Yeah, it hurt that she sent me back to my room, but if I were completely honest with myself, I was a little grateful for the space. So much to process.
It was a crazy day. Talking with my mom’s doctor about the status of her cancer, the chemo treatment and expectations. The last round of chemo hit her harder than the previous rounds, causing severe dehydration from vomiting, and she was admitted to the hospital. That was why Brock called me last week. But the doctor said, if she took things a bit easier, not pushing so hard, and being sure to listen to her body, and take care to drink plenty of fluids, she’d do better from this point out. Overall, her odds were good. Very good, and I was really clinging to that. I didn’t know if I could handle losing another person I love.
And speaking of love. I loved her. I fucking loved Phoebe Fairchild. I didn’t want to. I was happy with my random feel-good-fucks. But something about Phoebe was just too much. She got right under my skin. She didn’t take the bullshit, and she was honest. She started out as a challenge, but quickly things with her had morphed into something very different. I had been thinking of the L-word since that first night in the hotel. After Brock’s call, her caring way just grabbed my heart like no one had. She wasn’t fake about her concern. Thing was, I’d only known her for a week and that would have been absurd. So much like a cheesy movie. That whole weekend was a disaster. I didn’t get laid once, all because I couldn’t get Phoebe out of my mind. That was love, right?
Talking to my mom on Sunday before I’d come back, she pumped me about ‘@PhoebeFair,’ and I told her. I told her all of it. I told her how I used script lines, how making love to her scared me senseless, and how ashamed I was at how I treated Phoebe the next morning. She gave me the best advice to be honest, and she was right. Being myself… being Charlie was the best advice ever.
The afternoon with my mom showed me, again, how fragile it all really could be. I needed to find a way to get closer to Phoebe. That’s why I called my manager, Michael and backed out of a couple of projects I was lined up for. I was looking forward to moving to New York, semi-permanently, and going to school… where Phoebe was going to school. I’d get to see her every day.
Then on the lake this afternoon, she said she loved me. I know, I know. It wasn’t the “Chase, I love you,” kind of profession, but it counted, right? I said it back to her. And I said it again, tonight. She didn’t say it back this time. Did I jump the gun too hard? Did I freak her out? Is she going to run?
When she said my name though…‘Charlie’… I nearly lost it. My name. My given name. It sounded so good coming from her. It made my world complete.
CHAPTER 29
I’d had a restless night. No real sleep. After the late-night skinny dip and two incredible orgasms under the stars, I was exhausted and should have been able to drop right off. Instead, my mind continued to mull over Chase/Charlie… his, again, telling me he loved me, and that he was going to stop acting for a while and go to school and live in New York. And Dickwad Danny, that damn test result, and what the hell I was going to do now. Several times, I actually picked up my phone to call my mom…or Jenny… or even Lucy over in Africa…or anybody to help me sort out my head.
Somewhere around six, as the sun had fully come up, I came to the conclusion that Chase and I were a fling. His connection to me was that I was just different than what he was used to. I had started this summer as a single woman, intent on staying a single woman. And I had no doubt that Chase would slide back into his cocky, lazy, and arrogant movie/TV star persona that was expected of him, as soon as the plane landed tomorrow. No. I had to end things with Chase and me. Today. This was all wrong. And once he learned I was pregnant with another guy’s baby, even if it was unplanned, he’d go running for the hills. And break my heart. I couldn’t take a second broken heart. Dickwad did enough damage for a lifetime. And a breakup with Chase would be public. More devastating than the small college fiasco I’d endured just a month and a half ago. Not to mention that Chase was my freakin’ job! I wasn’t supposed to be falling for him, let alone sleeping with him. Fuck! This was so messed up!
About seven-thirty, I gave up and decided to get out of bed. I slipped on my favorite jean shorts and t-shirt and headed down. Passing Chase’s room, I noticed that he was already up and out, and his bed was made? Or not slept in? No one was in the living room, but the front door was wide open.
I stepped out the screen door and looked to the left toward the lake and pier. Not sure why, but I was surprised to not see Chase sitting there. I leaned forward to see if he was sitting in the gazebo, but I didn’t see evidence of him there either.
“If you’re looking for Charlie, he’s in the barn working on one of his cars,” Shannon said from behind me, startling me half to death. I turned and saw her there with a book on the front porch swing. She had a bright blue scarf on her head this morning, one the color of Chase’s eyes. She must have noticed my attention to the scarf and said, “I kinda got used to the scarves. And it’s kinda chilly in the morning.” I nodded my understanding. Shannon turned to the barn when there was a clatter of a tool or something hitting a concrete floor. “He’s been in there since I came down over an hour ago.” I studied the barn and saw lights on in the windows, and now that my attention was there, I could hear music coming from the building.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, ignoring Chase.
“I’ve been better. I should ask you the same thing,” she said.
“I’m good,” I said forcing a smile. Did she know about Chase and my midnight swim?
She raised her brow, although there were no actual brows from the chemotherapy. Here we go, I thought. I’m gonna get the protective mother speech. Instead, she produced the instructions from the pregnancy test from the pages in her book.
I stopped cold. I thought I’d been so careful!
“Wanna talk?” she asks.
God, did I want to talk. But what to say? Did I want to talk to Chase’s mother about this? Besides, I’d already decided that Chase and I were done.
She patted the seat on the swing next to her and I felt as if I had no choice.
“It’s not Chase’s… er… Charlie’s.”
“That’s not what I was after. Good to know, but not what I was thinking. You’ve not been with him long enough,” she smiled.
Hurdle one, jumped.
“Does your other boyfriend know?”
Hurdle two, here we go!
“Danny’s not my boyfriend. We broke up when I discovered him cheating on me. Literally in the act of cheating. With two girls, at the same time, and in my dorm room.” I didn’t know what had come over me. Here I was revealing personal details freely to Chase’s mom. Things I hadn’t even told Chase. Guess the night of needing to talk to someone, coupled with my lack of sleep, loosened my lips.
“Have you told Charlie?” she asked. I shook my head. “Are you going to tell him?”
“I’ve tried. Either we get interrupted or I chicken out.” Do I tell her that it doesn’t matter because I’m not Chase’s girlfriend, and that I’m not going to be, and that I’m ending it today? God, a good night’s sleep would have been so helpful right now.
“Do you know what you’re going to do?” she asked, placing a hand on my arm. I looked at her frail fingers and couldn’t imagine how she was handling everything so calmly.
Tears stung my eyes. I shook my head. Shannon slid her hand down and wrapped her fingers around mine, which I grabbed back, grateful to hold onto something. “I only just found out. Yesterday. I need to find a doctor when I get back to New York and figure it all out. But I don’t think—”
Just then, another loud bang and the word ‘Shit!’ came from the barn interrupting Shannon and I. I looked at Shannon, worry surely covering my face.
“Go to him,” she encouraged.
Warily, I stood and thought about what I was doing. I was giving Shannon every indication that I was in this for the long haul, which I couldn’t be. I was going to be givin
g Chase mixed signals, too.
Fear and trepidation filled me as I walked down from the porch and made my way over to the barn. At the door, with the song Howlin’ for You by The Black Keys reverberating through the walls, panic seeped into every fiber of me. Why was he cursing? Why had he been up for hours? Working on cars? If Shannon had found the instructions for the pregnancy test, had Chase already seen them? Did Shannon show him? No, surely she wouldn’t have done that. Would she have? Or something else? Was he mad at me for last night? I didn’t say ‘I love you’ back. Was that bothering him? Did he totally hate me?
I glanced back at the porch. Shannon gave me a smile and nod. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I placed my hand on the handle and gave a turn.
I stepped in and was greeted with Chase’s bare back facing me as he leaned against a car. My stomach flipped as I took in the nail marks on his shoulders from last night. Instantly, my insides clenched recalling the bone shattering orgasms he gave me on the pier. No, I warned myself. You’re ending this today. Professional.
I focused my attention on the car he was leaning against. A classic red car…a convertible…a Thunderbird?… with the hood up. I looked all around the barn-garage and saw four other cars: the Jeep we drove that first day, the big white Suburban he was with his mother in yesterday, a black Corvette, and a silver convertible, I think it was a Jaguar. There were also two motorcycles, a shiny black Harley type and a red, white and black, ‘crotch-rocket’ type, as well as an ATV.
On the back wall, was a workbench with a large gum-ball machine filled with Good’n Plenty Candies, which made me smile, along with neatly laid out tools. On the wall were the stereotypical pin-ups and few pictures of Chase as a boy with a man I figured to be Chase’s dad.
I looked down and saw a wrench on the floor. That must have been what made the banging noise that Shannon and I heard. The song died out, as I picked up the wrench, and I cleared my throat to let Chase know he wasn’t alone.
He turned and what I saw broke my heart. His eyes were bright with tears and his face wet. “Phoebe!” he said. Quickly, he turned the music down and came around the car, and pulled me into him. My blood started to simmer and rush in my ears the instant he touched me. My heart ached knowing that I needed to end things between us. I ‘accidentally’ inhaled his signature scent, a mix of sweat, soap and a hint of Good’n Plenty Candy. My head actually felt dizzy.
The next song started up, How You Like Me Now by The Heavy. Yeah, you’re gonna hate me, Chase, I thought to myself.
“You okay?” I asked, against his chest.
“Better now,” he said quietly. And as sad as I was, knowing what was coming, I had to admit that in his arms, I felt better, too. We hugged silently for a few moments. The feel of his bare skin under my fingers was winding up my insides. I wondered if me in his arms did things to his insides. Stop it! Professional!
“So, I didn’t know you were a grease monkey,” I said, pulling back as the song fell into a music only part.
He laughed quietly, and turned to look at the red car. “This is…was… my Dad’s. He took Mom for their first date in it.” He let me go and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He walked over to the CD player and turned the song off. “I want to get it running for her again. When I was little, my dad was always working on it. Then…” his voice grew thin and he stopped talking and couldn’t finish. I got it. His dad died.
“I dunno what I’m doin’. Chase sighed. “How are you feeling this morning?” he asked looking me up and down. His question instantly set me on edge. It was the same question his mom had just asked and then revealed that she knew about the test. Maybe he did know?
“I’m fine, Chase. Really.”
Chase looked at me, startled. He knew. He had to know. Do I talk to him now? I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee.
“What happened to you calling me Charlie?” he asked, completely derailing me.
“Oh,” I whispered. “You want me to call you Charlie?”
His eyes welled up. “More than you know,” he said walking back over to me and taking my hands. “But only if you want to.” I watched him swallow hard.
My heart chose to ignore my head at that point, and took over. I lifted a hand and cupped his scruffy face. I brought my lips to his and tenderly brushed mine to his. “Okay, Charlie.” At that, he pulled me tight into him and placed a hand at the back of my head. He pressed his lips to mine harder, licking at the seam, and I immediately opened my mouth to him. Our hands clutched at each other and our tongues tangled and caressed. I realized that the licorice taste in his mouth had become my favorite flavor. I moaned with the deliciousness.
When we parted, I asked. “Do you always taste like Good’n Plenty candy?”
He laughed. “Probably,” he confessed. He went over to the gumball machine and twisted out a handful of candy and brought it over to us. He offered me some, and I chose a pair of pink candy coated cylinders and popped them in my mouth. “My dad got me hooked on ’em. It was his favorite candy. Now it’s mine,” he said popping the rest into his mouth. When he was done chewing, he continued. “It’s actually how I got my name.” When he saw the confusion on my face, he started to sing the jingle from the commercial of the 1950s.
Choo choo Charlie was an engineer,
Choo choo Charlie had a train we hear,
He had an engine and it sure was fun,
He used Good’n Plenty candy to make the train run.
This next part of the song, I knew and joined him.
Charlie says ‘Love my Good’n Plenty…’
We both started to laugh. I pointed at one of the pictures on the wall. “I thought you were named after your dad?”
“That’s not how he told me the story,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Is that your dad?” I asked.
Cha—Charlie pulled one of the photos off the wall, smiling.
“Yeah. He died when I was just six. We used to have so much fun.” Charlie jumped up and sat on the work surface. “I used to sit right here and ‘help’ my dad.” He fidgeted with the watch. “This was my dad’s, too,” he whispered, and took a slow breath. Staring at the watch, he said, “Then one day… massive stroke. No one ever saw it comin’.” He turned his attention back to the picture a moment, then pinned it back to the wall.
“Wanna help?” he asked, jumping off of the worktop and pointing at the car.
“Other than pumping gas, I’m useless,” I replied.
“You just need to turn the key,” he laughed.
“I can do that.” He opened the door, and I slid behind the wheel. My feet wouldn’t reach the pedals, so Charlie helped me adjust the seat and pointed out the gear shifter and ignition. I half feared it was going to be a tricky car with a clutch, but was grateful that it was an automatic transmission. I admired the vintage dashboard, shiny chrome and simple numbering. The radio had the pushbuttons and dial that I had seen in older movies. The steering wheel was thin and delicate looking, but solid to the touch. Off on the passenger side of the grooved metal band that spanned the front of the car was a script medallion that said “Thunderbird.” I mentally patted myself on the back for correctly identifying the kind of car it was.
“Okay, when I say,” he said grabbing a couple of wrenches and leaning over the edge, his head under the hood. All I saw sticking out from the edge of the car, was his ass. Memories of my hands on his ass and his hips thrusting into me…my pending orgasm climbing and climbing… I felt my arousal heat up between my legs with the recollection. I squeezed my legs together, desperately seeking some sort of release.
“Phoebs?” Charlie said, peeking at me from behind the hood, catching me ogling his derrière. He smirked as my face grew hot from embarrassment.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“You can turn it over now.”
“Oh! Right!” I reached for the keys and gave a turn. There was a grind, grind, grind, but nothing was catching to start the engine.
/>
“Hang on a sec,” he said and adjusted a couple of things. “Again,” he called.
I turned the keys. “Give her just a little bit of gas, but not too much,” he instructed.
I did as he said, but just the whine of an engine unwilling to cooperate.
“Shit,” he said, tossing the tools on the workbench. “I just wish I could get this baby going.”
“Maybe you just need a good breakfast,” I suggested.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said, opening the door and pulling me from the car. Hand-in-hand we headed to the house. Something about being next to Charlie just seemed to make the world right. At least here in Georgia. In New York I would break it off. As soon as he turned back into Chase. I would enjoy Charlie for a little longer.
I helped Charlie make breakfast for the four of us: hash browns, bacon and scrambled eggs, letting him handle the bacon and eggs, while I shredded the potatoes and onion and started them in the large cast iron skillet. Cooking alongside Charlie wasn’t something I ever saw myself doing. We worked well together. To see him in this environment was so different from his on-set persona, all cocky and full of himself, and always “on.” Here in the country, at home, he was confident, but reserved, casual, and even vulnerable. I wondered what it would be like if he were more like this to the public. I had a suspicion that he would never be like this to the public, but his shaved head would certainly give pause when he returned to the paparazzi.
Something wasn’t right. Phoebe was off. I’d noticed it when she came into the barn. Something was in her head, and it was all wrong. She was trying to distance herself. What did I do? What did I say? Was last night too much in the light of day? Did she regret saying that she loved me? I knew she was a private person, but skinny-dipping in a private lake, making love under the stars, those were romantic things.
I was trying my best to open up to her. To show her how much I cared, and who I really was. I’d never done that before and it was scaring the shit out of me, but for her, I’d take fear. I’d use it. She was the only thing that made sense. I needed her strength. I just hoped I could give her something in return.
Chasing the Dream: Dream Series, Book 3 Page 22
