by Robin Leaf
I had to do something to keep my mind occupied so I didn’t pine away for the one I kicked out of my life. The one I tried hard not to think about. The one who I almost called several times.
A movie night. That’s what I needed.
I decided to change into comfy clothes first. Laying on my bed was my large box of sentimental items collected over the years with a note in Allison’s disturbingly neat handwriting attached.
I found this cleaning out the closet in the spare room. We will talk about it later. –A
The taped box had been opened. So I sat down on the bed and started going through the box.
A cork from the first bottle of wine I legally consumed… the one he brought me on my twenty-first birthday.
A takeout menu from our favorite pizza place in San Francisco.
A movie ticket from Revenge of the Sith… I remember us walking out in the middle of the movie.
A doodle on a bar napkin… from when he was bored waiting for me.
A scented candle… one I liberated from the boutique hotel suite the night with my suitor.
More and more seemingly innocuous trinkets and keepsakes were contained the box, but they were neatly arranged by someone who seemed to take great care making sure this otherwise worthless junk was preserved. It wasn’t worthless to me. Only I knew the secrets they held.
Had I done that? I can’t remember. I must have because who else would have done it for me?
Well, Allison would have.
The one thing that drew my attention was the smaller, one foot square box stashed away in the corner of the bigger box.
I remembered that box quite well, and what it contained inside.
The sweetest, oddly romantic gesture that caused our downfall.
Fuck, if Allison peeked in that one, it’d all be over. Ten years of carefully crafting how I could withhold information so she didn’t learn the biggest secret I kept from her all these years.
That someone other than her was the love of my life.
Forty Two
“Basket Case” – Green Day
Five days passed. Allison and I had only seen each other a few times, only in passing. She was busy, and I was working. We didn’t speak. She pulled that female shit on me. You know, that thing women do where she made it a point to let me know that she was not speaking to me? I just brushed her off. I was so glad we kept our separate rooms. It made life slightly more quiet.
Strained, but quiet.
I made it to the set early this morning, which didn’t happen but once in a blue moon. One of the production assistants approached me while I sat reviewing today’s script.
“Miss Cheetwood? Mr. Briscoe would like to see you.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “Okay.”
Well, that was odd. The higher ups on this show were always asking to see my co-star to reprimand her for her behavior. I, to my knowledge, had done nothing wrong.
I followed him to the golf cart, where we began the forever-long trek to the office of the big boss of the show, Donald Briscoe. FYI, never jokingly call him Donnie Brasco; the man has absolutely zero sense of humor, which doesn’t make sense since all his shows have an element of comedy to them.
I walked into the office, and the man didn’t rise to meet me. He didn’t even look at me. This was not good.
“Mr. Briscoe? What’s up?”
He steepled his fingers in front of his mouth.
“Miss Cheetwood, have a seat.” He motioned to the chairs in front of the desk.
I slowly made my way to the seat, never taking my eyes off the man, who still refused to look at me.
“Miss Cheetwood, I wanted to give you the changes to the script personally.” He handed me two stapled pages. “If you would, look it over right now, please.”
I continued to look at him; he continued to stare at the papers on his desk.
My focus diverted to the pages in front of me. My character had been tracking a murderer in the past few episodes, so my co-star and I were entering a building, along with the usual witty banter, following a lead from a sketchy witness. We had taped the set up to this scene yesterday, so this was falling in line. I was relieved that we would not have to re-shoot anything due to the rewrites.
The second page was nothing but stage direction. My character picks the lock on the door and opens it… nothing new. The old script had me opening the door, saying, “Oh my God,” as the scene faded to black. It was one of those mid-season cliffies they like to do right before Christmas.
This one has me getting shot in the head.
“What the fuck?” I shouted, jumping out of my chair.
“Now, Miss Cheetwood…”
“You’re telling me you’re killing off my character? This is kind of a shitty way to do it.”
“Well… we haven’t quite decided. We were thinking of having you stay in a coma for some episodes… possibly until the final show of the season.”
“So, you just decided to pull some jank-ass, Dr.-Drake-Ramoray-level bullshit on me?”
He finally looked at me the way a father looks at a child throwing a temper tantrum, trying to decide if he should reprimand or let it go. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“In light of recent events,” he began, taking a deep breath, “we feel that until the future is decided for you, this would be the best way to go.”
In light of recent events? What recent… does he mean the tabloid trash talk?
“Wait, are you talking about the fertility clinic thing?” He threw a guilty look in my direction, and I threw up my hands. “Holy butt munchers, Donnie, I was in there with my friend. She is the one trying to get pregnant, not me.”
He looked surprised and affronted, like I had just popped his carnival balloon.
“You’re not breaking your contract?”
Really?
“No, Donald, I’m not. Which you would have known if you had, oh, I don’t know, asked me.” I started pacing. I totally understood why Riley chose to do this so often when he was agitated. “Or hell, you could have maybe called my AGENT and told her of this BEFORE today, the day we are to film this. These rewrites were done five days ago… and you wait until the day we’re taping to tell me? What the hell?”
“So… you’re not getting pregnant?”
“Do you want me to say it in Spanish?” I cleared my throat for emphasis and said louder, “No, no me voy a embarazar.”
Wow, those Spanish lessons with Graciela and Riley are really paying off.
“Okay, then never mind.” He looked back at the papers on his desk. “We’ll just go back to the original script.”
“Hang on, wait a minute, hold the phone, back the truck up.” He looked up again, annoyed that I was interrupting. “I know you’re above believing tabloid reports and internet rumors, Donald. There’s tons reported all the time about the princess diva. So why did you this time?”
He looked nervous, guilty. I knew that look, at least I think I did. It was a look of someone who was seduced into believing something.
“Ah, I got it. You heard it from Princess Skank, and I’m guessing you’re sleeping with her.” His guilty look said it all. “You know what, Donnie? Keep the rewrites. Congratulations, you just killed off my character.” I stormed to the door. “Good luck keeping the reins on your lover. She keeps a bottle of vodka within arm’s reach at all times. I’ve been watering it down behind her back so she could stay sober enough to make it through the day.”
I stopped at the door to deliver some parting words. “Since you didn’t seem to know… I mean, I doubt you would have slept with her if you did know,” I cocked my head sideways, “at least I hope you’re smarter than that, anyway. The diva? She is a manipulative narcissist and a sociopathic alcoholic. You got played. She’s wanted me gone for a long time. I just hope my replacement can deal with her.” I moved to close the door, but I decided I had more advice to give (because I was such a giver). “By the way, you will need to replace me
with someone. She won’t carry the show all by herself.”
The poor little production assistant didn’t say a word to me on the ride back to the set. He looked ready to jump out of the golf cart at a moment’s notice. As I exited, I paused.
“Thanks for the ride, Barney.”
He smiled nervously. “Miss Cheetwood, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry to see you go.”
“Aww, thanks, sweetie, but no worries.” I turned around. “I hated every moment of this job anyway.”
~~~
Three takes. That’s all it took to film my character’s death scene.
And I fucking nailed it. All three times.
Seriously, it was some of the best acting I had ever done… on this show anyway.
Once my scenes were over, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I didn’t even stop to punch the smug look off my ex-co-star’s face when I passed by her on the way to my car.
Because this was a closed lot, I insisted I drive myself to and from work. I didn’t need a fucking body-guard/driver making me look and feel like a douchy idiot who needed a babysitter. There was room for only one of those on the set of that show.
And now, that’s definitely all they had.
I called Charlie and told her what happened. She reminded me of the rider I had in my contract that stated if I was let go due to storyline decisions, I would still receive a salary until the end of the season. She also said she was working on something big for me and she would be in touch soon.
Puttering into the garage, I parked next to Allison’s car, glad it was there. I honestly needed her right now. Even though I wasn’t really that bent about losing my job, it still sucked.
But before I would seek out Allison, who was probably still teaching her early afternoon class, I felt like it was a good idea to take a nice hot bath.
In fact, it sounded heavenly.
I grabbed a snack and a glass of wine, filled the tub, grabbed that scented candle from the box, and plugged in my favorite playlist. After stripping and dropping one of Allison’s bath bombs in the tub, I sank in to my neck. I emptied my mind, concentrating on the lyrics, quietly singing along to a few.
When I felt myself nod off once, I knew it was time to exit. My fingers looked rather raisin-esque anyway. Drying off, I heard shuffling in the living room, so I knew Ally was home. After putting on my robe and exited the bathroom, I heard a man’s voice, so I wondered who Ally brought upstairs.
“That’s it,” I heard her say.
Hmm, she must have been teaching someone in the apartment. That was weird.
I walked into the living room and stopped cold, unsure if my eyes were seeing the right thing.
Allison’s head was thrown back, reverse cowgirling a cock, riding it like she knew what she was doing.
“Yes, Bryan, come inside me. Now.”
Bryan?!? Oh, fuck, Allison! What the hell?
I must have made a noise. Allison popped up her head and locked eyes with me. I swear I saw her smirk before she slammed herself down on him and screamed, giving the single worst performance of a fake orgasm I’ve ever seen. But apparently, it was good enough to trigger a clueless Bryan, who was very vocal in his… finishing.
“Wow, that was… quite a show.”
“Oh my God, Darby!” Bryan rushed, “We didn’t know you were home.”
I crossed my arms. “Obviously you didn’t. But I’m betting someone did.”
Allison just sat there, still holding Bryan’s limp dick inside her, staring at me with an eyebrow raised.
Was she daring me?
Bryan lifted Allison off his lap and tried furiously to pull up his hastily removed jeans.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Darby.” He continued to struggle, which was hard to do since Allison refused to get out of his way. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
“Well, if there’s ever a good way to find out your girlfriend is fucking someone else,” I snarked, “it’s nice to get a show, I guess.”
“Shit, Darby,” Bryan said quietly, “it’s not like that. At all.”
I chuckled and said calmly, “Seeing your dick inside her kind of made it just like that, Bryan.” I waved to Allison’s naked bottom half. “I’m guessing this is not the first time.”
Bryan’s face turned three shades of red and he shook his head.
I turned to Allison to ask my question. “How long?”
She just glared.
“How. Long?” I asked again, still calm.
“Are you even upset?” she asked, rather incredulously.
“Yes, Allison. I am. But probably not for the reason you want me to be.” I turned to Bryan. “I don’t mean to be rude, which kinda seems weird to say since I walked in here and saw you fucking the woman who I’m supposed to be having a baby with, but do you mind getting out of here so she and I can talk?”
“Sure thing, Darby.” He walked over to Allison and told her quietly, “Call me later,” boldly kissing her forehead. “I’ll be waiting.” The expression on his face was not what I expected. He looked… disappointed in her.
I mashed my lips together to stop the warning I wanted to issue to him. I knew this didn’t mean the same to Ally as it did to him.
The door closed, and I turned to Allison, who had yet to put back on her workout attire.
“What the hell are you doing, Allison?”
She smirked, but remained quiet.
“Please tell me that was not a ploy to make me jealous.”
She laughed. “Not entirely.”
“So, you’re using him to get you pregnant?”
She shook her head and looked down. “I’m not counting on that.”
I moved my jaw back and forth, staring at her. “Then what…”
Her head shot up, and a look of pure evil graced her face. “Payback.”
Forty Three
“Thnks Fr Th Mmrs” – Fall Out Boy
I blinked. “Payback?” I know I looked genuinely confused.
She narrowed her eyes. “I watched your talk show interview. Perfect opportunity to come out, to tell everyone about me, and instead you said you were there supporting a friend.”
My mouth hung open. “You did this to punish me… for that? For keeping both of us out of the media?”
“Yes, and…” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you know that you’ve never told me you love me?”
“You know I…”
“Do I?” She cleared her throat. “You have absolutely never said those words out loud to me, ever. But I’ve heard you say them on the phone to him. Several times.”
I matched her stance. “You haven’t exactly offered them to me, either.”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been waiting for you. Our whole relationship, I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to catch up to me. I tried to be patient, but sometimes I pushed. I felt you would bolt, so I backed off. Honestly, I’ve never felt like anything more than either your roommate or a placeholder in your life.”
I stumbled back as if she’d pushed me. “I agreed to go through with this baby thing with you, Allison. I wouldn’t have done that if you were a placeholder.”
“You know, I’m going to pull a saying from your hat, Darby. I think my inability to get pregnant is the universe telling ME that you are not the right person to do this with.”
“Really? And Bryan is?”
A quick look of guilt flashed on her face before she steeled her expression. “At least he loves me.”
“But do you love him? Because if you don’t, you will be doing to him what you are accusing me of doing to you. And HE doesn’t deserve it.”
“And I do?”
“Come on, Ally. If you are evil enough to not only cheat on me, but to set up an elaborate trap for me to catch you, not to mention use a poor guy who has the bad judgment to fall blindly in love with you, you are not the person I thought you were. So yeah, you deserve it.”
“Fuck you, Darby, you’ve been emotionally cheating
on me for our entire relationship.”
I scoffed. “That’s not a thing.”
“Yes, it is. You have been in love with someone else the entire time we’ve been together.”
“And I never lied about that. I told you when we first met that I was in love and would be for the rest of my life. Plus, I never mentioned it or rubbed it in your face, like you so gloriously did this afternoon.” I laughed humorlessly. “Bryan has a nice cock. You’re a lucky girl.”
“Yeah, and from what I saw in that box, Jase’s is pretty nice, too.”
I felt my eyes bug out of my head.
“I’ve known about the contents of your little secret box since we moved into this apartment, Darby. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me about it, but you never did. I took me a while to put two and two together to know that the only person you’ve ever loved was Jase, not just as a friend like you repeatedly insist, and I never really questioned it until the last couple of years. I thought your feelings were unrequited, that is until your birthday.”
She sat down on the couch. “I watched you with him. Noah tried to block you two, but I saw enough. I was so happy that you did the right thing by walking away from him, but the rest of the night, I watched him watch you. I knew. He loves you. He wants you. Ever since that night, you’ve been different. Despondent, far away, depressed even.”
I looked away and whispered, “Because I told Jase no.”
She closed her eyes and sat back. “So… he…”
“I told…” I stopped and cleared my throat. “I told him I was committed to you, and he was too late.”
Opening her eyes, she looked at me sadly. “So you lied… for me?” She sighed and covered her eyes with her palms. “Jesus, Darby, why the hell did you do that?”
“Because I didn’t want to hurt you.”
She removed her hands and gave me a watery smile. “Not because you love me, but because you didn’t want to hurt me.” Her first tear fell. “Now I totally get it. We haven’t had sex since before your birthday. I thought maybe it was because of me… but I saw that box and I knew… really it was because of him. You’ve been mourning your break up with Jase.” She sighed. “Bryan said the actual words to me, you know. It only took him three months to say. I didn’t have to wait ten fucking years.” She sobbed. “It was the first time anyone outside of my family has said them.” She closed her eyes tightly. “It felt amazing to hear finally.”
