by Anah Crow
“Okay,” Holly said. That was going to be a little harder. He’d just have to do it. “I just…” He hated letting his relationship with his mother out into the world. He didn’t want that part of his life to come into contact with Nick. All the warmth left him in a rush, and his throat tightened. “I will.”
“No more hiding.” Nick didn’t sit down, didn’t reach out, but his expression was sympathetic. “No more hiding, Holly, not from me. I’m the one you’re honest with, remember? I need to know so I can be prepared, so I can help you.”
“I know.” Holly rubbed his hands over his face, the scabs on his palms catching on his stubble and scrapes. He felt old. Right up until Nick had shaken him out, he’d felt twenty-one, stuck there forever. Now he felt ancient.
He didn’t want Nick’s sympathy. Anger welled up to push away his fear and sadness, but he sat there, face covered, and wouldn’t let it out. The part of him that wanted to blow Nick off, to walk out so Nick wouldn’t see what he might be under the façade, couldn’t win anymore. But fuck, he was still scared he’d try to have a normal life and lose it all just when he was stupid enough to hope for it.
“You can do this, Holly. I know you can follow the rules. They’re not hard.” Nick looked at him for another moment, then walked away, back to the kitchen. Water ran, and then the coffeemaker burbled. When it was finished, Nick carried a cup back to the love seat.
By the time Nick was sitting again, Holly was feeling better, well enough to push up from where he was slumped against the wall. His head continued to pound.
“They’re fair. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard,” he pointed out. If he went around pretending it was going to be easy, he’d fuck up again. “Why do you still have any faith in me?” Searching for compliments, maybe, but Holly needed to hear them.
“I know how smart you are,” Nick said, glancing at Holly, then back at his steaming coffee. “I know you’re too smart to keep thinking that drowning yourself in all this shit is the solution for anything.”
“I think I started to get that last night, sitting in the ER, watching people come and go. I think I keep hoping to break whatever defective piece there is in me before I have a life worth caring about.” Holly ran his fingers over the stitches on his head. “But I keep not breaking.”
“Are you ready to stop trying?” Nick’s head came up again, and his eyes locked on Holly’s.
“Yeah.” Holly swallowed and willed his head to stop pounding. He was feeling sick, couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. Hungover. Of course. “Don’t know about the life part yet. But the trying can stop.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Nick sounded approving. “Follow the rules and you’ll be fine.”
Holly wanted to follow the rules, so much. He watched Nick for another moment or two, then forced himself to get out of bed, one painful move at a time. Even the soles of his feet hurt. He was never walking in front of a cab again. Scratch that off the list of things to do in this lifetime.
As much as getting up hurt, sitting down was worse, all the way down on the floor at Nick’s feet. Once his head was on Nick’s knee, though, it was like nothing had ever happened to him, like he’d never been hurt at all. Nothing hurt except the place in his chest where he knew he’d crossed some awful line, accidentally, but still his fault—and that Nick hadn’t left him said everything about Nick and nothing about Holly at all.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Nick’s voice was as soft as his touches, fingers smoothing lightly over Holly’s hair. “I know. That’s why I’m still here.”
Maybe, in a world where Holly had stopped screwing up sooner, where he’d stopped taking Nick for granted and trusted him more, he wouldn’t be feeling guilty because he was keeping Nick from Caroline—that Nick was keeping secrets from her. Maybe Nick wouldn’t have had anywhere to be going from here.
It was too late for that. Holly was going to have to learn to live alone, because he didn’t see anyone else taking Nick’s place, not even a little bit. The sooner he got the hang of being on his own, the sooner he could leave and know Nick would be happy. He could do that. He’d been doing it all along, now he would do it right.
“Stay,” Nick said after a while. “I’ll get you some water. Do you think you could eat?”
“I can try.” Holly rubbed his cheek against Nick’s knee. “Could I please have some coffee?”
“The coffee won’t help with the dehydration from your hangover,” Nick pointed out, but he offered up his cup anyway. “I’ll get you some toast.”
“Thought it might help the headache.” Holly took the cup in both hands. Coffee was so good. He made himself look up, facing what he’d find in Nick’s eyes. Just looking at Nick made him feel better. “Thank you.”
Chapter Eight
Everything Holly had promised Nick he would do, he did. And for once, everything he had promised himself he would do, he did. Tentatively he began to make contact with other people.
He wasn’t ready to see Rich and Anne, not together. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly difficult about either Rich or Anne; Holly liked both of them a great deal. But he wasn’t ready to face their tidy little life.
Alison, on the other hand, had never been very invested in doing what other people thought was proper. She wasn’t judgmental or critical, not because she didn’t care enough to have an opinion, but because she couldn’t be bothered to expend the energy when it wouldn’t change anything. It made her a good photographer; she had a lot of work on both coasts and “across the pond.”
When she called and said she was back in town and working out at the gym they both used, Holly had to offer to meet her there. Anything else seemed cowardly, and he was done avoiding life.
The day he was supposed to meet her, he woke up nauseated. He wasn’t surprised. He’d hardly slept.
After he’d gotten over the worst of his anxiety, he enjoyed the feeling of being anonymous. But meeting up with Alison meant facing someone who knew him—knew the person he’d been and how far he’d fallen.
Holly made himself get out of bed and take his medication and forced a cup of coffee down his throat. He could hardly swallow for all the fear that kept rising from deep inside his chest. He made it as far as the front steps of his apartment building, gym bag slung over his shoulder and GPS tracker in his wallet, before he had to stop and light a cigarette. After a few drags, he felt human enough to carry on.
For some reason Holly expected everyone to look the same as when he’d last seen them. Nick certainly did. So when he first saw Alison, he was startled to see she had changed. Always offbeat, she’d blossomed into a broad-hipped, hippie-punk hybrid with bright pink cropped hair and a Folsom Street Fair T-shirt that barely met the tops of her tie-dyed tights. The chunky shoes were the same kind she’d worn in college, though, hand-painted with daisies.
“Baby!” Alison hitched her backpack and her camera bag over her shoulder and jumped up from the bench she was sitting on. “You look terrible!”
The honesty hadn’t changed either. It made Holly feel better instantly. Laughing, he hugged her when she held out her arms, and he couldn’t remember why he been so anxious in the first place.
“Yeah, but you should see the other guy,” he said.
“Don’t tell me you’ve added fighting to your repertoire of vices.” She pushed his hair back to look at his stitches. “Because I have to tell you, you’re probably not very good at it.”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter?” Holly ducked so she could get a better look, submitting to her inspection. “Don’t worry. The other guy was a cab. I don’t think I even managed to bleed on it.”
“Oh, honey,” she said, shaking her head. “I bet Nick’s gone entirely gray.”
Holly’s face twisted with guilt, making his bruises ache. “Yeah, he doesn’t seem to know what’s good for him.”
“That’s precisely why the two of you deserve each other.” She looped her arm through his and dre
w him toward the locker rooms. “I read the tabloids, you know.”
Holly groaned. “Christ, when did all my friends develop such terrible habits?”
“Oh, honey,” Alison said again. “We always had a taste for drama. You just never noticed.” She grinned wickedly. “What with how you were always so busy being the drama.”
“Ouch.” Holly would’ve been lying if he didn’t admit that had always been his goal—to be the drama, the center of attention. Now he was living with the consequences of dedicating himself to that goal.
“Go get your sneakers on, big guy,” Alison ordered. “I’ll meet you on the treadmills. Mama’s got the cure for what ails you.”
The cure for what ailed Holly, it turned out, was running until he thought his lungs were going to get up and leave without him. Worse, Alison was taking it easy on him; she’d hardly broken a sweat. He worked harder when there was somebody there to keep him company. Even while he was wondering where the hell his next breath was going to come from, he knew it was good for him.
“So.” Alison smacked him with her towel as she got off the treadmill. “When’re you going back to work?”
“Back.” Holly gave up on breathing and took a drink from his water bottle. There, maybe now he could get some air in. “Back to work? You mean people have forgotten I screwed around with one of my clients and botched the whole relationship to the point that I was fired in order for the firm to continue representing her?”
“Well, no. I’m sure you’ll be held up as a cautionary tale for baby PR flacks for years to come.” Alison snickered at him.
“So much for ‘Mama.’ You’re not very maternal.” Holly pushed away from the arm of his treadmill, which was holding him up, and took a step.
“Aside from the bruises, it looks like Nick’s taking good care of you.” Alison said, shrugging. “You don’t need me for that. But you do need a job.”
Once Holly was relatively certain his legs would support him, he started walking. “I would love a job. I have to let Nick get back to his life. I could get a job as a paperboy. Need someone to carry your cameras?”
Alison laughed. “No. But I might know someone who’d be sympathetic to your plight.”
“Oh?” Holly leaned casually on a post to take another drink. Stopping gave him a good look at a leggy brunette working out on the thigh machine. And better yet, checking her out disguised his real reason for stopping—he wanted to sit down.
“I have a friend who used to date your ex, back in the day. I shot his wedding a while back and he mentioned his business was expanding.”
“He needs PR help?” A small business. It was a step down from Hollywood and reality-television starlets, but it was a job.
“It’s him and his wife calling the shots. Something has to give, and PR is the easiest to delegate. Get off that post.” Alison cuffed him lightly. “You have to keep moving or you’ll regret it tomorrow.”
Busted. Maybe he should be doing work on holiday specials and charity drives if he’d gotten this bad at pulling one over on people. He pushed away and started walking again. “Right now I’ll take what I can get. Where’s the company?”
“Baltimore.” Alison threw her towel around his shoulders. “It won’t be what you’re used to making, of course, but you wouldn’t need it in Baltimore.”
A job in Baltimore. It had its advantages. It wasn’t too far from Nick. There was a train that ran between the two cities. It was within driving distance if he wanted to visit. And it wasn’t L.A. Holly was sure there were other advantages, but he didn’t know what they were. Fun, women, money and drugs probably weren’t among them. Maybe being near Nick wouldn’t be an advantage, but Holly couldn’t worry about that.
“Is something wrong with Baltimore?” Alison pointed at the hall that led to the men’s locker room. “Tell me about it after you’re clean.”
“Yeah.” Holly gave himself a mental shake and turned to smile at her. “See you in a few minutes.”
“Don’t get distracted in there.” Alison winked. “Happens to the best of us.”
“Yeah, and I’m hardly that.” As it was, he had too much to think about to let the naked bodies distract him. Baltimore. Work.
The more Holly thought about it, about being able to tell Nick he’d found a job, the better it sounded. Maybe it’d be a little film production company or a small acting agency. Not that it mattered. Whoever it was couldn’t be too bad off if they could afford to hire Alison, even with her discount for old friends.
After a shower, Holly felt immeasurably better. Any kind of work that wasn’t hawking fries and burgers was going to look better on his résumé than a long silence. Whatever it was, if they offered him the job, he was going to take it.
Alison was waiting for him in the lobby, holding two cups of coffee. “You look a million times better.”
“I feel it. You’re serious about your friends having work for someone in PR? And not because they released some plague or burned the pope in effigy?”
“Nope.” Alison gave him his coffee. “They’ve got a few stores and other obligations. They’ve been very successful, and you could help them keep that up.”
“I can’t wait to meet them.” Holly felt like he might have even meant it.
“You’re just their kind of people,” Alison said brightly, leading the way toward the street.
“Should I be worried?” Being their kind of people was the kind of thing that would worry Nick.
“I meant in the good way, baby.” She patted his shoulder and then held the door open. “Only in the good way.”
***
Holly stared at the front door of his apartment, trying to convince his heart to stop pounding. It didn’t work. The psychiatrist had advised him to stay away from the tranquilizers that were lurking in the cupboard over the coffeemaker, calling his name.
“Stay with it when it happens, Holly. It’s natural to feel things. People do it all the time. It’s normal.”
That was exactly what he was afraid of—feeling. He felt like shit. He felt like he was seven. He felt like he was going to puke.
He felt like he was going to lose his mind.
“If you lose your mind,” the psych had said helpfully, “you don’t have to do well at the interview.”
Not fucking reassuring. Holly wasn’t in this to screw it up. He didn’t want to let Nick down.
Nick. Just thinking of him made Holly’s heartbeat slow by what felt like half. Holly rubbed at Nick’s ring, twisting it around his finger to remind himself why he wore it. Because Nick believed in him. Because he trusted Nick. He double-checked his back pocket to make sure the GPS tracker was there. Between that and the ring, Nick was always with him in some way.
Nick wouldn’t let him go to this thing if he didn’t think Holly could do it. Hell, Alison wouldn’t. Holly was surprised to realize there were at least three people he could trust right now—first that he trusted them at all, and second that there was more than Nick on the list. Even Rich had been utterly sanguine about the impending interview when he’d taken Holly to lunch yesterday, and Rich was a pessimist who thrived on schadenfreude.
Okay. Holly’s brain kicked him into action. Just jump. Of course, this was the same brain that thought jumping out of airplanes and off of roofs was all in good fun. But by the time Holly could reconsider, he was out the door and on his way to the Stone Age Sports New York store.
***
Holly got out of the cab a block from the Stone Age Sports store and walked down at an easy pace. Stone Age Sports was an eclectic little company that sold everything from clothes to skateboards to video games, built around the soaring career of Danner Stone, a self-made extreme-sports deity.
In Alison’s words, “The two of you are peas in a pod. I can’t believe no one ever thought to keep you busy with a skateboard.” Holly hadn’t been on a skateboard in years.
A cowbell clanged as Holly opened the door to SAS. He glanced at the window displays on his way by;
one featured scuba-diving mannequins on mountain bikes plunging into the depths around a coral reef, and the other mannequins dressed as skateboarding monks wearing parachutes and preparing to BASE jump off a mountain somewhere in Tibet. Holly had to give the owners credit for thinking big. He’d have jumped at either choice.
The way to the counter led under a display of kayaks and around racks of brilliantly patterned board shorts and sarongs. Holly felt overdressed in the pair of decent jeans and button-down shirt Alison had suggested.
You’ll be meeting Julie, her text message had read. She’s Danner’s wife—not more conservative, just more demanding.
The skinny hipster behind the counter had a lollipop jammed in his mouth, his eyes locked on a handheld video game, and there wasn’t a chance he could hear Holly from under his skull-printed headphones. Great. Holly’s pulse fluttered in his throat.
“Holly?” The voice behind him was feminine and cheerful. Holly spun around and was momentarily baffled until he realized the tall stack of shoe boxes ahead was moving by means of a two very nice legs and a pair of very hot purple heels.
“Hey.” Holly made sure his laptop bag was settled firmly on his shoulder and stepped forward. “Can I help you with those?”
“Thanks!”
The stack of boxes stopped, and Holly scooped up the bulk of them, leaving the bearer holding the last few. Behind the boxes was a young woman who certainly lived up to the promise of those legs—not that Holly was noticing on purpose, but he’d have had to poke himself in the eyes to avoid it, the way her silk dress plunged to where it was barely held closed by a rather pricey-looking onyx pin. Julie.
“No problem.” Holly’s recently revived sense of decency kicked in, and he hauled his gaze up to Julie’s bright brown eyes. “Where can I put these?”
“Follow me.” Julie took a sharp right and didn’t look back to ensure he was behind her. No wonder, either.