Le Deux. I loved that job. I was proud of it and had high hopes for what I could accomplish there, but there was no way I could succeed with the stress of constantly being watched.
I later learned that my co-workers, ostensibly looking for their fifteen minutes of fame, talked freely to the reporters about me. They spoke about what I was like to work with, how often Romaine came in to eat with me, and they speculated that we’d surely be together forever. We were the perfect couple after all.
I went back to my mom’s house and took refuge until everything blew over. The problem was that it never did. Romaine used the press to send me messages. They stood on my mom’s lawn and yelled, “He still loves you, Tara!” “Are you going to go back to him?” It was like seventh grade to the nth degree.
They were lying in wait every time I left the house. One day I was at the store, shaking a cantaloupe to hear if the seeds rattled—everyone knows that’s the sign of a perfectly ripe melon. I was shaking away when I heard the whizzing of a camera. The next day, The Hollywood Insider ran a picture of me looking like I was practically juggling the thing. They titled the article: “Heinzie Shakes Her Melons, But There’s No Romaine in Her Produce Aisle!”
That was the day I started to search the internet for jobs outside of California. I stumbled onto a listing for a pastry chef opening at a lodge in rural Oregon. I gave them my mom’s cell phone number, claiming it belonged to my current boss, and once they’d gotten a glowing report from her, I was offered the job.
With the help of Mom’s neighbor, Sheila, I snuck out of the house at three o’clock one morning. Sheila met me in the alley and drove me to Mom’s friend Tina’s house. Tina handed me the keys to an old SUV she’d bought from her gardener and I was on my way to a new life.
I looked over my shoulder the entire way to Oregon feeling like I’d just entered the witness relocation program. But instead of fleeing from the Gambino crime family or the Mexican mob, I was running from reporters.
With the address of the rental Tina secured for me safely in my pocket, I spent the entire eleven-hour drive fantasizing about my new life. I considered shaving my head and getting a really bad fake tan to disguise myself. It turns out slightly darker hair color and wearing very little makeup was all it took to not be recognized. Well, that and the fact that no one here ever thought to look for a famous person among their ranks.
I’ve had enough time living in anonymity to realize this is the only kind of life I want. I never want to be a famous person again. Unfortunately, the only way I can keep my life here is to weather the storm of Romaine’s presence and hope the citizens of Spartan keep treating me like they always have.
When James comes back inside with the firewood, I announce, “I need to get to a place where I have telephone reception. I have to make a couple of calls.”
He doesn’t ask who I’m going to call. He just says, “As soon as Billy gets back, I’ll drive you closer to the lodge.”
When Billy returns, he’s not alone. My mom and Ruby are with him. My mom launches herself at me like she hasn’t seen me in a year. “Tara! What in the world is going on?”
“You would not believe the number of reporters who are here,” Ruby adds.
“Do you know where I can get some rotten eggs?” my mom asks her.
Ruby shakes her head. “No, but we could always pelt them with pinecones. They’re prickly as all get out.”
“I don’t think any of us should antagonize them,” James interrupts. Then he turns to me and says, “You want to go make those calls now?”
“What calls?” my mom wants to know.
“I’m going to call Romaine and tell him to leave,” I say.
“Do you think he’ll listen?” my mom asks nervously.
“I have no idea. All I know is that tomorrow is Thanksgiving and the first of the Tattler articles about me will hit the newsstands. I can’t handle that and have Romaine here. It’s too much.”
Ruby announces, “He’s booked three suites until Monday morning.”
“Three? Why in the world does he need three suites?”
“I would assume