by Dylan Allen
I groan and sink down in my chair.
“Hey, if you’re really not fucking . . . then you’ve got some pretty good mental foreplay going on. So, when you finally get to fucking—”
I cut him off. “Stop saying fucking. No one is fucking. Reece and I . . . we’re just friends.” I’m reeling on the inside. My protests are to convince myself as much as they are to convince them.
Todd gives Dan a knowing glance. “Oh, babe, you should relax. If you could see what we do, I think you’d rest a lot easier. And as for that ex of his. She’s history. Never say never, but I think she might really have to be the last woman on earth. She made his life a living hell.”
My curiosity is piqued. I want to know more, but I won’t gossip, especially not about Reece. When I don’t respond, Todd sighs and says, “Listen, here’s what I’d tell your friend: Don’t play games. If you want to call him, call him. If you’re wondering where you stand, ask him.”
“Okay, enough of this shit. I’ve got work to do,” says Dan as he slips his headphones on and faces his computer.
“Thanks, T.” I smile gratefully at him.
He smiles at me. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m sending you a bill for that little therapy session.” And then he turns back to his own computer.
I do the same. I open my email and write back to Reece.
To: RCarras
From: LVega
Subject: Re: Today
Reece, I’m sorry I missed seeing you before you left. Is everything okay? I want to talk to you, too. About what happened in the pool. Call me when you can.
* * *
LV.
* * *
I read it ten times before I press send. And then I wait. And wait. When, by the end of the day, Reece hasn’t responded, I feel so despondent that I decide I need another session of yoga tonight. The kinks and aches in my heart are telling me that they need to be worked out.
I’m in my golf cart on my way home when my phone’s alert tells me that I have an email. I stop the golf cart, right there in the middle of the path, and pull it out. It’s from him.
To: LVega
From: RCarras
Subject: Re: re: Today
* * *
LV,
I’m okay. My dad had a minor heart attack today. He’s okay now, but we had quite a scare this morning. I’ll be in LA for the next week or so, trying to get settled. Things are pretty hectic, so it’ll be difficult to do it this week, but we need to talk.
I meant what I said in the pool. I want to pick up where we left off. I’ll check on you tomorrow.
Night,
R.
* * *
My heart goes through a series of emotions as I read the letter. Fear, relief, disappointment, happiness, doubt and now worry. I can’t imagine what his morning was like. I know how much he idolizes his father.
I email him back right away
To: RCarras
From: LVega
Reece,
I’m so sorry about your dad. I’m glad he’s okay. Call me if you need anything.
I miss you,
LV
* * *
I waffled on adding that last sentence, but Todd told me not to play games. So, I won’t. I press send and start back down the path to the house.
I’m just walking into the house when my phone rings, I answer without looking at it.
“Hello?” I answer as I kick the door shut behind me and slip my shoes off.
“You miss me?” Reece’s deep voice responds. It’s gruff with fatigue, but I can hear the smile in it.
“I do. Reece, your dad, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
I walk into the house, turn all the lights on and walk to the fridge to pour myself a glass of water.
“It’s okay. He’s okay. And I’m just tired. It was mild and he got to the hospital really fast,” he says, sounding like he’s not quite convinced yet. “He’s in otherwise really good health, so he’s going to make a full recovery. But, Luc . . .” His voice trails off like he doesn’t want to finish his sentence.
“What? What else happened?” I demand, when he doesn’t say anything.
“I’m going to need to start working from the LA office again. I won’t be back in Malibu for a few weeks.”
I feel selfish for feeling so profoundly disappointed at this news. I try to disguise it. “Okay . . . well the screenplay’s coming along really well. I’ll make sure you get daily upda—”
“I’m not worried about the screenplay,” he says softly, but I can hear the frustration in his voice. “This morning, in the pool, I want to continue that and the conversation.” The gruffness is gone from his voice, and it resonates through me. And my heart smiles; full and wide.
“Me, too,” I respond and am surprised when my voice comes out as a whisper.
“Good. Let me spend the week getting things straight. And I’ll come up next weekend and take you to dinner again. And we’ll talk it out, face-to-face.”
“Sounds good, I can’t wait. Let me know how your dad is doing, okay?”
“I will. And I miss you, too Luc. Sleep tight.”
When I get into bed a few hours later, I’ve replayed our phone call so many times that I feel like it’s imprinted on my brain. Reece misses me. He didn’t leave because of Fabienne. I snuggle into my pillow floating on cloud nine.
This man, this amazing, gorgeous, funny and brilliant man wants me. As much as I want him, if not more. Whatever he’s thinks we’ve got to talk about—my age, the fact that I work for him, maybe even my status—whatever it is, we’ll be able to get over it.
I hope Todd’s right about Fabienne. I didn’t plan on any of this, but now that it’s happening, I want it so badly. I want Reece so badly.
I fall asleep with a smile on my face and a little tendril of hope starts to grow in my heart.
16
Reece
I’ve been in LA for a week. My dad’s being released from the hospital today. As much as I want to get back to Lucía, I’m needed here. Our conversation the night I arrived gave me hope that helped me get to sleep.
But that feels like years go. I’ve been neck deep in work. When I’m not at the office, I’m at my parents’ house. My mother doesn’t trust anyone else to be alone with my father. So, on the weekend when she had to run some errands, she asked me to come and spend the afternoon in the house.
I called Lucía today to say that I wouldn’t be able to come back this weekend like we’d planned. I’d expected her to sound as disappointed as I felt. Instead, she’d just assured me that she was really busy anyway. Her voice was chirpy when she told me that they were hitting it pretty hard on the screenplay and making good progress. But, the lightness in her tone was false. I could hear her biting her tongue.
I started to ask her to tell me what was on her mind, when my phone buzzed. I had a potential partner waiting outside my office. I apologized and disconnected the call.
The studio has done some major juggling. My dad won’t be able to work for at least a month. Today’s been so busy, I didn’t even stop to eat lunch.
At the end of the day, I walk into my dad’s office and take a seat. It’s the first time all day I’ve had more than a couple of minutes to even think. And my thoughts go straight to Lucía.
I look at Lucía and I see endless possibilities. She could be more than just my partner in bed. I’m done fighting what I feel for her.
I’ll find time to drive to Malibu tomorrow, even if it’s just for a couple of hours. I’m going to tell her how I feel.
I settle down at my dad’s desk and pull out my phone. I decide to tackle the other thing that’s been gnawing at me at all week. I bring up my Kindle app and open Lucía’s book. Fabienne’s taunting voice rings in my ear as I jump from the last page I read to chapter fifteen.
I start to read. And half way through the chapter, I stop, convinced that I’ve misread it. I go back to the beginning of the chapter and read it again, but it’s
the same. The incident she describes . . . I know it. But, how does Lucía? My gut twists.
There are only six people besides me who know that story. Fabienne is one of them. My parents and my three best friends are the others. The only one in that group that would ever use it to hurt me is Fabienne. I close my eyes and I see those beautiful brown eyes, so full of honesty. Was that all a lie? I can’t believe it, but there’s no other explanation that makes sense.
I’ve just been sitting here thinking she’s the woman of my dreams, and she’s been in cahoots with my ex-wife all along.
Rage makes my hands tremble as I dial her number. She doesn’t answer. I call again. It goes to voicemail again, but I don’t leave a message. I need to talk to her face-to-face. I walk out of my father’s office and head to my car. I’m going to Malibu tonight.
17
Lucía
My father always told me that if something were meant to be, I wouldn’t have to chase it. That fate and I would meet just where we should, at just the right time.
Seven days ago, in the pool, I thought that my destiny and I had finally collided. Now, I’m starting to wonder if I imagined it. I re-read his email every day to make sure I haven’t. We hadn’t talked all week until today when he called to say he wasn’t going to be coming to Malibu for the weekend after all.
I’d let hope have a home in my heart after our conversation that night. And each day that’s passed without hearing from him, it’s faded a little. I know he’s been busy and I decided to let him have the space to focus on his family and work. But when he called today and said he wasn’t coming up this weekend, I’d wanted to beg him to come.
Instead, I pretended I was fine while we spoke and I’ve spent the day trying to ignore the ache in my chest. I had the day off so I spent most of it bingeing on my favorite show, Master of None. It’s what I wish my immigrant story looked like. Legal, successful and with an intact family.
I ordered in Thai food and besides the delivery man, I haven’t seen or spoken to another human being all day. It’s the kind of day I’d normally relish. But instead I’ve been miserable.
Finally sick of sulking, I force myself to go outside. The fire pit is roaring and I’m sitting, watching the waves as they crash onto the shore, over and over. The majesty of it all is incredible. I wish Julian was here to share it with me. I miss him so much.
I know he’d be proud of me. He thought I could do anything. And even though my parents were building all their hopes on him, he used to tell me that I was going to change the world. That we would do something great together. Well, now we are.
I lift my glass to the sky and toast him. His death won’t be in vain. I’m just taking a sip when I hear a noise from the side of the house. I jump off the chair and grab the bottle of wine I brought outside with me. It’s not an ideal weapon, but it’s all I’ve got.
“Who’s there?” I call out to the dark, my heart sprinting as I wait . . . and then I see him.
Reece steps out of the dark of the house’s shadow and onto the deck. The light from the fire illuminates him and my heart leaps with joy as I take him in. He’s dressed in a suit, like he’s just come from the office, but he’s taken off his tie and opened the top button of his shirt. I can see the smooth, tan column of his neck. I want to run to him and place a kiss on that exposed skin. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him.
But the look on his face stops me. He doesn’t look happy to see me. My joy at seeing him is replaced with a foreboding feeling that something terrible is about to happen.
“Reece, are you okay?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything. His face is in partial shadow, but I can sense that anger and hurt hold equal weight in his expression. Tears prick my eyes because I know what’s coming is going to hurt.
“Why didn’t you answer the phone?” His voice is hoarse, like he hasn’t slept in days.
“What do you mean?” I ask honestly confused.
He takes a step toward me.
“The phone. I called it. Twice.”
“My phone is inside. I didn’t know you’d been calling.”
He takes another step forward and I look up at him. The look in his eyes sends a shiver through me. They’re flat, cold. I don’t move. A thousand butterflies spread their wings and take flight inside my gut. Icy fear pricks my veins.
“Is your dad okay, Reece?” I ask him.
“He’s fine,” he snaps, but doesn’t say anything else.
I come to step in front of him, to look him in the eye, his voice is so grave.
My heart skips a beat.
“Reece, tell me what’s wrong. You’re scaring me.” My voice breaks on that last sentence and he flinches.
“I learned a lot of things from my marriage. But if I had to choose one life lesson that is non-negotiable for me, it’s dishonesty.”
I am suddenly on alert. Reece’s eyes have a dangerous glitter to them and I can see that he’s angry and I have no clue why.
“Tell me about chapter fifteen, Lucía.”
I draw a blank. “What’s chapter fifteen?”
He flexes his jaw, and my heart is sprinting now. What could have made him so angry? “Chapter fifteen in your fucking book. Where did you get that story from? I know you. It’s not from your imagination.”
Goose bumps erupt from my scalp to the soles of my feet. How does he know that?
“Throw Away the Key is fiction—” I start to say.
He growls and stops me by grabbing my arms and puts his face close to mine. He seethes. “No. It’s. Not.”
I wince and he loosens his grip on my arms. “Tell me the truth, Lucía. I’m warning you—if you lie to me, I’ll fire you. And I’ll make sure no one else will work with you either.”
My heart catches in my throat and I feel a surge of fear. What is going on? I try to sound calm and try to answer his question.
I look at him, feel the pinch of his fingers on my arms and rage, hot and wild supplants my fear. How dare he threaten me? I wrench my arms out of his hold and meet his accusations head on. “I have never lied to you.”
He steps toward me and I put my hands on his chest, holding him away. “Don’t you dare touch me again,” I say, my voice shaking with my anger. “Yes, parts of the story are taken from my real life. And you can’t come in here, put your fucking hands on me and threaten me. I don’t have to tell you shit.”
“The hell you don’t. Tell me about chapter fifteen,” he roars and I can see real anguish in his eyes. I don’t understand any of this.
“Reece, chapter fifteen is based on what happened to my brother, Julian. I wanted to pay to tribute to him, by including what happened to him in this story,” I tell him as I look into his eyes. I’m tired and unable to fight any longer.
He steps back. His eyes going from angry to horrified. The dread almost overwhelms me and I take a stumbling step backward, too. I have a feeling that distance between us might be a very good thing right now.
“I thought you’d read the book months ago. Why are you only now asking about chapter fifteen?”
His shoulders sag a little and he turns to face me. When he speaks his voice is mournful.
“I hadn’t finished it. I got to the half way point and knew I had to find you and make it into film, I didn’t even care how it turned out. I’ve been meaning to finish it… but I’ve been busy.”
Any other day, I’d be upset that he’d only pretended to read it all, but right now, that feels insignificant.
“Then, how do you know about chapter fifteen and how did you know it isn’t fiction?” I ask, dread creeping into me, hope, seeping out.
Far from the angry way he started this conversation, Reece seems almost despondent.
“Lucía, I want to tell you a story. But before that, I want to tell you that I meant what I said in the pool. And I meant what I said in my email.” He tugs me into his chest and holds me there. I let myself savor the contact. My anger has lost its fuel. It’s been replaced by icy f
ear.
“Reece, whatever it is. I don’t want to know. Please,” I beg.
His lips caress the top of my head when he speaks. “I’ve got real feelings for you.” My arms circle his waist. “I’ve been struggling this week. I’ve thought about us being in a relationship and worried that you were too young to be locked into one.” I squeeze him. “I thought it might be too soon for you. And there was also the whole ‘you work for me’ thing that I thought would make things difficult. But I’m not a kid. I’ve got an ex-wife who’s a pain in the ass. And you’re not ready for the kind of media attention you’ll get when we get together. And then there’s your status. We’ve got to figure out a way to do something about it.”
Even though he’s in my arms, with each sentence, I feel like he’s taking a step away from me.
His hands come up and skim my face, his eyes mournful, his fingers wiping the moisture from my cheeks. It’s only then that I realize I’m crying. “But fuck me, I can’t stay away from you. I have moments every day, where you’re all I can think about. So, I decided I was going to drive out here tomorrow and just tell you how I feel and what I want.”
Hope, a small and fragile fleck of it, flutters in my chest.
“And then I read chapter fifteen, And Luc, I’ve been so angry ever since. I drove here to rip you a new one. I thought you’d been lying to me . . . but this is so much worse.”
I’ve clearly missed something, but just like that my hope is gone again. I take a deep breath, close my eyes and brace myself.
“I know that story, Lucía. It’s my story.”
18
Reece
Lucía’s eyes pop open and she stares at me unblinking. I let go of her hands and stand back. And then, I tell her.