“I thought you hated museums.” Laska stood up and stuffed her muffin wrapper into the mostly empty teacup, and wiped some crumbs up with her napkin.
“Oh, I do.” Cleo laughed. “Retail therapy. The Art Institute has the cutest little tiny decorative boxes that I saw in this ad online. I totes need one.”
“You’re such a philistine for someone who is an artist,” said Laska, rolling her eyes. She added the wadded-up napkin to her teacup. “Sanitizer?” She fished a small bottle out of her pocket and offered it over.
“If the doctor offers it, I guess I better say yes,” said Cleo, accepting a squirt.
* * *
Later that night, she was relaxing at home, sitting on her couch with a book when there was a knock at the door. When she got up to answer, she was startled to find Axel there, waiting on the front step.
“Can I come in?” Axel’s presence filled her doorway. She caught a scent of his cologne on a slight breeze, and noticed that his eyes were tired. He had a scruffy beard starting on his chin, but on him it looked sexy, masculine.
“How did you know where I live?” She was still surprised to see him here; she was always the one who went to him.
“Your employee information.” He regarded her steadily. “From the theater database. Can I talk to you, please?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and she really didn’t. Should she let him in? Should she shut the door in his face? She stood there, thinking about it, which was an answer in itself. Finally she added, “What do you want?”
“To apologize.” His face was sincere. “You’re hurt, obviously, and I didn’t mean to do that to you. It just seemed—look, it would be better if we could talk in private. Can you give me five minutes, at least? If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll leave.”
She tilted her head. “Yeah. Okay.” She walked into the house and didn’t wait for him to follow, and sat down on one end of her couch, hugging a sequined cushion to her chest.
He pulled the door shut and looked around. She thought he wanted to comment on a piece of art; he turned to it and started to open his mouth, a smile on his face, but checked the gesture. He sat beside her on the couch, not touching, but not on the opposite end. They were both quiet.
“So, you came here to tell me something?” Cleo made her voice even. She didn’t want to betray the intense hurt, confusion, and sadness that had overcome her that night of the last performance.
He nodded. “I did. Cleo, I’m sorry.”
“For?” She raised an eyebrow, pissed that there was a quiver in her voice.
He shrugged, but it was an apology. “For that night. For leaving with Alyssia and not talking to you about why I did that.”
“Well, it seemed relatively obvious,” said Cleo, forcing her voice into a smooth tone. “You wanted to be with her, and you didn’t want anyone to know that you and I were fucking. I got the message. So did that reporter, and everyone else listening.”
“I’m not with Alyssia,” he said firmly, wincing at her words.
Cleo shrugged. “Well, easy come, easy go, I suppose, if that’s your philosophy. Which I guess it is. Right?”
“Look, Cleo—”
She burned with indignation. “No, you look, Axel. We didn’t make each other any overt promises. I get that. But we were intense, you know? The things we did, and where, and when? That’s not random, to me. That’s not ‘oh, hey, we’re both here so let’s fuck.’ That was emotional and powerful and, you know, I trusted you.”
She repeated it in a lower voice. “I trusted you. Not to take care of me forever, or anything, but to take care of me in the now. And as far as I knew, that night after the play, we were still in the now. Having sex before the performance, and then dissing me immediately afterwards? That’s pretty shitty, Axel. It was supposed to be the pinnacle of the entire experience, the ultimate performance. I guess mine just came early, though. Before the play even started.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen. For you to feel blown off.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I know!” she said. “Accidents happen. I get it. Like when your dick accidentally falls into someone’s vagina. Or when you accidentally spank her over your lap and ask her to suck you off.”
“I didn’t mean that our—that wasn’t—. Look,” he said. “I never intended to have sex with you and then blow you off right after the performance. But when that gossip rag asshole from TZZ started getting all pushy, I knew immediately that someone had leaked something nasty to him. On the spot I decided it was best for your reputation to deny it, okay? You had a stunning performance. There was no reason to mess that up in the press with our relationship. If I admitted we were fucking? People, at least some people, would say that you’d only gotten the role because of it. And that’s not true. And I wanted you to remain untainted by that shit for as long as possible.” He darted his eyes away from her.
“So instead you tainted me with some different shit. Shit is shit, Axel,” she said.
He ran a hand through his hair and his voice rose. “Cleo, I was in a bad position, okay? See it from my point of view, please? I just managed a play about sex and submission, which got a lot of press because it’s titillating and provocative. It’s hard enough for the actors to be fully recognized for their talent, to have that celebrated apart from the material. You were fucking good, you and Martin and everyone. Really, really good. I know someone’s going to say it again, sometime, that we had a relationship. Sure, it will eventually end up on some websites and gossip columns. But I wanted that last night of reviews, from that critic and everyone watching, to be just about your skill. Not about the other stuff.”
“Well, it would have been nice to inform me of that,” she said, looking down. “And see if I agreed.”
“It was my play,” he said, his voice tense. “I did what was right for the group as a whole.”
“Well, but you could have told me what you wanted to do, so it wasn’t such a slap in the face!” she snapped. “Don’t you get that? If I was in on the plan, I wouldn’t have been so hurt. I would have probably agreed with you and played along. But you doing it out of the blue, like, surprise! Here I am with my ex! Hey, everyone! She’s awesome! That was just cruel.”
“She just showed up!” he said, his voice rising. “I didn’t invite her to the play. She has the right to go where she wants, Cleo.”
When her eyes narrowed, he added, putting up his hands, “And I took advantage of her presence, okay? At no time have I ever planned to get back together with her. But it came together. I wanted to deny the rumors about you, she was there acting like she wanted a reunion, so I played it up. And it fucking worked, Cleo. All you got—all we got—was unmitigated great reviews, with no crappy gossip about you and me.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “Oh, sure, it worked really well. Why didn’t you call me the next day?” She crossed her arms. “If it was all just an act, why were there pictures of you all week cuddling up to her in various locations?” She wiped her eye. “Was that all just part of the grand plan?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He didn’t look at her now, and he ran his hands through his hair again. “We had a lot of things to work out, and we did meet a few times to get through it all. But we’re not together. And we’re not getting back together. She had her own reasons for acting it up, too, because she’s pushing publicity before her next tour. It was all for—visibility. For our careers. That’s why I did it.”
“So that’s why you blew me off for an entire week? That one night, okay. But the whole week? And I get to see you in those pictures the whole time without a single word from you? That was just mean. I get it, you were trying to teach me a lesson about getting too close to you. Consider me schooled.”
“You’re not listening,” he said. “I told you I’m not with Alyssia, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was—like I said, I was working through things with my ex, I was busy with interviews and planning, and had travel… and you…” He t
railed off and looked away. “You… needed the time. To decompress and stuff.”
“No. You needed the time.” She was angry. “I slipped up and said the L-word, and you freaked out. Admit that’s a big part of why you blew me off. Sure, I understand about the play and your marketing ideas, and I even agree. I’m pissed that you didn’t tell me, but I get it. But I also get that you wanted to back off because you thought I was getting clingy. Look, you can admit it, okay? Now that we’re being honest with each other?”
“All right. Fine. I told you from the beginning that I wasn’t in this for a long-term relationship, and you agreed. We talked about travelling in the future, and all of it. Remaining separate. So, yeah, you saying that? It threw me.” He rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know what to do.” He shot her a complex look of confusion, desire, and something else she couldn’t define. “It’s not that I wanted to hurt you. And I still wanted to spend time with you. But I panicked, Cleo. And it wasn’t until later that I—”
Her heart cracked open and she blurted out words to seal the chasm. “Well, it was a mistake, okay? I said that because I was just getting into the role already, and feeling emotion from the high of the day and the play. You’re totally off the hook, because I didn’t mean it. Forget it happened.”
“You didn’t mean it,” he repeated slowly. A strange look crossed his face, but then he frowned and his brow furrowed. “I see.”
She felt a wave of sadness pulse through her, but kept her voice steady. “Absolutely not. Sometimes people say things they don’t mean. It was one of them. Blame it on emotions, or whatever. But don’t take it seriously. I’m not trying to trap you. I mean, what we had was fun, but if it’s over, it’s over. And we’ll move on.” She shrugged. “It’s how it goes, I guess.” But her voice was still hard.
She got up and opened the front door. “You should go.”
He got to his feet and joined her in the doorway, but turned. “It doesn’t have to end this way,” he said, his voice low. “It doesn’t have to end at all. Cleo, please, let me finish—”
“It just did.” Cleo crossed her arms. “It just did end this way. I don’t love you, you don’t love me, it’s ridiculous to even bring that up because it’s so stupid and out of the realm of possibility. We had some fun, you introduced me to kink, thanks and it’s awesome and you’re welcome, we’re both moving on, and it’s all good. Let it go. You were too much of a dick the past week. I’m done.”
“Okay. I know I’ve been a dick. I admit that. I just want, if you’d just please give me a chance to talk to you about how I feel—I don’t.” He looked anguished. “This is something I didn’t think I’d feel again, okay? And it surprised me, and honestly I wasn’t sure, and then I—”
“Just go. I don’t want to hear it.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want your shitty excuses to get back into my pants. The pants are closed. Go home.”
“That’s what you want?” His expression was hard to interpret. “Honestly?”
“Yes. Please. Just go. Right now I feel that you’re a manipulative lying douchebag, and I don’t want to talk to you ever again. I hate you. Just—get out of my life.”
He swallowed and she saw his muscles clench. “If you change your mind, come find me.”
“I won’t.” She started to close the door.
He looked at her, then simply nodded and left.
Chapter Eighteen
“So tell me again about this German play opportunity thing?” Laska, finally with a day off, was lying back, sunglasses dangling, wigging her toes. The pool sent up brilliant splashes of light that danced off the sepia lenses.
Cleo sipped her strawberry lemonade and put it back beside her comfy lounge chair. “Reuter Hetzer contacted me and asked if I wanted to audition for his new play.” She paused, one finger up for emphasis. “Let me rephrase. His number two assistant called and asked if I wanted to audition. His name, the assistant, was Gunther. And he specifically called out his secondary status, as if that was something that I’d be impressed with.”
Laska laughed. “No! Really?”
“I’m not lying.” Cleo nodded vigorously. “I know, it sounds too weird and over the top to be real, but I assure you, he was real. As was his very thick German accent.”
“Well, I mean, how many assistants does this Reuter dude even have?” Laska stretched out one leg. “Like, five? Ten? Maybe getting the number two guy is a huge affirmation for you and you’re shitting all over him by not getting right onto Instagram and Twitter and being all, ‘OMG! I was contacted by Le Deux!’”
“That’s French,” observed Cleo. The sun was hot on her face and it felt good. The towel on her blue and white deck chair was warm from the sun, but not uncomfortably so, and the splashes and squeals from the pool melded into a gentle background sound that lapped at her soul.
“How would it go in German?” Laska answered herself. “Zwei. Right?”
Cleo shrugged. “I mean, it was weird, Laska. He was all, ‘I am authorized, on behalf of Reuter, who I am sure who are familiar with, to offer you as Number Two Assistant, a spot to audition for his new play that will open in Berlin this fall. You will have the moniker Fraulein Pippy Boo because of your gorgeous red hair.’”
“You don’t have red hair.”
“No. I don’t.”
“And did you say ja or nein?” Laska wiggled her eyebrows. “Did you hear that?”
“Yup.” Cleo looked at the pool. “I said I would. Audition. Why not, right?”
“Are they going to fly you to Germany?” Laska sat up. “Is that even a thing?”
“Uh, no. Not for plays.” Cleo laughed. “For big blockbuster movies, I don’t know. They’re auditioning in L.A. next week. I said I’d be there. My dime, I guess. Although if I get hired, I don’t know how it will all work.”
“You’d move to Germany?”
“Well, only temporarily, just for the duration of the play. Assuming I even got the part, which is getting ahead of myself. And do I even want it?” Cleo lowered her voice. “I’d rather stay here, closer to home. I’m not ready to quit my accounting job, and I can’t just really take off for a few months right now. Not yet. I need to build more of a financial cushion. It would be a pretty big risk, and I don’t know if the play is interesting enough to take it. I mean, he’s got a really big name and reputation. But whether or not it would be enough to launch me into the next level, I can’t say.”
She glanced over at a group of men who were laughing together; one of their voices reminded her of Axel. She swallowed hard. It had been several weeks since they’d last talked, and the unhappiness was still a fresh bruise on her soul, pain when she thought about him.
“And so what’s up with Axel?” Laska looked at her and added, “It’s obvious you want to talk about him, so tell me.”
“Nothing’s up with him. No contact since our fight.” Cleo shrugged. “I told him to get the fuck out of my life, but he was already gone, so it was a pretty easy deal to seal. Whatever.” But her voice quivered a little.
“I’m sorry.” Laska sat up. “You still thinking about him a lot?”
“Yeah. I guess so. I do. I miss him.” Cleo shook her head. “I don’t want to, but I do. I know I shouldn’t, because he’s a shit. Or because it was a temporary thing and I knew that going in, so it’s not fair to myself to be all worked up about it. There are many reasons why I should just move on, free and easy. But it’s not, sort of, happening. Ugh!” She blew out her breath and grabbed her head with both hands in a mock act of frustration that was more real than she wanted to admit. “It’s hard to forget someone, Laska.”
“I know.” Her friend’s voice was kind. “So maybe doing the Germany thing would be good for you? Right?”
“It might be,” agreed Cleo. “Even though Reuter Hetzer is pretty wackjob. They call him the Dada/Surrealist playwright of the new millennium, and he gets a lot of publicity because his plays are so weird and different, and the assistant hinted that he has som
e pretty big names auditioning for the male lead. That would be cool, to work with someone name-y.”
“Maybe you’re the someone name-y,” suggested Laska. “Maybe people are excited about working with you.”
“I’m not quite there,” mused Cleo. “Soon though, hopefully. It’s just that—never mind.”
“I know, that means, I should ask more,” encouraged Laska. “So never mind what, exactly?”
“Before this all ended, Axel told me that he wanted me in his next play, no matter what happened with us, because I’m really good and he likes working with me. And I don’t think going to Germany is the right fit for me at this time, and I’d rather stay in Chicago and work on my career here, for a while. Act and still have my accounting business. I mean, doing plays doesn’t exactly bring in the millions for me, Laska.”
“And?”
“Now that we have this ugly split, I can’t just go audition for him again. Or can I? Maybe I should.”
Cleo sipped her drink, then put it down decisively. “You know what? It’s my career too, not just his. He was the dick, not me, right? And if he meant it that he likes working with me, you know what? I should go do it. If it’s good for my career, I can suck it up and work with him even if it’s hard at first. And he can suck it the fuck up, too, and be a grownup about this. Right? We can be mature.”
“Of course you could!” Laska was all support. “If this is the right career move, do it. How long is a play, anyway? It’s not forever. A couple of months, right? You can do anything for a couple of months.”
“Because although I like travelling, I don’t like being called Fraulein Pippy Boo. I, in fact, hate that.” Cleo’s voice became vehement. “And I don’t want to work with a fawning number two assistant and have to deal with some strange protocol that they all create in order to have this aura of super-fantastic surrealism even in their very communications. It’s avant garde and it’s popular with the audience and it’s fucking annoying.”
His Firm Direction Page 22
