Fidelity Files (35 page)

But he stepped in front of us again. He eyed Jamie warily, as if to warn him with a look.
Beware, this girl isn't who she says she is.

"Ashlyn, isn't it?" the man asked.

Oh, holy shit.

Jamie looked from me to the man and then back at me again. The curiosity on his face was hard to miss.

I tried to take deep, steady breaths as I plastered a look of unfamiliarity on my face. As if the name Ashlyn was as foreign to me as the name of an unknown Russian ballerina listed in the program for
Swan Lake
.

"Sorry," I said with an apologetic smile. "You must have me confused with someone else."

I took another step toward the safety of the front door. Jamie followed quickly behind, clearly a little thrown off by the whole situation and probably eager to get the hell out of there so he could question me about it.

"I don't think so," the man said, taking hold of my arm.

I closed my eyes in silent defeat. This was it. The end was here. Haku Sushi on Main Street would forever be known as my Waterloo.

He looked toward Jamie. "I'm sorry to be the one who has to tell you this, but—"

And then, unexpectedly, Jamie's hand landed directly on top of his and he proceeded to "gently" remove it from my arm. "I think you have the wrong person," Jamie repeated, looking the man sternly in the eyes. "Why don't you leave her alone."

The man took a step back and threw his arms up in the air. "All right, man. It's your funeral. But don't say no one tried to warn ya."

And with that he turned around, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked back to his table.

"Wow, the fresh air feels nice. I feel better already," I said to Jamie, after we exited the restaurant and strolled through the parking lot. I was kind of hoping there might be a small, tiny, minuscule chance that he might not ask...

"So what was that about back there?"

Yeah, I knew it was a long shot.

I looked into his eyes, so filled with innocent curiosity. So longing to know everything and anything about me. Especially the things that explained why someone would mistake me for a girl named Ashlyn, and then try to deliver some type of warning about me. I felt a pang of guilt, followed by a very unavoidable realization.

I had to tell him.

If this were going to continue, if I were really going to give this thing a chance, he would have to know. I would have to be 100 percent honest with him.

I swallowed hard and leaned against the side of his car. "Jamie..." I began. I could feel the truth welling up inside of me. It was time. Time to come clean. Time to reveal everything and finally begin the truthful and trusting relationship I knew we could have if we were only given the chance.

"I honestly have no idea who that was," I finished with a sigh.

Okay, so maybe not quite
yet
.

"It's true. I do have one of those faces. People confuse me for other people
all
the time." I looked to him for a sign that he was buying it.

Jamie was either satisfied with my shameless lie or he didn't feel like pressing the issue. "Hmm," he responded. "Interesting. So how are you feeling? Do you want me to take you home?"

As much as I hated thinking about ending my night with Jamie early, I decided it would be smart to continue with the "coming down with something" charade, so as not to give him any other reasons to be suspicious of me. I nodded weakly and said, "I think that would be a good idea."

He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and touched my face. "Okay, cutie. But I have something to ask you first."

Oh, great,
I thought.
He's not going to let it go. He's going to keep drilling me until I crack. Until I crumble under the pressure and spill everything right here and now.

"What's that?" I asked casually.

"Well, my company's sending me to Paris in a couple of weeks and..."

"And you want me to water your plants?" I asked with a mocking smirk.

He laughed. "No. But wouldn't it be awkward if I did?"

I smiled, suddenly feeling very comforted by the light change in topic.

"Actually...I want you to come with me."

These are the moments in life when you would expect the expression on your face to be something along the lines of enthusiasm, excitement, exhilaration, one of those
E
words. But not for me. No, for me it was actually more of a muted stun. One of those jaw-dropping, not-quite-sure-if-it's-really-a-joke, waiting-for-the-punchline-to-come moments.

"C-c-come with you to Paris?" I finally got out.

He smiled and nodded his head with excitement. "
Oui.
"

"You're serious?" My tone was overflowing with doubt.

"Yes, I'm serious. Will you come?"

"Um, yeah!" I immediately responded, without thinking. Without reflecting. Without doing anything, really. And suddenly, my
maladie imaginaire
was nowhere to be found. I jumped up and down ecstatically like a little girl just told she was going to Disney World for the first time. And frankly, I couldn't remember the last time I had actually jumped up and down...well, without an aerobic jump rope in my hands.

"I can't believe this! Paris?"

"I'm glad you're so excited," Jamie mused.

"Are you kidding? It's Paris! I love Paris!"

Translation:
I love Paris when I'm not there with someone else's husband.

Jamie reached down and grabbed my hand. "Good." He stared into my eyes for a long moment, and then added, "Honestly, as soon as they told me I was going, I thought of you. For some reason, I just couldn't imagine being there without you. Is that crazy?"

I quietly shook my head. That was the craziest part of all: It wasn't crazy. And trust me, I know crazy.

"C'mon," he said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. "Let's get you home and into bed."

I beamed as I sat down in Jamie's car and he closed the door behind me. It was the smile of someone who didn't have all the evil spirits of Pandora's box chasing after her. The smile of someone who could just smile, knowing that the man she was falling in love with was taking her to Paris.

And right then, at that moment, in the parking lot of a trendy sushi restaurant in Santa Monica, the world slowed down, the door to my prison cell unlocked, and my heart finally opened.

THE TIMING couldn't have been more perfect.

I had a secret to tell Jamie and he had invited me to the most romantic city in the world. There wasn't a better time and place to tell him. Because strolling down the banks of the Seine in the city of love, with the moon overhead and the water down below, makes any dark and dirty secret sound like poetry.

Even mine.

Or so I prayed.

Besides, he couldn't be mad at me. Not when I would follow the shocking and unsettling story of my questionable past with the even more shocking and unsettling decision I had just made about my future.

The one I was now proud to share with all three of my friends.

"It's over," I said to an impatient John, an eager Sophie, and a seemingly bored Zoë, as we sat at the Urth Café and ate overpriced sandwiches and salads for lunch.

"You mean Jamie?" Zoë asked in a panic, suddenly no longer bored. "But I thought you were going to Paris with him!"

I shook my head. "No, we're still going." And then for a brief moment I got lost in another one of my daydreams about me and Jamie in Paris having wine and cheese picnics on the Eiffel Tower lawn. I had been having daydreams like this ever since he asked me to go. Although, I must admit, most of them were much more titillating than wine and cheese.

"What's over, then?" Sophie asked, concerned, snapping me back to the present.

"I'm quitting," I proclaimed. The sound of my own voice, announcing it aloud, sent a surge of vibrant energy through my body. It was the first time I had actually heard myself say it. Although I had made the decision a few nights ago, I'm not sure it had really sunk in yet.

I sat patiently, waiting for the anticipated round of "What?" or "Huh?" or "Are you serious?"

But surprisingly, it never came.

The three of them just sat there, staring at me, completely confused. Then they kind of looked at one another, hoping one member of the group might shed some light on this seemingly out-of-the-blue decision. But they all shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders to imply
This is news to me.

Sophie was the first to speak. "You're
quitting
quitting? As in..."

I nodded. "As in no more assignments. No more cheating husbands or fiancés or boyfriends. I'm done with it. All of it."

"But what about your quest? Your life mission? All that wannabe superhero stuff you told me about?" Sophie, seeing herself now as a direct beneficiary of my battle against evil, had recently become an avid supporter.

Of course her question had crossed my mind before. In fact, it had been the biggest thing holding me back during my decision-making process. Actually, it had been the
only
thing holding me back. I shook my head. "It's just gotten to be too much. I can't handle it anymore. Even Superman has to retire sooner or later and just say, 'well, I did my best. I hope I made an impact.'"

"I'm sure you made a huge impact!" Sophie offered supportively.

I smiled. "Thanks. I just realized that spending my entire life surrounded by cheating men wasn't giving me the opportunity to focus on the fact that there
are
men out there who
don't
cheat. It's like you manifest what you focus on, you know?"

"Like Eric." Sophie beamed.

I took a sip of ice water and swallowed hard, the cold water stinging my throat. "Right," I croaked. "Like Eric."

"So this is because of Jamie?" Zoë asked anxiously. I could tell she was trying to round up all the details before she let herself get excited. She probably would have made an excellent lawyer. Evidence first, then move for an emotional verdict.

"Not entirely," I said, taking a bite of my portabella mushroom sandwich.

"Not entirely?" John begged for clarification.

I shrugged, as if all of this came straight from
yesterday's
headlines and therefore it was no longer gossip-worthy news. "Well, I mean, there's a lot of stuff that's been going on lately. And then with all the stress and the secrets..."

"What secrets?" Sophie asked. "I thought you told us all your secrets."

The guilt instantly washed over me, knowing there were still some secrets that I would never have a chance to reveal. There was no way I could ever tell Sophie that I didn't go through with Eric's inspection.

I looked down at my plate, avoiding her glance. "I did. I mean, like secrets from my mom...from Jamie...from everyone else."

"So you're gonna come clean to everyone then?" Zoë confirmed with a doubtful inflection.

I balked slightly. I wasn't really planning on it. I had made a promise to myself to tell Jamie everything while we were in Paris, but as for the rest of them, I kind of hoped that if I could just from now on tell the truth, all the lies from the past would sort of be absolved. I didn't really want to start coming clean to
everyone
in my life. Well, because honestly, I wanted to
keep
them in my life.

"I'm not sure. I don't think so," I replied hesitantly. "It'll just be nice not to have to tell any more lies...you know, from now on."

"Well, what will you do?" Sophie asked. "Like for money and stuff?"

Ah, there it was. The million-dollar question...literally. I still had no clue. I sighed and took another bite of my overpriced sandwich, wondering how long I would be able to actually continue biting into overpriced sandwiches. "I don't know. I have enough money saved up to last me about six months. I guess I'll take that time to figure it out."

The three of them nodded – almost simultaneously. I could tell this was uncharted territory for all of them. My
real
problems were still fairly new and unfamiliar. They were used to being summoned for the typical "this person in my office drives me crazy"
fake
pep talk, but this was different. And they had no idea what to say.

So I spoke again. Listing all the things I had been sorting out since the other night. "I'm going to take one last assignment, and then after that I'm . . ." I paused, letting the anxiety, the ecstasy, and the sheer terror of my next word fully wash over me. "Done."

Sophie took a sip of her Diet Coke. "What happens when people call?"

Ah, yes... another detail I had already gone over in my mind. "I guess I'm just throwing away the cell phone. Disconnecting the service. Whatever. I have to keep it long enough to tie up loose ends, but then...it's going in my trash compactor. Along with so many other things."

I was proud of how on top of everything I was. I doubted there was a question they could ask that I hadn't already thought of and made an informed decision about.

"What about that Raymond Jacobs guy?" Zoë asked. "Have you figured out what you'll do about him?"

Okay...well, that was the
one
issue I hadn't quite yet resolved. I lowered my head. "I still don't know what to do about him. I mean, I'm quitting, so it's not like he can ruin any of my future assignments, but he knows where my family lives. Hell, he's already contacted Hannah."

"You could just come clean to your family," Sophie suggested again, still holding on to her idea that honesty is the best policy.

I shook my head. "No. No way. They would disown me. And I could never explain that to Hannah. She's so naive and just starting to get into boys. Besides, one of the biggest reasons for getting out of this is to avoid them ever finding out. So essentially, it would be counterproductive to tell them."

Sophie nodded reluctantly, still not entirely convinced.

I blew out a loud gust of air. "Well, I'm sure something will come to me. It has to." And just as the words were uttered, I felt discouraged. Would I actually have to sleep with that slimeball just to save my family from the truth? And what's to say he would even keep his end of the bargain? There had to be another way. And I was determined to find it.

"So what's this last assignment, then?" Zoë asked.

The words "last assignment" rang in my ears like church bells on a Sunday morning. Was it really happening? Was this really the
last
one? The whole idea just seemed so surreal.

"I don't know yet," I replied. "I'm meeting with her tomorrow. Some woman named Karen Howard or something. She was very vague on the phone. So I guess I'll find out."

THE NEXT day I got a call from my mom as I was on my way to Karen Howard's house for our pre-assignment meeting.

"Are you busy?" she asked sweetly.

I looked at the navigation screen. It read:
Time to Destination: approx. 7 minutes.

"I have a few minutes," I replied into my headset.

"Well, I've been thinking," she began.

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, I knew it wasn't going to be good. Recently, whenever my mom spent time "thinking," she almost always ended up in hysterics at the end of it. Blaming herself for my father's multiple affairs, questioning her ability to ever love again, doubting the likelihood that anyone will ever love
her.
It was never a joyful thing when my mom called me up to think. And I feared today would be no different.

"About what?" I asked breezily, praying that she'd simply been thinking about joining a gym and wanted to get my opinion of which one was better. Today was supposed to be a happy day. A celebrated affair...so to speak. I was on my way to my
very
last client meeting, and I selfishly didn't want to take any of my mother's baggage with me.

"About your father," she said uneasily.

And here it goes.

I took a deep breath. "Mom, I'm sorry. I'm running into a meeting, I don't really think it's the best time to get into this. I'm going to have to—"

"I think you should call him," she calmly interrupted.

I swore I must have misunderstood her. "Huh?"

"Your dad. You should call him. Talk to him again. Try to rebuild a relationship with him."

My mind kind of zoned out just then, and I had to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of me. "Why would I do that?" I asked her.

"Because you've been angry long enough. And I believe it's having an adverse effect on you. Now it's time to forgive."

"Forgive? After everything he did?"

My mom exhaled loudly. "He didn't do anything to
you,
sweetie. He loves you. He misses you. It was unfair of you to cut him out of your life like you did. No matter how bad of a husband he was to
me,
he's still your father. And he was always very good at being that."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. From my mother of all people! She was actually taking
his
side. What was the matter with her? Did she have no self-respect at all?

"Mom," I began, determined to convince her of my motivations – obviously without revealing
all
of my motivations. "He hurt you. And by hurting you, he hurt me. And that's reason enough to keep him from my life."

"Jen," my mom said warningly, "I don't think that's a healthy attitude. You have to let go of your anger. You don't want to end up like Julia, do you?"

"What?" I immediately responded. Since when did Julia find her way into this conversation? This was a discussion about me, my mother, and my father. Not about my father's first wife's daughter. How did she even factor in? "What does Julia have to do with it?" I asked in a snotty voice.

"Well, you know how she is," my mom explained gently. "She's bitter, and overprotective of her daughter, and, well, for the most part . . . angry and unhappy because she never learned to let go. Do you really want to end up like that? Because that's what happens when you hang on to resentment."

Wait a minute,
I thought. Julia is angry and unhappy? About what? And who does she have to resent? I mean, I know she's never really liked
me,
but I always assumed it was because I was the half sister. The unwanted sibling from her father's new wife. I couldn't really blame her for that. If my dad had a child with this next wife of his, I would probably have a hard time taking a liking to him or her, too. And it would be even worse in this case, because his
new
wife is the last woman he cheated with when he was still married to my mother. And...

Oh ...my...God.

My foot suddenly slammed on the brakes, and I pulled the car over to the side of the road. I struggled to take deep breaths. How could I have missed it all this time? How could I have not put all the pieces together? Especially when they had been there all along, lying right in front of me.

"Jen?" my mom's voice came through the line. "Are you all right?"

I ignored her question. My mind was stuck on a completely different path. "Mom," I began in a wobbly voice.

"Yes?"

"Did Dad cheat on Julia's mom, too?"

"Yes," she said, as if it were obvious. "I thought you knew that."

"No!" I nearly cried. "How could I have known that? No one ever told me. How would I know?"

My mom laughed weakly at my delayed realization. "Why else do you think Julia was so mean to you as a child? And she really never liked me either until after the divorce."

"You mean he cheated on her...
with you
?" I shrieked.

I took my mom's silence as a yes. And actually, I much preferred the silent response. I was speechless. It felt like a curtain had just been lifted, revealing a room in my house that I didn't even know was there to begin with. And it was full of new and interesting things to explore and play with... and analyze!

"But if you were the one he cheated with, why would she want anything to do with us now? She hangs out with you all the time!"

My mom chuckled softly to herself. "Ever heard the phrase 'Misery loves company'? She clung to me after my divorce was final. I think she felt like we were finally on the same page. She's a very wounded little girl under all her thick layers. I'm glad I could be there for her."

"So
that's
why she hangs out with you instead of Dad?" I asked skeptically.

"Honey," my mom began in a gentle tone, "Julia hasn't spoken to Dad in ten years."

"What?" My voice strained as I tried to condense ten years of memories into one fleeting moment of thought.