Before Forever (Sharing Space #6)

by Perez, Nina

  Chapter Eight

  Barbie Busted

  Patrick

  We wrapped shooting on Backstage Pass as scheduled, but I still had another week in Los Angeles for promotional events. As I ran on the treadmill in the hotel’s gym I thought about the work I had ahead when the week was over: I had to go home and start repairing the damaged and confusing mess that had become my relationship with Chloe. Just as she’d done after the first time we kissed, she retreated. Our phone conversations over the past month showed progress—at least she was back to taking my calls—but we still had issues to figure out. One night of amazing sex wouldn’t solve all of our problems.

  I’d been an ass and I needed to make it up to her. Achieving all I’ve wanted as an actor wouldn’t mean a damn thing if I lost Chloe in the process. I knew that now. There would never be a role written that would be worth that. I’d spend the rest of my life proving it to her if she’d let me.

  I’d forgiven my mother; how could I not? But her meddling would be addressed when I got back to New York. My relationship with Chloe would be in for a bumpy ride if there wasn’t peace between the two of them, and I didn’t want to be put in a position to choose. I’d already chosen incorrectly once, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  I pushed up the speed on the machine as I thought about the one obstacle that left me uncertain: that Michael guy. Part of my No Pressure approach was not putting any kind of demands on Chloe, and that included not asking her to stop seeing him. As much as I wanted to, I knew moves like that didn’t fly with Chloe, and it’s not the way I wanted us to be anyway. I didn’t want to be that guy, controlling her life and her friends. That didn’t make thinking about him spending time with her any easier, though. I trusted her when she said their relationship wasn’t a romantic one, but I’d seen the way he looked at her and I didn’t trust him one bit.

  I finished my run and went back to my suite for a shower. We were having a wrap party across town in a club rented out for the occasion. I would have preferred to stay in, but the entire cast and crew would be there, as well as press and network executives. All of our hard work should be celebrated. The plan was to make an appearance, take a few pictures, and then come back to my room and wonder why it wasn’t a week later already.

  An hour later I was showered and dressed in a grey suit, one of several delivered to my room by a stylist’s assistant. I still wasn’t used to that kind of pampering. Just as I was about to head out, there was a knock at the door. I opened it and was greeted by Kelly wearing a sapphire green dress with a plunging neckline and no back to speak of.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  She didn’t wait to be asked, just breezed right by me like I’d invited her in. “I thought we could go together.” She looked around the suite, which I’m sure wasn’t nearly as nice as the one she’d been given—and mine was pretty amazing. She slid into one of the lounge chairs and crossed her legs seductively. “Or we could just stay in.”

  I closed the door and leaned against it. “That’s not going to happen, Kelly.”

  She pouted and re-crossed her legs. “And why not? Afraid you’ll mess up my hair? I’m willing to risk it.”

  I squinted at her and walked closer. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Uh, yeah. We’re celebrating. Now, come on. Come over and let’s do it for old times’ sake. I’ll let you do it any way you like.”

  This time she uncrossed her legs and spread them slightly, then leaned forward, giving me a generous view of her breasts. I sighed and took a seat in the chair next to her. “Kelly, we probably should have had this conversation a long time ago.”

  “Oh, boy. Am I in trouble? Please say yes. You can spank me if I’ve been bad.”

  I closed my eyes for a few seconds and wondered how much of what I had to say would make it past the alcohol. It didn’t matter. I had to try. Working things out with Chloe meant setting a few people straight. Might as well start with Kelly.

  “Kelly, you’ve been a good friend to me. I appreciate you helping me get the role on Shining Moments, which helped me get this one. I will always be grateful to you for that.”

  “How grateful?” she asked and placed a hand on my thigh, then moved it towards my crotch. I covered her hand with mine and placed it on the arm of my chair. I left my hand covering hers, partly because I wanted to remain cordial while I said what I wanted, but mainly to keep her from grabbing me.

  “What happened between us, Kelly—it can’t happen again. It won’t. I’m in love with someone.”

  That spark of meanness I’d seen before flashed in her eyes. She snatched her hand away and waved it dismissively. “What? You’re in love with your roommate?” She said it the way you’d ask a child if they missed their mommy.

  “Yes, I’m in love with Chloe. I have been for awhile now.”

  “So, where is she?” She threw up her hands and looked around the room. “You’ve been here for months. She hasn’t come to see you.”

  “We took some time apart, but that ends when I go home.”

  She rose and slipped onto my lap. “Oh. Well, we’ve got all week. If that’s what you’re worried about, I can be discreet. She won’t ever hear it from me.”

  I pushed her off as gently as I could and stood to face her. “Didn’t you hear me? I’m not going to have sex with you, and not because I don’t want my girlfriend to find out. I’m in love with her. I don’t want to sleep with you or anyone else.”

  She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Very.”

  “Are you out of your mind, Patrick?”

  “Don’t do this, Kelly.” She’d helped me and I wanted this to be as amicable as possible. That would be very hard if she went into raving bitch mode.

  “Oh, this goes beyond me wanting to get laid. You think that’s why I’m upset? Don’t flatter yourself.” She sneered and took a step closer. “I’m just astounded that you’re willing to sabotage your career because you caught a case of jungle fever.”

  “You need to stop talking. Now.”

  “No, Patrick. It’s about time someone clued you in to the way things work in this business.” She pointed a finger at me, her face contorted in anger. “People like us can write our own tickets. Look at us, for fuck’s sake! We’re practically Ken and Barbie. That’s what the public wants out of its stars, honey. They want two extremely attractive and rich people to hook up so they can live through us. They want paparazzi pics of us leaving Trader Joe’s or headed to the gym while holding Starbucks cups. They want to feel like we’re just like them, even though they know we’re not. People want to see people like us date, fall in love, make movies together, get married, and pop out gorgeous little kids. They want to combine our names to come up with something stupid like Brangelina. You want a shot of color in your life? We’ll get married and adopt a little African kid. Worked for Angelina and Madonna.” She shrugged like everything she’d just said wasn’t completely disgusting.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Oh, give me a break. How do you think I’ve gotten so far? This business is equal parts who you know, what you look like, and who you fuck. You want to work in this business, and that’s fine. But I’m telling you how you can be a star in this business. Why do you think I had my people leak that story about us?”

  I ran my hand over my face and shook my head. “Don’t ever help me like that again. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I won’t ever reach the level of stardom and fame that you have. If it means turning into… this… then I’m fine without it.”

  “Fuck you, Patrick. Good luck working on soap operas and doing dog food commercials. Maybe you’ll go on Dancing with the Stars. If you’re lucky.”

  She stomped to the door and gave me one last contemptuous look before leaving, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter Nine

  Dumb Shit Phase

  Chloe

 
; We managed to give Home Sweet Home an updated look while maintaining the personal charm that made it such a welcoming place to dine. Uncle Troy didn’t always understand the directions we chose, but his faith in Crystal and me was unwavering. I was relieved we hadn’t let him down.

  “So who are all of these people, Chloe?” Myra asked.

  Myra and I had only just arrived at the restaurant. I was so busy soaking it all in I’d forgotten she was expecting a tour. The restaurant was closed to the general public so Crystal could host a thank you dinner for the people who’d made it all possible. She also had a special cake made to usher Uncle Troy into retirement properly.

  I pointed to a long table at the far end of the restaurant. “All of those people are small business owners in the neighborhood. I came up with a way for them to help each other and cross promote; for instance, if someone buys a dozen doughnuts from the bakery two blocks over and brings in their receipt within thirty days, they get five dollars off their dinner here. The rest are people from the church who pitched in to help.”

  I walked Myra around and showed her the new booths were outfitted with iPads to assist big parties in placing their food orders. “These are only available at large booths. The wait staff will still take drink orders and check in on the patrons’ needs, but they’ll be able to place their orders for food on the iPad and it gets delivered directly to the kitchen. Each dish is entered in with the name of the person who ordered it.”

  “Fancy schmancy,” Myra said, clearly impressed.

  After I’d shown her around the kitchen area, we found our table near the middle of the restaurant. We were sitting with Crystal, Jermaine, Myra’s date—whenever he arrived—and Michael. Uncle Troy chose to socialize with the members of his church. Michael was already seated and rose when we approached. I felt a wave of guilt, which is how I felt whenever he called and asked if I was available.

  It had been six weeks since Patrick had been home. He was giving me the space I needed to figure things out and, though he didn’t ask that I not see Michael, it didn’t seem fair to either of them to pursue any kind of relationship with Michael until I knew what I wanted.

  “You look nice,” he said after kissing my cheek.

  I’d chosen a simple black cocktail dress and felt downright conservative next to Myra, who clearly did not care there were so many church folk in attendance.

  “Thanks, Michael. Good to see you.”

  Myra’s date, a basketball player for the Nets, arrived soon after we sat down. Once the food was served the conversation around the table settled into little pockets: Crystal and Jermaine whispered and giggled like teenagers and Myra was flirting with her date like her life depended on it. I had no choice but to make small talk with Michael.

  “People seem to be enjoying him,” Michael nodded towards the musician we’d scouted the night Patrick returned. Crystal had hired him to play through dinner.

  I nodded in agreement. “You did well.”

  “We did. Wine?” He lifted the bottle in the middle of the table and raised it over my empty wine glass.

  “I’ll stick to water.” I said, taking a sip from my glass.

  “Chloe, listen, I know you’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something?”

  If I could have crawled inside my purse, I would have. That’s how much I didn’t want to have this conversation, but there was no escape. I looked at Michael, handsome in a black suit and crisp white shirt. On paper, this is the kind of guy everyone would expect me to be with. He was successful, smart, attractive, and respectful. And I felt absolutely nothing for him.

  “You didn’t do anything, Michael. Truly.”

  “Is it the roommate?”

  Yes. Except he’s not just the roommate, he’s the man I love. The man I tossed away over something stupid, over fear and uncertainty. I’d known from the first night I brought Patrick to this very restaurant that I was going to fall in love with him. Perhaps I already had. I looked over at the table at which we’d sat on our first date. There was another couple there now, an interracial couple, and they looked so in love. I didn’t know if their parents disapproved, or if he’d screwed up, or if she’d ever pushed him away, but it didn’t matter because there was so much love between them. Wasn’t that what matters most?

  I knew one thing was an absolute: Patrick was going to be in my life forever. So what the hell was I doing?

  “Dumb shit phase.”

  “What? Chloe, what did you say?”

  I snapped out of it and realized everyone at the table was staring at me. Michael asked again, “What did you say?”

  I looked to Myra sitting on the other side of me. “I’m ready to get out of the dumb shit phase.”

  She studied my face for a moment as only a best friend can, scrutinizing me, checking to see if I was sure. Finally she smiled. “I don’t know what the hell took your ass so long.”

  I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to go,” I said. Then I said it louder. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Go? Where are you going, Chloe? Is everything okay?” Michael looked alarmed, but I had no time to explain politely.

  “I’m sorry, Michael. Yes. It’s the roommate.”

  I blew a kiss to Crystal, grabbed my purse, and ran out of the restaurant.

  ***

  I only walked two blocks before I was able to hail a taxi. While I walked I used my phone to look up flight information. I told the driver to take me to LaGuardia Airport and then pulled out my iPhone again to make a reservation on the next plane leaving for Los Angeles. It was a good thing I was already sitting down when it came time to enter my credit card information. Last minute flights clear across the country are not cheap. I just told myself over and over again that love was worth it.

  Well, it damn well better be.

  Going through security was relatively quick. All I had was my small purse filled with my I.D., credit cards, breath mints, and lip gloss. I was taking traveling light to a whole new level. Once I made it to the gate and confirmed that I still had time before boarding, I used the extra time to pick up items I’d need; I bought a large canvas bag, snacks for the plane, a crossword puzzle book, a charger for my phone, and then sought out a pharmacy for toiletries. I found everything I needed save one, but I knew I’d be able to pick it up once I landed.

  While I waited to board I debated whether I should call Patrick. To play it safe, I decided to, but got his voicemail.

  “Uh, it’s me. Chloe. I’m not giving up on us. I just want you to know that.” I ended the call and rolled my eyes. It’s me. Chloe. Of course he’ll know it’s me. By the time the gate agent announced it was time to board I was sure I’d be turned away for suspicious behavior. I was nervous, in shock that I was actually boarding a plane to Los Angeles on a whim. Not how I saw my day ending when I woke up that morning.

  Once we were in the air, I accepted a blanket from the flight attendant, kicked off my heels, and drifted off to sleep. I dreamt that I arrived at Patrick’s hotel to find he’d already gone and no one would tell me where. I’d also lost my purse and had no money to get home. I was sitting outside of Patrick’s hotel, crying in the street, when Lawrence appeared. Then I made myself wake up because fuck that. I spent the rest of the flight trying to concentrate on crossword puzzles and sipping ginger ale to quiet my nervous stomach.

  Once we landed it took me only ten minutes to navigate my way out of the airport and into a taxi. Even though it was after ten in the evening, traffic was still heavy. As if reading my mind the driver gave me an apologetic smile in the rearview mirror.

  “Not much further. First time in Los Angeles?” He was an older gentleman with a bald head and snow-white mustache. He looked like he should be home tucking in grandchildren instead of driving a cab.

  “Yes it is.” I said politely.

  “No luggage?”

  “It was kind of a last minute decision.”

  He smiled knowingly. “Ah. Love.”

  I didn’t disagree.r />
  ***

  “Ma’am, we can’t let you up without Mr. Murphy’s permission and he’s still not answering his phone.”

  The hotel desk clerk was working my first and last nerve, even though she was simply doing her job. I tried to remind myself it wasn’t her fault I decided to fly out to Los Angeles without any planning, or that the hotel Patrick was staying in had higher security than the Pentagon. It wasn’t her fault you couldn’t enter the elevator bank without a room keycard. And it damn sure wasn’t her fault Patrick wasn’t answering his cell phone or the phone in his room.

  I sighed and shifted my bag to the other shoulder. I glanced around the lavish lobby. “Would it be okay if I waited over there?” I pointed towards the crimson sofas across the lobby.