by Liv Leighton
“Jesus,” I groaned, my shoulders sagging.
“I don’t see the problem,” she said with a delighted smile. “We look good together. Hell, it even looks like you’re enjoying that kiss.”
I shook my head, turning from the TV to look back out the penthouse window at vibrant New York City at night. It glittered like a thousand colored stars scattered about as far as the eye could see. I leaned a hand on the cool glass and stared passed my reflection. “I didn’t not enjoy it,” I shrugged.
“Well… how about the kissing after we got here?” she asked, feigning innocence… but I knew what she was getting at.
“Aubrey, it’s not going to happen.” I had another big gulp of the wine.
She frowned and went back to her phone. I looked the TV and watched them show the kiss over and over again. She was right; we did look good together. The photographers certainly thought so. The looks of awe on their faces and the annoying pop-pop-pop of the camera behind us was like some weird spectacle at a circus.
I lifted the Pinot to my lips and decided that I’d kill this one and open another. Aubrey was welcome to some if she wanted it. I tilted my head back and enjoyed the way the alcohol burned down my throat and the slight rocking sensation in my head as it did its work.
When I set the bottle back down, my phone rang. It was eleven thirty at night, meaning that it was my agent. Adam Parker didn’t sleep much. I was pretty sure he had not gone to bed before two in the morning anytime during his career.
I picked up the phone and answered it by simply saying “Hello”. In hearing my own slurred voice, I realized that I had a larger buzz than I thought.
“Devlin,” he said, “so yeah, tell me about this kiss I’m seeing on TV. Was that your idea?”
“No, that was all Aubrey.”
“That girl is a genius! Can you even start to imagine the great press this is going to get you? This is awesome!”
“Sure,” I said. Everything was always about the press. It seemed everyone in Hollywood only did things that would get the spotlight on them… no matter in good or bad light.
“You sound drunk. Wait… hold on… how long have you guys been seeing each other?”
“We haven’t.” I could have gone on and told him about the suddenness of the kiss and how she was in my bed right now, hoping I’d come to her and have my way with her. But I didn’t feel like getting into that in my inebriated state.
“Devlin, look…tomorrow morning, can you meet me for breakfast?”
“Don’t know. I expect to be nice and hung over. Also… I think I’ll be going by Jack now.”
He paused… and I could hear his gears churning. “Jack? What the hell is that?”
“What? You don’t like that idea?”
He sighed into the receiver. “Whatever man. Drink it off and call me when you can see and think clearly tomorrow.”
“Sure,” I said and ended the call.
I looked at the iPhone for a moment, studying it in my hand like it was some weird artifact from another civilization. It made me think about a guy named Lester that I served with in Afghanistan. He’d had a Kindle app on his iPhone while we had served and he was always reading a book on his phone whenever we’d had down time.
Lester had been a member of Serpent Team. He had died on the day I managed to get out alive. I watched him get shot in the neck and then bleed out. I blinked hard at the memory.
Not knowing I was going to do so, I pitched the phone hard across the room. It struck the wall, where it left a nice dent before falling in pieces to the floor. I stared after it absently.
“What the hell, Dev?”
I knocked back the rest of the bottle of wine and slowly walked to the bed. I cupped her face in my hands and brought her so close to me that our noses were touching.
“Aubrey,” I started. “You are beyond beautiful and your talent is ridiculous. I am flattered and quite confused that you are interested in me. If I slept with you tonight, that would be the end of it. I don’t want you like that and, quite frankly, I don’t know why. I have some things going on in my head right now that make no sense. I’m tired of this life. I’m tired of myself. And the fact that you want me and show interest in me is the only thing that’s making me not drink myself into an absolute oblivion right now. Can you understand that?”
She was quiet for a moment, simply staring back at me, which was good. I tried to determine where the hell all of that had come from.
“I thought that’s what it was,” she said. “We worked on those scenes together for a week or so and I got to know you, you know? You get this distant look in your eyes from time to time and you just sort of… check out.”
“I know,” I said, pulling on a pair of jeans and a faded green t-shirt. I found my dog tags in the jacket pocket of my suit and threw them around my neck. Old habits die hard.
“Are you thinking about your time in the military when you blank out?”
“Most of the time,” I said, sitting down hard on the bed next to her.
“Is that what happened on the red carpet tonight? Were you thinking about it?”
I looked at her and blinked. Her huge blue eyes stared back at me with concern. She was being compassionate. Sometimes the girl surprised me. She wasn’t near as narcissistic as most people thought.
I shook my head and glanced at the carpet. “It was more like a flashback tonight. It was… it wasn’t good.”
“I’m sorry,” she said and kissed the skin below my ear. She pulled me to her and I could feel her amazing breasts pressing into my back. When I noticed the eager response from my body, I backed away as softly as I could and stood.
“The room is yours,” I said. “As for me, I’m going down to the bar, drink my weight in booze, and hopefully be able to stumble back up here and sleep it off.”
“Devlin…”
I put a finger to her lush lips in a way that was supposed to be sweet but looked comical, even from my drunk ass view point. I kissed her forehead and stared hard at the mesmerizing starlet dressed in the tiny black nighty for a moment, fighting one last urge to give her what she wanted. I turned away with a sigh and without another word, walked out of the door.
****
The bar was pretty empty, which was good. It was hard for me to go anywhere and not be recognized. When it first happened, I was amused and thought I was important… but now, it was just old. I missed the allure of walking into a business or a bar or… whatever and not having anyone know who I was. People always wanted to pretend like I was their favorite actor, asking me dumb, meaningless questions about life in Hollywood.
Luckily, the hotel bar only held about ten patrons. I eyed the place through drunken eyes. From what I could tell, it was vaguely art-deco in that cool and hip New York style that was all the rage. Course, next week, they’d have to tear it all down and remodel to match the newest vogue look.
I walked to the far end of the bar, hidden in shadows and soft light. I took a seat and leaned into the cold bar top. I eyed the liquor on the wall and sighed. I’d never been a big drinker but the idea of drinking until all thoughts stopped running through my head was appealing.
The bar keeper walked over. If he recognized me, he didn’t let on.
“Evening. What can I get you?” he asked.
“A shot of tequila,” I said. “And stick around while I take it because I’m going to want a few beers to wash it down it. And I may bookend those with another shot.”
The man smiled at me, that hesitant smile all barkeepers have at the ready. “You got a room here?”
“Upstairs. With a remarkable young lady in the bed. Remarkable and clearly confused.”
He chuckled and slid the shot over to me. I took it greedily, downing it and placed the glass gingerly back on the bar. The tender then slid me over a glass of amber beer that he had just poured. The head was still thick and creamy.
“Let me know when you need that topped off.”
“Yep.”
/> I reached for the glass and damn near missed the thing. It took that action for me to realize that I was much more intoxicated than I thought. I considered calling Adam and asking if he wanted to come have a few drinks but then remembered that I had left my broken phone in the hotel room after throwing it against the wall. Dammit.
I got halfway through the beer and was struck by a moment of perfect clarity. There was nothing profound that caused it. I was simply looking at myself in the mirrored back of the bar. I saw my face looming over the tops of liquor bottled like some weird abstract cloud over a mountain range of glass. My head felt like it was filled with a small tide pool and my stomach was just beginning to feel queasy from the drinking. But still, the moment of clarity was unmistakable. It hit me like a bullet right between the eyes.
This doesn’t have to be your life. You don’t have to be here.
It was true. After coming back from Afghanistan, I had been offered a life that no other veterans ever got. My story was a heroic one; even I had to admit that to myself from time to time. The story of Serpent Team, the rescue of the school kids and the death of every member except myself had even been made into a movie. A year later, I had somehow landed a bit part in an action movie and then, a few months later, had been offered the leading role in a romantic comedy. I spent the following seven years making movies—twelve in all. Nine of them had been action films but the three that had really put me into the A-list category were the romantic comedies.
Mine was a good story and I guess I understood why the media had been so fixated with me. To have gone from a soldier than endured a nine hour gunfight against fifty enemies and to be the only man left standing… it was one hell of a story. America had embraced me as a war hero despite the fact that I had been unable to help any of my squad members out. I hadn’t rescued all of those children on my own, after all but it seemed like that’s what I was credited with.
Deep down, I think the feelings of disenchantment with my Hollywood life came from guilt—guilt that I had not been able to save them… that they were dead and I had women like Aubrey wanting to sleep with me while I brought home paychecks of six or seven million dollars for three months worth of work.
You don’t have to be here…
I downed the rest of the beer and slid the glass across the bar. I looked at it blankly and started thinking about the limo that I had at my beck and call in the underground garage beneath the hotel.
“Another?” the bartender asked, taking my glass.
“No, I don’t think so. Change of plans.”
“Heading up to see that remarkable young lady after all, huh?”
I shook my head regretfully. “I have no idea why I’m so fine with it, but no….I think I’ll let her keep her dignity and get a good night’s sleep.”
I threw two twenties on the bar and gave the bartender a nod. I took a moment to catch my balance before I walked back towards the exit and the hotel lobby beyond. I walked slowly, cycling through an incredibly foolish and ill-advised plan in my head. I walked carefully to the front desk and tried not to be annoyed when the young woman beamed when she realized who I was.
“Mr. Stone,” she said with just the slightest sensual inflection to her voice. “How are you tonight?”
“Quite drunk,” I admitted. “So hey, I seem to have misplaced my phone. Could I by chance use one of yours?”
She nodded enthusiastically, happy that she could help. She lifted one of the large black desk phones from behind the counter and placed it in front of me.
“Thanks,” I said.
I stared at the numbers for a moment but realized that I had no idea how to get in touch with the limo driver. His number was saved on my iPhone which was upstairs and quite broken. With a roll of my eyes I picked up the receiver and punched in Adam’s number, which I had memorized years ago.
He picked up on the third ring. “Go for Adam.” I rolled my eyes. What a douchy way to answer the phone.
“Hey Adam,” I said.
“Devlin. What’s up?”
“I told you,” I said with a laugh. “My name is Jack.”
“You know, the scary thing is that you sound really serious about this,” Adam said.
“Yeah. Hey, I need the number for the limo driver. I seem to have accidentally deleted it from my phone.”
“Okay. Where are you calling from?”
“The hotel lobby. Misplaced my phone.”
“One second,” Adam said. I heard the slight sounds of Adam looking through papers and then he was back ten seconds later. He gave me the driver’s name—Dalton—and his cell number which I scribbled down on the hotel stationary which the girl behind the desk had so graciously offered to me when she overheard me asking for someone’s number.
“Now why do you need his number at such an hour?” Adam asked.
“Thanks,” was all I said and then ended the call.
I punched in the driver’s number and waited through four rings. When he picked up, he sounded sleepy and a little irritable. “Yeah?”
“Dalton, this is Ja… uh… Devlin Stone,” I said, smiling at how I had almost referred to myself by my new name. “Are you available to pick me up?”
“Yeah. I’m sort of just hanging out here in the car tonight. I’m still in the garage.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in about five minutes.”
I smiled at the girl behind the desk and pushed the phone back towards her. “Thanks so much,” I said.
She nodded like a giddy little school girl. I fully expected her to start blushing at any minute. I wondered if there were any actors that actually enjoyed this treatment. It seemed sort of distracting and gross to me.
I looked towards the elevators and when I stepped on, I eyed the P button. I considered going back to the penthouse and Aubrey to at least let her know what I planned to do. But I knew that she’d do everything she could to talk me out of it. Leaving her without letting her know was a dick thing to do, but it was the easiest way. I thought I’d be able to forgive myself for running out on here sometime later in my life.
With a sigh, I pressed the G button and felt the elevator start sliding downward. I almost reached out to press the Emergency Stop button with the intent of going back to the penthouse floor and ignore this stupid plan. But I kept myself in check and when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to reveal the garage, I stepped out quickly.
The limo was parked only a few spaces away. A tall, lanky man wearing a suit was standing against the hood, waiting for me.
“Where we headed?” Dalton asked.
I had no luggage of any kind. I had a spare bag in the limo trunk with a few basics…I wasn’t even sure what was in there. A tee shirt and gym shorts, I thought. Maybe some shoes.
“The airport,” I said, without thinking.
Dalton seemed surprised when I got into the front passenger seat. He smiled and took his place behind the wheel. He started the car and pulled out, heading for the upper level and the streets beyond.
“Need me to call and book a flight?” he asked. “Where you going?”
“Alaska,” I replied, only because it was the first, most remote place that came to my mind.
“Alaska? Jesus. What the hell for?”
“Why not?” I shrugged, not looking from the tinted window.
“Sure thing.” Dalton laughed and nodded. “Any place in particular you wanna go?”
“Nope. Just away from here.”
“You got it.” Dalton picked up his phone and punched in some numbers. Within a minute or so, he was on the phone with the airport, setting me up on a flight to some where in Alaska.
I chuckled as the limo cruised down the street. Nice job, Jack, I thought. Let’s get out of here.
3—Mac
When customers like Amber Dawson come into the store, I wished that I had the budget to hire at least one more cashier so I could hide in the back. As it was, there was only myself and the two part-time employees, meaning that I carr
ied the bulk of the hours on weekdays—particularly the middle of the day when the place was basically dead.
Not that I had anything against her. I mean, hell, a while back, I had once been like Mrs. Amber Dawson: unemployed, bored, beautiful, and a gossip. It was a pretty lethal combination. If I was being honest, the real reason I didn’t like to be around Amber wasn’t because she was a gossip (and, truth be told, something of a bitch). It was because Amber reminded me of how I used to be, before the divorce.
When Amber walked through the front door of The Pine Way, I became very aware of my frayed brunette hair, the dark circles under my eyes, the weathering of my flannel shirt, and the fact that I was always tired. Amber was simply the kind of person that made you aware of your own faults—not on purpose, but by default.
“Hey, McKinley,” Amber chirped, her voice like music, her smile like crystals. “How’s it going today?”
“Going,” I said. I did my best to look busy with the inventory sheet behind the counter, but failed miserably. “You?”
“Well, I was wondering what the latest and greatest was in organic power bars. I’m starting this new class at the gym that’s a combination of Yoga and Pilates and was looking for something with lots I energy that doesn’t taste like cardboard.”
Pretentious, I thought. What the hell do you need a class like that for? You’re perfect.
Of course, I didn’t say anything. I walked quickly from behind the counter and led Amber down the center aisle of the store. The Pine Way was a small store for outdoors enthusiasts, carrying food, clothing, gear and all things in between. The décor looked like a log cabin, right down to the immaculate cross beams that ran along the roof. In the winter months, we even kept the fireplace going, complete with rocking chairs to either side. But being June, there was no need. Even in Alaska, most people didn’t find much need for burning perfectly good fire wood when the weather was as perfect as it currently was.
