One Hit Wonder

by Denyse Cohen

  On the way home she texted John, going to new york with edward. back in a couple of days. leaving at 6. love you.

  “Hi.” The phone rang almost immediately after she’d sent the message.

  “Hi babe, what’s going on?”

  “Vogue called, and when they call, you answer it.”

  “I see.”

  “The other assistants are busy, and Edward’s asked me to help.”

  “Can you come by Atlantis? I wanted to see you before you go.”

  “I can’t. I am going home to pack, then right back to LAX before traffic gets bad.”

  “Hmm. Call me when you get there?”

  “Will do, honey.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  • • •

  The photo shoot in New York was like running a marathon. Edward had to improvise because he didn’t have everything he was used to working with, including Charlie who intuitively was able to provide Edward with what he needed before he asked. Heck, before he even knew what he wanted, but she, working as if she’d split herself in multiples, did reasonably well. Only when it was over, she had time to appreciate the 360-degrees view of Manhattan from the penthouse Vogue had rented. She walked around the perimeter of the glass wall which kept people safely away from the edge of the building. An immaculate rooftop pool was the backdrop for the shoot, where models sat in stylish pool-side chairs dipping their feet in the water and drinking fake martinis while pretending to held joyful conversations. Prêt-à-porter’s founder and CEO, a forty-something slim brunette who towered over them wearing a grey dress and Manolos, looked better than any of the models. One of the models had told Audrey it was the same pool where Samantha from Sex and the City had skinny-dipped with a boyfriend in the middle of the night, and Audrey imagined John’s long body gliding under the blue water and the subdued heat of their bodies keeping them warm.

  “Let’s pack up and go. We need drinks.” Edward met her staring southwest.

  “Can you believe it has been ten years?” She looked at the void where the Twin Towers once stood.

  “Hard to believe.” He nodded.

  “This is only the third time I came to New York after it happened. I’m not used to not seeing them there. Were you here?”

  “No, I was in London for Labor Day.”

  “I was in high school. I remember parents coming in crying, picking up their kids, and being afraid the world was going to end.”

  “It kind of did … for Americans, anyway.”

  Audrey faced him inquisitively.

  “Before, they heard about the bad in the world but it was this invisible thing, something that could be easily ignored. Sure, there was Vietnam and Pearl Harbor, but that was war. You kind of expected the worse.” Edward faced her, his solemn face beautifully adorned by creases of time. “Americans never had to face the atrocities that happen to good people on a daily basis in some of the other countries. Everyone was so busy. Mortgages. SUVs. Little Leagues.”

  He turned back to the faint beams of light in the darkening sky. “When September 11th happened, it all became real, tangible. The fire, the bodies, the ashes. Suddenly, life as they’d known it wasn’t safe anymore. They joined in the party, all the suffering, and pain, and injustice, and cruelty beyond words.”

  • • •

  Vogue’s designated assistant took Edward’s equipment back to Times Square, while Edward and Audrey headed straight to dinner, both starved. The caterers for the shoot weren’t bad, but it was one thing eating cold cuts while working, and something else entirely to wind down after a long day in front of a nice hot plate of food and a drink. Edward wanted to go to City Crab, so they walked the twelve-block stretch to 4th Avenue.

  “I think you should start making special requests to these magazines. Why have all this status if you can’t even eat what you like?” Audrey said.

  “I could be Edward: the diva photographer.”

  “I bet you’d be popular with the models; their newest BFF.”

  “BFF?”

  “Best Friend Forever.”

  “Are you taking the piss?” He snorted. “What are you, sixteen?”

  “What are you, one hundred?

  “I feel like one hundred right now. Thank you for that.”

  “Sorry. Don’t you talk to the models at all? I mean, you’ll learn all kinds of things. You shouldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

  “I think I hear a judgmental tone in your voice. Besides, I’d rather date them.”

  She thought of at least one joke she could have made right then, but she was suddenly quiet. They strode the streets coated by dark and the pre-autumn air cleared away summer’s mugginess.

  “Well, at least I used to. Now they’re getting younger and younger, and I’ve grown older and older.” Edward rubbed his shaved head and chin, where stubs of gray hair peaked out from his black skin.

  “Don’t feel bad, grandpa. You still got it.” Audrey wasn’t lying. Edward was sculpted like a totemic panther, tall and athletic with narrow black eyes and full lips.

  “How old are you, Audrey?”

  “Twenty-eight.”

  Edward’s smile was nostalgic. “I am forty-eight.”

  “O tempo não para não,” Audrey said, half to herself.

  “Is it Portuguese? What does it mean?”

  “Yes. It means: time doesn’t stop. It’s from one of my mom’s favorite Brazilian musicians.”

  Around eleven, they left City Crab stuffed, tipsy, and happy. Edward was fun to hang out with; in L.A. he was so busy, she had never known that side of him. He said his girlfriend of four years had broken up with him not long ago. She was a writer and had taken a job in New York — to get away from him. Being in the city brought up feelings he’d tried to ignore.

  “What is it that makes one fall out of love?” he asked when they sat at the bar in the Bulldog’s Pub.

  Audrey stared into her Guinness; she couldn’t answer him. She had fallen out of love with an ex-boyfriend without knowing how it happened. She wondered if at some point he’d asked the same question to someone, somewhere.

  “I understand when there are arguments, fights … .” He gulped his own Guinness. “Bad sex. We had none of that, it was great. We got along. I loved … love … her.” He looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar, a bottle of Jack Daniels over half of his face.

  Audrey tried to think how to change the subject quickly; he seemed about to start crying.

  “I wish I had seen the signs.” He finished his Guinness and ordered them another round along with Jägermeister shots. “There must have been signs.” He knocked down his shot and slammed the cup on the worn dark wood bar.

  “Have you talked to her since?” She was going down a dark path, but she had to say something. Perhaps talking about it would help him get over and move on.

  “She called me on my birthday.” Edward nodded, smiling.

  “Sometimes when you don’t have something is when you realize you need it.” For an instant, she felt a little preachy, but the last shot of Jägermeister had gone right to her head and the words came out of her mouth big and fluffy.

  “She doesn’t know I’m here, so maybe I should call her.” He looked at Audrey, his eyes wide and sparkly. “Should I call her?”

  Oh, crap. She hated giving advice, especially love advice. She knocked down her Guinness and took her time savoring the rich dark liquid running down her throat, but he was still waiting. “What do you want to do?”

  “I think it looks very indifferent to come all the way to New York and not even let her know I was here.” He ordered more shots with a wave of his fingers.

  “Edward, calling her is like jumping off a plane without — absolute certainty — your parachute is going to open.”

  They clicked their glasses and downed the shots.

  “All right.” He pulled his cell out of his pocket.

  “I’m going to the bathroom.” She climbed off he
r stool and pulled her own cell from her messenger bag. She had missed a call — John’s.

  “Hey babe.” He answered when she called him back.

  “Hi, I’ve missed your call.” She leaned against a corner in the hallway that led to the restrooms, covering her ear with one hand and heard his voice.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Great, we’ve finished the photo shoot today. We’re in a pub right now, Edward is hammered.”

  “And you?”

  “Not at all.” Audrey could hear John’s muffled laughter. “I’m serious.”

  “Just don’t miss your plane tomorrow. I miss you.”

  “You know I won’t, I miss you too. Besides I think I’m done for the night, Edward is calling his ex right now. I’ll take a cab to the hotel.”

  “Okay, call me tomorrow from the airport.”

  She walked into the bathroom and washed her face. She was drunk, she could see it in her bloodshot eyes and flushed skin. When she got back, Edward looked like he was hunched over his glass holding the weight of his head with his hands, elbows propped on the bar. Rodin’s The Thinker couldn’t have looked more somber.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”

  “She is with someone else.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “She didn’t have to. I heard him. I could hear it in her voice.”

  “Edward, I’m sorry.” She rubbed his shoulder and looked at the glasses in front of him; he had had at least a couple more shots before she got back.

  He clicked his tongue and said, “My parachute didn’t open.”

  • • •

  It was three in the morning when she helped him to his room. He’d talked about his ex-girlfriend all night — except when dancing. He looked like a giant marionette with arms pumping and legs kicking, as if his strings were worked by a madman. She’d been torn — laughing at Edward’s spasmodic routine on the dance floor and distressed over his cries at the table.

  Inside his room, he flopped on the bed. She offered him water, he only groaned. She pulled his shoes off and turned around to leave, but he held her wrist and stood.

  “Audrey, you’re a good friend.” He hugged her.

  “You too, Edward.”

  He brushed his face against hers, placed his hands on her neck and, before she could realize what he was doing, his tongue fumbled into her mouth. His hands traveled down and squeezed the small of her back. For a split second, it felt nice: heat, and his saliva, and alcohol. John. It wasn’t John.

  “No.” She pushed Edward back on the bed. Adrenaline, like a dull knife, had cut her brain into pieces of aching tissue. The pain was so acute she had to massage her eyes with her fingers.

  “Audrey, I’m sorry.” His voice faded as she slammed the door behind her.

  She was in tears when she arrived at her own room, two floors up. Desolation — and probably alcohol — numbed her body as if she had slid through broken ice and fallen into a frozen lake. It never crossed her mind that a kiss between two drunks was too silly of a thing to mention. How could she keep a secret — any secret — from John for the rest of her life?

  “Hello?” John muttered, half asleep.

  “It’s me.”

  “Hi babe, what time is it?”

  She swallowed a sob.

  “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  “We kissed.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “I helped Edward to his room because he was so wasted. He said I’m a good friend, because I had listened to him talking about his ex all night. He’d hugged me and before I knew it, we were kissing.”

  Dead silence.

  “It didn’t last ten seconds, it meant nothing.” It was possible she was drunker than she thought because she couldn’t hold the sobs. “Please say something.”

  “I thought you were going to the hotel four hours ago.”

  “I was. Edward was upset because his ex-girlfriend was with another guy when he called her.” She swiped the tears and snot that collapsed down her face away with her forearm.

  “So, he wanted you to be his rebound?”

  “It wasn’t like that. He is so drunk I don’t think he even knows who I am.”

  There was a long pause. She could hear her own fear pulsing through her body.

  “John, you know me. I love you.”

  Silence. Someone must have pressed the freeze-frame, because the whole world stood still.

  “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “There’s nothing else to say, Audrey. I don’t want to talk anymore. Go to sleep, it sounds like you need it.”

  • • •

  At almost check-out time, she got a text from Edward, i had to stop by vogue. see you at the airport.

  At least one piece of good news: she wouldn’t have to see Edward so soon. She thought about changing flights, but it would be a hassle; she’d have to face him sooner or later.

  He showed up at the gate almost at boarding time, took an empty seat beside hers, and opened a bottle of water.

  “Here, I got you one.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Hey, did we kiss last night?”

  Didn’t he remember? “You kissed me.”

  “Damn, I wasn’t dreaming.” He took a long pull of water and said, “So, how was it?”

  “Terrible.”

  He chuckled. “I wasn’t playing my A game.”

  If she had had a gun, the police would have had to mop up his head off the floor.

  “I told John. He was upset, and he didn’t want to talk to me. I tried to call him today — ” She was staring at the phone, clasped in her hands. “He won’t answer.”

  “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be joking. Honestly, I wasn’t sure it happened.” He placed his hand on hers, but she recoiled. “I can talk to John. I’ll tell him it was stupid, I was plastered — ”

  “I don’t think it will help. John doesn’t open up to everyone. You really have to earn his trust and I’ve lost it.” She said, half to herself, “I’m not sure I can get it back.”

  Chapter 21

  Audrey came home to an empty house. John still wouldn’t return her calls. She let her bag drop to the floor, and walked through the house, still hoping to find him, but in the bedroom there was only a note on the bed.

  I need time to think.

  I will be at Matt’s.

  J.

  She grabbed the phone from her bag, and texted him: just got home, saw your note. sorry you feel this way. i’ll be here. love you. Then, she showered and went to bed. Hours later the bell rang. She thought she was still asleep, but it rang again. John? She jumped out of bed and ran to the door, but remembered he had a key. It was Matt, and without saying a word, he stepped in and opened his arms.

  She burrowed her face into his chest and said, “Matt, I screwed up.”

  “Hush now.” Matt stroked her hair. “He is upset, but he’ll get over it.”

  “I don’t know how it happened. I never meant for it to happen.”

  “I know. Come on, let’s have a beer.” He led her to the kitchen.

  “Oh, no. No beer for me.” She rubbed her head.

  “Okay, beer for me, tea for you.”

  They talked for a long time. John had already told him about the kiss, but she narrated what had happened again, almost word by word, including that Edward didn’t even remember kissing her.

  “What I don’t get is, why did you even tell John?” Matt propped his feet on the coffee table.

  Audrey sipped at her tea. “I’ll never keep anything from him, no matter how small,” she said, very quietly.

  “Fair enough.”

  “Will he forgive me?

  “Of course he will.”

  “When?” She looked at him eagerly as if he was about to tell her how long she had to live.

  “Just give the butt-head time to digest. He’s scared, that’s all.”

  “No, he trusted me
. I’ve messed up. I should have gone back to the hotel when I said I would.”

  “And leave your friend alone feeling like shit? Not the Audrey I know.”

  Her face showed the faintest trace of a smile. “I wish he would see it like you do.”

  Matt placed his bottle on the coffee table. “I’ve known John since before his mother’s death, they were really close. He’s always been quiet, but after … uh, he sort of built this wall around him. I guess he thought if no one got close enough he wouldn’t have to deal with losing anyone again. But you got in. He just doesn’t know how to handle it yet.”

  Audrey muttered, “He should at least stay in his house. I can stay somewhere else.”

  “This is your house, too. Besides, give him a couple of days on our couch and he’ll come crawling back.”

  • • •

  Given a choice, she would have chosen to stay in bed until John came back. Her night had been restless, unsure if she was awake, dreaming, or sleepwalking in the dark looking for him, feeling his presence in the pitch-black, but finding no walls to pat, no light seeping through to guide her in any direction, only emptiness.

  The group show was less than a month away, so she had to get up. She got her camera and left to scout locations. She’d taken the “ghost pictures,” as Charlie had baptized them, in Silver Lake, Echo Park, and downtown, and she wanted check out South L.A. It was hard to spend the entire day without talking to John, but she pretended he was on a gig out of town.

  Had she just now realized how much she needed him? The same way she’d preached to Edward about people who realize what they need only after they lost it. Had she lost John? No, impossible. They knew how much they meant to each other. Didn’t they? Were there signs? Could John have fallen out of love because of her stupid mistake? Those thoughts raced through her head all day. It was hard to work, but she took enough photographs to keep her in the darkroom the rest of the week.

  Matt had told her the band was going to play in the Lake Tahoe’s Fall Festival next week. Rob had returned from summer vacation with his daughter, and was coming back to drive the new tour bus. Atlantis had other drivers, but John insisted. She was happy Rob was coming back, but sad this time — more than likely — she wouldn’t be in the bus with them. The band was leaving the day after tomorrow. She hoped John would talk to her before then.