Erin glanced from Ben to the large flat-screen that hung above the dresser at the foot of their bed. The TV screen was black. Then she saw the remote control beside Ben on the comforter. She looked at him quizzically.
"I watched it," he said. "I couldn't sit in there with you, knowing what you were thinking, that you think this whole thing is my fault."
"That is not fair," Erin cried out. "I haven't blamed you for any of it. I was just doing my job, too, all right? I had to show up to work every day just like you did. I can't help it that they decided to twist this all up and distort it to make it look like something it's not." At this point hot tears streaked both her cheeks. Choking on a sob, she added, "I'm the one who has to live through it next week when everybody I've ever known in my entire life watches me on TV thinking I cheated on my brand-new husband when I didn't even do it." Her voice had reached near hysterics. "And I'm contractually obligated to not defend myself."
Ben nodded and said, "I know." He looked more sad than angry. "I know you didn't want any of this to happen, either."
Erin barely heard him.
Her brain was spinning at ninety miles an hour over the facts of the situation. Something Ben said had tripped some wire in her brain, formed a connection she she'd been trying to make for months, but that had eluded her. "Leo didn't want that to show up in this little story he was concocting, did he?"
For the first time it occurred to her that maybe all of this had happened according to a master plan. Maybe Leo hadn't wanted her at all. He'd just wanted her to want him. And that was why he'd been so pissed when she hadn't.
Erin's jaw was slack as she spun back a little further in her mind. She remembered how weird Leo had acted after the race, how she'd even noticed that day that Leo hadn't filmed Ben embracing her after she'd crossed the finish line. Was that when he'd concocted the idea? Or did it go back further than that?
She tried to reach back far enough in her memory to pinpoint what it was he'd said to her at the cooking school that had first made her feel uncomfortable around him, but she couldn't remember his exact words, only the way he'd made her feel.
That was it. That's when he decided to screw me over. Thank God she at least hadn't fallen for it, hadn't given in to his advance in the L.A. parking lot. She shivered, recalling the way women had fawned over him on location—in every location. Was this his MO? The reason he got paid the big bucks on big shows? He certainly was a master manipulator, both behind the camera and in front of it.
Oh, you are so going down. Erin's eyes narrowed.
She was lost in these thoughts and wasn't paying attention to Ben, so when he stood suddenly, she glanced up in surprise. He crossed over to the dresser and snagged a T-shirt from the top drawer, pulling it over his head in practically the same movement.
"Where are you going?"
He didn't look at her because he'd turned toward the closet. He emerged a few seconds later with running shoes and perched on the side of the bed as he bent to tie them.
"I've got a few things I need to do at the lab," he said.
Erin glanced at the clock on his nightstand. "At nine-thirty at night?" Why should that surprise me? He worked this late all the time. "You're just going to leave? Are you that pissed off at me?" She scurried to the edge of the bed and stood, blocking his path to the bedroom door.
He reached her in two strides and put his arms around her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "I'm not pissed at you," he said. "I can't say the same for your co-workers, especially that…" His words cut off as his lips compressed into a thin line.
He shifted her to one side gently and passed by her to the doorway. "I just need to be by myself for a little while, to calm down," he said. "We'll figure out how to deal with this. Don't worry."
He turned and stepped back into the room as Erin's stomach danced with panicked flip-flops. She wanted to talk to him about her newfound theory, but she wasn't even sure yet what it was. Was Leo the only one involved in this? Was Jarvis behind it, too? What about Lena and Jeanette? Hell, maybe even Joey had conspired to screw her over.
Ben's lips crushed down on hers just as Erin had that thought. She was stunned by all of it, in a daze as he said, "I won't be gone long, I promise."
And then he left.
Once the back door clicked shut and Ben's car roared to life, Erin called Sherri to have the long, rational discussion she wished she could have had with her husband. Sherri's opinion was that it was Leo's conspiracy, not everybody else's…but she agreed with Erin that there was a good chance Jarvis had been involved.
Reluctantly, Erin told Sherri what she had in mind for the finale. With tonight's revelations, her plan for the live show was even more necessary.
"You need to call your lawyer," Sherri said when Erin finished talking.
The knots in Erin's stomach cinched. "I know. I've thought of that." She wouldn't violate her contract terms, but she also wouldn't let Leo and Jarvis demolish her without a fight. She would not be collateral damage for YOLO's ratings.
Next Erin called her mom, but kept the conversation short. She put on a brave front—she wasn't ready to let her parents in on the details, but she did want them to know she wasn't falling apart…even if she was.
And then she plopped down on the living room couch to wait for Ben.
And wait.
And wait some more, until finally the tears started coming, slow at first and then faster and harder as she realized how much damage the last few months had inflicted not just on their reputations, but their relationship.
At first she didn't try to call him or even text—he'd said he needed time to himself, and she wanted to give him space to think things through and do whatever work he needed to get done. But when 11:15 hit and then 11:30, she couldn't take it anymore. She picked up her cell and called.
He didn't answer, and she felt a tug of irrational panic. While she'd been giving him space, had something terrible actually happened? What if he'd been in an accident?
Just as she was working herself up to hysterics, her phone range. She snatched it up and clicked to accept the call. "God, I was afraid something had happened to you," she said. "Are you on your way home yet?"
"No, not yet." Ben's voice sounded strange, strangled. There were weird sounds in the background, and Erin strained to listen.
"What's that noise, then?" It was a whirring noise, sort of a mechanical hum. "Are you testing machines or something?"
"No. It's…" Ben's voice grew further away, like he'd pulled the phone away from his ear. "I'm…I'll be…" He paused again, and there was a scuffling sound. "I'm coming home soon."
And then Erin's heart stopped beating for a full three seconds as she heard a woman's voice in the background. The words…and the voice…were unmistakable. "Let me talk to her."
All the muscles in her body tightened at once. While she was home suffering, Ben was in the office at 11:30 at night with Melody? Her grip on the phone was vice-like, so tight she feared it might snap in half.
On the other end of the call, she heard a struggle. "No," Ben said. "Here, let me…let go!"
And then Melody was on the line. Her breathing was ragged, like she'd been crying. Erin realized that must have been the humming noise she'd heard.
"How could you?" Melody stormed.
For a couple of seconds, she was too stunned to respond. And then she said, "Excuse me?"
"How can you treat Ben this way? Do you even have any idea what you have, what a good man he is?"
Erin could hear Ben in the background grappling for the phone. "Give the phone back to Ben," she demanded.
But Melody wouldn't be deterred. "He is so faithful to you," she said, and Erin, who'd leapt to her feet when she'd heard Melody's voice, sank heavily back to the sofa, her eyes wide as chestnuts. "Do you know that? Even when you're off doing God knows what, God knows where." Here she paused. "Though we all know with who—"
Erin tried to interrupt, but Melody cut her off.
"And he's working like crazy on this project and getting no support from you at all." Erin frowned, wondering what of this was coming from Ben, what he might have said at work to explain himself these last few weeks. Or had Melody concocted the fallacy herself? She didn't hear Melody's next few words, but her ears perked back up when she said, "…in love with him, and he won't stop talking about you…"
"What?" Erin interrupted. "Did you just tell me you're in love with him?"
Melody was sobbing again, heaving so hysterically that Erin wanted to move the phone away from her ear, but the iron grip of her fingers only pressed it harder into the side of her head. This woman is crazy. If the hotel room incident wasn't proof that Melody needed help, this conversation was enough to have her drugged and straitjacketed. Erin might have pitied her, but with Melody alone in a room with her husband this late at night, the only emotion she could conjure was fear.
"Yes, I love him," Melody breathed into the phone. "I love you." Erin knew these last words weren't directed at her, and she heard the phone clatter down onto something hard. The floor? A desktop?
"Melody?" All she heard was silence. "Melody? Ben?" Erin's voice took on a panicked timbre. "Ben? Pick up! Ben?"
The call cut off with a flat beep-beep. Erin opened her mouth as if to scream, but the only sound that came out was a low, strangled gurgle.
And then she was alone in her silent house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Damage Report
March 5, three months, one week to thirty-five
An hour and a half later, Ben's key turned in the lock. Erin was still awake, wide awake, but she didn't move when he came in, not even when he sat down beside her and wrapped both arms around her shoulders. She was curled into a tight ball on the living room sofa, her arms around her knees.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. He kissed the side of her head, and when she didn't respond he trailed small kisses from her temple to her cheek. Still she didn't move. "I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry. I should never have left."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "What happened when you took her home?" Her voice was toneless.
After their call cut off, it took Ben nearly thirty minutes to call her back—thirty minutes in which Erin called and texted his cell incessantly with no response, growing sicker with worry and fear and panic with each minute that passed until now she felt only this. Only numb.
When he finally called, he gave her a hectic, twelve-second explanation that made no sense, something about "walking around my car" and "can't leave her here" and "I'll be home soon," and then she heard the car door slam, and he said he had to go. Erin gleaned that Melody was in the car and that he'd talked her down and gotten her to leave the building and was driving her home because he couldn't leave her alone at the office in that state.
She knew in the rational part of her brain that he was right, that he couldn't have left Melody alone. She'd heard the woman, and she was clearly out of her mind. There was no telling what Melody might have done if he'd left, maybe even followed him here. But that didn't mean it didn't freak her out knowing Ben was alone with that woman in a vehicle…that he was going to her house.
"I went to her door and talked to the…babysitter." He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully, and his voice hitched in a weird way on the last word. Erin finally moved her head to look at him. "I can't believe her kids were home. I figured since she was at the lab that late they must have been with her husband."
"Ryan moved out?"
Ben nodded, looking confused. "I told you they were getting divorced."
Erin shuddered, grateful somebody had been at Melody's house. She could only imagine what might have happened if Ben had gone with her inside. She squeezed her eyes shut and asked the question that bothered her the most.
"When you got to the lab and saw that Melody was still there, why did you go in?" She couldn't keep the accusation out of her voice, which was hoarse from tears and exhaustion. It was after one a.m.
Ben, whose forehead was resting on the tip of her shoulder, didn't answer for a long moment.
"You're right," he said. Erin's eyebrow formed a question mark, but since Ben was face-down he couldn't see it.
"Right about what?"
"You're right that I should have turned around and walked right back out of the lab. I shouldn't have gone there in the first place."
Erin jerked her shoulder out from under him, outraged, and Ben pitched forward before catching himself. "You knew she was going to be there?"
His eyes were wide. "No. That's not what I meant. I shouldn't have gone to the lab and left you here upset. I didn't think Melody would still be at work, or anybody, for that matter. I needed to clear my head and knew work would be the best place to do it. I was only planning to run in for a few minutes—jot down some notes from this morning and check the trial samples since I hadn't seen them in a few days."
"Why was she there?" Erin asked. "Surely she wasn't expecting you to show up that late."
"No, she was just still at work. I think…I think she doesn't like going home."
"To her own kids?" Erin's eyes bugged. Meanwhile, the feeling was starting to creep back into her fingertips, which were numb from being clenched so tight around her legs for so long.
"She's a very unhappy person."
Erin decided to leave it at that. She didn't have the stomach for more.
When she didn't ask any more questions, Ben put his arms around her again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He murmured the words against her cheek. A dull ache radiated through her body, seeming to originate from the heavy lump in her stomach.
"I'm sorry, too," she said. "Very sorry." She didn't move, didn't respond as he began kissing her cheek again, her temple, her hair.
Eventually her body wracked in a heaving sigh, and she pushed him away, mustering the energy to stand. She trudged toward their room, and Ben followed her. When they reached the door, she gave him a despondent look.
He hadn't meant for any of this to happen. She knew that. And she deserved blame for things that had gone wrong tonight, too.
But still, he had the stench of Melody all over him, and she couldn't stand it, couldn't stand the thought of him touching that woman—or right now, her.
"Do you mind sleeping in the guest room tonight?"
She couldn't bring herself to look at him, but she could imagine the hurt in his eyes. She hated putting it there. She only hoped, when this was over, they could survive all the damage they'd done.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
#Busted
Date: March 7
Age: 34
Time to 35: 3 months, 1 week
List Item: No. 31: Dance on a bar top
Ever seen an almost middle-aged chick work it on the counter of a crowded bar? Yeah, I know. I'm questioning my sanity, too. Remember I was not quite 31 when I crafted the original 35 by 35 list…still fresh off my 20s and goofy and irresponsible and not quite yet grown-up. Why I didn't put this item at the BEGINNING of the list while I still felt all those previous things is the big mystery.
Actually, it's not. Back then I was thinking of these last few list items as a last hurrah. One final nod to childish behavior before giving in to the idea of all adulting, all the time. It's no coincidence that Dance on a bar top is a mere 4 items above Get pregnant on my list. And yes, I know it's the first time I've brought that up, and yes, it's terribly exciting and terribly terrifying all at the same time. And I also know—boy, do I know—that it's the one item on my list that's utterly out of my control. But I digress.
So. Dancing on a bar top.
To make this happen, I turned to my friend, favorite partner in hijinks, and fellow blogger, Dave Barber of Kid Poor. Dave helped me pick the place and gave me much needed moral support, along with several others whose names shall be changed* to protect the not-so-innocent. Long story short, we showed up at the Fort Worth location of Coyote Ugly stone-cold sober with plans to change that situation, stat. One
thing that changes between the ages of 31 and 34, at least when you're too busy to party and too married to hook up, is that your alcohol tolerance significantly shrinks. I hadn't had more than two beers or two glasses of wine in one sitting in…well, I honestly don't remember the last time. Probably the Napa Valley drinkfest gone awry that resulted in angry vineyard owners and indecent exposure during 30 First Dates.
Anyway, I knew I'd need a significant buzz to climb onto a bar amidst gorgeous women who were probably wearing Pampers when I was picking out homecoming dresses. Yeesh. And so against my better judgment, I let my friend *Vera talk me into doing shots.
I don't remember actually climbing onto the bar. That must have happened at the precise moment my brain started floating on the cloud of tequila. I DO remember (or at least, I've been told) that I stayed up there through four whole songs, during which time a Coyote bared my midriff by tying a knot in my shirt just under my bra (Thank God the triathlon bod hasn't totally faded into flab yet.), and a guy in a Stetson got kicked out for climbing up beside me and trying to touch me in a…let's just say, inappropriate place.
Above-mentioned Coyote also offered me a job, which was flattering. I'm pretty sure they'd take back the offer the first time Ben punched the lights out of a paying customer, Stetson or no Stetson. Based on how sore I was the next day, I'm also sure my approaching-middle-aged self is better suited for office work.
But hey…I did it! Another list item bites the dust, and I'm one step closer to closing the door on my wild youthful ambitions and raising up the next generation to accomplish goals (hopefully) more worthwhile than mine.
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