Love Show

by Audrey Bell

  “So, if you’ll let us know in the next three days if you can accept th—”

  “I accept,” I said automatically.

  He laughed. “Alright, then.”

  When I hung up, I looked at the huge smile on David’s face and laughed.

  “You got it?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. He said I’d probably be in Syria. I mean, things can change, but—”

  He chuckled. “Girl, congrats. We have to celebrate.”

  I laughed again. Pure glee. I really couldn’t believe it.

  Outside the restaurant, I reached for my phone and texted my mother. I could only hope she’d be happy for me and that she wouldn’t say anything to my dad. And then I called Jack. He didn’t pick up the call and his voicemail had been full since the day I’d met him.

  So I texted him.

  Got the job! A few of us are going to The Pub to celebrate. Wanna come?

  I stared at the screen for a freakishly long period of time, before I rolled my eyes and set it away.

  “Tell Justin, and I’ll get everyone else you care about to come.”

  I raised my eyebrows at David. “You are not rebounding with Justin.”

  “I seriously think he’s cute.”

  I gave him a death glare and he just laughed.

  When we pulled up to the bar, I could already tell it was going to be busy.

  Justin and the rest of the newspaper crew had beaten us there.

  “A toast to Hadley,” David called, gathering everyone around and handing out beers. I clinked my glass against David’s and met his eyes. I saw nothing but affection. I swallowed thickly and smiled, surprised that such a simple gesture would make me so emotional. David was my best friend. And he’d be so far away this time next year.

  “Congratulations,” Justin said, giving me a warm hug.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Hey, Justin,” David said. “It’s been too long.”

  Justin lifted his head and looked at him. “David, what’s up?” he had a wide smile on his face.

  “I know Hadley promised you I’d introduce you to some people back in January,” he said, with a winning smile. “You’ll have to let me do that now.”

  I rolled my eyes at David and stepped away to check my phone. Jack still hadn’t written me back. Annoying.

  When I looked up, Ben Mitchell was staggering towards David at the bar. Fuck.

  Where had he come from?

  David had his back to Ben, so I stepped over. “Maybe we should go somewhere else,” I said softly.

  Justin laughed at me. “Like where?”

  David turned his head and his face darkened. I knew Ben had a dangerous side when he drank, but I didn’t expect to see a flash of fear across David’s face. “Yeah, let’s go,” he murmured.

  “Where? Why?” Justin asked.

  “I don’t want him to cause a scene,” David mumbled.

  It was too late for that, though. Ben was making his way over and I left David’s side to intercept him.

  “Hadley,” he slurred. “Where’s Diamond?”

  I realized I was the one, insufficient buffer between David and Ben, and took a step in between them. Ben was a jerk, but even I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to hit a girl in public.

  “Look, I don’t think David wants to talk right now,” I said.

  “Hey,” Ben said, raising his voice and calling loudly over my shoulder. David met his eyes. “You two freaks, this isn’t a gay bar.”

  “Fuck off, Ben,” I said.

  He laughed and looked down at me. “Seriously, you need a girl to defend you?”

  “Fuck off, Ben,” I repeated.

  He laughed. “Faggots,” he spat in David’s general direction.

  “Hey,” Justin said forcefully, stepping forward. David caught his wrist.

  “Don’t bother,” I heard David tell him. “It’s not worth getting arrested over.”

  He pulled Justin by the hand and they left the bar. When I was sure they were gone, I turned my attention back to Ben. I seethed where I stood. “You do realize, Mitchell, that you are the only fucking person in this whole bar who has a problem with them?”

  Ben just looked at me glassy-eyed. “He left me.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” I asked incredulously. “You can’t treat someone like that and expect them to stick around for it.”

  “I love him,” Ben slurred, ridiculously.

  “Really? So, you made him change everything about himself and you beat him up and you decided your reputation was more important than his feelings? What the fuck is wrong with you that you think that constitutes love?”

  “Nobody could know,” he said.

  “I don’t care what you think your reasons are. You have no right to come over here and call him a faggot.” I shook my head. “You need serious help.” I walked away from him, ready to leave by myself since Jack obviously wasn’t coming in time.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  David and Justin hit it off right away. Three days later, they were seemingly inseparable.

  “Hey, chica,” David called when I walked in. They were making lobster risotto, which was ridiculous, but knowing David, it would be amazing.

  I was glad to see them both. Jack had started to freak me out a little bit. He finally texted me Congrats, but he hadn’t wanted to see me for the past two days, and I started wondering if he was regretting asking me to his formal this weekend.

  It didn’t help that he chose to go missing the week that my father started calling me religiously. My mother had told him about the job. So obviously he wanted to talk about it.

  He largely wanted to persuade me from going to Syria. There was no chance of that working, but my dad was persistent and he seemed to think I owed him not one but twenty-two conversations on that matter.

  I’d mostly kept my phone shut off, trying to avoid his unwanted calls, and every time I checked it, my heart plunged a little bit deeper seeing that Jack hadn’t bothered to call me or text me.

  “You look tired.”

  “I am tired,” I said.

  “Sit down and have some bruschetta.”

  I smiled at David.

  “It will solve almost all of your problems,” David promised. “How many times did your father call today?”

  “Seven.”

  “Ah, I’m seeing a downwards trend there,” David said. “Tomorrow, he will only call six times. At this rate, by next week, you won’t hear from him at all.”

  I rolled my eyes at David. That was very like my father—brief periods of intense attempts at discussion, followed by long interludes of complete silence.

  “How many voicemails?”

  “Three.”

  “Are we listening or deleting?”

  “We are deleting,” I said, going to my voicemail box and deleting them without giving them a chance.

  “Give me that,” David said, holding out his hand.

  I handed him the phone. He put it in the refrigerator.

  “What?”

  “Go over there. You don’t need this thing torturing you.”

  “So you’re going to chill it?”

  David shrugged. “Seems like a good strategy to me.” He looked over at Justin. “Give her some scallions to chop or something.”

  Justin smiled shyly at me as I stood next to him. “I can’t believe he’s letting you cook with him. He only lets me do this when I’m in the midst of a crisis.”

  “Actually, I don’t know if I trust her with the scallions, Justin,” David decided. “She can wash the tomatoes.”

  Justin made a face and handed me the scallions anyways.

  “Good call,” I told him.

  He nodded. “You’re still my mentor.”

  “Not in the kitchen,” David groused.

  I retired to the couch when I’d finished with the scallions and sat watching reruns of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

  “How long does risotto take? I’m starved,”
I complained. “Can I order pizza?”

  “Sure, if you don’t value your life,” David snapped.

  “Do I have time to take a shower?” I asked.

  “Oh, you have time to take a half-hour bath if you want.”

  “This better be amazing.”

  I hummed in the shower, fantasizing about pizza, and about my bed. And, if I was being really honest, I fantasized about Jack calling me back and apologizing for putting me on edge. He had invited me to his formal. He had invited me to meet his family. And then he’d disappeared.

  It made no sense. I felt like one of those stupid girls in a bad movie who had missed an obvious sign, but I couldn’t figure out what the sign was.

  I came out of the shower and ran a towel through my hair and walked into my room to get dressed. I turned on the lights and screeched when I saw a man sitting on my bed.

  “Calm down,” Jack said. “It’s just—”

  “Jack, what the fuck?”

  He shrugged. “Your roommate’s cooking dinner for his boyfriend, I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “Where the hell have you been all week?” I asked, catching my breath. “And why wouldn’t you turn on the lights?”

  He smiled mischievously. “Well, I thought it would be sort of funny to scare you, actually.”

  “Well, I need to get dressed,” I said.

  “Also, your dad’s in the living room,” Jack added. “Which is—”

  “What?” I whirled to him. “How is that not the first thing you tell me?”

  He held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I assumed you knew.”

  “Shit. This is not good.” I sighed. “Would you give me a second? I need to get dressed.”

  I pulled on jeans and a sweater and walked out into the living room. What the hell was my father doing here?

  “Dad, what’s going on?” I asked, walking out to the kitchen. He was sitting on the couch, studying his Blackberry, and David was smiling bitchily at him while Justin was unnecessarily cleaning the counter, looking very nervous.

  “Hadley,” he said, getting to his feet. “Your mother has been worried.”

  My father always assigns emotions to some third party whenever he does something that requires an explanation.

  Your mother was worried. The doctor was hysterical. The speed limit was being completely melodramatic about safety.

  “Well, there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “What’s this whole business with Syria? And why haven’t you returned our phone calls?”

  “This whole business with Syria is that I’m moving there because I have a job there. It’s pretty cut-and-dry, actually.” I smiled. “And I did return your phone call. And I think I told you what I just said. And it was weird, because I got like so many voicemails asking the same question I’d already answered.

  “Well, why don’t we talk about that?” he said. “Darling, let me buy you a nice dinner. You look—”

  “Don’t call me darling,” I snapped. I’d heard him call way too many girlfriends darling. I wasn’t sure what had become of most of them, but I was his daughter. I, at least, should be distinguished from all of the other women in his life. “And we have already talked about it. We disagree.” David chuckled, grabbed Justin’s wrist and pulled him out of our living room and into his bedroom.

  “Look, Hadley,” he said in his I’m a serious international businessman voice. He looked at me appealingly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do with your life. But, I would really like to talk to you.” He hesitated. “And why doesn’t your boyfriend—what’s your name?”

  “I’m Jack,” Jack volunteered.

  “Please, shut up,” I said to him pleadingly. “I just—”

  “Your boyfriend Jack can come, too.”

  “He is not my boyfriend.”

  “I can come,” Jack said boldly. He smiled. “Hads, why don’t you get dressed?”

  I turned and tried to burn Jack with my eyes. He just smirked, refusing to take the hint. I stormed into my room. I could lock the door. I considered that for about five minutes while I got dressed. The plan didn’t get much further than locking the door. And if my father flew all the way here from London to see me, then he probably wouldn’t object to taking the door off of its hinges. David had been through enough dysfunction for one semester, I thought nobly, as I resigned myself to dinner.

  “Syria is not up for discussion,” I said when I emerged from my room.

  “You look pretty,” Jack said sweetly.

  “Don’t talk to me.”

  Jack laughed.

  “Charming, isn’t she?” my dad said to Jack.

  “Completely,” Jack replied.

  “What? Are you two idiots friends now?” I asked sourly. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  They both laughed.

  My dad had taken a chauffeured Lincoln car, which may have seemed sleek and luxurious when there was just one person in the back seat. With three of us, squished together, it was decidedly inelegant.

  We arrived at the restaurant, in rumpled clothes and awkward silence. A table for three was arranged. Jack leaned in and whispered into my ear. “Swanky place.”

  “Shut up,” I hissed. Jack laughed, obviously pleased with my discomfort.

  As soon as the waitress handed us our menus and disappeared, I met my father’s icy blue eyes. “You better be ordering something strong.”

  He laughed. “Relax, Hadley.”

  “No. I’m not going to relax, although I really do appreciate the suggestion. But I would like some wine. Please.”

  He chuckled and Jack smiled.

  “I’m glad you think the disaster that is called my life is funny,” I said, more to Jack than to my father. My father had always regarded the disaster that is called my life as a moderately amusing hobby that he took up again every few months.

  He called over the waitress and ordered wine. And then, obnoxiously, he ordered filet mignon for everyone at the table.

  “Jack’s a vegetarian,” I said.

  My father looked at Jack like he had rabies.

  “I am not a vegetarian,” Jack said calmly.

  My father exhaled as the sommelier poured the wine. He took a sip. “Excellent, thank you.”

  I downed my glass in one gulp.

  “You’re really not supposed to drink it like that.”

  “It’s really unappealing, you know, showing up unannounced and telling other people how to drink their wine and live their lives,” I said. “Giving Jack a hard time for being a vegan.”

  “I am not a vegan.”

  “Well, you should be a vegan,” I said harshly. “You should be something. I mean, what’s the point, Jack? You’re just so bored by absolutely everything in your existence that you don’t want to do anything?”

  “Let’s not get personal. You had a bad day,” Jack said

  “Kids,” my dad said. “Hadley. Let’s talk about this Syria nonsense.”

  “There is no nonsense. I got a job. A very good job. Practically my dream job,” I said.

  “It’s not safe.”

  “Lots of things aren’t safe,” I snapped. “Driving a car isn’t safe. Going outside in a thunderstorm isn’t safe. Crossing the street isn’t safe. But sometimes you have to go across the goddamn street. So you ignore the fact that someone could hit you. And you carry on.”

  “Those are not fair comparisons. There’s no reason to go to Syria,” my dad said. “You can be a reporter from practically anywhere in the world. I mean, look, Hadley, it’s a dying field. And there is no good reason that you should die for it in a place like Syria.”

  “It’s what I want to do.”

  “It’s not smart,” my dad said. “I want you to reconsider.”

  “I’m not going to,” I said. I glanced at Jack, who was watching my father closely.

  He probably was freaking out. When I told him my family was kind of messed up, he probably never imagined he’d have to deal with the mess. I co
uldn’t tell what the emotion in his eyes was, though. It seemed like understanding, although I couldn’t tell if the person he understood was my father or me.

  “Do you know what happened to Lara Logan in Egypt?” Jack asked softly.

  I turned to look at him. I knew exactly what had happened to Lara Logan in Egypt. She’d been sexually assaulted by a pack of rioting men in Tahir Square. Most people who followed the news knew that.

  But that’s not what stunned me.

  It’s that Jack said it.

  At dinner with my father, which I was making no effort to be civil at.

  “Excuse me?” I said to Jack, who barely met my eyes.

  “Exactly,” my father said. “Thank you, James.”

  Neither of us corrected my dad. I stared at Jack in shocked betrayal. He looked down at his food and looked back up to find me still staring. “I mean—Hadley, stop looking at me like that.”

  “No.”

  He took a deep breath. “She was surrounded by cameramen. She’s someone who travels with security. I mean, she’s on TV. The Times can’t protect you over there. I don’t think you have any idea what you’re signing up for,” Jack continued, trying to explain why he’d just taken my father’s side.

  “Exactly,” my father repeated.

  I reached blindly for my water. “I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

  “What?” he asked. “You getting hurt?” I met his eyes for a long time before he looked away. “Seriously?” He shook his head.

  “After graduation? Why does it matter if I’m in Syria in six months? You’re not going to see me after that.” I spat it out exclusively for the purposes of hurting him. And I saw it work. I saw him recoil.

  He let out a short, shallow laugh. “Right. Right. No strings. I got it.” He held his hands out helplessly. “This is all just a game. This is all about the rules and—”

  “You have no right,” I hissed. “You have no right to interrupt something you know nothing about and—”

  He nodded. “You know what? We’re not supposed to have dinner together.” He pushed out his chair. “That was a good rule. I forgot about that one. I’m going to go.”

  He was walking out the door before I could register that he might be mad at me. Or hurt. Or something. I watched his shoulders. His bowed head. I wondered if he thought it was funny, or if he was serious. He didn’t take anything seriously. I couldn’t imagine why he’d be such an alarmist about Egypt.