The Love Square

by Jessica Calla

  Dylan peeked over the stacks toward customer service and spotted Clare dwarfed by the giant circular desk. She crushed an earphone into her left ear as she tucked her short, blonde hair behind her right. Her bright green eyes searched the computer screen, and her freckled nose looked pink from too much sun. Her name tag read, ‘Clare—Ask Me Anything!’

  Dylan walked to the customer service line and listened to Clare assist a customer. Her fingers pounded the keyboard as the man, who appeared to be about a hundred years old, stared at her.

  “Sir,” she said, “I am not pulling anything up with the title of Henry Porter. Are you sure that’s the right name?”

  The man scratched his balding head. “Henry Porter. Yes.”

  Clare typed again. “I’m getting an author named Harvey Porter, who wrote a book called Zen as a Way of Living. Could that be it?”

  “Zen? Heck no! I was in the war! No, this is about some kid. I think there’s a witch in it. And a train.”

  “A kid?” Clare stared at the ceiling as she tapped her fingernail on the keyboard, then her face lit up. She pointed at the man. “Do you mean Harry Potter?”

  “Yes! Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?” the old man answered in a shaky voice. “You kids today have no focus. That’s why this country is falling to the Chinese.”

  Dylan smirked into his fisted hand, and Clare finally noticed him. She smiled and held up the “one minute” hand signal.

  “Oh, I must have misheard,” she said to the customer. “Let me show you where you can find that.” With a wink at Dylan, she led the man away.

  Dylan leaned on the counter waiting for her to return when the inevitable happened. He felt the stare before he heard the voice.

  “Oh. My. God. Maxwell Policastro?”

  Dylan turned to see a lady dressed in scrubs watching him wide-eyed. Crap. He plastered on a fake smile and stuck out his hand. “Dylan Barnes,” he said.

  “I love you! Love. You. I’m totally your biggest fan! I love Sunrise, Sunset. It was, like, my favorite soap until they killed you off. Will you sign my book? Ma,” she yelled, waving her arms.

  Dylan took the woman’s book and grabbed a pen off the customer service desk as Scrubs explained how Sunrise, Sunset inspired her to be a dental assistant.

  An older woman soon joined them, and Scrubs handed her a phone. “Get a picture,” she demanded. The older woman gawked at Dylan as he posed with Scrubs.

  Dylan politely and quietly thanked her for being a fan, but the damage had been done. Soon, a slew of people descended.

  These were the moments Dylan hated being an actor. He shook hands and posed for pictures, being as friendly as he could muster, reminding himself they were future movie-ticket purchasers. He loved fans. Really. Just not when he was trying to act normal and blend in.

  As Dylan chatted with the group, he noticed Clare return to the customer service counter. He used his eyes to plead a silent “help me,” and Clare stepped forward.

  “Okay, okay. Let’s let Mr. Barnes buy some books, please. He’s a paying customer just like you all. Let’s treat him with respect.”

  People trickled away except an employee with a tag that read ‘Mary.’

  “Can I help you with something?” Mary asked, blatantly checking out Dylan.

  “I’m here to see Clare,” he said.

  Mary looked to Clare, who shrugged. “I didn’t know you had movie star friends, Clare.”

  “Yes, well, Mr. Barnes and I sort of ran into each other.” Clare glanced at Dylan, and his face warmed.

  Playful. “Actually, she ran into me. Then I guess you can say we…hit it off,” he added.

  Clare giggled and grabbed his hand. She dragged him through the store to her private office. “What are you doing here, Lusty?” she asked, pointing him to a chair by a cluttered desk and shutting the door behind them. “Do you cause chaos everywhere you go?”

  “Pretty much these days. I needed you to sign some insurance papers.” Dylan took them out of his back pocket and unfolded them.

  Clare’s hand brushed his as she grabbed the papers. She sat at her desk to flip through them, her green eyes scanning the legalese. He was relieved she didn’t react more harshly to his fans’ attention, considering he’d caused a ruckus in her workplace. She seemed generally laid-back, maybe because of her Midwestern nature.

  “Did you get a new car?” Clare asked as she signed the papers.

  “I will this week.” Dylan stood and walked around Clare’s messy office. Binders, printouts, and detailed-looking lists littered her desk. Boxes of books and supplies covered the floor. A photo of a fenced-in field hung on the wall behind her computer.

  Clare caught him looking. “It’s my family’s farm,” she said. “Horses.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  Clare smiled and handed the papers back to him. “I miss it,” she said. “Here you go.”

  “You know, I was thinking,” Dylan said, folding the papers and shoving them into his pocket, “there are a lot of cool places in LA and in California in general. Maybe I can show you around sometime?”

  “Don’t you have better things to do, being a model slash actor and all?”

  “Not really. I try to lay low.”

  “Wow, you sound as pathetic as me. Who knew that was possible?”

  “Gee, thanks,” Dylan said. “Look. I remember when I was new to town, and I thought it would be a nice thing to do since I yelled at you when you smashed my brand-new luxury car, and then I used the Lord’s name in vain.”

  Dylan shifted on his feet as he waited for Clare to accept his invitation. He wasn’t sure she’d say yes and suddenly felt like an idiot.

  Finally, she shrugged. “Okay. Let’s be friends, Lusty.”

  A friend sounded nice. He didn’t have many real friends.

  “Can I still gawk at your billboard every morning?” she asked.

  “Not if you are going to keep crashing your truck.”

  Clare shook her head and grinned. “Good point. Maybe you can show me another route to work.”

  “Will do. Besides that, anywhere in mind you want to see?”

  Without hesitation, Clare answered, “I haven’t been to a beach yet.”

  Dylan gasped. “You’ve been here for what? A month? You haven’t been to the beach?”

  “I see it when I drive by, but I’ve never set foot in the sand. I’ve never been in an ocean.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Dylan, having spent most of his life on beaches, couldn’t fathom a twentysomething never experiencing the waves.

  “Do you know of an ocean in Nebraska that I missed?” Clare teased.

  “Okay then, smartass, the beach it is.”

  Dylan and Clare exchanged numbers and made a plan to go to the beach on her next day off. Then she walked him to the front door, taking a less-traveled path through the store.

  “Thanks for bringing those papers by,” she said. “And for offering to show me around. Still, if you get busy with Lusty stuff, I won’t get offended if you cancel.”

  Dylan smiled, knowing he wouldn’t be canceling. “See you next week,” he said.

  For the rest of the week, Dylan busied himself with buying a new car, working out like a maniac, wrapping up his first major role in a feature film, and dodging meetings with his agent. He understood the delicacy of a successful Hollywood career and wanted to do the best job possible. He just wasn’t sure if the whole acting thing was right for him.

  At the moment, all he really wanted to do was show Clare Davis from Nebraska a good time.

  Chapter 3

  Jenna

  Jenna winced at the volume of her ringtone and touched the screen. “Huh-lo?” she sputtered.

  “It’s Alex.” He sounded as miserable as she did.

  “Hold on.” Jenna thanked and bade farewell to an exhausted Linda, promising to call her to regroup during the week. She sat on a bench and picked up the phone again, wondering what to say.

&
nbsp; “Sorry,” Jenna said. “Had to get rid of my realtor. So how hungover are you?” Her voice shook. She rubbed her earlobe, her nervous tic, and took a deep breath.

  “I am destroyed. I have a game tonight too. I plan on spending the day detoxing and sleeping.” As soon as she heard his relaxed tone, the butterflies in her stomach flew away.

  “Ah, sounds so luxurious. I’m jealous,” she said.

  “Yep. I’m living the dream. Hey, listen. Are you still interested in my neighborhood? There’s an apartment available in my building. The rent’s decent and the building is great—right near the subway. I thought I’d tell you so you could get a jump on it. It’s not advertised yet, but I have connections.”

  “Yeah, wow. Absolutely. I’m in your neighborhood. Realtor had no luck.”

  “Where are you?”

  Jenna described her surroundings and the row of stores she faced from her bench.

  “Wait where you are. I’ll come get you.”

  “Awesome,” Jenna said. Except she was a mess.

  She disconnected and pulled her compact from her bag. She checked her face, brushed her hair with her hands, and popped a piece of gum into her mouth to alleviate her coffee breath. Then she replaced Scott’s sunglasses onto her nose, grateful for the relief they provided her weary eyes. She wouldn’t win any beauty contests today, but it would have to do.

  She saw Alex before he saw her. He looked adorably boyish in sweats and a T-shirt, with bed-head hair, walking down the streets of Brooklyn. When he noticed her, he waved.

  Jenna stood. “Hey, you,” she said. She tried to smile, but a burst of pain rushed through her head. “Did I just scream that?”

  “Everything sounds like a scream this morning,” Alex said, rubbing his temples. “What the hell were we thinking? We got wasted at a party for an eighty-year-old.”

  “We need rehab. A twelve-step program or something.” Jenna wanted to look closer at him, so she pushed Scott’s sunglasses to the top of her head, grimacing at the sun as they walked toward his building.

  “I apologize if I said anything stupid to you last night,” Alex said, his colorful eyes red around the edges.

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t remember if you did.”

  They approached the building, and Jenna checked out the neighborhood as Alex fumbled with a ring of keys. He unlocked two outer doors and then a third door and held them open for Jenna each time. He walked her through the hallway to a rickety elevator as Jenna asked a million questions about the building, the tenants, the landlord, and maintenance. Finally, he walked her down a hallway on the sixth floor. He knocked on the door for apartment 602 and waited.

  The door opened, and a man, obviously a realtor, answered. Alex stood near the door talking to him while Jenna walked past them into the apartment.

  Jenna loved it immediately. She noticed the long, narrow windows on the living room wall opposite the entrance and spotted the small eat-in kitchen. As she walked into the living room, she gasped with joy when she saw the wall opposite the long windows was made of red brick. She then walked through a small hallway with a decent-sized closet into the bedroom. The bedroom was just large enough for a dresser and a bed. The bedroom window led to a fire escape, which Jenna decided would be her balcony. A door off the bedroom led to a cute bathroom with a tub. A tub! Jenna sighed, imagining taking a bath in her own private bathroom.

  She returned to the living room and leaned her forehead against the window, noticing that the apartment faced the front where she and Alex had entered.

  “Where’s the subway?” she asked Alex, interrupting his talk with the realtor without apology.

  “A block to the west,” the realtor answered.

  Jenna scrunched her face as she tried to figure out which way was west. “That way,” Alex pointed, clearly having read her expression.

  Jenna smiled and Alex grinned back. Holding his gaze, she said, “I’ll take it.” She sat on the hardwood floor in the middle of the empty living room and rummaged through her bag for her checkbook.

  As soon as the realtor left with the deposit, Jenna jumped up and down cheering. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she sang to Alex, flinging herself into his arms.

  “You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome,” he said, returning her embrace.

  “Come furniture shopping with me?” she asked.

  ***

  Within a week, the realtors had worked out the details, and Jenna signed the lease and picked up her keys. She rented a truck and begged Scott, her friend Penny, and Alex to help her move her stuff out of storage. Alex enlisted the help of Pete and their friend Steve to join them. Jenna didn’t have much stuff, so the move went smoothly, and they returned the truck by late afternoon. Grateful for their help, Jenna treated them all to dinner at a nearby Mexican restaurant Alex had recommended.

  Afterward, Jenna and Alex walked the others to the subway and headed back to their building. The sun set and the moon shone bright above them while Alex excitedly pointed out places of interest—his favorite pub, the pharmacy, the grocery, the garage where he worked during the off-season. Even though he was dirty and sweaty from the move, his energy made Jenna smile.

  As they approached the building, grinning with bellies full of Mexican food, Alex took out his keys.

  “No!” Jenna said. “Let me.” She jangled her keys, trying to remember the proper sequence for all three doors. As she held the third door open for Alex, she smiled. “I did it.”

  “You look happy,” he said.

  “I am. It’s my new place and I figured out the keys!”

  “Exciting stuff,” Alex teased. “First place on your own?”

  “Sort of. Since college, I was either at my parents’ place or with roommates, or squatting with Scott.”

  “Where are your parents?” he asked.

  “They’re retired and live overseas.” Jenna didn’t feel like getting into the saga of her family. Her parents had never been interested in her, so she didn’t mind when they finally bailed and moved to a small town outside of London, leaving her a nice trust fund. In fact, she couldn’t be happier with the arrangement. She’d never be able to live in the city on her office salary without their money, and she loved the excitement and activity of city. If New York was the city that never sleeps, then Jenna was its mascot. Always running, moving, taking advantage of what the city had to offer. I’ll sleep when I’m dead, she thought as she followed Alex to the stairwell.

  “Hey, you want to see my apartment?” he asked as they climbed the steps. They’d decided together to use the stairs whenever they could to burn calories.

  Jenna knew Alex lived in 805, above her on the other side of the hallway, but she hadn’t yet had occasion to visit. “Sure,” she said.

  She followed him down the hallway of the eighth floor to his apartment and acted as though she didn’t see the Post-It note on the door that said:

  A—Call Me :)—Y.

  Or see Alex rip it down and shove it into his pocket. Not my prince, she reminded herself as he opened the door.

  Jenna smelled aftershave the second she walked into Alex’s apartment and experienced a momentary surge of hormonal bliss. She shook her head to refocus. Despite his physical attractiveness, Jenna’s interest in Alex couldn’t be more than platonic. She looked forward to his calls and loved seeing his name pop up on her phone with a silly text message. Despite his reputation as a ladies’ man, he didn’t feed her any lines or attempt to seduce her. He seemed interested in a friendship only. Considering their close proximity, her search for a prince, and his fear of princesses, along with their busy lifestyles, a friendship was probably in both of their best interests.

  She examined his apartment. He didn’t have the brick wall like she had, but she was immediately jealous of his additional closet. Otherwise, the apartments were identical. Obviously, Alex’s apartment reeked of bachelor with its masculine dark walls and furniture, and its cozy feel. Jenna planned on decorating her ap
artment to be bright, happy, and colorful as soon as she could find the time.

  After the grand tour that took about half a minute, Alex handed her a beer, and they collapsed onto his black leather couch and watched television on his giant screen. Later, Alex walked Jenna down the stairs to her apartment and said good night with a smile that twisted her gut inside out.

  Not going to fall, not going to fall, she repeated to herself.

  ***

  Dylan

  When Dylan picked up Clare for their trip to the beach, she looked excited and adorable in a big, floppy straw hat, a long, flowy skirt, and a camera hanging around her neck. She screamed “tourist,” but Dylan didn’t care. The joy on her face was infectious, and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction to the sand and the ocean.

  Dylan drove them in his second new BMW to the least-crowded beach he knew of and parked the car.

  Clare snapped a picture of him and smiled. “I have to document this,” she said. “I promise I won’t sell it to the paparazzi.”

  “Let me have the camera so I can take your picture.”

  “I can’t see the water,” Clare said, handing him the camera.

  “The sand dune is too high. Wait here.”

  Dylan grabbed the duffel bag he had packed for the trip and walked to the top of the dune, turned his back to the vast beach behind him, and waited for Clare as she exited the car. She climbed the wooden-plank stairs to the top of the dune, and he snapped her picture.

  Clare stood staring at the scene in front of her, eyes wide, as Dylan took another picture. When she didn’t speak, he asked, “Well?”

  He turned to face the ocean so he could see Clare’s view. Only a handful of families sat scattered, as it wasn’t the best beach day—overcast, a little cool, a weekday. Dylan was glad she would get to experience the beach like this instead of on a crowded, hot weekend day.