by Susan Ward
He looks amused. “Car. Driver. Everything, love. It’s funny how quickly the label is opening up the checkbook these days.”
He holds his umbrella over my head and points. I look in the direction of his finger to find Phil and a black sedan waiting only a few steps away.
Len smiles shyly. “I’ll take you home.”
If not for the downpour, I wouldn’t accept the ride. Without a word, I climb into the backseat and scoot over so Len can join me without running around the car in the rain to the passenger side door.
The car pulls slowly from the curb, merging into the clogged city streets. We drive for a while in silence.
I look at Len. “Thanks.”
A smile claims his eyes. “No problem, Linda. You’re one of us now.”
A short laugh pushes out of me. “Somehow I don’t think so, Len. Not now. Not ever.”
I can feel him studying me. “He’s got quite a thing about you,” he says quietly. “And one thing I’ve learned about Manny is no doesn’t mean no to him. He wants you heading out on the road with us. You’ll be there. Mark my words.”
I arch a brow. “The only place I’ll be in January is here, working and in school.”
He shakes his head as if I baffle him. “You’re the first bird I’ve ever met who doesn’t want a piece of the guy. What have you got against him, anyway?”
Against my will, how close I came to fucking Alan flashes in my mind. “I have nothing against him. I’m in love with another man.”
He frowns. “If you’ve got to work, why not do something that’s worth being a success at? The band is going places. You can be a part of it. Why work in the publicity office, going nowhere, when you could be in the thick of the glitzy scene? There are people who’d give their right arm for the opportunity you’re tossing away.”
I stare out the window, ignoring that comment, but it painfully strikes a nerve in me. An opportunity I’m tossing away. That has the unpardonable power to make me think of Jack and the dull ache I carry night and day to hurt miserably.
I shift my gaze to his. “Listen, we’ll get along better if we don’t talk about Alan Manzone, the band or the tour.”
He shrugs. “Sure thing, Linda. Whatever you want. You won’t get another word out of me.”
We roll to a stop in front of the Graysons’ and I open the door before Phil can get there.
“Thanks, Len.”
His fingers close around mine and he gives me a gentle squeeze, and for a brief moment I feel something in Len I haven’t felt before. I turn back to look at him. The expression in his eyes stops my heart.
Oh my God, Len Rowan has a thing for me. He’s never made a move or said a word, but I can see it in his face, and there is something in the way he is quietly staring at me that feels oddly good.
I smile and unbend a smidge. “You’re an OK guy, Len.”
“You’re a pretty OK girl, Linda.”
I laugh and climb from the car. I hurry up the walk, open the black iron gate, and then go up the short flight of steps to that ridiculous, enormous, heavy wood door.
The interior of the house is silent and I cut across the foyer toward the stairs, hoping to make it to my room without being seen by anyone. I’m in no mood for a full nightly dose of the Graysons today.
I’m almost into my bedroom when Jeanette steps into the hallway.
She looks startled and surprised to see me.
“You’re home early,” she exclaims, awkward and tense. “What are you doing here?”
My eyes widen. “I got a ride from the office. What the heck is up with you?”
Behind her frigid bitch composure, she almost looks flustered. I hear a noise from her bedroom, and my mouth drops. The house was even more quiet than usual when I entered. The Graysons are gone, and Jeanette has a guy here. In our four years as roomies at USC, she hardly dated and I never once caught her with a guy in her bed. It’s a hard battle not to laugh at her discomfort at my catching her.
“Do you mind staying out of sight for a while?” she whispers feverishly.
I roll my eyes, but say, “Sure. Have at it, Jeanette.”
I’m about to slip into my room when her door opens and I sneak a fast glance over my shoulder to find Alan Manzone standing there tucking his shirt back into his pants.
Black eyes lock with mine, and everything inside me turns into scorching liquid. He fucked the girl I hate and envy, and this is anything but an unpleasant, spontaneous event. Len showing up at the office and giving me a ride home was so I could make it to the house in time to witness what Alan wanted me to see. He fucked Jeanette to hurt me, because he thought it would bother me, and maybe stir some pathetic sense of competitive femaleness inside me.
He may have fucked her, but the fucking has everything to do with me. How could he use her that way, and how could Jeanette be so foolish as to let him?
I stare up at him, sparkly and enraged. “You bastard,” I hiss, slamming my door in both their faces.
~~~
I spend the rest of the night locked in my bedroom. I ignore Jeanette’s repeated attempts to get me to come out and talk to her. I don’t know why she’s in such a frenzy about me knowing this. She’s a grown woman. She can do what she wants. She can definitely do it with Alan Manzone with no squawking from me.
Her fingers rap on my door again and I cringe.
“Linda, talk to me. I don’t want this to be a problem between us. You said you weren’t interested in—”
“I’m not interested in him,” I snap back at her despite my vow to ignore her. “Go out. Have fun. I hope you’re happy together.”
“Why do you have to be so petty?”
I laugh without sound, staring at the door, shaking my head. “I’m not petty. I don’t care. How many times do I have to tell you that? But Alan Manzone is a mistake I don’t even want you to make.”
I scrunch up my nose. Fuck, that came out wrong.
I hear her heels clicking on the wood stairs and then the front door opening and closing. I sink back to lie on my bed, relieved she’s gone and that this is over for at least a little bit.
I don’t care that she fucked Alan. Well, not beyond that way you care when you read in the paper about some injury happening to a stranger. I feel badly about the event, but my emotions are untroubled by any of it. I hate that she can’t see what Alan is about and why he’s toying with her. I hate that he’s doing it. There is nothing I can do to fix it on either side and it is definitely not my problem.
My problem is across the planet in California, probably sitting on the cliffs staring at the ocean today.
Now that Jeanette has finally left and won’t be banging every few minutes wanting to discuss the issue, I reach for the phone and place an overseas call.
Anxiously I tick off the rings in my head, waiting for someone to answer.
“Hello.”
Jack. I smile. “Hi, sweetheart. How did your day go?”
“Linda.” He sighs and I feel it run across my flesh like a caress. “It’s better now.”
He’s trying to be upbeat, corny line and all, but I can tell he is far from happy.
“Rough one for you today?”
“Not really.” A long pause. “I got Chrissie moved back into school, and it’s too quiet here.” He laughs in way opposite to humor. I hear another long, ragged exhale of breath. “It was fucking miserable, baby. She didn’t want to go back. I could see it in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. And I didn’t want to leave her there. I want this over. I want her home. This is wrong. It is tearing her to pieces.”
I shake my head, my lips tightly puckering. “Fucking Walter,” I say, unable to stop myself, but the man I love is in pain and I know who is causing it.
“Don’t fold on me now, Linda. I need your calm head, keeping me grounded, focused, or I’ll end up hating him before this is through. I don’t want to.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I’m sorry. I just hate knowing you’
re going through this. Any news on the psychologist’s report?”
“They finished the home visits last week. We have a hearing date on the calendar next month. I should get the report sometime before that. The judge wants us to sit down in mediation, to attempt to work this out amicably, but Walter is resistant to a face-to-face discussion.”
“It doesn’t matter. It will work out in your favor no matter what Walter does. I’m certain of that.”
“I hope you’re right, sweetheart.”
I hear the patio door open and close. He’s walking. I can tell by the way he’s breathing into the phone. He is too keyed up over everything even to sit and talk to me.
My heart twists. “I am right. I’m always right about everything.”
He laughs, but what I don’t say is it would be too cruel for me to have left him and for God to take away Chrissie. This agonizing sacrifice has to be worth something. If Jack gets to keep his girl there would never be a moment’s regret in me over these miserable days without him.
“Tell me about your day,” he asks.
“Same old, same old. Nothing extraordinary,” I answer, pushing from my mind the Alan Manzone and Jeanette development.
“I miss you, sweetheart,” he says in a kind of despondent way.
“It’s only been a few weeks. Well see each other soon,” I murmur, fighting to maintain an upbeat tone of voice.
Another moment of silence comes through the phone and for some reason it makes me tense.
“About October,” Jack says and I tense. “I know you’re expecting me to fly there, and there is nothing more I want to do, sweetheart, but I can’t.”
My fingers tighten around the phone. I can tell by his voice, I don’t need to ask, but I do anyway. “Why can’t you come in October? I really miss you. I really need to see you, Jack.”
A long pause and I can hear a loud exhale of breath through the receiver. “There’s an issue with Chrissie. An incident she had at school. It’s not a good idea for me to leave right now. Not before the hearing. And if it goes against me, definitely not after the hearing. Not for a while. I’ll need to have the lawyers start immediately to get my girl back.”
Chrissie. Always Chrissie. I hate the petty thoughts and emotions, but I can’t keep them away. That damn troubled little girl is ruining my life. A paltry complaint, but I have it anyway.
I sniffle to hold back my tears. “When do I become a priority for you, Jack?”
“Priority?”
He repeats it in a way that shames me. It was unkind and petty and I shouldn’t have said it, but I’m having a crisis here myself. The mercurial Alan Manzone is turning my life into a nightmare, and a part of me—a part I don’t acknowledge—is afraid to stay here, near him, without frequent intervals of Jack to keep me from doing something else stupid again. That Jack isn’t coming in October both disappoints and terrifies me.
“You’ve always been my priority, Linda.” He sounds sad, achingly sad, and I wish I could take back the words but I can’t. Before I can apologize, he says, “You have always been my priority, but you are the one who went away and made this difficult situation harder for the both of us. I’m doing the best I can here.”
He is. I know he is. Jack never does anything less than his best for everyone.
I say it anyway. “Your best isn’t good enough for me right now. I need you here. Don’t make me ask again.”
There’s another long pause through the phone and he’s breathing in that way that tells me he’s fighting to collect his emotions.
“I can’t,” he says simply. “And don’t ask me again, because it hurts too damn much to have to say no to you, sweetheart.”
I can’t hold back the tears any longer. I click down the phone.
~~~
The hours of the night pass miserably for me. I climb from the bed at dawn, and I know what I have to do. This separation from Jack is making me crazy. It’s hurting us both and if I stay here we don’t have a shot of ever making it.
I quickly dress and then pack. I write two fast notes, one to the Graysons for their hospitality and a goodbye to Jeanette. I don’t want to be her friend anymore. I don’t want to stick around to witness what the train wreck Alan Manzone does to her life.
I lug my suitcases into the hallway and stop outside Jeanette’s room. I knock. No answer, though I’m not surprised because I didn’t hear her return last night.
I go downstairs and lay the note for the Graysons on the round mahogany table in the entry. I grab the phone. I call Harris Productions and tell the receptionist I quit. I hang up as she anxiously demands an explanation. Then I ring for a taxi.
Twenty minutes later, I’m heading to Heathrow and hopefully an empty seat on a plane that can take me back to the US, California and Jack.
Twenty hours later, after hopping planes and long hours in airports waiting, I’m on the final flight circling above Santa Barbara. When the cabin doors open I rush toward the steps, luxuriating in the feel of the warm sun and the scent of ocean air.
I wait in the baggage claim area until the cart is pulled in and I grab my bag, debating if I should call Jack or just take a cab there. I go to the short line of vehicles, toss my bag inside and climb into a taxi.
“Hope Ranch,” I say. “Marina Drive. I’ll point out the house when we’re there.”
I shake my head. It didn’t occur to me until the cabbie asked for my destination that I don’t even know the complete address for the Hope Ranch house.
After paying the driver, I carry my own bag up the walkway to the stoop. Now that I’m here a measure of my sureness coming here starts to wane.
Anxiously I wait for the door to be opened. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. Maybe he doesn’t want me here. It was definitely presumptuous to hop a plane to Santa Barbara without discussing it with Jack first. I’m not even certain he’s here.
Jeez, what’s the matter with me? Only an insane girl repeatedly fights with the world’s most wonderful man. Cringing, I recall his voice when he told me it was too hard to say no to me, before I hung up on him.
My nerves grown tauter with each passing second. Why isn’t someone answering the door?
The door swings wide and I snap up my face. Blue eyes lock with mine, and I nervously search for something in Jack’s expression to tell me what he’s thinking about finding me on his doormat unannounced.
I wait awkwardly and he doesn’t say anything. Why the hell doesn’t he say something?
“Are you going to invite me in, or do I need to find a hotel?” I say hurriedly, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t talk. He just stares at me. “Why don’t you say something? Please, Jack. Say something so I know my being here is all right.”
The lines of his face change and my ragged emotions calm. I know that look in his eyes.
He closes the distance between us in two strides. “Not another word, Linda. Don’t ruin this for me. Just let me enjoy being happy.”
In a flash, I’m in his arms, and we are laughing, kissing, and touching in a sloppy and random way. He doesn’t collect my bags. He doesn’t release me. We are both silent as he takes me to the bedroom.
Ten
I sit on a chaise lounge near the edge of the cliffs, staring down at the beach.
I lift my hand to shield my eyes from the bright midmorning sun and try to focus on the figure in the distant sand that is Jack. He’s found himself a kid with a board.
They are crouched down above the sand, chatting across the fiberglass, and I can almost hear in my head Jack’s voice rattling on in that folksy way he has that is so endearing. He can talk to anyone about anything, and he could be there talking for hours.
I laugh, lean back in the chair, and reach for my ice tea. A little alone time isn’t a bad thing. It’s been a wild ride, deliciously so, since I got here. But there are decisions I’ve got to make, and both sides of the argument are fiercely waging battle within me.
Do I stay here with Jack and start our life now? Or
do I go back and finish what I started in the UK?
I shake my head. Part of me is desperate to stay and a part of me screams go. The problems are all still here with us, even in the wonderful that is us, and I shouldn’t let my heart trick me into forgetting that. Nor should I let my fear that maybe we’re tempting fate, that we’ve run out of chances, permit me to put myself on the top of Jack’s priority list where Chrissie should be.
Oh, and there is that other part of me, the part unsure exactly why I ran to Santa Barbara and Jack. Is it because it’s what I want? Emotional clarity and love winning out over all the rational reasons I forced us to delay starting our life together. Or did I give up everything I’ve worked for, my career and graduate school, out of fear of Alan Manzone?
Am I really running from him?
I don’t know the answer and that completely unnerves me, and I don’t even want to try to unravel what that might mean. I’m in love with Jack. Alan is nothing more than a complication—a relentless and dangerous complication—but just a minor tricky bump in the road caused by separation from Jack and…
I dropkick my thoughts away before they can form. Don’t think about the “and”, Linda. You love Jack. But that doesn’t mean you’re not a woman. Attraction to other men will always happen. It’s carnal. There is no way to turn it off completely.
Crap, even in my head that sounds like a shitty rationalization for the things I did with Alan and what I nearly let happen. Thank God I didn’t go to bed with him. It’s bad enough sort of lying to Jack about Alan Manzone. I could never lie to Jack about cheating on him.
A sound makes me look and I see Jack trotting up those treacherous stairs built into the cliffs.
As he crosses the lawn, I make a face at him. “You and your quick walk. You’ve been gone half the morning.”
Jack laughs and leans over to drop a kiss on my lips. “Sorry. It’s a beautiful day. You should have come with me.”
I roll my eyes. “And ruin your fun? Have you always just been able to talk to anyone about anything and have them listen to you?”
He sinks down on the chaise behind me and gives me a playful shake. “No. I can’t get you to listen to me most of the time.”