Escape (Part Three) (2 page)

“This is
some
mess,” she said. “My son’s missing chunks of his memory and his girlfriend --”

“Ex-girlfriend.”

“His ex-girlfriend is pregnant with my...” She picked up her cigarette. “With my grandchild.”

“Chace will remember everything soon,” I said.

Bonnie scoffed. “You know that, how?”

I ducked my head.

She stuck the cigarette in her mouth before yanking it out again.

She moved toward the back door, dark blue curtains hanging over the window. With two fingers she peeked outside. Instantly there was movement, footsteps beating against concrete, cameras flashing towards the door.

“Who was that?” one of the cameramen said.

Bonnie threw the cigarette in the trash. “Well, now is a good time to quit smoking.”

She left me with my hands in my lap.

I could head upstairs and check on Chace but I wasn’t ready to see him. If he was stuck in this mindset for months I would be trapped, my lie stretching longer than intended, carrying over from upstate New York to the city. I couldn’t imagine what my co-workers would think, the other three assistants huddled together around one desk as they stared at me and scowled. They never liked Jennifer either but there was nothing lower than a girl who lured her boss away from the mother of his child.

I didn’t want to think what my sister would say.

Upstairs, two nurses floated around Mr. Evans’s bedside, checking the chart hanging from the end of his bed, administrating a string of liquid-filled shots. Unlike Dr. Samuel they had no choice. They waded through the paparazzi, heads down and shoving them away as they slunk through the crack of the front door. Flustered, they swallowed their irritation and smacked on a smile.

“This is going to be a weird question,” I said, my voice filling the room. The nurses looked at me. “Would either of you happen to have an extra pair of scrubs?”

***

I was sweating by the time I reached the town. The nurse’s – Hannah’s – cat patterned top clung to me like a second skin, hair dangling in front of my forehead, wet and curled. I caught a glimpse of myself in a storefront window. I looked like I jogged all the way there.

With scrubs and a ponytail I was able to evade the paparazzi, large black sunglasses covering my eyes as I focused my gaze on the ground and kept moving. They hurled hundreds of questions at me – “Are you taking care of Mr. Evans or has Chace Evans had a psychotic break?” and “What do you know about the mistress? Is she really barely legal?” – I bit my tongue and kept my answers in my throat.

It was early afternoon and the town was littered with people. Couples with twin strollers, or with toddlers, or lacing their sweaty fingers as they shared an ice cream cone or lazily read side-by-side. I was surrounded by them.

The sickness in my stomach turned solid, like a boulder, weighing me down as I plopped on a bench and thought about New York. The city was filled with singles. Girls and boys like me, navigating the dating pool through mobile apps and glances over glasses of beer. We were all looking for something uncomplicated. Someone you didn’t have to worry about taking home to your family, someone you could call up on a Friday night without hearing they have plans, that all they want is you.

Ideality
. We craved it. Constructing dating profiles with our “likes” and “dislikes”. What we wanted in a partner and what we couldn’t stand.
You should message me if
.

None of this would’ve happened if I’d gone that route. Instead I cloaked myself in anonymity and wound up smitten for someone I should hate, who I did hate, until he fucked me and I saw stars.

I was sitting in the corner of a café when Evie and Jennifer walked in, Evie now in shorts and a t-shirt, Jennifer wearing the same outfit as before. She was no longer wrapped in rage but with a sense of caution -
Don’t look at me. -
which drew the eyes of everyone in the room.

I shrank in my chair, hoping to disappear amongst the wallpaper but Jennifer caught me. She stared until I was forced to meet her eyes, an alpha animal honing in on her beta prey. Evie slapped her arm and passed me a smile before Jennifer jerked her head towards the cashier.

I was hoping to leave before they received their drinks but they approached before I could move. Evie sat down first, coaxing Jennifer to a chair by tugging on her blouse.

“Okay,” Evie said, pasting on a bright grin. “Can we all agree not to throw any punches?”

It was Jennifer she should’ve been concerned about. She sat across from me, her hand tight around her cup of coffee, eyes fixed on mine.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t splash this drink in your face.”

“
Jennifer
,” Evie warned.

“Because I didn’t steal Chace away from you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You really think I’m an idiot.”

“No, I’m telling the truth. Nothing happened before you broke up with him.”

Her hand tightened around her cup. Evie sat up straight.

“Give me your phone,” Jennifer said.

“Why?”

“I will splash this drink in your face in ten seconds if you don’t hand over your goddamn phone.”

I glanced at Evie. She was positioned so she could grab Jennifer’s wrist if she tried to fling her drink, but the both of us knew nothing would stop her completely. Reluctantly, I handed my phone over.

“Unlock it,” she said.

I did. Her fingers flew over the screen.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Shut-up.”

“What are you looking for?” Evie asked.

I passed her a small smile.
Thanks
.

Jennifer tossed my phone on the table and it violently danced against the wood.

“Hey!” I said.

She scowled. “Fuck you. I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.” She turned to Evie. “I was looking for a little app called MatchU. Remember what I was telling you earlier? It’s the app your brother used to flirt with anonymous women. One of them, he hooked up with.”

“There’s thousands of people who use MatchU,” I said, my throat slowly closing up. “Even if I did download it, there’s a one-in-a-million chance of me running into Chace.”

“Then how the fuck did the two of you end up together?” she said, leaning over the table. “Enlighten me.”

I took a gulp of iced tea to buy me some time to think. “After you broke up with him, we went out to dinner.”

“Bullshit. Chace would never take you to dinner.”

“He didn’t take me, I swindled him into it.”

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“
Yes
.”

I threw up my hands. “I told him his agent wanted to speak to him but when he showed up it was just me. We talked and drank. We both got a little drunk and things happened.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “And what? Your magical pussy made him fall in love with you?”

“He’s not in love with me. We’re just….”

“Fucking regularly? Enough for an outsider to think you’re dating?”

I sighed. “This is one huge misunderstanding.”

“Then why the fuck aren’t you explaining yourself?”

“I’m
trying
.”

Jennifer took a sip of her coffee, hot liquid burning her tongue but she didn’t flinch. “Go on then,” she said. “Continue trying.”

My sub-conscious was screaming at me -
Tell the goddamn truth
– but I was trembling beneath Jennifer’s sharp gaze, her finger tapping impatiently on the table as Evie stared at the side of my face.

“We had sex for the first time
after
you two broke up. Chace wanted to see me again and I stood him up because I wasn’t looking for anything serious. You know how he is --”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” I hissed. Jennifer clasped her drink. “Chace doesn’t want something he knows he can easily get. He wants to work for it. He came to my house at some ungodly hour, angry that I stood him up and forced me to come with him to see his family.”

“And you had a change of heart?”

“No…Yes. I guess seeing him outside of the city, outside of work, made me have a change of heart.”

“And just like that,” she snapped her fingers. “You’re dating?”

My throat tightened. “Yes.”

Jennifer glanced at Evie. She was toying with her drink, twisting her cup on the wooden table as she carefully watched the two of us, arms and hands ready to grab any limbs that may go flying.

“I don’t believe this,” Jennifer whispered to herself. She took another drink. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “He never even gave you a second thought, you were his assistant for Christ’s sake. A non-entity.”

“Jennifer,” Evie said.

“What?” she snapped. “I’m just telling the truth.”

Her words stung more than her slug to my jaw but I kept myself together, wrapping my lips around my straw and averting my eyes. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and reflecting off the water. The sort of day that was being slowly ruined by Jennifer Mitchel.

A
non-entity
. I’d never been called that before. It was worse than being called a “whore” or a “mistress” or a “home wrecker”. At least the latter existed. You were alive and you couldn’t be ignored. But a non-entity? Did Chace really think that little of me?

“Look,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “This whole thing is freaking him out.”

Jennifer tilted her head to the side. “Do I look like I care?”

“Can’t you just call off the paparazzi?”

“No.”

My face fell. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Evie leaned towards Jennifer. “What do you want?”

Jennifer glanced between the two of us. “Two things.” She looked at me. “Whatever’s going on between you and Chace stops right now. If what you’re saying is true – which I don’t believe at all – then you’ve only been fucking him for a couple of days. Your “relationship” or whatever you want to call it is still in the disposable stage so, dispose of it. Stop fucking him. He’ll stop fucking you. Go back to doing your job that doesn’t include afternoon blowjobs.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Second.
 
I want you to talk to someone.”

My eyes flickered towards Evie. She furrowed her eyebrows. “Like a therapist?” I said.

“No, you idiot,” Jennifer spat. “With Cheryl Collins.”

Evie sat up in her chair.

Cheryl Collins spit out celebrity gossip on her vlog every Wednesday, millions of viewers tuning in to watch her red-head bob in front of a camera. Her favorite subject: men who cheat and the women who enable them. She was ruthless, digging into the mistresses’ past with an unrelenting shovel, dragging the quiet ones into the public eye until they were forced to make a statement.

I shook my head. “No.”

Jennifer shrugged. “Then I can't help you.”

“I'll leave Chace alone.”

“But that's not all I'm asking for, is it?”

Jennifer wasn't used to hearing the word "no". I could tell by the twitch in her upper lip and the way she stuffed her arms over her chest, bottom lip sticking out in a childish pout. She thought she had me cornered but in truth, the cameras didn't bother me too much. I could hide in plain view, swapping one pair of scrubs for the other. I could even take up smoking, the smoke clouding my sunglassed face as I pushed through the crowd. It was the Evans’s who were bothered by them and as much as I cared, it wasn't enough for me to fall into the clutches of a woman itching to end me.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not going to do it.”

“Well then,” Jennifer stuck her straw between her teeth. “Our conversation is over.”

***

Evie and I walked back to the estate, our shoulders bumping into one another as we sucked down cool bottles of water. Jennifer was staying in town, at a small bed and breakfast owned by a widow who’d never seen her movies and didn’t care that she fancied herself an actress. (“She said Eva Gardener was the last true actress,” Jennifer told Evie with a roll of her eyes. “Not even Elizabeth Taylor.”) She was supposed to leave tomorrow evening, but Evie assured me that wasn’t the truth.

“She’s going to stay until you give into her,” she said. “Or until Chace breaks down and does something stupid.”

I imagined Chace pouring pots of boiling water from his bedroom window, the scorching liquid burning the paparazzo’s, their screams swallowed up by the camera clicks around them.

“I didn’t know you two were friends,” I said.

The corner of Evie’s mouth lifted. “We’re not, but someone had to calm her down before her publicist called People and gave them their scandal of the week: ‘The entire Evans’ clan wants Jennifer Mitchel to get an abortion.’”

I was sweating again by the time we reached the estate. We stood down the street and watched the photographers and reporters, lounging on the front lawn as if they owned it, their knees kicked up in the air, heads resting on bags of their equipment, eating, chatting, destroying the foliage. A few carried small plastic bags around their wrists for trash, but others balled up their wrappers and tinfoil and tossed it over their shoulders, silver, white, red, and yellow plastic littering the green garden.

“My mom’s going to have a fit when she sees this,” Evie said.

“We should call the cops,” I said.

“Tried that when my father first got sick. They scattered for a few hours and came back. When we called the cops again they said they had better things to do. Murders to solve.”

Evie wiped her hand across her forehead, a film of sweat collecting on the back of her hand. From where we were standing the swarm of photographers seemed intimidatingly large, like a crowd at a music festival.

I sucked in a deep breath and pushed my sunglasses up the bridge of my nose. “Do you think you can handle them again?”

Evie threw me a sideways smile. “We don’t really have a choice.”

I was closing the curtains when Chace knocked on my bedroom door. His bare feet sunk into the carpet as he pushed his hands in his pockets and surveyed my room. Nothing had changed since the last time he was there, but he probably couldn’t remember pushing me against the closed door, his teeth sinking into my bottom lip as he split it open. He drunk in every crack in the wall, every wrinkle of my sheets, the tip of his foot catching on my suitcase shoved clumsily beneath the bed.