by J. A. Huss
“You told me that you set your home on fire so that everyone on the Strip could watch you burn, you told me that you pressed your head into the barrel of a gun in a back alley and told the gunman to shoot you, and you told me that you’ve been having a recurring dream that you’re dead and that it gives you pleasure. So. Y’know. I’m just spitballing.”
She’s so cool. She’s like the coolest sixty-year-old lady I’ve ever met. But I still need to get this fucking “talk session” over with so I can make moves.
“Okay, first of all,” I start, “the fire thing… like I told you, that was a thought I had, yes, but I didn’t think I was gonna DO it. I don’t even remember starting it. I looked down and it was just going. I might have blacked out or something.”
“Oh. Okay. Well then, no problem.” She says it with a smile.
“That didn’t come out… Look.” I try again. “Yes, I can’t deny that things have been a little, uh, out of balance with me. I admit that. But I’m fine. I really am. I think I’ve just been feeling a little purposeless, but that’s all changed.”
“What exactly has changed?”
“I told you. The woman that I’ve fallen in love with is Scotty’s little sister. It’s Maddie. That’s… I mean, what are the odds? And it’s incredible because we need each other. We’re what the other needs to get whole. I don’t know if that makes sense, but I know I’m right.”
I’m smiling. She’s not. Which bums me out.
“I’m not certain that needing another person to make you whole is the sentiment that gives me the greatest sense of assurance,” she says.
“I know, I know. We have to find our whatever within ourselves and blah, blah, blah. I get it. But that’s not… Look, all I know is that we have come into each other’s lives for a reason.”
“Yeah?” she says. “What reason is that?”
“Well… I mean…” I start. But I realize I haven’t yet developed a completely cogent rationale for why Maddie and I have tumbled back into each other’s lives in such a fucked-up and dramatic way. But then, in a flash, it comes to me.
“Okay! Okay! So… haven’t you been telling me, as much as anyone, maybe more than anyone, that there are unresolved wounds I need to heal!?”
“Well, I—” she begins, but I’m on a roll, so I keep going.
“Okay! So then, don’t you think that making things right with Maddie goes a long way toward healing some of those wounds? For me AND now for HER?” Bam! Drop the mic! Fuck with that logic, Doc! I’m clever as balls when I need to be. Everybody says so.
She’s quiet for a second. The waterfall that cascades into Robert and Evan’s pool is the only sound in the desert right now. I’ll be honest. I don’t hate staying here. It’s a sick fucking house. It’s actually got me thinking I should buy one like this instead of moving back into the apartment. Might be good to get away from the chaos of the Strip. Quiet in the desert. Too quiet? Would my mind wander? Nah. If I lived in the desert and stuff, I’d probably be inspired to take up meditation and shit. It’d actually probably be the best thing for me. Yeah! This is a great idea! I’m gonna buy a house in the desert! I’ll bet Robert can find me a sweet deal. Dude’s probably the most powerful land baron in Vegas. Evan totally married the right guy. And—
“Well…”
Oh, shit. That’s right. I’m still sitting here with Dr. Eldridge. All good. I bet I’ll be super focused after I start meditating.
“I think,” she continues, “that… yeah. Finding some way to connect and repair with Maddie Clayton would probably be a very good thing as far as helping you both heal goes.”
Oh, snap! I was right!
“I would only caution you to remember that it’s a two-way street.”
“I know.”
“I mean, she has to be ready to let you in.”
She was sure as fuck ready to let me in the other night, I joke in my head. Not out loud. Because, you know… inappropriate.
“I know,” is the version of the answer I offer aloud.
“Okay,” she says, “well, good. And I’m glad to see you seeming physically well.”
“Tip-top, Doc. Although I think I may be done with fucking hospitals for the rest of my life. For a thirty-year-old dude, I feel like I’ve had more than my quota of near-death experiences. See? Not suicidal at all!” I beam at her and tap my head. I just need her to believe me and take off. Because I’m clearly not crazy! It’s SO obvious!
“Good enough,” she says after a brief pause. “You’ll call me if you need anything.” She does not offer that as a question.
“Abso-tively,” I say. Charming as hell.
She stands, gives me a hug—which is something she’s never done before and kind of catches me off guard—and heads in through the open wall (it’s like a glass wall that folds out like an accordion, making the pool and living room a total indoor/outdoor space. When I buy my dope new desert house, I want it to have one of those too) where Evan is standing to talk with her. Presumably to get a debrief on the mental health status of one Tyler Hudson Morgan.
I watch them as they talk, Evan nodding and looking over at me, when I hear, “How ARE you feeling?”
Robert Vanderbilt (Nope, not those Vanderbilts. Total coincidence. Even though Robert does look a little like Anderson Cooper. Go figure), Evan’s husband and probably the most sophisticated, erudite, smooth-ass, James Bond motherfucker I’ve ever met is standing behind me, wearing light blue trousers and a white cashmere sweater (again, these are things I would never notice or appreciate without Evan—and even though I notice them, I’m still not sure I appreciate them). He’s holding two beers. He hands one to me.
“I’m okay,” I say, taking la cerveza. I can speak Spanish like a motherfucker. Multitalented. “Gracias.” I nod to him and take a swig. Makes me feel like a cowboy.
He sits on one of the pool chairs. He glances in to see Evan. Evan glances back, sees Robert looking at him, and smiles.
“It makes me happy to see Evan so happy,” I say to him. I’ve only known Robert since I moved back to Vegas. They met while I was still out of the country and got married about a year and a half ago while I was traveling in… I wanna say… Thailand? Musta been. Only something as important as Thai prostitutes could’ve made me miss one of my best friends’ weddings.
“Yeah,” Robert says, trying to hide a shy smile. “I don’t hate him either.”
Fuck, I love seeing people who genuinely want to be around each other. Evan jokes all the time about how high-brow Robert is. He likes fine wine and opera and all that shit and Evan is much more a “hang out with the fellas” kind of a guy, but they work. I never really believed much in marriage until I spent some time with (as Evan refers to themselves) Siegfried and Roy. (I don’t think Robert likes it much, but it cracks me up.)
“So,” I start, trying to make small talk, which I’m shitty at, but feel obligated to make since Robert is letting me stay in his mansion, “how’s the real estate game?”
“Not bad,” he says. “Okay.”
“Just okay?”
“It’s fine. I’ve just got a huge project I’m developing out on the Arizona border, near the Hoover Dam, and—”
“I love the Hoover Dam,” I interrupt. “When I was a kid, I used to think that if you ever wanted to kill yourself in a really spectacular way, jumping off the dam would be an amazing way to go.”
There is now a, to say the least, awkward silence. It was just a silly thought I had once or twice as a kid after my mom died and shit got really bad with my dad. But I wrote it off to adolescent-drama-brain. Really.
For real.
Anyway.
After a moment, Robert says, “Sure. Yeah, so anyway I’ve got this massive project out there but it’s a huge pain in the ass to survey because of the terrain and coordinating the boots on the ground part of it and… whatever. It’ll work itself out. Hey, if it was easy everybody would do it, right?” He winks and takes a sip of his beer. Guy is capital ‘b’ Businessman to the
bone.
I look over and see that Evan is closing the door behind Dr. Eldridge, and that’s my cue to take my leave. “OK, man, um, I gotta run out for a bit, so—”
As I’m heading into the indoor portion of the indoor/outdoor space, Evan intercepts.
“Where are you running?” he asks.
“Nowhere, MOM. Jesus.”
“Dude,” he says, “you flatlined three nights ago. You were DEAD. Three nights ago. You’re not just bounding back out into the world to… get into whatever fucking trouble you’re planning on getting into.”
“I’m not going to go get into trouble,” I say with slight indignation.
“You’re going to go find Maddie.”
“So?” I shoot back. “What’s troubling about that? That’s not trouble. In fact, Dr. Eldridge says it’s a good idea.”
“Mm-hmm… Does she, though?” Evan asks with squinty-eyed skepticism, his voice getting weirdly high as he poses the question.
“Evan,” Robert chimes in, “he’s a grown-up. If he wants to go find Maddie, let him go find Maddie. Stay out of it.”
“Easy there, Siegfried,” says Evan.
“Don’t call me that, please,” retorts Robert.
“Roy is the one who got attacked by the tiger. Be glad you’re Siegfried,” Evan fires back and Robert gives up. Evan turns to me again.
“Okay, fine,” he says. “Go. Do whatever you want. But just… just make sure you’re taking care. Okay? This is… you’re in the middle of an incredibly intense situation. Just take it slow. K?”
“I will,” I say. “I will take it slow.”
He eyes me with skepticism.
“Promise,” I promise.
The speedometer in the Defender says I’m going a hundred and fifty. I could probably push it another thirty miles per hour or so, but I don’t wanna be reckless.
I’m racing through the desert to the only place I can think to go. The strip club. The place where I met my angel. My angel who turned out to be called Scarlett. Scarlett who turned out to be Maddie. Maddie who I fucked and when I did caused me to feel safe and happy like I was finally coming home. Because she is. My home. In every way that can be understood.
I know there’s like no chance at all that she’s at Pete’s. Why would she be? Why in the world would she ever go back to that place? It’s like returning to the scene of a crime for her, I’ll bet. But still. Maybe. Just maybe. And besides, I don’t know where else to go.
I push down on the accelerator. I can’t get there soon enough. My heart is beating. Fast. Like it’s going to pop right out of my body. Like maybe Evan was right and that I should take it easy considering I was just recently dead and all. But I don’t give a shit. I’m on a mission.
A mission to heal her. A mission to heal myself. And this time, I’m going to show the fuck up.
Chapter Five - Maddie & Tyler
MADDIE
I come out of sleep feeling like I’m drowning. Like I’m underwater, looking up at bright light, legs and arms flailing, desperate to reach the surface.
Nothing makes sense. Where am I? What’s going on? A voice. I hear a voice. A man’s voice. Carlos? Logan? Ricky? Are they here to kill me?
I open my eyes, gulping air, and sit straight up.
But it only takes moments—long, weirdly stretched-out moments—for me to understand that I’m at home, in my own bed, and the booming male voice coming from the other side of the house is not Carlos, or Ricky Other Guy, or Logan.
Who the fuck?
Is that—
No.
No, it can’t be. He would not do that. He couldn’t do that. He has no idea where I live. Unless…
It’s getting dark outside. What time is it? What day is it?
I swing my legs over the bed, stand up, trip over the red stripper shoes I kicked off… whenever it was. I manage to catch my fall by grabbing onto the edge of the bed, and then straighten up, walk towards my door, throw it open and stomp down the hall towards the living room ready to find—
“And so I said, ‘No! It was the dog!” And three prostitutes bust out laughing.
But this is no fucking joke.
Tyler Morgan is sitting in my goddamn living room, on Annie’s goddamn couch, one arm stretched across the back, one foot propped up on a knee, holding a beer in the other hand, yucking it up like he belongs here.
“What the fuck is going on?” That’s me. I’m pissed. No, I’m goddamned livid.
“Maddie,” Tyler says, setting his beer down, getting to his feet, and kind of opening his arms like he’s gonna… what? Hug me? He looks unsure, but steps toward me.
I put up both hands, palms out, and say, as impolitely as I can, “Get the fuck out.”
“Um, Maddie?” Annie says. “Your friend Tyler is here.”
“Yeah, no fucking shit. And he’s not my friend.” I can’t believe this is happening.
“Oh, well,” Caroline starts, “he’s, uh, been catching us up on some really funny stories about when you guys were kids.” She’s holding an empty wine glass, a dopey expression on her face that lets me know she thinks Tyler Morgan is just dreamy.
How long was I asleep? How long has he been here?
“The dog.” Annie titters. “Oh, my God. The fucking dog!” I shoot her a look that lets her know none of this is adorable and she wrestles back her smile.
“Who the fuck invited you?” I snarl at Tyler. “And how the hell did you even find out where I live?”
“I stopped by Pete’s. Met Pete. Sweet guy, by the way. I would’ve imagined a strip club owner as being kinda—”
“Pete told you where I live?” Jesus. Thanks, Pete. Fuck.
“No, no, not exactly.” Tyler’s standing way too close to me now. The girls are pretending not to be able to hear him, but it’s clear they’re eavesdropping. I hope they’re better at fucking guys for money than they are at spying.
Tyler leans in closer still, and I really, really wish he would not do that. Because I hate him and don’t want him anywhere near me. Or maybe because I can feel the heat of his body and he kinda smells delicious. Which just pisses me off more because I hate him.
He lowers his voice and continues explaining how he found me. “Don’t be mad at Pete. He didn’t want to tell me where you live. Seems like a really ethical guy.”
“Except he did tell you where I live.”
“Well, yeah, but it cost me five grand.” My eyes go wide. “I mean, he’s ethical for, y’know, a guy who runs a strip joint.”
Nope. This is not going down like this. “Get. Out.” I’m pointing at the door now.
“No!” Diane whines. “No, no, no. We’re just getting to know him, Maddie! Oh, my God. This guy. Where the hell have you been hiding him all these months?”
“Where have I been hiding him?” I see red as I go to him, hands out, and slam them into his chest. The force of my push makes him step back… half a step. Maybe. “I wasn’t hiding him anywhere, you traitors! This asshole ducked out on me years ago. And when I needed him, when I was begging him to—” I shake my head to clear my mind. “And then he shows back up and thinks everything’s gonna be fine just because we fucked a couple of times when I didn’t know it was him!”
There’s a beat before Annie says, “You fucked him?” with, like, way more excitement in her voice than she should.
“Not the point!” I shout as I slam my hands into his chest again.
But this time, he grabs my wrist and stops me, saying, “Can we please talk?”
I struggle in his grip, but he holds tight. I clench my teeth and spit, “Let go of me.”
He does. Immediately. Both hands up as if in surrender.
I decide to change my strategy. Because clearly Tyler Morgan is being Tyler Morgan. He attracts people to him like a siren song calling sailors to the rocks. He knows how to play up the act he perfected long ago. Seemingly genuine, charismatic, and fascinating as he leads the rest of us to our destruction.
So I pull the friend card out and whirl around to face Annie, Diane, and Caroline. Taking a deep breath, I say, “He’s not what you think,” in the calmest tone I can muster. My voice is shaky. My hands are trembling with anger. But I hold it together. “He ruined me,” I say. “He broke me into tiny pieces, dropped me to the ground, and walked all over me.”
Annie just stares at me, confused.
“What do you mean?” Diane asks.
“He left me, Diane. After Scotty died. He left me alone. He never came back. He never even showed up for his funeral. I begged him,” I say, starting to cry. “I begged him and he told me to stop. He just went on with his life like nothing happened. Like my brother didn’t just die the most horrific death possible. Like what we all meant to each other was meaningless. So I hope one of those stories he told you about our childhood included that little fact. And then…” I continue, drawing in a deep breath, willing the strength it takes to get this last part in so I can twist that knife in his chest the way he did mine. “And then he went off and made millions of dollars. Been living it up in a goddamned penthouse, no cares at all. No worries at all. While I’ve been back here…”
But I lose it there. I can’t say the words selling myself. Because I’ll die right now if I have to say that. I’ll die.
There’s a filled beat while everyone stares at Tyler, who never breaks eye contact with me. And I really wish he would. Because his eyes are sad and hurt-looking and no fucking way will I fall for that shit. No. Fucking. Way.
Caroline mutters, “He’s a millionaire?”
Jesus Christ.
I turn to face Tyler for this last part. Because I’m just about done here. “I was high, Tyler.” He squints his eyes at me, puzzled. “High up on Mount fucking Everest. On the tippy top of life. And you were supposed to be there next to me. You promised to be there next to me. And you let me fall down that fucking mountain. You never looked back, you just kept going.”
“Maddie—” he says.
But I hush him with a hand as I shake my head so that my tears fall down my cheeks. “No. Just go away. Just go back where you came from and never come back.”
