by A. J. Sand
“Yeah. Your apartment needs cleaning,” she teased as Matt went to the oars. They docked near the rental store and rode their bikes back to Santa Monica, chatting some more about his manuscript and some of the stories that were just too scandalous for even fiction. As they walked back to the parking lot after returning the bikes, the shift between them was sudden, and his arm bumping hers had lost most of the tension from before. Her heart had made up her mind for her.
“I want you to call me when you need someone to talk to,” she said, when they reached their cars. Leaning against the back passenger door of her car, Erica called his cell so that he would have her number. “About Joe’s.” It seemed important to add that part.
Matt, who was leaning against the front passenger door, pivoted and leaned in to her ear. “Just about Joe’s?”
She smiled. “I think so,” Erica said, and with a hand to his chest, she pushed him back. “But please send me the link to your blog with your story. And no more flirting…or smiling at me like that.” As she rounded the car, his hand closed around her wrist.
“Can’t help it. Maybe I think you’re worth every smile.” His arms suddenly closed around her in a hug, and it was too quick to prepare for. But she let him hold her without tensing or second-guessing, because it felt like a goodbye. A goodbye to whatever she had been forcing herself to get lost in. It was tempting, but being with Matt was just running away again. And she didn’t want to do that anymore, if she could help it. He dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I just hate that someone as wonderful as you has to have the world break her heart the way it has.”
Perfect/Enough – Chapter 6
And when Thursday arrived, she knew that the night was about finding out if those cracks in hearts could be healed. Not her own. Bryson’s. As she got ready for the show at Luz, she ignored the impulse to text him and ask what time he would be there. Erica, braided head tilted to the side in a full-length mirror, was indecisive about what to wear as she tossed another outfit to a floor already covered in discarded outfits. Nothing seemed perfect for tonight. Bryson always loved her legs, so she was definitely wearing something short. Something for him to rest his gaze on a while. Excitement coursed through her, but her nerves were thin, worn down to threads. Erica tore another dress from her closet, but she let it fall to the ground without bothering to hold it against her body. Earlier, she’d tried out four different eye shadows and redrawn her eyeliner three times because she was shaking so much; she hadn’t even been this edgy on their first date. What guy noticed or cared whether she was wearing ‘charcoal’ or ‘pewter’ anyway?
She leaned over to her desk, logged on to Twitter and clicked on the “fadingfastluzclub” hashtag she’d created for the group to see what people were saying about the event tonight. She giggled at the tweets from earlier in the week, which were mostly nonsensical conversations between Fitz, Carlos and their friends. Thankfully, now, it was a screen chockfull of excited potential attendees and several curious people remarking about being dragged there by their excited friends. People wouldn’t be writing about her in reference to Kai tomorrow; this was her debut on her own, and it was nerve-wracking.
Erica picked up a pink semi-sheer top she’d flung across her desk and a short black skirt from the bed. She held it up in the mirror. Dammit. “Carroll!” She banged on the wall she shared with Dylan. She knew she was in there, hunched over her laptop typing dirty to Kai. “Need your help!”
“What’s up?” Dylan said, when she appeared in the doorframe and leaned against it. She dropped her eyes to her watch. “How come you’re not dressed? Don’t you have to go to Abe’s and then go meet with some media before the show?”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” Erica said, motioning at the closet.
“That’s ‘cause you’re standing on most of it, E,” Dylan said, laughing as she walked in and sat on the bed. “And maybe you should just wear what you have on.”
A black bra and panties. Erica scrunched her nose. “Funny.”
“Did Bryson get to see you in that the other night?”
“A little more than this…” Erica said, unable to contain her grin.
“Oh, wow… Wait…am I sitting on your sex sheets, E?”
“Nope, couch. But no sex happened, which is a good thing, even though I was sad and horny at the same time. I’m just thankful the apartment came with a removable showerhead,” she said with a wink. “The night was a roller coaster, which is why I’m stressing out about tonight.”
“But he’s coming, E,” Dylan said with enthusiasm, “and my point is, Bryson isn’t going to care what you’re wearing. He’s going to be there because you invited him, and he’s going to see you and be speechless.” She unzipped her sweatshirt. “See this? La Perla. I can put together an entire outfit, shoes and all, that costs less than this,” she continued, gesturing at her lacy red push-up bra beneath. Her breasts were abnormally close to her chin. “Kai didn’t even notice it during our Skype date. He was all, ‘Baby, just do th—” Dylan blushed until she was the same shade as her bra. “Okay, I’m not going to tell you what he said.”
“Uh. Thanks. You don’t know how grateful I am about this. I hear enough of it through the wall.” Dylan was probably right—Erica had been with the guy for years for goodness sake—but insecurity had been plaguing her all day, and she had barely registered anything from her classes earlier. Her notes from every lesson were minimal because she had been so focused on tonight. On Bryson. She was jumpy, squirmy. It was like being back at that pivotal point in their relationship when her feelings for him had grown from caring to needing. It was thrilling but terrifying.
At her most optimistic, she hoped for light conversation during the show and then an invitation from her to him to go grab “breakfast” at one of the twenty-four-hour pancake places. They used to love doing that after going to straitlaced Hollywood events where the food was more decoration than delectable. With some hope, tonight would be a chance to renew; an opportunity to remake what had been decimated, both by Jeremy and herself.
Erica selected one of her favorite pieces of clothing from the pickings still left in her closet. A silver, shimmery tunic for lots of leg display, and she kicked a pair of black open toe booties out of the closet. Hair down. Beach-like waves. Perfect.
“I sent over some edited footage of Traveler Lost to Middle of the Road Productions. Dan’s assistant said they really like it,” Dylan said about the documentary film. “She gave me some pointers and some editing suggestions. She said your part was really gripping. They want to see more of it. I told her we’ve filmed some additions recently, but I didn’t know how much into your own story you planned to go since yours is currently ongoing…”
Erica shrugged with her back to Dylan; she really didn’t know. “How much” was neither an issue of being too fearful to share it on camera nor not wanting to. It was about the abysses in her memory and the parts that seemed draped with a heavy veil. “Let’s do it once things settle down a little after this show. There are some artist showcases I want them to perform in, and once I make those calls, we can film.” It would also give her time to try to fill-in those blanks. She needed to. Her purse buzzed loudly next to Dylan, and as had been the case all week, a ball of anxiety crashed down into her stomach like a stone falling through water. In those worst-case scenarios she’d been conjuring up, Bryson would call to cancel right before the show. “Can you get that?”
“Yeah. Um, some guy named Matt just texted—wait—is still texting you…” Dylan said. Erica gulped in surprise and turned around without an explanation, knowing that she would want one, but Dylan was engrossed in the flow of text messages apparently spanning her screen. “Hold on, is this is yoga guy?”
Erica pulled her tunic down over her body. “Yup.” She had told Dylan a little about him, and unlike Naomi, she hadn’t pressed for too much information, but she had exhibited mild displeasure about him. Everyone was Team Bryson these days. And it wasn’t a bad thing. Sin
ce Saturday, Matt had abided by her insistence to not try to initiate anything beyond friendship, so she wondered if he needed to talk about the mugging. She also wondered if she had been too hasty in limiting their interaction, too. She definitely still felt that pull, that connection between their traumas, but she wanted to know more about him outside of it, too. Maybe because of it. For now, he offered what no one else could. “Actually, let me take it now.”
“So, is he coming tonight?” Dylan walked over, cell in hand, and her stare chained to Erica with an inquiring look that seemed to go beyond what she had expressed verbally.
Erica shook her head in silence as she extended her hand, and she noticed how Dylan’s facial muscles relaxed in response. Why was everyone so sure that she was about to run off with Matt? “No, he probably just wants to talk about…stuff.” She flicked through the scroll of text messages and smiled. He remarked about going out tonight with his neighbors and he asked if it was okay to text her if it became too overwhelming.
Erica: Of course you can.
Matt: Thanks. By the way, I wrote some more about my character Miles. I edited my version a bit. Check it out on the blog later. :)
Erica: Definitely. Have a good night.
Matt: It just got a whole lot better ;) You, too.
“What’s the smile for?” Dylan asked, not smiling herself. “Did you just invite him? You better not have.”
Erica snickered as she rolled her eyes. “You’re so paranoid. No. I didn’t want Bryson to get any ideas about him.”
Dylan crossed her arms over her chest. “There aren’t ideas to get in the first place, right?” What the hell? Was Naomi possessing her roommate now? She was starting to suspect collusion between the two of them, like when Naomi couldn’t be there championing Bryson, the duties fell to Dylan.
“Dyl, I’m back now, and I want to fix this… and I want him in my life. I want things like they were before.” She wanted his forgiveness, too, but she wasn’t sure exactly how she could fix it. What if he didn’t want to be with her anymore in that way? Wouldn’t it be justified after what she had put him through? She swallowed to settle the wave of emotion forming below the surface as that memory she hated so much flashed. Bryson on his hands and knees, cracking into pieces in front of her. Because of her.
“What are you up to tonight? You sure you don’t want to come? I can still put you on the list.” She hadn’t insisted any of her close friends besides Abel come. She wanted to stand on her own tonight. And she knew Dylan would decline, anyway. She had gone back into her mopey, reclusive mood because Kai was on a hectic and demanding segment of the tour, and it was getting harder to talk when they wanted. Their long-distance relationship had turned them both lovesick.
Erica wanted to be lovesick so badly.
“Me? Just, um, studying and reviewing some film in my La Perla,” Dylan said with a smile Erica was sure would stretch right off her face if she held it any longer. She really meant a strip tease for Kai. She was happy for her, but it was strange and bittersweet to be the one fighting for love and not happily lost in it. “But I’d love for you to be my date to the Silver Method anniversary party.”
“You got an invite?”
“Kai White and girlfriend got an invite. I’m going as Kai White and you’re my apparently nameless girlfriend… Anyway, we’ll talk about it later because tonight is about you and cosmic fuckery, E.”
“Cosmic what now?” But without another word, Dylan plucked the silk camellia flower out of the vase from amongst the wilted real ones and placed it in her hand.
“So how many of those flowers we got left?” Erica said into the phone as she stared out into the Andaman Sea. She was right on the edge of it and the water nipped at her toes. One of the guys waved to her from the water, but with the sun so bright, it was hard to tell who it was; one of the twins, maybe. It was a gloriously amazing day in Phuket, and her last full one there before heading back to the States. Maybe that’s why it looked so great. It wasn’t like the blue sky was particularly unique from all the others she had seen on the previous days. But she was a day closer to him. To home. Days closer to being his wife.
“Technically, one, but it depends on how long you’ll be in Oahu with your crew,” Bryson said, and it was so nice to hear his voice. God, she missed him terribly. She had moved away from where her friends were sitting on the beach because she didn’t want them to mock her for being such a crybaby on the phone in case the tears came.
“If you tell me where we’re getting married, I’ll come home earlier than I planned,” Erica offered.
“Oooh, good one. The ticket confirmation email is sitting right here in front of me—”
“Hints!” she demanded as she walked aimlessly parallel to the water. “Hints, Ellis!”
“Well, the place we’re going…is quiet, and isolated, and the ocean is literally outside of where we’re staying,” Bryson teased. “You’ll be able to jump into it from our entryway.”
“So bungalows over the water. I like it, but…” A sudden burst of laughter made her glance over her shoulder. Her group of friends caught her eye, and they were all deeply immersed in whatever spirited story Wes was telling with his arms waving over his head, and everyone laughing; everyone except Jeremy. He was staring at her. Or at least just really focused in her direction. Hot girls behind her somewhere? Compulsion made her turn around to check. Nope.
Erica waved at him with just one swing of her hand. He waved and leaned back until he was supine against his beach towel. Erica kept her gaze on him for a moment, wondering if she should say anything to him. He hadn’t been himself today. Withdrawn. That’s the word that came to mind. He had gone off alone a lot since they’d been in Thailand—and that was fine because this was a place he could mostly relax away from paparazzi—but something else was up. He was edgy, too. God, she hoped he wasn’t doing cocaine again.
“But, what?” Bryson asked, and she drew her eyes back to the direction of her path. Back to Bryson’s voice, imagining it against her ear. Then she pictured his face. And his lips on her neck. Then his mouth working its way down her body. There was so much catching up to do. “Babe? Whoa, where’s that mind of yours right now?”
“Where else? On you,” she said then lowered her voice to a sultry, suggestive whisper as a small smile settled on her lips. “And some…things.”
“Same thing mine’s on? You’re on a beach in something ridiculously small. A photo would be nice. Actually, FaceTime right about when you’re getting out of your bathing suit would be even better. My showers are really lonely, but my right arm is getting really strong in there,” he said, laughing. “Think my bicep is bigger on that side now.”
“Ha!” Erica pivoted and walked back in the direction she had come. “My competition!”
“Yeah right,” Bryson said with a sad sigh.
She found Jeremy’s eyes on her again—through her even. Everyone in her group was laughing at what looked like Kai and Wes testosterone-driven banter. Erica made a face at Jeremy, poking her tongue out before waving again. Jeremy shot a halfhearted smile at her and shifted his gaze to down the beach, but they were back on her again. Erica gestured at him with a slight shoulder raise to ask, ‘What?’ He shook his head slowly and flexed a quick smile at her before looking away again. Her skin prickled and the hairs on her arms rose. Why was she so uncomfortable? Maybe because Jeremy never looked at her like this before, and he’d seen her in a bathing suit many, many times. Was he somehow exhibiting attraction to her? A sudden interest in her because she was about to be off the market? No. Ick. Erica did her habitual nose scrunch, hoping he wasn’t thinking about her like that. She definitely wasn’t thinking about him in that light. She’d had the tiniest crush on him when she starred in his old group’s music video, but years of friendship had dampened her attraction. He was JUST Jer.
“Shit, Dad’s calling again. I’m not clicking over.”
“You don’t want to tell him you don’t want the job wit
h the record company?”
“Nope… He knows exactly what the name Ellis comes with around here. It has helped me a lot, and I’m proud to have it, but I want to build my own thing. I’ve signed the second highest number of new artists at Xcel out of all the managers they hired the same year as me. I’m getting them mid and elite level endorsements. I just don’t want to hurt him.”
“He’ll get that, baby,” Erica assured him. “Jeff kinda likes you, you know.”
“He kinda likes you, too. He always wanted a daughter. And I want a wife. I miss you, Erica, so you can’t be in Hawaii too long, okay?”
“I won’t. I miss you, too, Bryce.” How was it possible to have a heart ache so much but be so completely soothed at the same time? Be dizzy and grounded? Feel happy and crazy? Only love could do this. “Promise. I love you.”
“Aw! My little E is so in love!” Once she hung up, Abel ran toward her from the water and locked his wet arms around her torso, swinging her as she squealed. “And way to go, Bryson, wife-ing you up while you’re still super hot!”
“You’re ridiculous. And are you saying I have some sort of hotness expiration date?” she said with her hands on her hips when he set her back down. He ducked to avoid her flailing swings at him.
Abel raked his long, shaggy blond hair back. “I’m just happy for you! We’re partying it up tonight!”
“Uh…no. Our flight is way too early for that. I’ll be out for a little bit, but since I imagine Jamie will be preoccupied with a certain cute surfer tonight,” she said, poking his abs, “it’s a perfect night to go to bed early.”
“Fine. I’ll be happy to entertain Tanaka tonight, but when you and Bryson get back from getting married, Wesley and I will throw your reception.”
Erica snickered. “God, help us all.” She linked arms with him and they walked toward the rest of the group. “I’m already imagining the topless dancers dangling from the ceiling and some obnoxious rap song playing when Bryce and I walk in.”