“Thank you, Mr. Steede. Since we won’t be seeing each other again, I wish you the best.” Once off the plane and as fast as I can, I make my way up the jetway.
As I walk towards baggage claim, I try to figure out why I’m upset with him. I don’t understand why I get agitated around him. He was being kind and gentle earlier. Is it maybe because, deep down, he brings something to the surface in me, a longing I’m not ready to face?
I’m a mixed bag of emotions. I know he’s walking behind me. His stride seems shorter than it normally is. He’s keeping my pace, not his. Part of me wants to stop and let him catch up. The other part wants to run as fast as I can away from him.
I see Steven standing near the baggage carousel and immediately feel better. He gives me one of the biggest bear hugs he’s ever given. Something’s going on.
Steven says, “I’m glad you’re back. How was the flight?”
“Hey. You have no idea how glad I am to be back, and on solid ground too. The flight was horrible, but I don’t want to talk about it right now. How are things with you?” I ask cautiously as I search his face for a clue.
He shrugs, “Things are okay. Just been busy. I have another business trip coming up in a few weeks.” I can tell by his tone that something is wrong.
“Oh? Where you off to next?”
“LA. I’m hoping it will be a quick turn around.”
I venture, “Are you okay?”
“Sure, I’m great. So, how was the shoot?” his voice is completely flat. I know he doesn’t want to talk now, so I give him the short version.
“Bryce Steede said those things? You didn’t meet him for a drink, did you?”
“Of course not. You think I’d have a drink with a man I just met, at his hotel? Besides, Mr. Steede is too cocky for his own good.” I conveniently leave out the events that took place on the plane earlier. I don’t need or want his lecture right now.
As we stand there waiting for the bags to come, I feel someone’s eyes on me. Looking around, I meet his gaze. He’s with a leggy brunette, and when she faces the crowd, I see it’s Mara Sharp and she’s draped on him like a coat. He looks irritated. She keeps putting her arms around him and he keeps pushing her away. He gives her a stern look and walks toward me with her following behind, keeping his pace.
I tell Steven, “Let’s move to the opposite side. It’s less crowded over there.” I catch a glimpse of Bryce’s eyes as we walk away and he looks confused.
The bags finally start coming down the conveyor belt. I notice Bryce has already gotten his, but he lingers awhile until my bag comes down. Steven grabs it and we head out. We all reach the doors at the same time.
“Ms. Quinn, after you.” Bryce gestures with his outstretched arm while eyeing Steven.
“Thank you, Mr. Steede.” I walk outside followed by Mara, Steven and then Bryce.
He extends his hand to Steven. “Bryce Steede. And you are?” he asks, taking both Steven and me by surprise.
“Steven. Steven Hart. Ali’s roommate.” They shake with the usual pleasantries.
Bryce doesn’t bother introducing Mara, and frankly, I’m glad. For a moment we all stand in awkward silence.
“Well, we’d better get going if we are to make our dinner reservation. Mr. Steede, it was interesting meeting you and I look forward to reading the article.”
“Ms. Quinn, it’s been a pleasure.” He smiles that beautiful smile.
I look at Steven and widen my eyes to let him know it’s time to go and we all go our separate ways. When we get to Steven’s car, he stares at me.
“What was that?” His tone is accusatory and clipped.
“What was what?”
“Don’t be sly with me. Steede was being territorial and there was something definitely going on between the two of you.”
Breathing out a heavy sigh, I tell Steven about the flight - from when we were in the first-class lounge in New York, all the way to landing in San Francisco. I recount how Bryce put his hand on mine, but I leave out the part where every time he touched me, I thought we would short circuit the plane from the electric charge flowing between us. I also leave out how safe I felt as he held me close and calmed the state of panic I was experiencing. I’m still processing those emotions myself and I can’t handle Steven trying to overanalyze right now.
“You’re kidding,” he questions with disbelief written over his face.
“Is it so unbelievable someone would want to comfort me while I’m having a panic attack?” I’m sure he can sense the annoyance and hurt in my voice.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, I can’t believe you would let a stranger, let alone a man, touch you.”
I start thinking about what he just said. Would I let him do it again? Was it really that bad? The truth is, yes I would and, no it wasn’t. The fact is, I liked it.
“I know what you meant. I’m sorry I snapped at you. Him touching me is what calmed me down and I’m surprised by it myself, though I have read stories of people coming together in moments of terrifying crisis. I don’t know. First thing on my ‘to-do’ list for tomorrow is to call Dr. Hunter.”
The dark mood has lifted from Steven’s face. Momentarily.
#
Once home, I jump in the shower to rinse off the day’s events and am ready in fifteen minutes, which is record time for me. I decide to wear my black and white wrap-around dress and black-heeled sandals. Steven also changes. He’s in dark slacks, with a lavender shirt and a tie with lavender, pink and purple hues.
“Well, look at you, handsome. Where are we going? I feel as though I’m underdressed.”
“You look fabulous,” Steven praises as he picks up the keys and ushers me out the door.
The drive is quiet and I can tell he’s mulling something over as we pull up to the Fairmont Hotel. “I’ve always wanted to come here.” I squeal, not able to contain my excitement. “I’ve heard lots of great things about the restaurant.”
“I’ve made reservations at The Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar. It’s good. Sampson and I have eaten here a few times.” Steven’s voice is as monotone as I’ve ever heard. At that moment, it’s as though all the sadness of the world is etched across his face.
Oh, shit. Something bad has happened.
There’s a swimming pool with a floating boat in the middle of the room with band equipment. We’re seated at a table for two next to the pool. From here, we have a view of most of the room.
“Welcome to The Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar. Would you like to start your evening with a cocktail?” Our waiter asks. Since their Mai Tais are supposed to be the best in the city, that’s what I order. Steven asks for a glass of Chardonnay. Before I can ask if they’ll have a band tonight the waiter informs us the lead singer is sick so no live music.
I decide to cut to the chase and force him to say whatever it is he’s holding in. “So, are you going to tell me what’s bugging you or are you going to stew about it the rest of the night?” From the look on his face, I think I already know.
“Sampson and I broke up.” His face turns ashen when he says it.
“What? What happened? You two are the perfect match,” I reply softly. I know I need to tread lightly.
“I don’t know. While I was away this time, every time we talked, he was distant. Our phone calls were shorter and the conversations became stagnant and forced,” Steven trails off and I can see he’s deep in thought.
“Our last meal together was here, the day I got back from my trip. He thought a public breakup would be less ‘messy.’ He couldn’t have been more wrong.” The tears are welling up in his eyes.
“Then why of all places did you pick this restaurant tonight?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to feel close to him since this is the last place we ate together. I had met him here, so I had to endure the drive home alone. I was crushed.”
“I’m sorry, Steven. I’m so sorry.”
“I asked if it was someone else and he assured me it wasn’t.” He mirrors my thoughts as he answered the question I dare not ask.
“Did you believe him?”
“Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know what to believe.” His world is crumbling down around him and I’m sitting here, bearing witness to it. “I mean we’ve been going out for three years. How could he do this to me? To us? How could he throw our life away? How could he throw me away?”
Since I have no frame of reference for romantic relationships, I stare blankly at him. I take his hand, which is absently twirling the wine glass around by its stem. “I wish there were some words of wisdom I could give you. It’s okay to feel the pain and I know you’re scared. You can’t see it now, but you won’t be in this darkness forever.” The tears that he’s been trying to keep from falling finally break free and roll down his cheeks.
“Eventually, you’ll see the light again.” I understand the irony of my own words after they tumble out of my mouth. They don’t go unnoticed by him either. He raises an eyebrow at me.
Using his napkin, he dabs the corners of his eyes, soaking up the tears. “I know.”
I offer, “Do you think we should go someplace else? I don’t mind. We’ll pay for our drinks and we can go grab a big, greasy burger or pizza somewhere.”
“No, I’d like to eat here. Even if Sampson really doesn’t love me anymore, I have good memories of this place. Unlike most people who can’t eat when something bad happens to them, you know food always seems to bring me comfort.”
“If that’s what you want, then we’ll stay. I know you’re hurting. Your heart is breaking and mine is breaking for you. Maybe we can find something to do this weekend that will take your mind off of it, even if it’s only for a little while?”
“Yeah. Maybe,” he says without conviction. Then he sits up taller in his chair. “Lets order.”
As we eat, Steven wants to talk about my trip to New York. The topic of Bryce eventually rolls around because he wants to know more, as I knew he would, but I quickly deflect and we talk about his upcoming trip to L.A. I’m still processing my thoughts and feelings about being around Bryce, about my reaction to him. I have to figure it out for myself before I can talk about it any more with Steven.
I excuse myself after we order desserts, and on my way back from the restroom, I run into none other than Bryce himself. Here of all places? What are the odds of that happening? I feel like the Pied Piper.
“Ali, hi. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Hmm, funny you should say that. I was thinking the same thing. Are you here with your leggy brunette?” The second I ask, I want nothing more than to reach out, snatch the words and put them right back into my mouth. He looks amused and irritated at the same time.
“Yes, but she’s not mine.” Looking uncomfortable or irritated, not sure which, he nods over towards his table as Mara plasters a fake smile across her face for him, then glares at me as though I’m the Devil and she’s wishing me back to hell. For someone who obviously doesn’t have singular taste, with this particular woman, he looks as though he doesn’t mind too much.
“She made the reservation. We have a few things to talk over and I need to set some things straight with her.” It’s as though he now needs to explain himself to me, which he doesn’t.
I make a mental note to never come to this place if I ever need to ‘clear the air’ or breakup with someone.
He continues, “Are you here on a date?” He looks around to see where I’m sitting.
“No. I’m here with Steven. I should be getting back to the table. They’re bringing our dessert soon.” Why am I explaining myself?
“Well, I’ll let you get back to it then.” He hesitates a moment before he says, “You look beautiful, Ali.” The unscripted words cross the threshold of his lips in a rush.
I momentarily lose my ability to speak but snap myself out of my trance “Thank you.”
Not knowing what else to say, I decide to leave and run into a waiter with a tray full of food. Luckily, he avoids dropping it, but there’s a lot of mumbling under his breath while I apologize profusely. Eyes straight ahead and not looking back, I make a beeline to my table. Bryce is probably laughing at me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of looking back to see. Will this day ever end?
When I get back, Steven cocks one eyebrow. He witnessed the whole ordeal.
“I think there’s something going on between you two that you’re not telling me.” He sounds hopeful but cautious.
“There’s nothing going on between us. I told you everything that happened. Besides, he’s here with one of his ‘flavors of the month.’” Even I can hear the disdain in my voice. His lips twitch as he conceals a smile.
“He’s definitely interested in you. Especially with that little testosterone fueled introduction today at the airport.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh, honey. Men are men. Gay, straight, it doesn’t matter. We all have one thing in common and one thing that drives us. And from what I see, he wants to be driven and he wants you to shift the gears.”
“I can’t believe you said that.” I attempt to sound disgusted but he knows better.
“I just call it how I see it. I’m sure he would be more than happy to clear out those cobwebs floating around in there.” He waves his hand down toward my lap. “I’ve given you the talk more than once about what men like. You’re more than ready.”
“Steven, you know I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t? There’s a difference. You need to figure that out,” he states firmly.
Part of me sometimes wonders what it would be like to have someone whose arms I could run to; someone to comfort me, encourage me, hold me when I need it most. Maybe after all these years of therapy, I’m ready. Even though Dr. Hunter, Steven and my mother have been encouraging me, I don’t know if I can bring myself to be with someone.
“I used to think I’d never figure it out, but Dr. Hunter helped bring me out of that way of thinking. However, I’m not ready to jump in the deep end. You know better than anyone my reasons. If I jump too soon, I’m afraid that girl I once was will surface and the woman I’ve tried so hard to become will disappear.”
“You have too strong a support system for that to happen. I wish you wouldn’t doubt yourself. You can’t close yourself off from the world forever. You are so tenacious and confident when it comes to your career, why can’t you be that way in other areas of your life? You’ve spent the last ten years working on your emotional baggage. Don’t you think it’s time to clear it all out, set it on the curb for the trash man and move forward?”
“I know this. I’m scared. You have no idea how scared I am. I don’t think I could handle rejection. It would crush me.”
“Ali. I hate to say this, but rejection is part of the process.” His eyes well up with tears because I know we’re no longer talking about me. “Can we drop this now? Let’s enjoy our dessert, then we’ll go to the bar by the house and get smashed.”
“Sounds good to me,” I’m thankful the topic is now closed. Steven needs to get drunk, and after the past couple of days I’ve had, so do I.
While we wait for the valet to bring the car, Bryce and his sidekick Mara walk out of the restaurant. His posture is rigid and he looks uncomfortable.
CHAPTER 7
The silence is thick. Neither Bryce and Mara, nor Steven and I, make conversation. I feel someone is trying to burn a hole right through me. Looking to my side, I see Mara’s obvious hostility toward me. Bryce grabs her hand and tugs it, hard enough for her to become off balance. He looks at me apologetically, but I shrug my shoulders and turn away from him, hopping in Steven’s car without looking back. She seems like one crazy bitch.
Opening one eye, I look at the time: nine-thirty. The sun is blaring through the sheer curtains in my room, making it extremely hot. I’m still in my clothes, but my shoes are off. When did we get home? How did I ge
t in my bed? I have no recollection of anything past midnight. My head is throbbing and I swear someone’s in there mining for diamonds. I force myself up, and after splashing cold water on my face, taking a couple of ibuprofen, and brushing my teeth, I almost feel better.
In the kitchen, Steven is whistling, chipper as anything. I collapse on a chair and hold my head in my hands. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?” he asks, way too cheerful.
“I don’t know. Obviously like the dead since I can’t remember coming home. How did we get home?”
“Well, after your sixth lemon drop shot, plus the Absolut and tonic’s you were downing, I figured I better get you home while you could still reasonably walk on your own.”
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