it seems like the only friend you have is at the bottom of the bottle. She’s not going to like it if you come with me. She’ll feel outnumbered and put on the spot. You’ve gotta trust me, dude. I can get the job done, whether it’s getting this movie made or keeping our lead actress from doing something she will regret. We’re a team.”
“I don’t like it. I don’t like how any of this is playing out, and that’s before we’ve invested millions of dollars.” He grunted as I bumped the plain of his rock-hard abs with the back of my hand.
“You can see where my phone is at on that app you installed when I was putting every single dime I earned up my nose. You can see if I go anywhere other than the hotel, and I swear I’ll call you as soon as I get Maren up to a room. Hell, call the hotel and tell them to make sure the bar staff doesn’t serve me if you’re really that worried.” I wouldn’t blame him if he went to that extreme.
“Fuck no. That sounds like something my mother would do. I’m not trying to control you that way. I don’t want to be like her. I just don’t want to see you fail before you’ve had the chance to succeed. I don’t want your weird attachment to this woman to ruin you.” He stepped back and let me open the inside door that led to the walkway for the massive garage.
“The one thing I’ve learned is the only person responsible for the shitty things I’ve done, or will do, is me. No one else can be blamed for my bad behavior. And no one else gets to take credit for the stuff I manage to get right.” I lifted a hand, and he begrudgingly bumped the side of his fist against mine. “I’ll be in touch.”
He watched me go without saying anything else, but I could feel his tension follow me all the way to my car.
Maybe he was right and it wasn’t the best idea to run directly toward more than one temptation, but Maren had been there when I unconsciously reached out a hand for help. I felt like I needed to return the favor at the very least.
She also said she wanted to cry. I had no explanation for why I felt deep down in my gut that I should be the one who was there to wipe away her tears. All I knew was that she was hurting, and I wanted to be the one who made her feel better.
Maren
I SQUINTED AT the bartender. I was trying to bring his mustached face into focus and let him know how displeased I was that he wouldn’t serve me another martini no matter how nicely I asked. I was getting ready to tap into my rarely used diva persona and demand service. Fortunately, Salinger appeared at my elbow and cut off my tantrum before I became the type of person I hated most. He hauled me away from the bar with a mumbled apology to the bartender who, I now noticed, looked like he’d just stepped out of the roaring twenties. Salinger paid my bill and left a tip with enough zeros the guy had no choice but to excuse my bad behavior. It was hefty enough that I had no doubt Salinger was trying to pay for the guy’s silence to ensure no unflattering stories about my day drinking adventure leaked.
I could barely stand straight as Salinger steered me as inconspicuously as possible through the lobby of the opulent hotel toward the elevator. He kept a hand on the side of my head so that my face was obscured from any curious onlookers. He kept muttering quiet assurances under his breath as I pouted and bitched about everything under the sun.
I told him I hated him.
I told him I hated my ex.
I bitched about still being mad at Lennon for letting him hijack my flight.
I moaned that I didn’t want to be famous anymore.
I blabbed about how unfair it was that women in the industry got paid less than men.
I complained about missing my dad and feeling alone all the time.
I berated him for getting me fired all those years ago, even though we’d decided to let that situation go.
Pretty much, I unloaded a decade’s worth of angst and frustration on him in one long, drunken spiel that made no sense.