7 Miles High

by Pike, Leslie

  “Parker and I had a fight. But it’s over.”

  “Is it?” she says firmly.

  “I’m just sensitive. And it’s not right to talk to his parents about our issues.”

  “Okay. We don’t need to know the details. But I’ll just say this. Our son has never been so besotted by a woman before. Really. A mother can tell.”

  “Even when he thought about marrying that stunt girl,” his father blurts.

  The mother turns her face to him as if she’s aiming and shoots a dagger. He shuts up.

  “That was never going to happen,” she says. “There was no actual engagement.”

  “That’s right. We may have been the only ones he told his plans to,” his father says thinking he’s making it better.

  “That’s true. They broke up shortly after that,” his mother says under her breath.

  The words land on me like a Mack truck. Marry? He was engaged? He told his parents? Fuck me and then fuck me again. I’m starting to see the real Parker. There’s hidden pockets of his personality and I’m not liking what they reveal.

  The crackle of the radio Parker gave his parents grabs their interest.

  “Everyone settle. Quiet on the set!”

  The A.D.’s instructions are a welcome distraction.

  “Oh! They’re going to start filming,” his mother says, happy for the distraction.

  His parents aren’t looking at me right now, and it’s a good thing. I’m in shock. When was he going to mention this little nugget of information? If it wasn’t for the wrap party tomorrow night I’d leave today. But then he’d come running after me, cause a scene, and everybody would get involved. The whore would take my departure as proof that she got to me. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction.

  Better that I pick my time as it benefits me. Maybe it’s not the end of us, but it certainly hits the pause button. This was going too fast anyway. Just because he said he loves me doesn’t mean he understands the nature of love. Like I want it to be. I may not understand it completely either, but I know what it isn’t.

  There will be no settling for what I will have in my life. My devotion and love will be honored by the man I end up with. No handsome face or exceptional sex life, no calm disposition or ability to feign devotion will keep me. Only real, unbreakable, unshakeable love will do that. And I won’t want it so desperately I mistake a man’s intentions. Not again I won’t.

  Chapter 21

  Parker

  “This is ridiculous! I haven’t done anything wrong,” I say, trying to control my urge to describe it as stupid.

  She’s not budging. I see it on her face and in her eyes and more than anywhere on her mouth. Lips so tight I couldn’t part them with a pickax. She’s pissed as fuck, and there’s no reason for it.

  “I don’t think it’s wrong to expect you to be up front with me, Parker. You made it sound like it was a pretty casual relationship. Now I find out you were planning to propose. How many other women were you almost engaged to?”

  None!

  This is the worst way to get ready for a night out. She’s looking beautiful in that red dress. I’d love to be telling her that, but it wouldn’t be wise. I can see it now. She’d think I was trying to distract her. I put on my jacket and tuck the room key in my pocket.

  “But it didn’t happen. I reconsidered and came to the conclusion it wouldn’t work.” I take Natalie in my arms and she struggles but not too convincingly. “Babe. Why are we even talking about this? I love you. I told you that and I mean it. No woman has ever meant to me what you do.”

  Her shoulders drop and she leans her head against my chest.

  “I don’t want to be the gullible girl.”

  Lifting her chin I look into pools of blue. “I know that. And you aren’t. But maybe you’re reading too much into this. Just consider that. Come on, tell me you still love me, and you forgive my stupidity. I should have told you the whole story. I get it. Even though it meant nothing to me, it was a mistake to think it would mean nothing to you.”

  The sigh comes from deep down inside her. But her arms surround me and hold on tight.

  “I hate fighting with you,” she says softly.

  “Me too. Let’s make a promise to only do it when it’s absolutely necessary.”

  She looks up at me and smiles. “And who is going to determine that?”

  It makes me chuckle. “Me?” I tease.

  “Think again. Neither one of us can have that power. I wouldn’t want to be telling you what’s worthy of discussion, and I sure don’t want you telling me.”

  “Good point. But I think we can agree we need to talk things out that bother us. We don’t have to go from zero to sixty so quickly.”

  “Agreed.”

  I kiss her. It always seems to heal me in some way. Right now, the way is obvious.

  “See, we did that good. Are we okay?” I say.

  “Yes. Let’s go downstairs. Think the bar is set up?”

  “Babe, this is a wrap party! The bar was the first thing they set up.”

  I pick up my cell and hand it to Natalie. “Do you have room for this in your purse?”

  She takes the cell and offers a kiss in exchange.

  * * *

  We weren’t the first people at the party. Not the hundredth. These are some hungry-to-party people. The noise level is rising with the amount of alcohol consumed. And the dance floor is crowded. That elbow to my side landed on my sore rib. Even the Teamsters are letting loose. For some reason they seem to have more control over their behavior than the rest of us. So seeing the Captain doing the worm gets my attention.

  The room is packed with cast and crew, servers passing trays, and bartenders pouring drinks. Every bar has a line. Don’t think they anticipated the thirst. This is a drinking, smoking weed, ready for the last hurrah group.

  By the time a film wraps you sort of feel like family. Even though you know it was a quick connection. It feels that way because within three months, you experience enough drama and excitement to fill a much longer period of time. This one is no different, it happens like clockwork.

  “Natalie!”

  “Hi!’ she answers, waving to the head of the makeup department dancing toward us.

  The last three weeks have been an education for me. Natalie has a way about her that kind of charms people. And when I’m watching, undetected, it charms me too. Men, women, like her in equal measure. She’s made friends with half the crew and I know at least two of the actors asked for her business card.

  “I’m going to miss seeing you every day,” Natalie says.

  The women hug it out and you’d think they were old friends about to part for the first time. Jenna looks so different in full makeup, which I haven’t seen her wear. Funny because that’s her thing.

  She starts dancing with us and it doesn’t take long before the people around us are watching. Not because our skills stand out, but because Jenna makes Elaine from Seinfeld look like she won So You Think You Can Dance? It’s brutal. And funny.

  It’s weird how bad dancers are rarely aware of their affect. They think they’re good at it in fact. Natalie back away to let her “shine”. Also to distance ourselves from the shitshow. The crowd automatically makes a circle around her gyrations.

  “Want to sit this one out?”

  The music is loud, but Natalie’s nod and stifled laugh agrees with my take on the scene. We move through the people and take our seats at table thirteen. Only a few seconds pass before I feel someone walk up.

  “Hey! Save me a dance!”

  When I look back I see Nia. Drunk Nia. Shit.

  “Could I borrow your boyfriend for just one dance? Come on.”

  “That’s totally up to Parker,” Natalie says coolly.

  I make a quick decision. “No thanks, Nia. Please respect my girlfriend. Okay? Why don’t you go ask that grip? He’s good.”

  I point to the young guy moving smoothly to the rhythm of the song. But instead of dropping
the subject, she doubles down.

  “You asshole! Come on. I don’t want to fuck you, I just want to dance.”

  The strange thing is I believe her. She loves to dance and we did it often. But all that doesn’t matter to the woman sitting to my right. The one staring daggers.

  “Alright. I’m not going to beg,” she says as she walks away slightly off balance.

  I look at Natalie. “I can’t control her.”

  “Apparently.”

  This is understandable, and I’ve got to realize she’s just being introduced to my world. But at some point I need to see she trusts what I say and who I am. We both need to be patient I guess. I take her hand and kiss it.

  “Hey, man. I wanted to say goodbye to you and your lady.”

  Finn comes behind us and rests his hands on our shoulders.

  “You leaving already?”

  “I don’t give a shit about wrap parties. Besides, I’ve got a pregnant wife at home and that’s where I want to be. I’m flying out tonight.”

  “It was real. Thanks for suggesting me to Steven. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Let’s have lunch when you get back. And it was a pleasure meeting you, Natalie. I want you to meet Esme. I know you’d hit it off.”

  “You too, Finn. And yes, I’d love to meet her. Good luck with the new baby.”

  “It’s number two for us, so we’ve got some experience.”

  After he leaves we mostly stay at the table, talking with cast and crew members who stop by. The tension passed, and the minor blip on the radar quieted.

  It’s fun watching my parents doing the twist next to Bliss and Steven. A dance made popular over a half century ago still has legs. You put it on at a party and everybody wants to get on the dance floor.

  “Your dad has some good moves,” Natalie says chuckling.

  “Where do you think I got it?”

  I’ve kept an eye on Nia since she made her visit to our table. She’s downed at least three shots of who knows what since she left. Damn. That’s going to be her downfall if she isn’t careful. Professionally and personally.

  “Hey babe, I’ve got to piss. Save my place,” I say, rising and kissing the top of her head.

  “Okay. I’ll be here fighting off the legion of women that want to “dance” with you.”

  She’s smiling when she does the air quotes, but I know just how serious she is. Women.

  “Know where the bathrooms are?”

  “There’s one in the corner there,” she says pointing to the far left, behind one of the bar stations.

  * * *

  I dry my hands and toss the towel. As I walk out tucking my shirt in the back, I see a disturbing sight. Sprinting toward the exit into the lobby is a hysterical Nia. Phone and purse in hand she focuses on getting out. I think whatever happened has sobered her up as much as possible. I don’t detect balance issues and the goofy inebriated smile on her face has vanished.

  I try to find Natalie, but she’s left the table. I’ve got to see if Nia is alright and make sure she’s not going to drive herself somewhere. I think I’m the only person who saw her state-of-mind and her escape. I follow her out the room and when I get to the lobby I see her running through the front doors.

  Outside she is fumbling through her bag and I can hear the sobs from here.

  “What’s wrong?” I say, taking her by the shoulders.

  She falls against me as if her legs aren’t supporting her body anymore.

  “My mother! She’s been in a car accident and there’re saying it doesn’t look like she’s going to make it!”

  The last few words rise in volume and horror. The reality of the situation has crushed Nia’s soul. I can see it. She looks at me like I might be able to fix it or think of something that would makes things better. I can’t do either.

  “Parker! My mother. I’m going to the hospital.”

  She starts for her car.

  “You can’t drive! What are you thinking? Give me those keys. I’m taking you.”

  I grab the keys and we hurriedly make for the car. I’ll call Natalie when I get there and explain the situation. She’ll understand. So many thoughts are running through my head at once. I don’t have my phone. Wait. I’ll use Nia’s. What’s Natalie’s number? I don’t know it by heart.

  I see a lighting guy walking through the lot coming toward where we are. That’s my only chance.

  “Hey! Would you tell my girlfriend I’ll call and explain what happened to me? We have an emergency here and I need to take…never mind the details. Just tell her I’ll call and explain everything.”

  “Who’s your girlfriend?”

  That’s when the heavy scent of weed permeates the air around me. Shit. I’m fucked.

  I’ve got to concentrate on what’s happening right now. Nia is crying and she’s not even aware of the snot that’s running from her nose. Or she knows but doesn’t give a shit. I get it. I start the car and pull out of the tight space.

  “What hospital is she at?”

  There’s no response.

  “Nia! What hospital?”

  “City Memorial. On Seventh Street.”

  * * *

  We’re sprinting through the door to Emergency and Nia is still crying.

  “My mother is in here, Dorothy Dobson, she was in a car accident.”

  She spits it out in one stream of consciousness. There’s no time to waste. The nurse behind the glass looks up with a blank expression. She must be used to crying, wounded, scared people having the worst day of their lives.

  “Give your I.D. to that guard over there, and he’ll give you a badge to wear.”

  This angers Nia, who is desperate to see her mother.

  “My mother might be dying! I don’t have time to do that! Fuck me!”

  This doesn’t play well with the nurse who’s obviously seen too much.

  “Well, you better get over it because you’re not going back there until you have the proper identification.”

  Nia knows when she’s beaten and moves across the room to the guard who with all the time in the world takes her license and makes a copy. He seals it off and places it in a lanyard. After what seems like an inordinate amount of time he hands it over.

  Without another word she goes to the door of the back rooms and stands. Another nurse rushes by her and accesses entry with her card.

  As the door swings slowly open and Nia follows the nurse through, I see something I won’t soon forget. The glass cubicle directly across from the door has nurses and doctors surrounding a blood-soaked patient. Paddles are being applied to her chest. It’s Nia’s mother.

  Chapter 22

  Natalie

  That’s it. How many other incidents will I need to prove to myself I’ve once again chosen poorly? Staying at the wrap party was impossible after being left to fend for myself. It was embarrassing to have to ask if any of Parker’s friends knew where he went. Ridiculous, really.

  Now back in our room I’m at the place I don’t know what to do. It’s been a few hours. I have his phone, but don’t tell me he can’t find another. In this era it’s the one thing we know we can find for sure. We’re lousy with access to phones.

  The hardest part of this whole thing is that I won’t look away. Not from the fact he didn’t tell me where he was going, or hasn’t called. Or the one thing that tells me the most. She left at the same exact time. It’s no coincidence. That’s what I would have said pre Alex. I would have leaned into the excuse and believed nothing could ever tear us apart. Fool, fool, fool.

  I start packing. How am I going to do this? Okay. First I’ll change my reservation. Instead of flying out tomorrow afternoon I’ll leave in the morning if possible. Thank God I came from Santa Barbara. It would have been bad if I had to go back to his house for anything. No. I can make a clean break from this. I’m going to change rooms first. Wait. He could find me if he wanted. I’m going to try to change hotels. There will be no note. That’s for certain. I take out hi
s phone and leave it on the table.

  He didn’t have enough respect for me to let me know where he was going. Payback is a bitch. I feel the tears well and as soon as it happens I let go.

  * * *

  My condo looks different. Feels different. Didn’t expect that one. I thought things would look better in the morning. But they don’t. Let me check my cell. It took all I have to turn it off last night after I saw he hadn’t called by midnight.

  Oh. Mr. Dunn decided to grace me with a call? Twelve actually. Don’t listen. Don’t even listen to one of his excuses. This is the moment when I prove I’m a woman of my word. It’s where I decide who I am. Am I still a person who avoids the obvious at my own peril? Or do I take this as opportunity? Grow up, and apply the lesson learned. I delete the messages.

  The cell sounds. Him again. I’ve got to face it or change my number. Besides, there’s a little bit in me that wants to tell him to go fuck himself.

  “What?”

  “Natalie! Thank God. Why…”

  “Don’t you ask me any questions. The only reason I answered is to tell you to lose my number.”

  “Listen to me, damnit! At least give me that!”

  Fuck. I start crying and I don’t want him to know.

  “Babe…”

  “Don’t call me that! You’ve lost the privilege. Forget you know my name altogether.”

  “Natalie! Nia’s mother.”

  “I don’t give a SHIT ABOUT NIA’S MOTHER!”

  I can’t slam down a receiver like I did when I was a teenager. So I disconnect with extreme prejudice. Then I block his number, delete his email address and head for the shower.

  I’m walking and breathing and doing all the things required of me to get through the day. Turning on the water, I wait for half a minute then step inside the shower. My toes flinch on the cold tile as the water hits my body. I just stand under the spray trying to wash away thoughts of him. But to no avail. He’s present whether I purposely bring him to mind or not.