Gazelle

by Bello, Gloria

  After searching frantically throughout the house, he spotted them from his living room window, making out against her car. Pushing past a startled crowd, one of which was Sharleen, he raced outside without a word. Scott sees the look on Alice’s face, a look of confusion and horror. He turns, his back up instantly, ready to protect her, but too late. Julian’s fist plants itself against his cheek before he can react. He hears a far away scream, sees shards of white light shooting out in every direction. He feels his feet give, his body flying against her car, and then he breathes, exhaling.

  “Jesus Christ! Julian, what the fuck!?” Alice screams, shoving Julian back.

  Julian glares down at her, his face contorted with rage. She rushes to Scott, who pulls himself up, holding his cheek and laughing.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, holding him.

  “Yeah, I’m alright. Lucky for me he knows how to hold his punches,” Scott grumbles, glaring up at Julian. Julian shifts his weight, his chest heaving. From the house, people make their way to the porch but do not come closer. Scott rises to his feet calmly, and moves before his friend. His eyes glitter, his cut lip bleeds. He licks at it, spitting blood.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an actual real emotion out of you until now.”

  Julian stares at him, challenging, and yet ashamed at his display. Scott laughs and touches his jaw gingerly.

  “Don’t worry about it, man. I forgive you because I know you love me…it’s all good. That’s what brothers do.” He steps up to Julian and hugs him, quickly, tightly, and, as he pulls away, whispers,“But the next time you hit me, I will beat your ass, brother.”

  He moves slowly towards the house, holding his face. Julian shifts his gaze back to Alice.

  “Why the fuck did you hit him?”

  “What the fuck were you doing withhim?”

  “Okay,” she laughs, holding up her hands,“hold on a minute. Let’s forget, for a second, that that’s totally none of your business. What makes you think it’s okay to lay your hands on someone else? I mean, who acts like that? Like some fucking thug? Really?”

  “That’s pretty good!” he laughs. “Why don’t we ask Anthony what kind of person lays handson another person!”

  “Fuck you, you don’t get to judge me,” she says, dangerously low. “Get that straight right now.”

  He stares at her, his mind reeling, out of control, suffocating from the night and everything leading up to it. He remembers only faintly now his realization that she was in love with him and how he had treated her. He blinks rapidly, struggling to focus. This is not the right conversation, he thinks. But his adrenaline is spiking. He can’t stop himself.

  “I do get to judge you. I do. You know why? Because that’s my friend you about to fuck-and, unlike you, Iknow him. He’s a scumbag, a total misogynistic whore. And you were gonnafuck him. You walk around here with this fucking holier-than-thou attitude, looking down on my friends and girlfriend, sulking in corners at parties and clubs because you’re‘too real’ to fit in, and your life is sooo much better, so much more honest and exciting, right? And then the first time someone in my world, someone who is the poster boy for fake, who uses that fakeness to exploit and womanize, everything you supposedly turn your nose up at, the first time someone like that shows you any kind of attention, you’re all over it like a fucking virgin freshman at the senior prom. So, yeah, I think I do get to judge you. It’s about fucking time.”

  She steps slowly up to him, her arms folded, her gaze unwavering. He knows, even before she has opened her mouth, he has lost. He knows, unequivocally, he is completely in love with her.

  “And how,” she whispers, her eyes narrowing,“do you judge me?...Am I a whore? A slut? Tell me. What is it that you think of me?”

  He stares down at her, longing to grab her and kiss her, hold her against him. “No, none of those things.”

  “Then what? Why is this sucha big deal? Is it because someone like me doesn’t belong with someone like you? Tell me.” She stares at him, her eyes large and child-like.

  And then, quite suddenly, quite shockingly, she shoves him, hard, throwing him off balance. “TELL ME!” she screams. “Am I the help? Am I some second-class citizen you took in to your home out of pity, after seeing my shit, pathetic life? Did you take me to those parties and clubs because you felt sorry for me? Do you think of me as a maid? A token? TELL ME! Am I a fucking dishrag to you, a fucking dishrag to slop up your fucking mess? Let me get your clothes, pay your bills, make your food, even though I hate fucking cooking! Let me drive you everywhere like a goddam chauffeur! Let me, please, let me fucking serve you, like all the other women in your life! That’s what you think, right? That’s how you can kiss me like you did that night, tell me those things, get me to trust you, and then treat me like a fucking servant the next day! Worse than a servant, way worse. I’m nothing but a fucking dishrag to you. And it’s my fault,too, I let it happen. I let it happen again, I let it happen again!” She is sobbing now, shaking her head.

  He grabs her and pulls her against him, panicked at the sight of her crumbling. He squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in her hair, holding on for life, trying desperately to be enough even as he fails miserably. She shoves him away again,“NO! No more, I’m done. This, whatever this is, it’s done.”

  She stands for a moment, staring at him, before leaping in her car and tearing down the driveway.

  The sun flitters through the curtains, the breeze billowing them gently above her, caressing the parts of her not wrapped in a white, down comforter. She watches the ceiling fan spin in a slow, lopsided motion. Dirt Bag snores softly by her head, snorting every now and then, twitching his hind legs against her head as he dozes. She absently reaches up to him and scratches his sides until he settles. Her phone vibrates. She picks it up and glances at the number. Her eyes well, she sighs and tosses the phone. A few moments pass, the phone vibrates again. Slowly, she drags her body upright, running her hands through her hair. Dirt Bag lets out a long, low moan and rises as well, circling around her pillows before finding a spot and curling up once more. She picks up the phone and stares hard at Julian’s stern glare. She hits‘answer’ and puts the phone to her ear, but does not speak.

  There is a long pause when neither speaks. He knows she has answered. After obsessively calling throughout the morning, he didn’t actually think she would. Now that she has, he is unsure how to begin.

  “Alice…I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

  She sighs and scratches the dog’s head. “I know. Me, too.”

  “I didn’t mean what I said or did. I was out of control.”

  She doesn’t answer him. Her hands cover her eyes, she squeezes them shut, knowing there is nothing he can say. Things will never be the same.

  “Are you there?”

  “…Yeah, I am. Listen, Julian, I think we need a few days to decompress. You start work tomorrow,you need to focus on that. And I just…need some time, okay?”

  “…Okay. That sounds alright. A few days sounds alright. But we’re okay, right? I can’t-I have to know you’re okay, you know, after all that. Alice, you have to know you mean more to me than a servant-”

  “I know. Julian, I can’t talk about this right now. Give me some time. Take care, okay? I’ll call you soon.”

  She wanders through her tiny apartment, mentally packing and preparing, wondering if she has the courage to actually leave for good. The comforter drags behind her, Dirt Bag runs and hops on her couch, scratching obsessively once he is there. She plops down and stares at the obnoxiously large screen, her reflection staring back at her. Slow tears run down her face as she recalls the night he returned from New York. The night he held her, sleeping against her the entire time. She remembered feeling so uncomfortable, so on guard. She knew it then. Anyone else, Trina, Will, Chris, even Anthony, she would have slept like a baby, sprawled everywhere, taking up as much surface as her nocturnal self wanted. But lying with her back to him, the room stretching to infin
ity before her into a dark abyss, she felt nothing but terror. Her eyes were wide, her body tense, watching for any bit of light to guide her. She curled up in a ball against him, stroking his arms, studying the abyss and wondering just how true it was. Without looking back, without seeing him, she knew he was there, truly there. Even in his sleep, his grip was relentless. Still, she feared. And she suddenly realized it was him she feared, or rather, the absence of him. The next night and the night after, there would be no grip, no arms around her. He would laugh and smile, joke with her, watch her with that adoring look he had just for her. But he would not hold her again, and it would be like he never did. The moment had aligned for that night, and that night alone. Everything came together perfectly without her even aware that it would lead to them spooning. And it would never occur again. There would be no more of this heavenly, terrifying moment when she believed she could trust him, that he would always hold her. She would have to live with that lack.

  She cries and holds herself tight. There is a light tapping at the door. Dirt Bag instantly flies into a barking fit, charging. She grabs him and shoves him back, her heart racing. She quickly wipes her tears and straightens her hair before opening the door.

  Michael stands before her, wearing mirrored sunglass and a gray Polo. His expression is neither friendly, nor contemptuous. He holds his hands in front of him, grasping his cell phone and watching her fixedly as she scoops up the dog.

  “Mike? What’s going on?”

  “Alice, can I come in? I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  Alice moves uncertainly away from the door, allowing him to come in. He stoops through the entrance and removes his glasses, surveying the shit hole while suppressing his disdain. He moves to the couch and looks back questioningly at her.

  “Can I…?”

  “Um, yeah, sure. Have a seat. Do you want anything to drink?”

  “I’m good,” he sits and leans forward against his dark, sleek slacks. The man looks incredibly out of place in such an environment, yet he shows no discomfort or self-consciousness. Alice releases the dog, whoimmediately races up to Mike and sniffs his feet. Mike scratches his ear once and ignores the creature that, sensing Mike’s dominance, lies at his feet. Alice pulls a stool from the kitchen and sits across from him.

  “So, Alice,” Mike begins,“I know this is a bad time. But I think we need to talk about what happened. I know you understand that Julian is a very important client of mine. But I don’t just think of him as a client. He’s not just business to me. He’s not just an investment. I care about the guy, very much. And I’ve seen, first hand, the hell he’s endured trying to get to where he’s at, where he’s going. Because I care about him, I want to make sure that I can take care of as much as possible when it comes to his life outside of his work, you understand?”

  “Yeah, I do,” she says. “You mean like pimping him out to get him publicity, hooking him up with famous people to get his face plastered on junky tabloids instead of relying on his skill and good choices.”

  Mike raises his eyebrow at her and rubs his jaw. “That’s one way to look at it, sure. Another would be trying to meet the needs of my workaholic friend by making sure he has access to the finer things in life, the finer people. You see it as PR, that’s cool, it partly is. But it’s also, and mainly, about class association. He runs in a very different crowd, and these are the women in it. These are the men. They’re a network of artists and creators who, maybe lacking your idea of‘street cred’, are none-the-less extremely influential and essential. Do you see where I’m going?”

  He leans forward and points his cellphone at her. “I don’t dislike you, Alice. I don’t think anything about you, really, except that your presence in my friend’s life is confusing him. His social life and his work are one entity. There’s no separation between the two, understand? What he does, whom he chooses to be with, whom he is seenwith, they all have repercussions in both facets. Maybe a few years down the line, when he’s more credible and established, it won’t make a difference but it does right now. That’s why I’m involved in this. Until he has the ability to stand on his own, I am here to make sure nobody, and nothing, knock him down.”

  “You think I’m going to knock him down?”

  He shakes his head, glancing at his vibrating phone before ignoring it. “No, I don’t think you are. I think he’s got enough momentum right now that it’d take a lot more than dating his PA to ruin him even a little bit. But I’m the kind of optimist that likes to make sure his bases are covered. You care about him, probably even love him. So you understand, then, where I’m coming from.”

  She stares at him, neither looking away from one another. “You want me to go away.”

  “No…I want you to do what is best, for both of you, really. I want you to really think about the bigger picture. How do you think it would be? You’ve seen into his world, just glimpsed it, really. Can you really picture yourself, living in Hollywood, shopping, going to clubs and shows, hanging out with his friends? Can you really tell me you’d like that? Because I can tell you, it’s not going to change. He may fly back and forth between the coasts, live in random areas here and there for work, travel to Europe, even, maybe spend some time out there. But his home is here. This is where the work is, the money is. This is the final destination. Can you really tell me you want this for you? For the two of you? You saw the publicity he and Sharleen have had. Followed everywhere, everywhere. The‘Phone-ography’ age is still relatively young, but it’s strong and getting stronger. And there isn’t anywhere you guys will go where someone won’t snap a picture of some kind. I have a file this thick,” he says, his hands spread apart from one another,“of you two together, already. Can you imagine once you go public? Can you really, truly, tell me you could handle that kind of exposure?”

  She looks away, fighting her tears, her spine curving as she shrinks into herself at the thought. He rises to his feet, glancing around at the art. “These aren’t bad, Alice. You should consider selling them. I have a few friends who might be able to help you show them. I’ll send them your contact info.”

  She does not respond, does not rise as he moves to the front door. He stops and looks back at the sad woman, almost feeling pity. He frowns and opens the door, putting his glasses on. “Alice, take care of yourself.”

  Julian yawns and stretches against the seat of his car in the early hours before dawn. His first day. He glances at the passenger seat sadly and back out at the empty streets, still damp and glistening from the cold night. She should be there. Sitting there, curled up in her pajama pants, sipping coffee and flipping through her magazines. Reading him stories about climate change or Bucky balls, half of which neither of them understood. He tightens his grip and replays their last conversation again.

  The phone vibrates in his pocket. He swerves struggling to retrieve it. His heart sinks with disappointment as he looks down and sees his brother’s name.

  They have not spoken since James’s outburst at the party. The entire family left the next morning without saying‘good-bye.’ He hadn’t noticed, initially, still wrapped in the aftermath of dealing with Alice, and then Sharleen, who had caused her own scene once the crowd dispersed and they were left alone. It was CeCe who drew his attention to their absence, handing him a card from his mother, telling him how proud she was of him and much she loved him.

  He hits the button and presses the phone to his ear. “Hi, James.”

  “Hello, Julian. I know it’s early there but…it’s your first day, right?”

  “Yeah,” he says,“I’m on my way right now. Everything alright? You guys get back okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to call and wish you‘good luck.’”

  “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

  “Julian, what I said that night, it didn’t come out right. I want you to know that I’m here for you, man. I know we don’t see things the same way, but…” he trails off.

  “I know, James. Tha
nks, I feel the same way.”

  “You hear about people getting famous and doing crazy shit. Ruining themselves, killing themselves, really. I don’t think you’re like that, bro, I don’t. I know you’re stronger than all that shit. But after the last time, with Lindsay and all you went through, I had to see it myself. And I’m not gonnalie, it didn’t look too good. Not that I’m judging you, I’m not. But I needed to make sure you knew that, no matter how dark or bleak or foreign shit gets, you have a home, you have people who truly love you. I just-I couldn’t live with letting that shit eat you alive and you not knowing that, you understand?”

  Julian smiles and sighs. “James, we all geteaten alive. It’s how you weather it that matters.”

  “I know. My life isn’t-isn’t the perfect life you described, either. I know that I don’t have all the answers. But I’m in a certain position that you are not. I’m with our family, and you’re not, you’re all alone out there, you have been for a really, really long time. We all worry about you, a lot. So much, Julian, you have no idea.”

  He chokes, startled by the sudden rush of emotion. He can’t speak, it seizes the ability in his chest in a great wave of anguish. And James senses it.

  “We love you, Julian,” he says. “And we’re here, no matter what. When you’re ready, when you need us, we’re here. Always.”

  She called CeCe the next morning and made sure he would be out when she arrived. The house is perfect again, no traces of the party or decorations remain. Even the tree has been removed. It looks completely unlived in. She wanders through, sniffling as she heads towards the kitchen. CeCe stands at the bar, tapping into her laptop, her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. She looks up at Alice, and Alice immediately begins to cry. Without a word, she moves to Alice and holds her. For a long while, they hold one another in silence.

  When they pull apart, CeCe dabs at her face with a napkin. Alice takes the napkin and slowly begins to collect her things.