Say You Love Her

by Z. L. Arkadie

  Chapter 15

  The Amends Maker

  “That’s it!” Jacques announces.

  Ludlow, Lee, Matt, John, Thurston, and I clap. Thirteen straight hours of work and we’ve just finished watching the entire movie with the soundtrack laid. Ludlow is going to take it back to re-lay some of the voiceovers, but that’s all. In other words, it’s a wrap.

  To celebrate we go out for drinks at a bar on Melrose Avenue. A friend of Ludlow’s owns it. The place is packed for a Thursday night. But then I remember that the night industry people like to hang out and do their own brand of networking in the guise of “having drinks.” Since Jacques Blanchard and Ludlow Dean are in the vicinity, I’m able to sit alone to nurse my gin and tonic. I’m worried about the brief encounter I had with Mita last night. There will be hell to pay if Angelina ever gets wind of it.

  “So what’s next?” Jacques says as he coolly takes the empty stool beside me.

  He’s been making rounds through the bar, talking, laughing, and shaking hands.

  “I’m all out of ideas,” I say.

  He holds up a pack of cigarettes, showing it to the bartender, who reminds me of a real-life Dirty Harry.

  “Does anyone care if Jacques blows a lung?” he asks the room.

  There’s a chorus of no’s and the like.

  “Shit, since you put it that way!” Jacques tucks the cigarettes back into the inside of his jacket. He ignores the laughing and elbows me. “I have another project coming up in two weeks—interested?”

  I tsk at the obvious. “Hell yeah.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  “Me too.” I take a celebratory swig of my drink.

  “You haven’t asked me about Angel once,” Jacques says.

  I cough, nearly choking on what I swallowed. “No, I haven’t,” I strain to say. “How is she?”

  “Angel is Angel. She auditioned to play a dancing hooker in a parody of Humpty Dumpty. I didn’t know who to call to make sure she didn’t get the fucking part.”

  “You probably should’ve tried Jack.” I’m being cynical, but he probably knows somebody who knows somebody who could’ve made sure Angelina was passed over.

  Jacques narrows an eye as though he’s offended. There has to be something about Jack he just doesn’t like.

  He shakes his head. “I could’ve gotten her a part in Kinky Boots, Lion King, Chicago, you name it. But she chooses to dance in front of a cardboard box junkie that loiters on a wall somewhere in Harlem.”

  I chuckle. Angelina is definitely the kind of woman who marches to the beat of her own drum. “Remember when you told me that she’ll pull me close but will remain a million miles away?” I ask.

  “And I meant it.”

  “She’s only a million miles away. She’s through pulling me close.” My throat gets tight just thinking about it. Am I supposed to fucking cry or something to get over her?

  “You haven’t heard from her?”

  “I haven’t spoken to her since May.”

  “What the fuck did you do?”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “She wouldn’t tell me. She likes you too much.”

  I grunt. Shit, she sure has a funny way of showing it. “I fucked up. You want to hear it?”

  “Nope. I like you, but I love my daughter.” Jacques pats the pack of cigarettes inside of his jacket. “I got to get the hell out of here. I have a plane to catch in the morning, but one more thing.”

  “What is it?”

  “If Angelina didn’t say anything to me about whatever the hell you’ve done, then that means you’re closer than you think.” He winks. “I’ll give you a call from Paris. The next gig is in New Orleans.”

  That catches me off guard. “No shit?”

  He smirks. “Yes, shit.”

  That and hearing Angelina may not be through with me makes my night. After Jacques leaves I finish my drink. There’s no use in sticking around now that he’s gone. I step off the stool and turn around.

  “Hi, Charlie Lord.” I stop. It’s the girl I had sex with at the W a few months ago. Her name is on the tip of my tongue. “Lilac?”

  “Ha,” she scoffs. “You remembered?” I can see the pure hate she has for me in her eyes. And the only reason I recall her name is because of Angelina. I’ll never forget the fact that we both thought “Lilac” resembled Pocahontas.

  “I do,” I say. It’s evident that she expected me to still be the asshole that might call her Lily or Lisa.

  “Well, I lost my job because of you,” she says.

  She’s trying to lay a guilt trip on me, and it’s not working. She’s an adult. She chose to stay and fuck, thinking she was going to get a part in a Hollywood movie out of it. But I did dangle the plastic carrot. I knew there wouldn’t be a role for her. I just wanted to make Monroe jealous, and as soon as I got the reaction I wanted, I tossed Lilac to the side. Who knows how far I would’ve taken it if Angelina hadn’t been there. Shit, if it weren’t for the forces of circumstance that brought Angelina to that trailer that day, then I wouldn’t be standing here at this very moment. There would be no Jacques or movie scoring. I would’ve definitely abandoned The Great Dame by now, but then what?

  “I’m sorry that you lost your job,” I say, and after an on-the- spot attitude adjustment, I really mean it.

  “You were such a dick. Great in bed, but a fucking dick.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not. I wish I could go back and do things differently, but I can’t.”

  She narrows her eyes to slits and then looks down at my cock. “So are you leaving here alone?”

  And this is my problem. It’s always been too damn easy. She lost her job. I embarrassed her. Disappointed her. Yet she still wants me to take her somewhere and bang the hell out of her.

  “Why would you want to have anything to do with me?” I ask out of curiosity. What do you have to do to a chick to make her realize that you don’t give second chances to guys who treated them like I have?

  She shrugs coyly. “I don’t know. You said you were sorry. Were you lying?” The anger is back on her face.

  “No. That’s why I’m leaving here alone. I’m not going to let myself do that shit to you again.”

  She grabs me by the shoulder before I’m able to walk off. “So that’s it?”

  I take her hand off of me. “That’s it.”

  Damn, that felt good, as if I finally did something right for a change. I feel like I’m walking on clouds. The L.A. night is warm, and the air is stale. And yet it’s another best night of my life. I get in my car, which is parked along the curb across the street from the bar. I plug my cell phone into the amplifier because I have a call to make. There was a time in my past when I wanted to change the course I was on. I lifted a pamphlet from an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting on 48th Avenue in Manhattan, which listed the twelve steps to sobriety. I read down to the step regarding making direct amends and then crumpled the pamphlet and tossed it in the gutter along with the other trash. I didn’t get it then, but I sure as hell get it now. I feel vindicated, and since I want to take this feeling and run with it, I make the call.

  One ring and Monroe says, “What, Charlie?”

  “I have something to say to you. Are you busy?”

  Her voice is silent, but her thinking is loud. “What do you want?”

  “Just to talk.”

  She snickers facetiously. “Now you want to talk?”

  I sigh with regret. “Shit, I’m sorry for not calling you back. I just finished a job.”

  “Yeah, I know you’re working with Jacques Blanchard. How close did that get you to fucking his daughter?”

  “Ouch,” I say because hearing that stung.

  Monroe blows a forceful breath. “Damn it. That was mean. I apologize. I’m trying to find my happy, and I can’t do that if you’re around.”

  I shrug as I watch two women walk past. One waves, a
nd I gaze past her. “I understand. Good night, Monroe.”

  “Wait,” she says quickly. “What do you want? Sex?”

  “No. I just want to talk.”

  She pauses. “Where are you?”

  “Across the street from a bar on Melrose.”

  “Let’s have dinner.”

  “Sure.”

  “On you.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Meet me at La Fine in Brentwood in an hour,” she says and ends the call.

  An hour is how long it takes to get there. Fucking L.A. traffic—day or night, I’ll never get used to it. I’m ready to ditch this town. I’m exiting stage right the day after tomorrow, and I know exactly where the hell I’m going—New Orleans. I’ll buy a house that looks just like the one Angelina pointed out. Perhaps that will convince her to forgive me and be with me so that both our lives can finally be complete.

  I leave my car with the valet.

  “You must be Charlie Lord,” the hostess says as soon as I walk inside.

  I’m taken aback. “I’m him.”

  Her bright eyes are searching my face, and she’s grinning as if she has a secret she’s not telling. She tilts her head toward the main room. “This way.”

  The lighting is low, and the crowd’s pretentious. Normally I wouldn’t grace the doorway of a place like this. Monroe is at a table near the window. She smirks. I secretly hoped my stomach would turn flips or something when I saw her. That doesn’t happen, although I am happy to see her.

  “You’re late,” she says before I can get comfortable in my chair.

  I check my watch. “No, I’m not. You’re just early all the damn time.”

  “Don’t you know that the world revolves around me?”

  I snort. “I know you like to think so.”

  We grin at each other.

  “So what the hell do you want from me if it’s not sex?” she asks.

  “Remember the girl I brought to the meeting, Lilac?”

  Monroe raises her eyebrows in surprise. “You remember her name?”

  “Shocks the hell out of me too. I ran into her before I called you. It gave me a chance to say I’m sorry for what I did.”

  “You mean use her to make me jealous?”

  I throw my hands up. “You caught me.”

  “And now you feel like you have to apologize to me?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “What? Are you in fucking Alcoholics Anonymous or something?”

  I laugh a little. “No. Actually I haven’t had much to drink in a long time.”

  She seems impressed. “A sober Charlie. What a novel idea.”

  “Are you going to bust my balls tonight?” I ask, my tone light.

  “No…” She shakes her head and wrinkles her nose. “But you don’t have to apologize to me. We were in it together. After we first had sex something happened to me. It was a compilation of a lot of shit. Hannah started dating this guy. Maggie got a new job. Cleo and her snobbish boyfriend Perry were getting more serious. I had a new book and movie venture, but it didn’t feel like my life was changing in the same way that theirs was.” She shrugs. “Then we had sex.”

  I nod because I do understand everything she just said.

  The waitress arrives to take our order. The restaurant serves Italian so I order a crusted salmon, and Monroe asks for the seafood-stuffed portabella mushrooms. We also order a bottle of their finest wine.

  “So what’s going on between you and Shane?” I ask.

  She narrows one eye. “Nothing. We’re over.”

  I wonder if he found out about what happened between us, but it’s best not to ask.

  “I was with Donald for a little while. That didn’t work out. But I do want my own real boyfriend. My own Vincent Adams or Perry Livermore.”

  “You say that the way you would if you were considering buying a car.”

  She shrugs nonchalantly. “Maybe I should buy myself a man? I can afford a real good one.”

  “You can buy a male, but you can’t buy a man,” I say.

  Monroe takes a moment to consider that. “Shit, you’re right.” She slumps her shoulders. “Maybe I’m just meant to be alone.”

  The server arrives just in time to hear a beautiful woman like Monroe say she’s meant to be alone. He keeps sneaking peeks at her as he pours our wine.

  “Can I get you anything else?” he asks. He’s really asking her in particular.

  “No.” She waves him away without a second glance.

  He looks back at her as he walks off.

  “You’re not meant to be alone,” I say.

  “Maybe you are too,” she says. “I heard Angelina didn’t take you back.”

  I feel a pinch in my heart. “No, but we’ll see how things shake out.”

  “Mm. Not taking no for an answer is very Jack-esque of you.”

  I don’t even balk after hearing that. I’m over being insulted when people associate everything I do right with behaving like Jack. Maybe it’s time for me to know myself, and if no one else can see me for who I truly am, then fuck ‘em.

  “Back to you,” I say. “Here’s something about falling in love that I’ve learned.”

  She snorts. “You learned something about love?”

  “I did,” I say, proud and confident.

  “And what is that?” She sounds doubtful.

  “Love is unpredictable. It has its own preference. It’s just a feeling, and the first time it hits you, it knocks the wind out of you. It’s inconvenient as hell, but it comes exactly when you’re ready. And if you’re lucky, you’ll notice it, claim it, and never fuck it up.”

  Monroe watches me with parted lips. I’m waiting for her to say something sarcastic. If she doesn’t buy my outlook on love, that’s her choice, but I wholeheartedly believe what I think I know.

  “Holy shit, Charlie,” she finally says with a catch in her throat. “That’s probably true.”

  I wink at her. “Probably.”

  She spends the next hour filling me in on the shenanigans that went on between her and Mandy Hill after I left.

  “Mandy Hill the actress,” she says loudly enough for everyone around us to hear, “is a crazy bitch!”

  “I warned you.”

  “I wish I had listened. If she thought any girl was getting attention from any guy that should be paying more attention to her, she wouldn’t stop short of grabbing his nuts. She started fucking Shane after we were over and then Donald. I started a rumor that I was fucking Rupert, remember him?”

  “The short gaffer. Really nice guy.”

  “Yeah. I figured he works hard, why not repay him by getting him laid.”

  “Did she fuck him too?”

  “They’re dating!”

  I laugh my ass off, picturing all five feet and seven inches of him banging six feet of Mandy Hill, who’s as skinny as a chicken bone. I’ve done her myself a couple of times, and it wasn’t good.

  “So do you think I’m going to get a solid return on my investment?” I ask.

  Monroe tosses her head back to laugh. “Pearl and I are meeting with distributors on Monday of next week. You can come if you want.”

  “Hell no. As a matter of fact, you could buy me out if you like.”

  “I don’t have your kind of cash, remember?”

  I snort. “I just finished working with Jacques and got paid twenty thousand for two months’ worth of work.”

  “That’s still a big check in the real world.”

  “I’ve never worked that hard in my life. I’m going to work with him again in a few weeks.”

  “Shit. So you’re staying in L.A. for a while.”

  “No, it just so happens that we’re going to be working in New Orleans.” My smile is broad. Monroe will never be able to guess why. It’s fucking fate.

  “Well… You’re going to make your money back and then some on the film.” It’s clear she’s changing the subject. “That’s why you paid Pearl the big b
ucks, right? I have to admit she’s a force to be reckoned with.”

  “And you fired her.”

  “But you re-hired her!”

  Monroe and I gaze at each other, smiling. I don’t feel lust for her anymore. I still like her though.

  “Are we friends now?” I ask.

  “Why the hell not? Yep. We are.”

  “One down, and Cleo and Hannah to go,” I say.

  She bursts out into laughter. “Sorry, Chuck, but you’re unredeemable in Cleo’s eyes. And Hannah…” She flops a hand aimlessly. “You don’t want to go there. She’s stuck on me now, but if I could go back fifteen years to the day when I asked her to take Maggie’s and my picture for the school yearbook and she and Maggie all of the sudden became best friends, then I would ask someone else.”

  “I thought you and Hannah were just as good of friends as you and Maggie.”

  “We are now! My point is that she’s high maintenance and prone to making silly choices.”

  “Kind of like you.”

  “Exactly! We’re too much alike.”

  By the end of dinner, I’m sure about one thing—Monroe and I are not compatible as lovers. She’s not the one. Angelina’s the one for me, and I’m more determined than I was before dinner to win her back. I’ll do whatever it takes, even if it means staying celibate until she offers me entrance into my favorite place on earth.

  Chapter 16

  Aren’t We the Lucky Ones?

  The last two months come crashing down on me like a tsunami. At least it’s a good exhaustion. I shower, lower the light-blocking curtains, and hit the hay. A long while later the ring of my cell phone wakes me up. I reach out to grab it from the nightstand.

  “Hello?”

  “Charlie. It’s Mags. Where the hell are you?”

  I sigh. Hearing her voice makes me doubly sleepy. “Maggie, not now.”

  “We’ve been at the hospital since yesterday. Daisy had the baby.”

  “What?” I wonder if she said what I thought I heard her say.

  “We’re at the hospital,” she says again.