by Emily Bishop
“I wouldn’t,” I said, and muscles all down my back knotted up. Christ, how forward could he be? Asking for a rating on Jarryd’s… performance. This is a waking nightmare. This is it, girl, you’ve hit rock bottom.
“You wouldn’t rate him. That bad, huh?”
“What? No. It’s not appropriate to talk about that type of thing with people I don’t know. Or anyone for that matter.”
“I respect that,” Daniel said. “I respect your professionalism.”
Professionalism. Wait a second, here, what was this about? “Professionalism?” I said.
“Yes. I’m sure Mr. Tombs appreciates your discretion. But is there nothing you can tell me about your new employer?” Daniel finally looked up at me, squinting beneath bushy eyebrows. “When did he request your services?”
James choked on the rum, made a grab for a napkin, and dabbed his lips. “Her services? What services does she perform?”
I clenched my fists and pictured smashing one of them into his smug ‘Daddy owns this town’ face.
Daniel sniffed and turned to James, as if he’d only noticed him. “Oh, Miss Bell is Jarryd Tombs’ new stylist. She was seen with him in the clothing store here in Moondance. I must say, Miss Bell,” he continued and looked to me again, “I appreciate your taste. Mr. Tombs has never looked better.”
“I have to serve my tables,” I muttered and slipped out from behind the bar. I marched off, but the strength had pretty much drained out of my legs. I wobbled more than walked and took orders with a pale face. All the blood had rushed out for sure, and my cheeks were icy cold, prickling discomfort.
I brought the orders to the kitchen, refusing a glance at the bar to check if Mr. Nosy had left or not then placed them on the clip in front of the serving counter. I leaned against the kitchen wall, after, breathing hard.
They thought I was a stylist. The image of us together, of Jarryd taking an interest in someone of my caliber, was so far from their minds that it made more sense to peg me as one of the help.
I couldn’t sink lower than this. Don’t tempt fate.
I pushed out of the swinging kitchen doors, letting myself out of the smells of food and into the warmth of the restaurant proper. Daniel Torrance was gone, but James remained at the bar. He raised his empty tumbler and ticked a fingernail against its side. “Refill,” he mouthed.
Jerr hadn’t banned him from the restaurant, and I couldn’t refuse him service unless he’d caused trouble. He hadn’t yet.
I walked over, dreading each inch that drew me closer to him. I halted behind the bar, brought down a fresh glass, and poured his drink. “Here you go,” I said and slid it across the wooden bar top.
“Cheers,” he said and slurped some back.
I turned to go, but James caught my wrist and held me in place. “Let go,” I grunted. “I have work.”
“So, you’re a personal assistant, now? A stylist? Here I was thinking you were just a whore,” James hissed. “Glad to see you’ve diversified.”
“What is your deal?” I snapped and wrenched my arm from his grasp. “Just leave me the hell alone. I’m not interested in you. Get the picture.”
“I have the picture clearly.” He laughed, sick and wet, almost a gargle and filled with unnatural joy. “Don’t you see, Aurora? This is perfect. If you’d realized what you had when I offered it to you, you wouldn’t be in this situation now. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you, and you lost that, now.”
“I am not in the mood for this shit, today,” I replied. “Jerr!” I yelled it so loud the customers looked up from their meals. Some of them quieted totally and listened.
“Be careful, Aurora. You’re making dumb moves. If you push me too far, you won’t be happy with the result.” James hissed.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Fuck off.”
Gasps from the table nearest. The office door opened, and Jerry appeared. “This prick again,” he muttered then crossed the wooden floor, casting bleary-eyed looks at those seated around. “Show’s over,” he said. “Eat your damn food and have fun.”
Jerry’s command was impossible to disobey in the restaurant. People respected him too much, or they feared him, or they loved the aesthetic that much. They returned to their meals but cast furtive glances at me, at the bar, at James in between bites.
“What’s the problem?” Jerry asked and halted next to James’ stool. “You again, eh? Causing trouble in my establishment.”
“Just talking to Aurora.”
“He called me a whore again,” I said, softly.
“He did?” Jerry’s jowls shuddered like Jell-O on a plate. He slapped his hand onto James back and pressed him forward. “He wouldn’t do something like that, would he?”
“Get off,” James grunted.
“Relax, boy, I’m patting your back. Kids these days. They think they’re men ‘cause they’ve got a smattering of ball hairs on their nuts. Shit, you probably don’t though,” Jerry said, softly. “You probably shave them.”
“You don’t talk to me like that. I am the son of a founder!”
“Yeah?” Jerry let go of James and stepped back. “Well, son of a founder, you’re banned from my restaurant for the foreseeable future. Now, get the fuck out of here and don’t come back. You do, and I’ll call the cops.”
James’ss eyes bugged out of his skull, his jaw dropped, his mouth opened and closed.
I snorted despite the situation.
My ex went red from top to tail. “You’ll regret this,” James hissed. “You both will.” He pushed up and stormed from the restaurant, knocking over chairs as he went.
The tense atmosphere eased, and Jerr rolled his shoulders. “That’s better. Now, he can’t bother you anymore. You need a safe space, you come here, girl.”
“I shouldn’t need a safe space,” I replied.
Jerr merely shrugged and meandered off to his office, stopping to chat at tables along the way, the previous anger forgotten.
“I shouldn’t need a safe space,” I repeated.
Chapter 19
Jarryd
I sat on the edge of the bed in my hotel room and wormed my finger through a hole in the sheet. I’d spent the last half hour watching the sun set and fraying the opening, thinking about Aurora.
I still couldn’t find her and phoning her cell resulted in a hang up or straight to voicemail. She didn’t want to hear from me. All right, I could understand that, but I couldn’t accept it. The last rays of the sun painted the wall burnt orange, colored the blank TV screen, and stretched to the door.
I fished my cell out of my pocket, unlocked the screen then tried her number again. Same result. She was at the restaurant, of course, working. I bounced off the bed, took a step toward the exit then sat down again.
“Don’t,” I muttered. She doesn’t want you there and forcing your presence on her won’t make things easier for either of you. That was sensible. Of course, it was. But I had to apologize for today.
God damn, I should’ve pushed past the paps and run after her. But I hadn’t, and now she wouldn’t speak to me. I inhaled, nodded then opened a blank text message.
I want to apologize to you in person. This can’t be easy for you, Aurora. Please, meet me at your mother’s cabin after your shift. Shit, now, what time did her shift end? The restaurant closed at eleven o’clock, didn’t it?
I sent the text then rose from the bed. I’d head out to the spot now and wait. Just be there. Maybe find the shirt I’d lost the last time we were there. The memory staggered me, and I halted, palm pressed to the door knob.
If I left now, I’d probably have to wait for her for hours, but it would be worth it. Give me time to figure things out, find a way to make all of this work. Maybe even Pride’s Death.
Relax, kid, you’re an actor, not a miracle worker.
I let myself out of the room, locked up then walked down the hall, gaze on the carpet beneath my shoes, lit by the shell wall sconces. Everything had slowed since I’d
arrived in Moondance. Everything except my feelings for Aurora. That shit was on an exponential graph.
They’d exploded out of nowhere and grown, quite literally, overnight.
I entered the lobby, looking up in time to stop myself from ramming directly into Luke.
“Whoa,” he said and stopped mid-stride. “Almost steamrolled me.” He gave a sheepish grin and scraped his fingers through his hair.
“Sorry,” I said, lamely.
The reception area was blessedly empty, and the guy, Kevin, who usually sat and observed everything in the space had taken a break—the chair behind his desk was empty. The silver, retro egg chairs either side of the door drew my attention. “You want to talk?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Luke said and sighed. “I think we should.”
He fetched one of the chairs and dragged it over the orange carpet, placed it next to the other one. We lowered ourselves into them and faced each other.
Luke thumbed his nose then rubbed his palms together. “Listen, man, I was out of line earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”
“No, you weren’t. You were completely in line,” I replied. “I’ve been… different the past week. It’s not easy for me to be this way. You know how I am.”
“Committed,” Luke said. “Committed to everything without fail.”
“Exactly. But I committed to Felicity, and look where that got me. In a world of pain.” Out of everyone, Luke knew what I’d gone through with her.
Felicity had wanted everything, all at once, and holding her at arm’s length hadn’t been an option. Frankly, I hadn’t wanted to at the time. I’d let Felicity flatten over my doubts and fears and into my arms. Perhaps, because the soft side of her had reminded me of my late mother.
But the soft side had worn off like moss off a stone rolling down a hill, and all that’d been left was the hard rock underneath.
Luke thumbed his nose again, his version of a nervous tick. “I have to tell you something, man. It’s something I’ve been carrying around with me for a while, and I feel kinda bad about it. Guilty.”
“You didn’t fuck Felicity, too, did you?”
“What?! No! Dude, Jesus Christ, don’t even say shit like that. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.” Luke choked it out. “And I sure as shit wouldn’t do that to her. Man, it’s no secret I’ve never liked Felicity.”
That was true. Luke had made his feelings about her amply clear. “Yeah, you called her a spoiled brat, I believe.”
“Among other things that I didn’t say to your face but muttered under my breath.” He whipped out his sardonic half-smile. “I wanted you to know how I felt, but I didn’t want to stick my nose in your business. Now, I’m not sure I made the right decision.”
“Because of how things ended,” I said.
“Yeah, and for another reason.” Luke fisted his thighs, leaned back a little. The skin around his eyes wrinkled a little and he screwed up his mouth. “This is gonna hurt a little, I think. I don’t want to fuck with you, Jarryd.”
“Spit it out, man. You’ve got me on the edge of my—uh, egg.” What was with the retro décor in this place, anyway? Orange carpeting, hardwood floors, the silver egg chairs, and what looked to be a jukebox in the corner, covered in a thin layer of dust.
“Remember Brigman’s party?”
“How could I forget?” It’d been the party of the decade. Arthur Brigman, an Oscar-winning director, had thrown the soiree in true Gatsby style to celebrate his engagement. Of course, the fucker had no concept of how to do that.
He’d hired strippers, put out drugs, and brought in fucking mixologists. The party had lasted three days and nights, and I’d checked out on the first night after a couple drinks. Just shown my face and gotten the hell outta there because I had work to do, and I’d always despised that drug shit.
Luke’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and he gulped audibly. “You left on the first night, right?”
“Yeah, I faded out and proud of it.”
“But Felicity stayed.”
“Yeah, I remember.” I hadn’t been able to tear her away from the bar. She’d planted her butt on one of the stools and blatantly refused to move an inch. She’d flirted openly with the mixologist. “She came home like two days later and spent the rest of the week in bed. Hangover from hell.
“Yeah, well, I was there the rest of that night, and I saw something that’s been fucking with my head for the last year. I should’ve told you sooner and saved you all the shit you went through with her. I should have—”
“What did you see?” I asked and lowered my voice. A door slammed somewhere down the hall, and Luke’s eye twitched. “Come on, man, it’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal. I’m supposed to be your friend. I gave you shit this morning about not being yourself, and I treat you like this in return. It’s not right.” Luke cleared his throat. “Look, I saw Felicity with someone else.”
“The bartender?”
“No,” Luke replied. “She was at the bar for ages, and I was talking to another girl. She was cute, and we were both a little tipsy. A model. She spotted Felicity and went crazy. She tugged on my arm and asked me if I knew her. When I told her I did, she asked to be introduced.”
“OK?” What was he going to tell me? That Felicity had gotten experimental with a model at Brigman’s house? I wouldn’t put it past her. “Where are you going with this?”
“This model wanted to know her, so I introduced them. Felicity insulted her then walked off. I took offense. She’d make both of us look like assholes. So I followed her,” Luke said, swallowed again. “I found her upstairs, five minutes later. She was with Brigman.”
“They were fucking?” I asked, bluntly.
“No, kissing, but it was pretty clear that it was headed in that direction,” Luke replied. “I yelled at her and asked her what she thought she was doing, but she laughed and closed the door on me.”
“And you never told me.”
“No,” Luke replied. “Every time I tried, Felicity magically fucking appeared.”
“But you didn’t.” It didn’t surprise me that Felicity had cheated with Brigman. She’d done it with countless others, and I’d only caught her later on, but I’d always worried. “Why not?”
“I was a coward,” Luke said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me, and you’d get angry that I’d told you what you’d consider to be lies. I didn’t want to lose your friendship or jeopardize our working relationship. It was selfish of me.”
“And you carried this guilt with you all along. Knowing that you had this information I didn’t know?” It made sense. Luke had avoided me for two weeks after Brigman’s party. He’d also acted strangely for a while after, but I’d never figured out what the problem had been.
I probed my emotions, searched for the anger that should’ve built inside me at the apparent betrayal. Was it truly betrayal if it’d been an omission? He’d stood back and allowed me to continue loving Felicity. But I couldn’t find disgruntlement at Luke, not even on my deepest level.
Because I’d always known Felicity wasn’t for me, but I hadn’t wanted to admit it. And being with her had been good for business. Luke avoiding telling me the truth had been good for business on his part, and I understood that.
That was how artificial our lives had become. We could do things that might seem nasty to others and forgive each other for it because we understood what it was like to be put in that position.
What would I have done if Luke had told me then that Felicity had cheated? Flown off the handle, yeah. Accused him of lying? Maybe. Maybe but I’d have ultimately asked Felicity for the truth, she would have lied, and I would’ve believed her. Same outcome.
It’d taken seeing her in bed with someone for me to realize that I couldn’t continue lying to myself. It was easier to have the hot Hollywood couple and none of the drama of press interfering in my single life. Or so I’d thought.
“Jay?” Luke cut across my musing
. “I’ll understand if you want me to get the fuck out. If you want me to drop off the project after this.”
“No,” I said. “No. It’s all business in the end. Bad business, good business. This is what happens when you mix pleasure with it. I should never have been with Felicity in the first place. I put myself in a difficult situation by being with her, and consequently put you in one, too.”
“Nah, bro, there was no excuse for what I did. I should have told you.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s over now. You don’t need to feel guilty about it. I probably would have done the same if our positions were reversed.”
“Shit,” Luke said. “You’re saying that to make me feel better. But yeah, seeing that was part of the reason I refused to talk about Felicity with you, and why I hardly spoke to her at all. Even now, I find it difficult.”
“I understand,” I said.
Luke raised his fist and I bumped it. “What I’m trying to tell you is I don’t want you to get hurt again. I failed you once, and I don’t want to fail you again. If you’re into this chick, I’ll respect that and try to support you, but I can’t sit back silent if she’s going to fuck you around.”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” I patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you about the script, all right? I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”
“Sure, man,” Luke replied. “I’m glad I finally got to tell you this. Relieved you don’t hate my guts.”
I cuffed him on the shoulder. “Keep safe, man.” I rose from the egg chair and nearly clipped the back of my head on its rim.
“Where are you headed? Do you want to take the Porsche?”
“Nah, I can’t reach where I’m going with the Porsche,” I replied and looked out of the window at the approaching dusk, a lavender haze on the horizon sinking between the trees and across the street. It would be dark soon. I’d have to use the flashlight on my phone to get there, and I didn’t trust I’d find my way in pitch darkness.
I hadn’t exactly memorized the route the last time. I’d been too focused on Aurora and her beauty.
