My Once and Future Love

by Carla Krae

  Jacob glared at me. “Can I still play guitar?”

  “I wouldn’t,” the doctor said, working with a roll of gauze. “Give this time to heal and you shouldn’t have any future problems. I’ll send you home with extra wrap.”

  Jacob ranted during the drive back to the hotel.

  “This is your fault, you know. You’re like a pox. Every time I’ve felt on top of the world, you have to knock me down.”

  “Stop it. No one made you hit the wall.”

  “I wouldn’t have been mad enough to hit the wall if not for your big mouth.”

  “It was Bob’s idea! Bob. Not me. Yell at him for a change.”

  “I had everything under control!”

  “Oh, please. Wake up and take responsibility, Jacob. You are under a microscope! It’s the nature of the career you’ve chosen and you can’t get drunk or high without someone knowing. We saved you from a scandal. End of discussion.”

  “I could fire you for this,” he seethed.

  “Then do it.” I stared at him, daring him to do it. He didn’t scare me anymore.

  He glanced away, the muscles in his jaw working with his agitation. He knew we were right.

  The tour continued without further incident, but also without the joy of the beginning. Jacob wasn’t talking to anyone except on stage. Bob just shook his head. The rest were hurt. We bonded over being outcasts while Jacob blasted old punk in his suite.

  When we got back to Los Angeles, Jacob spent a couple months passing messages to me through Maria.

  He didn’t hold out as long with the band.

  I spent my twenty-fifth birthday in front of the TV with a quart of ice cream and a big spoon. It was the loneliest I’d ever been.

  ****

  June

  Jacob’s twenty-seventh birthday was spent in a film studio making a video. Work was back in full swing. They did give him a cake at lunch, though. Summer would consist of recording time working on the next album and mini tours. They had a few dates in South America, a couple in Australia, and one each in Seoul and Hawaii. Weekend excursions, basically. They were under pressure to get a second album out soon.

  Award season was bloody good this year and platinum record plaques hung on the wall of his studio. Their singles were staying high on the charts, and a movie soundtrack they were part of debuted at number one as well. They were at the top of their game, untouchable.

  So why wasn’t he content? Satisfied.

  Jacob glanced down from his bedroom windows to the brunette reading on one of his deck chairs. The afternoon was hot and Beth wore a swimsuit, but she’d yet to touch the pool. She only came out like this when no one was around, but he’d watched from between the vertical blinds. He was sick of the distance, of her looking at him like a disappointing child—when she showed any emotion at all. She’d shut down while he sulked.

  With distance, he saw they were right to intervene with him before his behavior leaked to the public. Felt like a right idiot for jeopardizing his career and health in such a way…and for what? A hot piece of ass and a few nights he could barely remember?

  Thank God Mum didn’t know.

  Beth moved below and brought his attention back to her. He did remember kissing her in Amsterdam and bein’ a right ponce, begging her for attention. Answers. Love. She had good reason to keep her distance now. Why she stayed he couldn’t say…he knew she had enough savings to move on if she wanted. After everything he’d done, why didn’t she want to?

  He missed her in so many ways, but he’d give anything to be back to the easy friends they were in high school.

  While he was musing, she’d jumped in the pool. She was doing laps, her long limbs quickly powering her to the other end. Only woman under forty he knew who wore a one-piece, but the sleek lines and clingy fabric were still attractive. Reaching the end, she flipped on her back to backstroke across. Looked like fun, but she’d probably scamper off if he joined her in the water.

  Jacob sighed and turned away from the window.

  Taking a drive seemed like a good idea, except the paparazzi would follow him soon as he left the gate. They were the biggest drawback to this whole fame thing and never left him alone if he stepped out of the house. Couldn’t do a bleedin’ thing without a flashbulb in his face. Wasn’t safe to drive himself anymore. Beth had to smuggle him out in her trunk just so he could get a soddin’ hamburger. Thank God they thought her too boring to watch.

  He created all this tension with everyone and it was screwing with his muse. The lyrics he’d come up with the past six months were shit, and with the label breathing down his neck, either he had to come up with twelve new songs fast or fess up to needing more time. He wanted to prove he wasn’t a flake, a lay-about, a one-hit wonder, but the words wouldn’t come…not with everyone watching for his next fuck-up.

  His phone rang.

  “Are you feeling alright? You didn’t come down to breakfast.”

  “Beth, why are you calling me from downstairs?”

  “I’m outside. The intercom isn’t. Are you sick? You always eat.”

  He sighed. “I’m fine. Can’t I do what I want on a Saturday?”

  “Of course, Mr. Lindsey. I was just concerned when you broke routine.” Mr. Lindsey. He hated when she called him that in private.

  “Relax, pet, okay? I did manage to feed myself all through uni. Stay in the pool all day if you want.”

  “How did you--? Never mind. Let me know if you need anything.” The line went quiet and she hung up.

  Another sigh escaped his lips and he tossed the phone on the bed. Try to mope in peace for one day and she couldn’t let him be. He already had a mother.

  That wasn’t fair, though…he trained her to anticipate his every need or whim, to handle anything he didn’t find fun. Letting her off for a day probably made her wonder if she’d find him dead—a silly notion, but her overactive imagination was capable of it.

  ****

  After a week of cursing flowing out of Jacob’s studio, I hazarded a knock on the door.

  “What?” he barked. The pen in his hand was poised like he’d been about to throw it at the wall.

  “You okay?”

  He sighed. “It’s all rubbish.” He set the pen on the desk and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Can’t force inspiration, right? Maybe you’re trying too hard. Take a break.”

  “Already two years since the last release. Can’t.”

  “Think you have to. Or, get the guys to chip in. Every word doesn’t need to be written by you, does it?”

  He rubbed his eyes and stood. “I guess. I just want--”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Wanna catch a flick or somethin’?”

  “Go to a movie? You’ll be seen.”

  “I’ll wear a disguise.” He touched my shoulder. “Please?”

  “Okay. Let me grab my purse.”

  Smiling, he nodded, and we walked out, him heading upstairs. I grabbed my keys and bag from my cottage and locked the door. He came out the front in a ball cap and sunglasses and headed for my car. Dressed in a plain white tee and blue jeans, he was just another handsome guy in L.A. I hoped.

  “Sure about this?”

  “Just one normal afternoon, Bethie. All I ask for.” He sounded tired, and when the classical music CD turned on, he closed his eyes.

  Could I finally be getting the old Jacob back? All month he’d been quieter, less demanding, respectful…I hardly saw him unless he was required to leave the house. No, not the old Jacob—he wasn’t cheery enough for that—but maybe a more mature one. A boss I could be happy with.

  I drove to the theater closest to our old houses, figuring the ‘burbs were safer. Choosing a spot closest to the doors in case we had to escape, I parked the car and cut the engine. Jacob opened his eyes and a smile teased his lips. He recognized the theater.

  “Any idea what’s playing?” I asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Let me speak to the person
nel. Your voice is too recognizable.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  I froze and a second later, so did he. Shaking my head, I continued on. He stayed a step behind my left shoulder. Just innocent teasing, a slip of the tongue…ignore it and so will he.

  Scanning the front of the building, I was thankful for Mondays. No one was here in the middle of the day but a couple of senior citizens and moms with toddlers. Jacob stopped in front of the movie list display.

  “See anything you like?” I asked.

  “There’s Transformers.”

  “With bad reviews.”

  “But stuff blows up.”

  “How about The Proposal? Ryan Reynolds is always funny.”

  “Chick flick? Nah.”

  “Star Trek, then. Something for both of us.”

  “You’ve seen it already.”

  “On your schedule? I wish.”

  “Fair enough. But I still say Star Wars is cooler.”

  I moved up to the ticket line. “Don’t start that again.”

  “What?”

  “Shhh.” It was our turn at the booth. I told the kid our selection, hoping Jacob was being inconspicuous behind me. Tickets in hand, I went for the door, but he grabbed the handle first. “Since when do you open doors?”

  “Since I’m an Average Joe playing hooky from work.”

  “Do you want popcorn?”

  “Please.”

  I handed him his ticket. “Find a seat. I’ll get it. Soda, too?”

  “Water.”

  “Okay.” As long as I paid for everything, it didn’t look like a date. ‘Cause it so wasn’t.

  Two friends seeing a film.

  With two bags of popcorn and two bottles of water, I found our theater and was surprised he picked a middle seat, my preference. The theater had upgraded to the lift-able armrest seats since I was last here. I lowered the arm between us, then set his bottle in the cup. He took a bag from the cardboard box before I sat down.

  “You remembered butter?” he asked.

  “What they call butter, yes. Thought you’d be closer to the front.”

  “You don’t like that.” He popped a kernel in his mouth.

  “Well, thanks.”

  “Thank you.”

  Wow, how civilized we were. Maybe he was making up for the first half of this year. It had been awkward even since he started talking to me again, and I hoped this was the start of going back to normal. I complained a lot, but the past year and a half hadn’t been all bad.

  Theater seats made you sit close and I could smell his cologne. Despite the samples and free bottles sent to him all the time, he’d never changed his scent and I wondered why. Plenty of others smelled good, too, and his body chemistry accepted fragrance very well, but still…Obsession. Remembering the last movie we went to, December of 2002, I wished I could lean my head on his shoulder and breathe in the skin of his neck like I used to. Everything was perfect then, simple, happy, and hopeful. I missed my confidant. The best friend I ever had.

  “Great music in this,” he whispered.

  Nodding, I wiped some wetness from my left eye. He probably thought I was reacting to Kirk’s father’s death, and patted my knee. Thank goodness there was a lot to laugh at in the rest of the movie. Getting sentimental wouldn’t do me any good.

  Leaving the theater, my phone rang.

  “Are you ready to come work for me?”

  “Nathan! How are you?”

  Jacob arched a brow.

  “Tell me you’re free for lunch this week. I have business in L.A.”

  “I’d love to. Can I call you back? I’m away from my calendar.”

  “Talk to you then. Bye, Lizzie.”

  “Bye.” I ended the call and dug my keys out of my purse to open the car.

  “What was that about?” Jacob asked.

  “Lunch with a friend. I do have them.” Pressing a button on the fob, the doors unlocked.

  “Male friends?”

  “Don’t start.”

  “I didn’t say anything. Just curious.”

  “No possessive ex-boyfriend crap, I mean it. I don’t have time to date, anyway.”

  “You’re gettin’ awfully defensive over a phone call.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are, too. Do you like this guy?” he asked, his tone teasing.

  “Of course not. He’s a college friend who lives on the other side of the country and we have lunch like twice a year.”

  He snapped his fingers. “The bloke from the Super Bowl. Short guy in the Brooks Brothers suit.”

  “Still taller than me.”

  “By a hair if that. But I guess it doesn’t surprise you like hangin’ out with corporate types. Peas in a pod and such.”

  “Calling me a pod person?”

  He laughed. “I missed the banter, Bethie. Let’s not be mad at each other again. It sucks.”

  “Usually not me that needs to behave.” Since we were in the old neighborhood, I drove to Tommy’s.

  “Fair enough. I deserve that. Friends?”

  I stopped at a red light. His right hand was extended and I shook it. “Friends.”

  ****

  That friendship truce got us all the way into 2010. Jacob had a hard time writing all summer and finally told the label he needed more time, then scheduled a confab with the band to hash out where they wanted to go next. By December, they had a bunch of home demos recorded and awaited the decision from the suits on what to proceed with.

  Neither of us got to visit family this Christmas. He was scheduled to sing at nearly every holiday special, then we were on a TV set in January for a guest spot he was filming.

  He was playing the Hot Guy competition for the male lead and we were there at eight in the morning for make-up. Lynn approved the script, so Jacob and I went over his lines last night.

  I watched a girl even his skin tone and blot away any shine. Though his eyelashes were long and naturally dark, she used clear mascara on them. A second woman did his hair at the same time. There was little for me to do at these things but watch them film. As long as I kept him in water or coffee, he was happy, and the production provided lunch.

  The gals were quick, done with him in fifteen minutes. Wardrobe already gave him the shirt they wanted him to wear, so we walked to the set. He sat in a director’s chair marked “Guest”. I got to stand.

  “Do you have your phone on you?” I asked him. He handed it over and I muted it. “Here’s your script and water bottle.”

  “Thanks, Beth.”

  “Nervous?”

  “Not really.”

  “Remember your lines?”

  “Pretty much. I’ve done small roles before, pet.”

  “I know, but this one’s bigger than before.”

  He shrugged. “Still have rehearsal. And there’s my leading lady.” She pushed out of the chair and ambled to a sunny blonde built like Hollywood preferred—skinny with big boobs. He smiled up at him, then giggled at something he said. He was flirting and she liked it.

  I’d seen this a hundred times before, so I picked up the water bottle, sat in his chair, and watched the bee-hive-busyness around me. Once the actual taping started, he wouldn’t need me, so I moved to sit with the audience and watch the scenes. Natural chemistry zinged between him and the actress.

  When they broke for lunch, it was no surprise Jacob stayed chatting with the girl, and inevitable that she asked him to go for drinks with the cast when they wrapped.

  “I’ll get a ride home,” I told him. “Go have fun. Just remember you have to be here tomorrow morning, too.”

  “I’ll be good. Goodnight, Beth.” He slipped on his jacket and walked to the waiting blonde.

  I found a ride with another PA. Maria’s brows rose when I walked in the house alone.

  “Mr. Lindsey in the garage?”

  “Nope. He met a girl.”

  “Oh. Did he drop you off?”

  “Nah.” I left my jacket on a kitchen chair and raided
the fridge.

  “You should’ve called me to pick you up. Don’t get in a stranger’s car.”

  “It was another female PA, Maria. I have a bit of common sense.”

  “Still. I’m disappointed.”

  “Fine, I’ll get a cab next--”

  “In Mr. Lindsey. He should make sure you’re home safe before having fun.”

  Sighing, I said, “I told him to go. The cast was waiting for him.”

  “You let him get away with too much,” she said, arms crossed under her breasts.

  “Probably. Goodnight, Maria. Go home to your family.”

  “I could make dinner…”

  “Nah…I’ll just heat something up. I’ve got work to do.” I picked up my jacket and went out the side door to my cottage. She meant well, but I didn’t need the mothering, at least not tonight.

  Jacob’s Jag pulled in at two in the morning. I switched off the TV and walked into the house to see if he was sober or not. He jumped when he walked in from the garage.

  “God, you scared me, Bethie. What are you doing up?”

  “Working. Have a nice time?”

  He smiled. “Yeah.” Passing under the light in the hallway, there was a lipstick mark on his collar. A good time, indeed. “’Night.” He walked up the stairs, whistling.

  Yup, he got laid, or close to it. Slut.

  Eh, I shouldn’t cast assumptions on a woman I didn’t know. Maybe Jacob got past her usual defenses and good sense. It happened to me.

  The next day, I learned her name was Amanda and she was twenty-one. Within a week, I discovered she liked to party. Jacob came home late every night smelling like a cheap club—cigarettes, alcohol, and a bit of sweat. The relationship hit the tabloids, then entertainment news, and they were soon the latest golden couple, the rising actress and gorgeous rock star. I didn’t want to know what parts of the relationship were real and which weren’t. It wouldn’t last—his girlfriends never did.

  But at least he didn’t bring her home at night.

  Chapter Seven

  2011

  After three-and-a-half years as a personal assistant, I considered myself a glutton for punishment.

  Rolling over, I eyed the large green numbers on my alarm clock. Six-fifteen. Good, I could sleep another hour. I burrowed under the covers to doze until the alarm went off. With any luck, I’d even get breakfast this morning before the calls started.