The Beach House

by Jolie Campbell

  "I don't really feel like rehashing it."

  But then that's exactly what I did. I told Shari the whole story, from the meeting that went bad to now.

  "So, let me get this straight," she said, hands on her hips. "Quinn is in London."

  "Yes."

  "And he wanted you to go."

  "Yes."

  "Asked you to live with him, researched cooking school for you there, offered to help out with your mom if you couldn't work there."

  I shot her a look. "Shari, I don't need a sugar daddy."

  She glared back at me. "Answer the question."

  I threw up my hands. "Yes. Yes to all of those things."

  "And you miss him."

  "Yes." Tears filled my eyes.

  “You love him.”

  “Yes.” The tears started streaming down my face.

  "And he loves you, obviously."

  All I could do was nod.

  "And you said no, why again? Because of your pride?"

  "No Shar, not pride,” I sniffed. “I just- look. All my life I've watched my mother basically wreck her life, making bad decision after bad decision because of men. My father wanted her to give up law school so they could pay for his business. She did. Bad decision. She sold our house for a pittance so she could move in with a guy, because he wanted her to. Bad decision. She lent money to guys, subjugated herself nine ways to Sunday, all for different men in her life who wanted her to. It was never for her, and it never worked out for her. Ever. I don't want, no, I can't let that happen to me. I'm not going to do something crazy and impulsive and thoughtless just because of a man. Even Quinn."

  Shari stared at me for a minute.

  "What?" I finally asked, exasperated.

  "For a smart girl, you can be really freaking stupid sometimes."

  My eyes widened. "Oh thanks. Thanks a lot."

  All this tough love, first Jordie, now Shari, was seriously messing with my head.

  "You're welcome. Emmy, your mother didn't do those things for men."

  "Oh really? Considering you don't know her and you weren't there-"

  "Would you shut up and just listen for a minute?"

  I closed my mouth.

  "Good girl. Emmy, listen to me. Your mother didn't do those things for men. She did them out of fear. Maybe she was afraid of losing the man, afraid of loneliness, afraid of being alone. Whatever it was, she was scared. Now you're doing the exact same thing. You-"

  "I'm not! I-"

  "Shut up, Emmy. Just listen. You're doing the same thing. You're afraid to take this chance with Quinn because you think it makes you like your mother. But think about it. There's nothing impulsive or irresponsible about it. This is your relationship, not hers. Right after Quinn found out about the job, what was the first thing he did? He went on the Internet to see if there was a cooking school in London, for you. Who does that? Did any of the men in your mother’s life ever think about her? I bet no.”

  Dumbfounded, all I could do was stare at her.

  “Look, is it crazy? Is it a risk?” she said, grabbing my shoulders. “Maybe. But that's love. Em, don't go if you really don't want to or you don't know how you feel about Quinn or your job at the Beach House is just too exciting and fulfilling to give up. But don't not go because you're scared. If you do that, you'll regret it forever. If you love him, go. Just go. Girl, if you aren't willing to take a chance for love, then you may as well just hang it up right now."

  "Emmy, hello," Lauren said as she picked up the phone. Her assistant had put me right through. "How are you?"

  I took a deep breath.

  "Hi Lauren. I'm fine, thanks. But I really need to talk to you right away. I'm in town, can I come by your office?"

  "Of course," she said, taking it in stride. I heard her type briefly. "I have an opening at 3:30, will that work?"

  Four hours to kill.

  "Yes, absolutely. Thank you, I'll see you then."

  I ended up going to a movie to take up the time, and in an attempt to distract myself. It didn't work. I knew I couldn't take a romantic comedy at that moment, so instead I sat through a violent, incomprehensible science fiction movie. The theater was surprisingly busy for a weekday, and I started to relax as the pre-previews started. Then the lights went down and the first trailer was for Kill Switch, so I had to stare at Quinn's face and watch him passionately kiss a barely dressed Maya.

  Perfect.

  After that the feature film hardly registered for me. I just sat there absently, only paying attention briefly when the audience would gasp or laugh. The loud closing theme music and rolling credits snapped me out of my funk and I got up, stretched and made my way out.

  It was so rare that I went to the movies during the day, the afternoon light jarred me as I exited to the lobby. I detoured into the ladies room to take care of business and fix my face before heading down to the garage to get my car and make my way to Lauren and Dennis's office.

  "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," I said to Lauren. I had just settled on the couch in her office, my hand shaking slightly on a cup of plain chamomile tea that her assistant handed me. Lauren sat in an armchair next to me, sipping sparkling water.

  She looked formidable as usual in a daring, bright red wool skirt with a black silk blouse on top. I was self-conscious in my jeans, suddenly feeling frumpy instead of comfortable. But it didn't matter. I was there now and I had to press on.

  "What can I do for you, Emmy? Should Dennis be here as well?"

  "Um, no. If it's OK, I thought we could just talk for a minute?"

  "Of course."

  She peered at me expectantly, but I couldn't seem to get the words out. She took off her stylish glasses and sat back in her chair.

  "Emmy, look. We've all been through a lot these past few months. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work it out. But you have to tell me."

  I swallowed.

  "You told me not to discuss Quinn with you, not to bring my personal life into work. I want you to know that I took that to heart. I really appreciate your advice."

  She cocked her head.

  "But?"

  CHAPTER 28

  Stepping off the plane in London just before dawn, it hit me hard that this could go very badly. What if he had already moved on? What if he didn't want to see me? What if, once the excitement died down a bit, he realized it would be more trouble than it was worth having me there?

  I steeled myself. It had taken some doing, but I had gotten myself here. Sublet my apartment. Held my mom as she cried, and didn't let the fear in her eyes stop me. Convinced Lauren to extend the offer of financial help with culinary school to Le Cordon Bleu in London while I took a leave of absence. Of course, I'd had to agree to work for her and Dennis for far longer than I would have had I kept working at the Beach House while attending classes.

  In the end, it had just taken about a week. One week from missing Quinn so much that I could barely function, to moving through customs at Heathrow Airport.

  You've come this far, you have to see it through. If he really doesn't want to see you, at least you won't have to wonder for the rest of your life whether you could have done something more.

  Shari's words went through my mind again, for about the millionth time. “Girl, if you aren't willing to take a chance for love, then you may as well just hang it up right now."

  She was right. This is what I had to do.

  I checked into the Charlotte Street Hotel. It was a bit out of my price range, but when I saw the listing on Trip Advisor I had chosen it right away because of Aunt Charlotte, Mr. Matthews' sister, thinking it might bring me luck. After a long, hot shower, I put on a soft dark-gray sweater, jeans and light brown boots.

  I nibbled a quick breakfast in the lobby restaurant, took a sweep through my room to brush my teeth and put on a bit of makeup, and I was ready. Pulling on a baby-blue scarf and a chocolate-colored coat I had borrowed from Erica, I took one last look in the mirror before stepping out into the chilly, da
mp December day.

  As ready as I'll ever be.

  I had emailed Julianne to help me find Quinn. All the details around the Who movie were being kept top secret, and she could get access that I couldn't. I figured she owed me one, and I basically said that in my email to her. I knew she wouldn't give away the surprise that I was coming. She had done enough damage, and she knew it.

  Julianne had found out that the film was shooting in Hampstead Heath that day, and that Quinn was due on set.

  "Good luck," she wrote. "I'd ask you to let me know how it goes, but probably best if I just stay out of it. I do wish you both well, Emmy. I really do."

  Pulling up in the cab, I found what looked like hundreds of people milling about, several large trucks, nondescript trailers, a few tents.

  There was one spot where the ropes that blocked the whole area off parted, and there were two huge guys guarding it, wearing headsets and carrying clipboards.

  Maybe they could page Quinn for me somehow?

  I got out of the cab, paid the driver and approached the friendlier-looking of the two guys.

  "Excuse me," I began.

  "Yes, miss?" he said with a strong Cockney accent. He smiled, but without a trace of warmth, and he didn't look me in the eye.

  "I'm, um. I'm a friend of Quinn Buckley's," I said quietly. "Do you happen to know where I could find him?"

  He looked at the clipboard. "Name?"

  "Oh, I'm not on there. He doesn't know I'm here. But-"

  "I'm sorry, you can't come through." He started to turn away.

  Oh God, I'm such an idiot, Why didn't I think of this?

  "Oh, but he would definitely want to know that I'm here," I said shakily. Was I trying to convince the guard, or myself? "We're, um, we're very, you know. Close."

  He gave me that cold smile again, and still no eye contact.

  "Sorry, miss. If you're so close, have him put you on the list next time, hey?"

  "Right, OK," I whispered, willing myself not to burst into the tears that were threatening. "Um, thanks anyway."

  I started to turn around to leave, when I spotted a shock of bright red hair way over the top of everyone else's head.

  "Jordie!" I cried. He stopped, looked around but didn't see me, and kept walking.

  The less-friendly looking guard said, "Hey, they're about to do a take, silence please."

  "But that's Jordie right there," I whispered, pointing. "He's the key grip. He knows me. Can I just go to him? You can watch me, it's only like 50 feet away."

  "Shhhh!" The guard hissed.

  Jordie disappeared. I stood there dumbly for several long minutes, trying to calm my nerves, debating what to do next, when the take apparently ended. Crew members started milling around again, and I searched for Jordie's hair.

  "Jordie!" I called with all my breath when I spotted him again. This time he turned in my direction.

  "Em? Is that you?" He yelled, incredulous. “What? You’re here?”

  Tears started sliding down my face. "Jordie! It's me! I’m here."

  He practically shoved the two guards out of the way and scooped me up into a bear hug. As soon as his giant arms wrapped around me, all the emotion of the last few weeks and the stress of the journey came to the surface and I burst into hysterical tears.

  "Oh Jordie, you were right. I'm here now," I sobbed.

  "Hey, hey now, little lady, that's enough of that," he said gently, stroking my back awkwardly as he comforted me. He had to basically fold himself in half to hold me. "Between you and Quinn I've had enough waterworks to last me a while."

  I pulled away. "Why? Is Quinn OK?" I snuffled.

  He gave a wry laugh. "Emmy, they never bring key grips to movie sets in places like this. There are 10 local guys in London who could do my job. Griff, the director, called me up a few days ago and told me I had to come because he knows me and Quinn are friends and Quinn is a fucking mess," he explained. "Uh, pardon my French."

  I laughed, though I was now crying all over again. "It's OK."

  "Lucky for him, the scenes they've been doing have been about Keith being really messed up on drugs. Everyone thinks he's fucking brilliant," he shook his head. "Uh, sorry again."

  "Oh Jordie. I'm so happy to hear that. I mean, I'm sad that he's sad, but... Do you think he'll want to see me?"

  "What do you think?" came a familiar voice from behind me.

  Quinn.

  I turned around and saw him standing there, makeup barely masking dark circles under his beautiful hazel eyes.

  We stood there for a long moment, eyeing each other. He wasn't smiling, just staring back at me, and I thought for a minute that he might turn and walk off.

  Then he opened his arms, and I jumped right in.