I had actually heard myself say it. Although I had made the decision a few nights ago, I'm not sure it had really sunk in yet.
I sat patiently, waiting for the anticipated round of "What?" or "Huh?" or "Are you serious?"
But surprisingly, it never came.
The three of them just sat there, staring at me, completely confused. Then they kind of looked at one another, hoping one member of the group might shed some light on this seemingly out-of-the-blue decision. But they all shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders to imply This is news to me.
Sophie was the first to speak. "You're quitting quitting? As in..."
I nodded. "As in no more assignments. No more cheating husbands or fiancés or boyfriends. I'm done with it. All of it."
"But what about your quest? Your life mission? All that wannabe superhero stuff you told me about?" Sophie, seeing herself now as a direct beneficiary of my battle against evil, had recently become an avid supporter.
Of course her question had crossed my mind before. In fact, it had been the biggest thing holding me back during my decision-making process. Actually, it had been the only thing holding me back. I shook my head. "It's just gotten to be too much. I can't handle it anymore. Even Superman has to retire sooner or later and just say, 'well, I did my best. I hope I made an impact.'"
"I'm sure you made a huge impact!" Sophie offered supportively.
I smiled. "Thanks. I just realized that spending my entire life surrounded by cheating men wasn't giving me the opportunity to focus on the fact that there are men out there who don't cheat. It's like you manifest what you focus on, you know?"
"Like Eric." Sophie beamed.
I took a sip of ice water and swallowed hard, the cold water stinging my throat. "Right," I croaked. "Like Eric."
Fidelity Files Page 33