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Foremailupdatesontheauthor,clickhereTheauthorandpublisherhaveprovidedthise-booktoyouforyourpersonaluseonly.Youmaynotmakethise-bookpubliclyavailableinanyway.Copyrightinfringementisagainstthelaw.Ifyoubelievethecopyofthise-bookyouarereadinginfringesontheauthor’scopyright,pleasenotifythepublisherat:us.macmillanusa.com/piracyFormygrandparents,HermanandInezDetering
Youleftusmanygiftstocarryforward,andIamthankfulforallofthem—mostespecially,thesedays:yourhugs,yourwarmthandkindness,andallmymemoriesofachildhoodspentscamperingaroundyourTexasranch.
Imissyouboth—butinthebest,mostgratefulway.One
MYMOTHER’SDYINGwishwasformetotakeavacation.
“Justdoit,okay?”she’dsaid,tuckingalockofhairbehindmyear.“Justbookatripandgo.Likenormalpeopledo.”
Ihadn’ttakenavacationineightyears.
ButI’dsaid,“Okay,”thewayyoudowhenyoursickmomasksforsomething.ThenI’dadded,asifwewerenegotiating,“I’lltakeonevacation.”
Ofcourse,Ihadn’trealizeditwasherdyingwishatthetime.Ithoughtwewerejustmakingmiddle-of-the-nighthospitalconversation.
Butthen,suddenly,itwasthenightafterherfuneral.Icouldn’tsleep,andIkeptthrashingaroundinmybed,andthatmomentkeptcomingbacktome.Thewayshe’dheldmygazeandsqueezedmyhandtosealthedeal—asiftakingavacationcouldbesomethingthatmattered.
Nowitwasthreeinthemorning.Myfuneralclothesweredrapedoverachair.I’dbeenwaitingtofallasleepsincemidnight.
“Fine.Fine,”Isaid,outloudinbed,tonoone.
ThenIbelly-crawledacrossthecoverstofindmylaptoponthefloor,and,inthebluelightofthescreen,eyeshalf-closed,Ididaquicksearchfor“cheapestplanetickettoanywhere,”foundasitethathadalistofnonstopdestinationsforseventy-sixdollars,scrolledlikeIwasplayingroulette,landedrandomlyonToledo,Ohio—andclicked“purchase.”
TwoticketstoToledo.Nonrefundable,itwouldturnout.SomekindofValentine’sDaylovebirdspackage.
Done.
Promisefulfilled.
Thewholeprocesstooklessthanaminute.
NowallIhadtodowasforcemyselftogo.
BUTISTILLcouldn’tsleep.
Atfiveinthemorning,justastheskywasstartingtolighten,Igaveup,draggedallmysheetsandblanketsoffthebed,shuffledtothewalk-incloset,curleduponmysideinamakeshiftnestonthefloor,andconkedout,atlast,inthewindowlessdarkness.
WhenIwoke,itwasfourintheafternoon.
Ijumpedupinapanicandstumbledaroundmyroom—buttoningmyshirtwrongandkickingmyshinonthefootboard—asifIwerelateforwork.
Iwasn’tlateforwork,though.
Myboss,Glenn,hadtoldmenottocomein.Hadforbiddenmetocomein,actually.Foraweek.
“Don’teventhinkaboutcomingtowork,”he’dsaid.“Juststayhomeandgrieve.”
Stayhome?Andgrieve?
NowaywasIdoingthat.
Especiallysince—nowthatI’dboughttheseticketstoToledo—Ineededtofindmyboyfriend,Robby,andforcehimtocomewithme.
Right?
NobodygoestoToledoalone.EspeciallynotforValentine’sDay.
Itallseemedveryurgentinthemoment
Inanotherstateofmind,IcouldhavesimplytextedRobbytostopbyafterworkandjustpleasantlyinvitedhimtocomewithme.Overdinneranddrinks.Likeasaneperson.
Maybethatwouldhavebeenabetterplan.
Orledtoabetterresult.
ButIwasn’tasanepersonatthemoment.Iwasapersonwho’dsleptinhercloset
BythetimeImadeittotheofficethatafternoon—justastheworkdaywasending—myhairwashalf-brushed,myshirtwashalftuckedin,andmyfuneralpantsuitstillhadaprogramwithmymom’shighschoolgraduationphotoonthecoverfoldedupinthejacketpocket.
Iguessit’sweirdtoheadintoworkthedayafteryourmom’sfuneral.
I’dresearchedit,andthemostcommonbereavementleavefromworkwasthreedays—thoughGlennwasmakingmetakefive.OtherthingsI’dresearchedasmysleeplessnightworeon:“howtosellyourparents’house,”“funthingstodoinToledo”(asurprisinglylonglist),and“howtobeatinsomnia.”
Alltosay:Iwasn’tsupposedtobehere.
That’swhyIhesitatedatGlenn’sofficedoor.Andthat’showIwoundupaccidentallyeavesdropping—andoverhearingRobbyandGlenntalkingaboutme.
“Hannah’sgoingtoshitanactualbrickwhenyoutellher”wasthefirstthingIheard.Robby’svoice.
“MaybeI’llmakeyoutellher.”ThatwasGlenn.
“Maybeyouwanttorethinkitentirely.”
“There’snothingtorethink.”
Andthatwasenough.Ipushedopenthedoor.“Whatareyourethinkingentirely?Who’sgoingtotellmewhat?WhyexactlyamIgoingtoshitabrick?”
Later,I’dglimpsemyselfinthemirrorandgetaspecificvisualforwhatthetwoofthemsawinthatmomentastheyturnedtowardmyvoice—andlet’sjustsayitinvolvedbloodshoteyes,halfmyshirtcollarcrumpledundermyjacketlapel,andasignificantamountoftear-smearedeyemakeupleftoverfromthedaybefore.
Alarming.ButGlennwasn’teasilyalarmed.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”hesaid.“Getout.”
Healsowasn’tacoddler.
Istakedmyterritoryinthedoorwaywithapowerstance.“IneedtotalktoRobby.”
“Youcandothatoutsideofwork.”
Hewasn’twrong.Wewerepracticallylivingtogether.Whenweweren’tworking,thatis.Whichwasmostofthetime.
ButwhatwasIsupposedtodo?Gostandintheparkinglot?
“Fiveminutes,”Ibargained.
“Nope,”Glennsaid.“Gohome.”
“Ineedtogetoutofmyhouse,”Isaid.“Ineedsomethingtodo.”
ButGlenndidn’tcare.“Yourmotherjustdied,”hesaid.“Gobewithyourfamily.”
“Shewasmyfamily,”Isaid,carefultokeepmyvoicesteady.
“Exactly,”Glennsaid,likeI’dmadehispointforhim.“Youneedtogrieve.”
“Idon’tknowhowtodothat,”Isaid.
“Nobodydoes,”Glennsaid.“Youwantamanual?”
Igavehimalook.“Ifyou’vegotone.”
“Yourmanualis:Getoutofhere.”
ButIshookmyhead.“IknowyouthinkIneedto”—Ihesitatedforasecond,notexactlysurewhathethoughtIneededtodo—“sitaroundandthinkaboutmymom,orwhatever.…But,honestly,I’mfine.”ThenIadded,andthiswasn’tuntrue:“Weweren’teventhatclose.”
“Youwerecloseenough,”Glennsaid.“Scram.”
“Justletme…filethings.Orsomething.”
“No.”
IwishIcouldsaythatGlenn—builtlikeatankwithabaldheadfreckledlikesomebodyhadsprinkledthemfromashaker—wasoneofthosebosseswhoseemedgruffbutreallyhadyourbestinterestatheart.
ButGlennmostlyhadGlenn’sbestinterestatheart.
AndGlennhadclearlydecidedIwasn’tfitforworkrightnow.
Igotit.
Ithadbeenastrangetime.I’dbarelymadeithomefromanassignmentinDubaiwhenIgotacallfromtheERthatmymotherhadcollapsedinacrosswalk.
Suddenly,Iwasarrivingatthehospitaltofindthatshecouldn’tstopthrowingup,andshedidn’tknowwhatyearitwasorwhowaspresident.Thengettingadiagnosisfromadoctorwithlipstickonherteeththatmymomhadend-stagecirrhosis—andtryingtoarguewiththedoctor,saying,“Shedoesn’tdrinkanymore!Shedoesnotdrinkanymore!”
Then,thatevening,goingtoherplacetogetherfuzzysocksandfavoritethrowblanketandfindingherhiddenstashofvodka.Franticallypouringeverylastbottledownthekitchensinkandrunningthefaucettowashawaythesmell,thinkingallthewhilethatmybiggestchallengewasgoingtobegettinghertoturnherlifearound.
Again.
Assumingtherewouldbemoretime.
Likewealljustalwaysdo.
ButshewasgonebeforeIevenfullyrealizedthatlosingherwaspossible.
Itwasalot.EvenGlenn,whohadtheemotionalintelligenceofajackhammer,understoodthat.
ButthelastthingIwantedtodowasstayhomeandthinkaboutit
Iwasgoingtotalkhimintolettingmecomebacktoworkifitkilledusboth
AndthenIwasgoingtotalkRobbyintocomingtoToledo.
Andthenmaybe,justmaybe,Icouldgetsomesleep.
Inapowermovethatkindofdaredeitherofthemtostopme,IwalkedfartherintotheofficeandsatdownintheemptychairacrossfromGlenn’sdesk.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Iasked,shiftingthesubjectalittle.“Areyouhavingameeting?”
“We’rehavingaconversation,”Glennsaid,likeheknewI’deavesdropped.
“Youdon’thaveconversations,boss,”Isaid.“Youonlyhavemeetings.”
Robby,handsomeaseverwithblacklashesedginghisblueeyes,metmygazelikeI’dmadeagoodpoint.
Itookasecondtoappreciatehim.MymomhadbeensoimpressedthefirsttimeIintroducedher.“Helookslikeanastronaut,”she’dsaid—andthatwasexactlyright.Healsohadabuzzcut,droveavintagePorsche,andwaswildlyoverconfident.Inthebest,sexiest,mostastronautishway.Mymomwasimpressedwithmefordatinghim.Iwasimpressedwithmyself,tobehonest.
RobbywasnotjustthecoolestpersonI’deverdated—hewasthecoolestpersonI’devermet
Butthatwasn’tthepoint.IturnedbacktoGlenn.“Whatisit,exactly,thatyou’regoingtomakeRobbytellme?”
Glennsighed,likeIguesswe’redoingthis.Thenhesaid,“Iwasgoingtowaituntilyouhad”—helookedmeover—“atleasttakenashower…butwe’reopeningabranchinLondon.”
Ifrowned.
“AbranchinLondon?”Iasked.“Howisthatbadnews?”
ButGlennkeptgoing.“Andwe’regoingtoneedsomebodyto—”
Myhandflewup.“I’lltakeit!I’vegotit!I’min!”
“—setuptheofficethereandgetitestablished,”Glennfinished.“Fortwoyears.”
Hello?London?GoingtoLondonwithahugeprojectthatwouldrequiresomuchworkaholismthatnothingelsewouldevenmatterfortwowholeyears?
Screwthevacation.Signmeup.
Justthethoughtsentreliefbreakingovermelikewaves:Alife-obliteratingworkprojectlikethatcouldpotentiallydistractmefromallmyproblemsforever.
Yes,please.
Butthat’swhenInoticedRobbyandGlennlookingatmefunny.
“What?”Iasked,glancingbetweenthem.
“It’sgoingtobeoneofthetwoofyou…”Glennsaidthen,gesturingbetweenRobbyandme.
Ofcourseitwas.IwastheprotégéeGlennhadbeengroomingforyears,andRobbywasthesexyhotshothe’dstolenawayfromthecompetition.Whoelsewouldevenbeintherunning?
Istilldidn’tseetheproblem.
“Andthatmeans,”Glennwenton,“thatwhoeverdoesn’tgowillneedtostayhere.”
Butthat’showmuchIlovedmyjob:Eventheprospectofatwo-yearseparationfrommyboyfrienddidn’tfazeme.Like,atall.
That’salsohowdesperateIwastogetbacktowork.
“I’llannouncetheLondondecisionafterNewYear’s,”Glennsaid.“Anduntilthen,consideryourselvesincompetitionforthespot.”
Therewasnocompetition.Iwasgettingthatspot.
“It’sfine,”Isaidwithashrug,likeWhat?“We’vecompetedbefore.”InoddedatRobby.“Welikecompeting.Andtwoyearsisnotthatlong,nomatterwhowins.Wecanmakethatwork,right?”
IfI’dbeenpayingbetterattention,ImighthavenoticedthatRobbywaslesseagerabouteverythingthanIwas.ButIwasalittletoodesperateinthatmomenttothinkaboutanyonebutmyself.
Iwasafraidtofeelthefullimpactoflosingmymother.Iwasterrifiedtogetstuckathomewithnothingtodistractme.Iwastunnel-visionedonescaping—preferablytoadistantcountry—assoonaspossible.
Nextweek,RobbyandIwerescheduledforathree-weekassignmentinMadridtogether,butIwasn’tevensurehowI’dmakeitthatlong.
First,Ihadtosurvivemyremainingbereavementdays.
“FromwhatIjusteavesdropped,”Isaid,gesturingbackatthedoorway,“Iwasexpectingbadnews.”
“Thatwasn’tthebadnews,”Robbysaid,glancingatGlenn.
IlookedoveratGlenn,too.“What’sthebadnews?”
Glennrefusedtohesitate.“ThebadnewsisI’mtakingyouoffMadrid.”
Lookingback,meshowingupattheofficelikethat—allwild-eyedandbed-headyanddesperate—probablywasn’thelping.MaybeIshould’veseenitcoming.
ButIdidn’t.
“OffMadrid?”Iasked,thinkingImusthaveheardwrong.
Robbyfixedhisgazeatthewindow.
“OffMadrid,”Glennconfirmed.Thenheadded,“You’renotintherightheadspace.”
“But…”Ididn’tevenknowhowtoprotest.HowcouldIsay,That’stheonlythingIhavetolookforwardto?
Glennshovedhishandsintohispockets.Robbystaredoutthewindow.
Finally,Iasked,“Whoareyousendinginmyplace?”
GlennglancedatRobby.Thenhesaid,“I’msendingTaylor.”
“You’resending…Taylor?”
Glennnodded.“She’sournextbestthing,”hesaid,likethatshouldsettleit.
Itdidn’t.
“You’resendingmybestfriendandmyboyfriendawayandleavingmealoneforthreeweeks?Justdaysaftermymotherdied?”
“Ithoughtyousaidyouweren’tthatclose.”
“Ithoughtyousaidwewerecloseenough.”
“Look,”Glennsaid.“Thisiswhattheycallabusinessdecision.”
ButIshookmyhead.Thiswasn’tgoingtowork.“Youcan’tjustgroundmeanddismantlemyentiresupportsystem.That’smytrip.Thosearemyclients.”
Glennsighed.“You’llgonexttime.”
“Iwanttogothistime.”
Glennshrugged.“Iwanttowinthelottery.Butit’snotgoingtohappen.”
Glennwasthekindofguywhobelievedadversityonlymadeyoustronger.
Itookaminutetobreathe.ThenIsaid,“IfTaylor’sgoingonmytrip,whereamIgoing?”
“Nowhere,”Glennsaid.
“Nowhere?”
Henodded.“Youneedtorest.Plus,everywhere’sfull.”Hescrolledthroughhislaptop.“Jakarta’staken.Colombia’staken.Bahrain.ThoseoilexecsinthePhilippines.Alltaken.”
“But…whatamIsupposedtodo?”
Glennshrugged.“Helpoutaroundtheoffice?”
“I’mserious.”
ButGlennkeptgoing.“Takeupknitting?Startasucculentgarden?Doubledownonpersonalgrowth?”
Nope,nope,nope.
ButGlennheldfast.“Youneedsometimeoff.”
“Ihatetimeoff.Idon’twanttimeoff.”
“It’snotaboutwhatyouwant.It’saboutwhatyouneed.”
Whatwashe—mytherapist?“Ineedtowork,”Isaid.“IdobetterwhenI’mworking.”
“Youcanworkhere.”
ButIalsoneededtoescape.
NowIfeltaflutterofpanicinmythroat.“Hey.Youknowme.YouknowIneedtomove.Ican’tjustsithereand—and…andmarinateinallmymisery.Ineedtobeinmotion.Ineedtogosomewhere.I’mlikeashark,youknow?Ijustalwayshavetobemoving.Ineedtogetwaterthroughmygills.”Myhandsgesturedatmyribcage,asiftoshowhimwheremygillswerelocated.“IfIstayhere,”Ifinallysaid,“I’lldie.”
“Bullshit,”Glennsaid.“Dying’salotharderthanyouthink.”
Glennhateditwhenpeoplebegged.
Ibeggedanyway.
“Sendmesomewhere.Anywhere.Ineedtogetout.”
“Youcan’tspendyourentireliferunningaway,”Glennsaid.
“Yes,Ican.Iabsolutelycan.”
Icouldtellfromhisfacewe’dhitthewall.ButIstillhadsomefightleftinme.
“WhataboutthethinginBurkinaFaso?”Iasked.
“I’msendingDoghouse.”
“I’vegotthreeyearsonDoghouse!”
“ButhespeaksFrench.”
“WhatabouttheweddinginNigeria?”
“I’msendingAmadi.”
“Hehasn’tevenbeenheresixmonths!”
“Buthisfamily’sfromNigeria.Andhespeaks—”
“Fine.Forgetit.”
“—YorubaandalittlebitofIgbo.”
Thatwasthecruxofit.Glennhadareptoprotect.“I’llsendyou,”hesaidlikeweweredonehere,“whenit’sagoodfit.I’llsendyouwhenit’sbestfortheagency.I’llneversendyouoversomebodymorequalified.”
InarrowedmyeyesatGlenninawaythatjustdaredhimtofightme.“There’snobodymorequalifiedthanme,”Isaid.
Glennlookedmeover,usinghiswell-honedpowersofobservationlikeaweapon
“Maybe,maybenot,”hesaidatlast.“Butyouburiedyourmotheryesterday.”
Imethiseyes.
Hewenton.“Yourpulseiselevated,youreyesarebloodshot,andyourmakeupissmeared.Yourspeechisrapid,andyourvoiceishoarse.Youhaven’tbrushedyourhair,yourhandsareshaking,andyou’reoutofbreath.You’reamess.Sogohome,takeashower,eatsomecomfortfood,grievethedeathofyourmom,andthenfigureoutsomegoddamnedhobbies—becauseIguaranteeyouthis:You’resureashellnotgoinganywhereuntilyougetyourshittogether.”
Iknewthattoneinhisvoice.
Ididn’targue.
Buthow,exactly,wasIsupposedtogetbacktoworkifhewouldn’tletmegetbacktowork?Two
HAVEIEXPLAINEDwhatIdoforaliving?
Iusuallytrytoputthatoffaslongaspossible.Becauseonceyouknow—onceIactuallynametheprofession—you’llmakealonglistofassumptionsaboutme…andallofthemwillbewrong.
ButIguessthere’snomoreavoidingit.
Mylifedoesn’tmakemuchsenseifyoudon’tknowwhatmyjobis.Soheregoes:IamanExecutiveProtectionAgent.
Butnobodyeverknowswhatthatis.
Let’sjustsayI’mabodyguard.
Lotsofpeoplegetitwrongandcallmea“securityguard,”buttobeclear:That’snotevenremotelywhatIdo.
Idon’tsitinagolfcartinasupermarketparkinglot.
WhatIdoiselite.Ittakesyearsoftraining.Itdemandshighlyspecializedskills.It’stoughtobreakinto.Andit’sastrangecombinationofglamorous(first-classtravel,luxuryhotels,off-the-chartswealthypeople)andutterlymundane(spreadsheets,checklists,countingcarpetsquaresinhotelhallways).
Mostly,weprotecttheveryrich(andoccasionallyfamous)fromallthepeoplewhowanttoharmthem.Andwegetpaidreallywelltodoit.
Iknowwhatyou’rethinking.
You’rethinkingI’mfive-foot-five,andfemale,andnothingevenclosetobrawny.You’reconjuringastereotypeofabodyguard—maybeaclubbouncerwithskintightshirtsleevessqueezinghisbiceps—andyou’renotingthatI’mprettymuchtheoppositeofthat.You’rewonderinghowIcouldpossiblybeanygood.
Let’sclearthatup.
Steroid-inflatedbruisersareonetypeofbodyguard:abodyguardforpeoplewhowantthewholeworldtoknowtheyhaveabodyguard.
Butthethingis,mostpeopledon’t.
Mostclientswhoneedexecutiveprotectiondon’twantanyonetoknowaboutit
I’mnotsayingthatthebigguysdon’thavevalue.Theycanhaveadeterrenteffect.Buttheycanalsodotheopposite.
Italldependsonthetypeofthreat,tobehonest.
Mostofthetime,you’resaferifyourprotectiongoesunnoticed.AndIamfantasticatgoingunnoticed.AllwomenEPagentsare,whichiswhywe’reinhighdemand.Nooneeversuspectsus.
Everyonealwaysthinkswe’rethenanny
Idothekindofprotectionmostpeopleneverevenknowishappening—eventheclient.AndI’mtheleastlethal-lookingpersonintheworld.You’dthinkIwasakindergartenteacherbeforeyou’deversuspectthatIcouldkillyouwithacorkscrew.
Icouldkillyouwithacorkscrew,bytheway.
Oraballpointpen.Oradinnernapkin.
ButI’mnotgoingto.
BecauseifthingsevergettothepointwhereIhavetokillyou,oranybodyelse,Ihaven’tdonemyjob.Myjobistoanticipateharmbeforeitevermaterializes—andavoidit.
IfIhavetostabyouintheeyewithadinnerfork,I’vealreadyfailed.
AndIdon’tfail.
Notinmyprofessionallife,atleast.
Alltosay,myjobisnotaboutviolence,it’saboutavoidingviolence.It’smuchmoreaboutbrainsthanbrawn.It’saboutpreparation,observation,andconstantvigilance.
It’saboutpredictions,andpatterns,andreadingtheroombeforeyou’reeveninit.
It’snotjustsomethingyoudo,it’ssomethingyouare—andmydestinywasmostlikelysetinfourthgrade,whenIwasfirstrecruitedasacarpoolmonitorandgotaDay-Glosashandabadge.(Istillhavethatbadgeonmynightstand.)Ormaybeitwassetinseventhgradewhenwemovedintoanapartmentthatwasaroundthecornerfromajujitsustudio,andIconvincedmymomtoletmetakeclasses.Ormaybeitwassetbyallthoseterribleboyfriendsmymothercouldneverstopbringinghome.
Whateveritwas,whenIsawarecruitingboothnearthecampusjobskioskduringmyfreshmanyearofcollegewithanavyandwhitesignthatreadESCAPETOTHEFBI,itwasprettymuchadonedeal.Escapewasmyfavoritething.WhenItestedoffthechartsonconscientiousness,patternrecognition,observationalskills,listeningretention,andaltruism,theyrecruitedmerightup.
Thatis,untilGlennSchultzcamealongandpoachedmeaway.
Andtherestbecamehistory.Hetaughtmeeverythingheknew,Istartedtravelingtheworld,thisjobbecamemyentirelife,andIneverlookedback.
Thepointis,Ilovedit.
Youhavetoloveit.Youhavetogiveiteverything.Youhavetobewillingtostepinfrontofabullet—andthat’snosmallchoice,becausesomeofthesepeoplearenotexactlylovable—andgettingshothurts.It’shighstakesandhighstress,andifyou’regoingtodoitright,ithastobeaboutsomethingbiggerthanyou.
That’sreallywhypeoplewholovethisjoblovethisjob:It’saboutwhoyouchoose—overandovereveryday—tobe
Theluxurytravelisprettygreat,too.
Mostly,it’salotofwork.Alotofpaperwork,alotofadvancesitevisits,alotofproceduralnotes.Youhavetowriteeverythingdown.You’reconstantlyonguard.It’snotexactlyrelaxing.
Butyougetaddicted.
Thislifemakesregularlifeseemprettydull.
Eventheboredominthisjobisexcitingsomehow.
You’reonthemove.You’reneverstill.Andyou’retoobusytobelonely.
Whichalwayssuitedmejustfine.
Thatis,untilGlenngroundedmeinHouston—attheverymomentwhenIneededanescapethemost.
THATSAMEDAYGlenntookmeofftheMadridgig,mycarwouldn’tstart—andsoRobbywoundupdrivingmehomeinhisvintagePorscheinthepouringrain.
Whichwasfine.Better,actually.BecauseIstillhadn’tinvitedhimtoToledo.
Maybeitwastherain—comingdownsohardthatthewipers,evenonthehighestsetting,couldbarelyclearit—butitwasn’tuntilwemadeittomyhousethatInoticedRobbyhadbeenweirdlyquietonthedrivehome.
Itwastoowetformetogetoutrightthen,soRobbyturnedoffthecarentirelyandwejustwatchedthewatercoatthewindowslikewewereatacarwash.
That’swhenIturnedtohimandsaid,“Let’sgoonatrip.”
Robbyfrowned.“What?”
“That’swhyIcametotheofficetoday.Toinviteyouonvacation.”
“Onvacationwhere?”
NowIwasregrettingtherandomnessofthechoice.How,exactly,doyousellToledo?
“Withme,”Ianswered,likehe’daskedadifferentquestion.
“Idon’tunderstand,”Robbysaid.
“I’vedecidedtotakeavacation,”Isaid,likeThisisn’thard.“AndI’dlikeyoucomewithme.”
“Younevertakevacations,”Robbysaid.
“Well,nowIdo.”
“I’veinvitedyouonthreedifferenttrips,andyou’veweaseledoutofallofthem.”
“Thatwasbefore.”
“Beforewhat?”
Beforemymotherdied.BeforeIgotgrounded.BeforeIgottakenoffMadrid.“BeforeIboughtnonrefundableticketstoToledo.”
Robbylookedmeover.“Toledo?”Ifhe’dbeenconfusedbefore,nowheshiftedtofull-onbefuddled.“Peopledon’tgoonvacationtoToledo.”
“Actually,theyhaveworld-renownedbotanicalgardens.”
ButRobbysighed.“There’snowaywe’regoingthere.”
“Whynot?”
“Becauseyou’llcancel.”
“Whatpartof‘nonrefundable’don’tyouunderstand?”
“Youreallydon’tknowyourselfverywell,doyou?”
“Idon’tseetheproblem,”Isaid.“Youwantedtodothis,andnowwe’redoingit.Can’tyoujustsayAwesomeandaccept?”
“Iactuallycan’t.”
Hisvoicehadastrangeintensitytoit.Andinthewakeofthosewords,heleanedforwardandranhisfingersoverthegroovesofthesteeringwheelinawaythatgotmyattention.
DidImentionthatIreadbodylanguagethewayotherpeoplereadbooks?IcanspeakbodylanguagebetterthanEnglish.Forreal.Icouldlistitonmyrésuméasmynativetongue.
Growingupasmymother’schildhadforcedmetolearntheoppositeoflanguage:allthethingswesaywithoutwords.Ihadturneditintoaprettygreatcareer,tobehonest.Butifyouaskedmeifitwasablessingoracurse,Iwouldn’tknowwhattosay.
ThingsIreadaboutRobbyinthatonesecond:Hewasn’thappy.Hedreadedwhathewasabouttodo.Hewasdoingitanyway.
Yep.Gotallthatfromhisfingersonthesteeringwheel.
Andthetightnessinhisposture.Andtheforceofthenextbreathhetook.Andthetiltofhishead.Andthewayhiseyesseemedtobeusinghislasheslikeashield.
“Why?”Iaskednext.“Whycan’tyouaccept?”
Robbylookeddown.Thenahalf-breath,aquickclenchofthejaw,asteelingoftheshoulders.“Because,”hesaid,“Ithinkweshouldbreakup.”
Impossible,buttrue:Heshockedme.
Iturnedtolookatthedashboard.Itwastexturedtolooklikeleather.
Ireallyhadn’tseenthatcoming.
AndIalwayssaweverythingcoming.
Robbykeptgoing.“Webothknowthisisn’tworking.”
Didwebothknowthat?Doesanybodyeverknowarelationshipisn’tworking?Isthatsomethingyoucanknow?Ordoallrelationshipsrequireacertainamountofunreasonableoptimismjusttosurvive?
IsaidtheonlythingIcouldthinkof.“You’rebreakingupwithme?Onthenightaftermymother’sfuneral?”
HeactedlikeIwascatchinghimonatechnicality.“Ismytimingthemostimportantthinghere?”
“Yourappallingtiming?”Iasked,stallingformybraintocatchup.“Idon’tknow.Maybe.”
“Ormaybenot,”Robbysaid.“Becausedon’tforget.Youweren’tevenallthatclose.”
Justbecauseitwastruedidn’tmakeitright.“That’snotrelevant,”Isaid.
Iguesstimingreallydoesmatter.I’dbeensleepingonahospitalsofafordays,upfivetimesanightwhilemymotherretchedintoaplasticbucket.I’dwatchedhershrinktoaskeletoninthatflimsyhospitalgown.
I’dwatchedthelifethathadgivenmelifedrainawaybeforemyeyes.
Afterthat,I’darrangedthefuneral.Allthedetails.Themusic,thefood.I’dplayedhostalldaytohighschoolfriends,coworkers,ex-boyfriends,AAfriends,anddrinkingbuddies.I’dorderedtheflowers,andzippedthebackzipperonmyblackdressallbymyself,andevenputtogetheraslideshow.
Robbyhaditwrong.
Because,despiteeverything,Ilovedher.
Ididn’tlikeher,butIlovedher.
Andhe’dunderestimatedme,aswell.Becauseit’ssomuchhardertolovesomeonewho’sdifficultthantolovesomeonewho’seasy.
IwasstrongerthanevenIknew.Probably.
ButIguessIwasabouttofindout.
Becauseastherainstartedtoeaseup,andasIpressedthepadsofmyfingerstothewindowglass,Iheardmyselfsay,inasoft,uncertainvoicethatevenIbarelyrecognized,“Idon’twanttobreakup.Iloveyou.”
“Youonlysaythat,”Robbysaidthen,hisvoicetingedwithacertaintyI’llneverforget,“becauseyoudon’tknowwhatloveis.”
GLENNHADWARNEDusaboutthisayearago—backwhenitallstarted.
Assoonashe’dheardthegossip,hecalledusintotheconferenceroom,andshutthedoor,andloweredtheminiblinds.
“Isthisreallyhappening?”hedemanded.
“Iswhatreallyhappening?”Robbyasked.
ButthiswasthelegendaryGlennSchultz.Hewasn’tfallingforthat.“Youtellme.”
Robbyheldhisbestpokerface,soGlennturnedtome.
Butminewasevenbetter.
“I’mnotgoingtostopyou,”Glennsaid.“Butweneedaplaninplace.”
“Forwhat?”Robbyasked,andthatwashisfirstmistake.
“Forwhenyoubreakup,”Glennsaid.
“Maybewewon’tbreakup,”Robbysaid,butGlennrefusedtoinsultusallbyresponding.
Instead,likeamanwho’dseenitallandthensome,hejustlookedbackandforthbetweenthetwoofusandsighed.“Itwastherescueassignment,wasn’tit?”
RobbyandImeteachother’seyes.HadwefallenforeachotherinthewakeofanassignmenttorescueacustodykidnapinIraq?Hadwesurvivedgunfire,acarchase,andadeath-defyingmidnightbordercrossingonlytofallintobedtogetherattheend—iffornootherreasonthantocelebratethefactthatwewere,againstallodds,stillalive?Andwastheadrenalineofthatassignmentstillpoweringoursemisecretofficeromanceallthesemonthslater?
Obviously.
Butweadmittednothing.
Glennhadbeeninthisbusinesstoolongtoneedsomethingaspedestrianasverbalconfirmation.“Iknowbetterthantointerfere,”hesaid.“SoI’mjustgoingtoaskyouonequestion.It’stheeasiestthingintheworldforagentstogettogether—andit’sthehardestthingforthemtostaytogether.Whatareyougoingtodowhenitends?”
Ishouldhaveheldeyecontact.That’sNegotiations101.Neverlookdown.
ButIlookeddown.
“Really?”Glennsaidtome,leaningalittlecloser.“Youthinkit’sgoingtolast?Youthinkyou’regoingtobuyahousewithapicketfenceandgotothefarmersmarketonweekends?Getadog?Buysweatersatthemall?”
“Youdon’tknowthefuture,”Robbysaid.
“No,butIknowthetwoofyou.”
Glennwasprettypissed,andthatwasnotunreasonable.Wewerehisinvestment,hiskids,hisfavorites,andhisretirementportfolioallrolledintoone.
Glennrubbedhiseyesandwhenhelookedup,hewasbreathinginthatnoisywaythathadearnedhimthenickname“TheWarthog.”
Hestaredusdown.“Ican’tstopyou,”hesaid,“andI’mnotgoingtotry.ButI’lltellyouthisrightnow.There’llbeno‘leavingthecompany’whenthiscrashesandburns.You’llgetnopityfromme,andyouwon’tgetaletterofrecommendation,either.Ifyouapplysomewhereelse,I’lltorpedoyouwiththeworstreferenceinthehistoryoftime.You’remine.Imadeyou,Iownyou,andgoddammitnobodyinthisroomgetstoquit.Notevenme.Understood?”
“Understood,”webothsaid,inunison
“Nowgetoutofmysight,”Glennsaid,“orI’llsendyoubothtoAfghanistan.”
THATWASAyearago.
It’sfunnytothinkhowmuchI’dpitiedGlenn’spessimismbackthen.Histhirdwifehadjustlefthim—notuncommoninthisjob,sinceyou’regonemorethanyou’rehome.IremembermentallyshakingmyheadathimasIwalkedawayfromtheconversation.IrememberthinkingthatRobbyandIweregoingtoprovehimwrong.
Smashcuttoayearlater:Robbydumpingmeintherain,likehewasdoingusbothafavor.
“It’sforthebest,”hesaid.“Youneedtogrieve,anyway.”
“Youdon’tdeservemygrief,”Isaid
“Imeantyourmother.”
Oh.Her.“Don’ttellmewhatIneed.”
Robbyhadthenervetolookwounded.“Becivilaboutthis.”
“WhyshouldI?”
“Becausewe’rebothadults.Becauseweknowwhat’satstake.Becauseweneverreallylikedeachotherallthatmuch,anyway.”
Thatstunglikeaslap.Imethiseyesforthefirsttimeandtriednottosoundsurprised:“Wedidn’t,huh?”
“That’sfairtosay,right?”
Um,no.Thatwasn’tfairtosay.Itwasincrediblycrass.Andwrong.Andprobablyalie,too—awayforRobbytoabsolvehimself.Sure,he’ddumpedmethedayaftermymother’sfuneral,butwhatdidthatmatterif“weneverreallylikedeachotherallthatmuch,anyway”?
Butfine.Whatever.
ThoughIcouldthinkofahotelroominCostaRicathatmightclaimotherwise.
Inthehumiliationofthatmoment—HadIreallyjusttoldamanIlovedhimwhilehewasbreakingupwithme?—itwasasifRobbywasn’tjusttakinghisloveaway…butalllove.
That’swhatitfeltlike.
WhatcanIsay?It’shardtothinkstraightinacrisis,andtheconclusionIlandedonwasthatmyonlywaytokeepgoingwastogetbacktowork.Ididn’tneedhobbies.Ididn’tneedtolearncrochet.Ineededtogetbacktotheoffice,andgetanewassignment,andwinthatpositionrunningthebranchinLondon.Itwasasclearasneedingair.Ineededtodosomething.Gosomewhere.Flee.Nowmorethanever.
ButbeforeIcouldstepoutofthecarintotherainandforgethimentirely,therewasonequestionIstillhadtoask.
IlookedstraightintoRobby’seyes.Andthen,inatonelikeIwasjustcalmlycurious,Isaid,“Yousaidthingsbetweenusaren’tworking.Whyisthatagain?”
Henodded,likethatwasafairenoughquestion.“I’vegivensomethoughttothatoverthepastfewmonths—”
“Months?”
“—andI’vedecided,ultimately,itcomesdowntoonething.”
“Whichis?”
“You.”
Myheadgaveaninvoluntaryshake.“Me?”
Robbynodded,likesayingitoutloudhadconfirmedit.“It’syou.”Andthen,inatonelikehemightevenbegivingmehelpfuladvice,hesaid,“Youhavethreedeal-breakerflaws.”
ThewordsechoedinmyheadasIbracedforthem.Threedeal-breakerflaws.
“One,”Robbysaid,“youworkallthetime.”
Okay.Healsoworkedallthetime.Butfine.
“Two,”Robbywenton,“you’renotfun,youknow?You’resoseriouseveryminute.”
Um.Holyshit.Howdoyouarguewiththat?
“Andthree,”Robbysaidwithanticipation,likewewerereallygettingtotheclincher,“you’reabadkisser.”Three
AMONTHLATER,Iwasstillenragedaboutit.
Abadkisser?Abadkisser?
Imean,“workaholic”?Fine.There’snoshameinbeingfantasticatyourjob
“Notfun”?Whatever.Funwasoverrated.
Buta“badkisser”?
Thatwasthekindofinsultthatwouldhauntmetomygrave.
Unacceptable.
Justlikethestateofmyentirelife.
Mymotherdied.ThenIgotgroundedfrommyjob.Thenthelongestrelationshipofmylifeendedwiththemostinsultinginsultintheworld.AndtherewasnothingIcoulddoaboutanyofit.Mymotherstayeddead,myex-boyfriendandmybestfriendleftforthreeweeksonmyassignmenttoMadrid,andIstayedhome.InHouston.Withnothingtodoandnoonetodoitwith.
It’sablurhowIevensurvived.
Mostly,Ididanythingatalltokeepbusy.Ireorganizedthefileroomattheoffice.Ididlocalminiassignments.Irepaintedmybathroomtangerineorangewithoutaskingmylandlord.Icleanedoutmymother’splaceandlisteditforsale.Itooksix-milerunsafterworkinhopesoftuckeringmyselfout.Icountedthepurgatory-likesecondsuntilIcouldgetthehelloutoftown.
Oh,andIslepteverynightonthefloorofmycloset.
Thosefourweekstookathousandyears.Andinallthattime,Icanonlyrememberonetrulygoodthingthathappened.
Goingthroughmymother’sjewelrybox,IfoundsomethingIthoughtwaslost—somethingthatwouldhaveseemedlikejunktoanybodyelse.Buriedunderatanglednecklace,IfoundalittlesilverbeadedsafetypinthatI’dmadeatschoolonmyeighthbirthday.
ThecolorswerejustlikeIremembered:red,orange,yellow,palegreen,babyblue,violet,white.
Beadedfriendshippinshadbeenbigatschoolthatyear—weallmadethemandpinnedthemtoourshoelaces—andsoonthedayourteacherbroughtinpinsandbeads,wewereecstatic.Sheletusspendrecessmakingthem,andI’dsavedmyfavoritetogivetomymom.Ilovedtheideaofsurprisingheronadayshe’dbegivingmepresentswithapresentofmyownforher.ButInevergottogiveittoherintheend.
Somehow,beforethenextmorning,itwasgone.
Inthewakeofthatday,I’dlookedforitforweeks.Checkinganddouble-checkingthefloorofmycloset,thepocketsofmybackpack,underthehallwayrug.Ithadbeenoneofthoselong,unsolvedmysteriesinmylife—aquestionI’dcarriedforsolong:HowhadIlostsomethingsoimportant?
Butfast-forwardtwentyyearsandthereitwas,safelystashedinmymom’sjewelrybox,waitingformelikealong-hiddenanswer.Likeshe’dbeenkeepingitsafeformethewholetime.
LikemaybeI’dunderestimatedheralittlebit.
Andmyself,too.
Rightthenandthere,I’dlookedthroughhernecklacestofindasturdygoldchain,thenI’dclippedthebeadedpintoitlikeapendant.
AndthenIworeit.Everydayafterthat.Likeatalisman.Ievensleptinit.
Ifoundmyselftouchingitallthetime,spinningthesmoothbeadsundermyfingertipstofeeltheircheerylittlerattle.Somethingaboutitwascomforting.Itmademefeellikemaybethingswereneverquiteaslostastheyseemed.
OnthemorningwhenRobbyandTaylorwerecomingbackfromMadrid—amorningwhenwewerehavingameetingintheconferenceroomwhereGlennhadpromisedtogivemeanewassignment,atlast—ItouchedthatpinsomuchIwonderedifImightwearitout.
Thepointwas:Iwasabouttogetanassignment.Iwasabouttoescape.Itdidn’tmatterwhereIwasgoing.Evenjusttheideaofleavingturnedmyheartintoaripplingfieldofrelief.
NowIwoulddisappearfromhere.
Andthen,forthefirsttimeinsolong,Iwouldfeelokay.
AllIhadtodowassurviveseeingRobbyagain.
We’reverydismissive,asaculture,aboutheartbreak.Wetalkaboutitlikeit’sfunny,orsilly,orcute.AsifitcanbecuredbyapintofH?agen-Dazsandasetofflannelpajamas.
Butofcourse,abreakupisatypeofgrief.It’sthedeathofnotjustanyrelationship—butthemostimportantoneinyourlife.
There’snothingcuteaboutit.
“Dumped”isalsoawordthatfallsshortofitstruemeaning.Itsoundssoquick—likeamomentintime.Butgettingdumpedlastsforever.Becauseapersonwholovedyoudecidednottoloveyouanymore
Doesthateverreallygoaway?
AsIwaitedatthetableintheconferenceroom,thefirstpersontherebyamile,that’swhathitme:Robbyleavinghadfeltlikeaconfirmationofmyworst,deepest,mostunacknowledgedfear.
MaybeIjustwasn’tlovable.
Imean,yes—Iwasagoodperson.Ihadmanyfinequalities.Iwascompetent,andIhadastrongmoralcompass…andlet’sadd:Iwasaprettygreatcook.Buthowdoesanybodyjusteverassumethey’dbesomebodyelse’sfirstchoice?WasIbetterthanalltheothergreatpeopleintheworld?WasIspecialenoughtobetheonesomebodypickedovereverybodyelse?
NotforRobby,Iguess.
Ididn’twanttoseehimagain.Orthinkaboutit.Orhaveaself-esteemcrisis.
IjustwantedtogetthehelloutofTexas.
THEFIRSTPERSONtoarriveintheconferenceroomwasTaylor.Mybestfriend.FreshlybackfromMadridwithmyex.Thoughthatwasn’therfault.
Herhairwasshorter—alittleEuropeanbob—andtuckedbehindherears,andshewaswearingmascara,whichwasnew,andmadehergreeneyespop.Isquealedatthesightofherandtookoffrunning,catapultingmyselfintoherarms.
“You’reback!”Isaid,huggingtightaroundherneck.
Shehuggedmeback.
“Ikilledallyourhouseplants,”Isaid,“butthat’sthepriceyoupayforleaving.”
“Youkilledmyplants?”
“Didn’tyouseethecorpses?”
“Onpurpose?”
“Byaccident,”Isaid.“Acombinationofneglectandoverattention.”
“Thatdoessoundlethal.”
Taylorgavemethatbigsmileshe’sfamousfor.
We’dtalkedonthephonemuchmorethistimethanweusuallywouldonassignment.MostlybecauseIkeptcryingandcallingher.
Shewasgoodaboutit,shereallywas.Sheletmeprocessandventandagonizetomyheart’scontent—evenwhenIkeptwakingherup.
Seeinghernow,IrealizedhowlongithadbeensinceI’daskedherabouther
“Howwasthetrip?”Iasked.
“Fine,”shesaid.
Notmuchofananswer.
Aswesatdown,Icouldnotreinintheimpulsetolowermyvoiceandsay,“Andhowishe?”
“Howiswho?”Taylorasked.
“Apersonwhorhymeswith‘Blobby.’”
“Ah,”Taylorsaid,herfacetighteningalittleinawaythatmademefeelrooted-for.“Ithinkhe’sfine.”
“‘Fine’isathingforyoutoday.”
“Itmeanshe’snot…notokay.”
“That’sashame.”
“Moreimportantly,”sheasked.“Howareyou?”
“I’vebeenstuckhereforamonth,”Isaid.“I’mdying.”
Taylornodded.“Becauseyouneedwaterinyourgills.”
“Thankyou!”Isaid,likeAtlast.“Thankyouforbelievinginmygills.”
Justthen,Glennwalkedin.“Stoptalkingaboutyourgills,”hesaid.
“She’sashark,”Taylorsaid,inmydefense.
“Don’tencourageher.”
Otherfolksfollowedhimin,andtheconferenceroomfilledup.Amadi—soever-likablewithhisroundnoseandwidesmile—wasbackfromNigeria.Doghouse,backfromBurkinaFaso,hadgrownabeardtocovertheburnscaronhisjaw.KellywasjustbackfromDubaiwithsomegoldhoopearringsthatexactlymatchedherblondcurls.
ItriednottowatchthedoorforRobby
Imaintainedgoodposture.Iarrangedmyfaceintoapleasant,fine-thanks-and-how-are-youexpressionsopreciselythatmycheekmusclesstartedquivering.Iignoredthewhitenoiseshh-inginmyears.
Finally,justasGlennwasclearinghisthroattobegin,Robbystrolledin.
Hisbuzzcutwaslonger.Heworeanew,slim-cutsuit,atieI’dneverseen,andhisfamousVuarnets—eventhoughwewereinside.Thoughhewhippedthemoffjustasheenteredtheroom.
Dammit.Hemadeitwork.
He’dalwaysbeenbetteratstylethanatsubstance.
Diditachetoseehim?Diditsuckalltheairoutofmychest?Incapacitatemewithemotion?FeellikeI’djustswiggeddownawholebottleofheartbreak?
No,actually.
Thisisgood,Ithought.
Wait.Wasthisgood?
ThismeantIwasoverhim,right?MyendlesstimeinHouston-slash-purgatoryhaddonethetrick.Theysaytimehealsallwounds.Wasthatit?WasIdone?
Orhadthepastmonthjustdestroyedmyabilitytofeelanythingatall?
AsGlennrevvedupthemeeting,Iheldmybreath.
Please,please,please,Ifoundmyselfthinking.Foronce,justletmegetoffeasy.
SometimesIwonderifIjinxedmyselfinthatmoment.
BecausewhenGlennstartedthemeeting—leadingwithmynewassignment—ithitmeprettyfastthatitwasnotgoingtobetheescapeI’dbeenholdingmybreathfor.
“Firstthingsfirst,”Glennsaid,astheroomquieted,pointingatme.“Let’stalkaboutthenewassignmentforBrooks.”Glennalwayscalledme‘Brooks.’Icouldn’tguaranteeheevenknewmyfirstname.“It’sajuicyone,”Glennwenton.“Outsideournormalwheelhouse.Shouldbeprettyabsorbing.It’sactuallyanewassignmentforeverybodyinhere.Kindofanall-hands-on-decksituation.ButBrookswillbetheprimary.”
Glenngavemealittlenod.“She’searnedit.”
“Whereisit?”Iasked.
“Ithinkwhatyouwanttoknowis‘Whoisit?’”
“Nope,”Isaid.“Idefinitelywanttoknowwhere.”
“Becausethisclient,”Glennwenton,hisvoiceremindingmeofhowpeopletalktotheirdogsbeforetheygivethemtreats,“isreally,reallyfamous.”
Wedidn’tprotectalotoffamouspeopleatGlennSchultzExecutiveProtection.Ifwe’dbeenbasedinLA,thatwouldhavebeendifferent.ButwewerebasedinHouston—sowegotmostlyoilexecutivesandbusinesspeople.Theoccasionalentertainercomingthroughtown.IoncedidsomeremotelocationassessmentsforDollyParton,andshesentmealovelythank-younote.
Butthatwasaboutit.
IlookedatGlenn’sface.Hewassuppressingasmile.
Hewasactuallyexcited.AndGlennnevergotexcitedaboutanything.
Hewenton.“ThisparticularassignmenthappenstotakeplaceinthegreatstateofTexas—”
“Texas?!”Idemanded.
Glennignoredme.“JustrighthereinourfriendlyhometownofHouston,so—”
“Houston?!”Iscootedmychairback.
Ineightyearsofreceivingassignments,Ihadneveronceprotestedalocation.That’sjustnothowthisjobworks.Youdon’tcarewhereyougo.Yougowheretheysendyou.It’sfine.
But.
Ithadbeenaroughmonth.
Let’sjustsayIwasrightonthevergeofdoingsomethingunprofessional.
ButthenGlenntolduswhotheprincipalwas.
Pullinghislipsbackintoaverypleased-with-himselfsmile,asifthisgoodnewswouldcanceloutanybadnewsthatmighteverhappenagain,Glenndidhisbigreveal.“Theprincipalforthisone,”hesaid,clickingtheremoteforthewhiteboardandflashingamovieposterupforusalltosee,“isJackStapleton.”
Thewholeroomgasped.
Robbylaunchedintoacoughingfit.
KellyletoutashrieklikeshewasataBeatlesconcert.
Andthat’swhen,despiteeverythingIhadjustdecidedabouthowgettingmyselftoLondonwouldbetheanswertoallmyproblems,Isaid,“Youknowwhat?Iquit.”Four
IDON’THAVEtotellyouwhoJackStapletonis,ofcourse.
Youprobablygasped,too.
Myattempttoquitgottotallylostinthechaos.
I’mnotsureanybodyevenheardme—exceptforGlenn,whobrushedthatdeclarationoffwithaglance,likeIwasanannoyinginsect.“You’reneverquitting.LikeIalreadysaid.”
I’dbeenwaitingtogetoutofTexaslikeadrowningpersonwaitingforarope.Thedisappointmentofbeingstillstuckheremademefeelshortofbreath.
ButI’lltellyousomething.HearingthenameJackStapletondidn’tnotgetmyattention.
Wasprotectingatwo-time,back-to-backSexiestManAlivehereinTexasbetterthanprotectingsomegray-toothed,watery-eyed,pear-shapedoilexecutivesomewhereelse?
Fine.Maybe.
Glenncertainlythoughtso.
“Thisone’sadoozyfolks,”Glennsaid,gettinghisgrooveback.“It’sagoodthingBrookshadtimetorestup,becausethisone’sgonnakeepherbusy.”
Ihadn’tsaidyesyet,ofcourse.
But,thenagain,Ineversaidno.
Glennclickedtheremoteforthedigitalwhiteboardandflashedared-carpetphotoofJackStapleton,inallhissix-foot-threedreaminess,upontheconferenceroomscreen.“Itakeitfromthecollectivegaspthatweallknowwhothismanis.”
Hestartedclickingthroughphotos.Wedidthisforeverynewclient,butlet’sjustsaythatitwasn’tnormallyquitethis…engaging.Thefirstfewwereprofessionalshots:JackStapletoninaT-shirtsosnug,itlookedairbrushed.JackStapletoninrippedjeans.JackStapletoninatuxwiththebowtieundone,staringintothecameralikewewereallabouttofollowhimtohishotelroom.
“Thisreallyistheclient?”Doghouseasked,double-checking.
Obviously,yes.Butweallwaitedtohearitagainanyway.Becauseitwasjustsounbelievable.
“Affirmative,”Glennsaid.ThenhelookedoveratKelly.“Don’tyouhaveathingforhim?”
“WhatamI?”Kellysaid.“Ateenager?”
“IfeellikeI’veheardhisnamecomeup.”
“Functioningadultsdonothave‘things’foractors,”Kellydeclaredtotheroom.
That’swhenDoghouse,rightnexttoher,putabootupontheconferencetableandgaveKellyaslysmile.“Prettysureshe’sgotsockswithStapleton’sfaceonthem.”
“Thosewereagift,”Kellysaid.
“Butyouwearthem,”Doghousepointedout.
“It’sweirdthatyouknowthat.”
ButthatjustmadeDoghousegrinbigger.“Isn’thispicturethehomescreenonyourphone?”
“That’sclassified.Andit’sweirderthatyouknowthat.”
“Thepointis,”Glennsaid,pointingatKellyasacautionarytale.“Beprofessional.Anythingyouownwiththeclient’sfaceonit—”
Doghousestartedcountingoffexamples:“T-shirts,tattoos,stringbikinis…”
“Getridofitnow,”Glennfinished.
KellyflaredhernostrilsatDoghouse,buthejustgaveherawink.
ButGlennwasn’theretoplay.Thiswasabig-dealclientandahigh-profilegig.Heclickedaheadtosomepaparazzishots,andwesawJackStapletoninaplaidshirtshoppingatafarmersmarket.JackStapletoninabaseballcapcrossingaparkinglot.JackStapletonwearing—holyMary,sweetmotherofGod—clingyboardshortsatthebeach,risingupoutofthewaves,andglisteninglikeaRomandeity.
Taylorspokeforallthewomenintheroomwhensheletoutalong,lowwhistle.
IfeltRobbyglanceoveratthesound,butIdidn’tlook.Keptmyeyesontheprize,asitwere.
“Ladies,”Glennsaid.“Let’snotobjectifytheprincipal.”
Themenaroundthetablemurmuredinagreement.
Andjustontheheelsofthat,Glennclickedtoaslidethatgottheotherhalfoftheroomwhistling.“Andthis,”Glennsaid,“ishisgirlfriend.”
ItwasKennedyMonroe,ofcourse—runningBaywatch-stylealongaperfectbeach,notevenonedimpleofvisiblecellulite,asifshehadtheabilitytolive-photoshopherselfinrealtime.Everybodyknewtheyweredating,andgazingupinaweatthewhiteboard,itwasnomysterywhy.
Shehadakindofweaponizedbeautythatmadeallitsownrules.
Acouple—eversincecostarringinTheDestroyers.They’djustbeenonthecoverofPeopletogether.
Thatsaid,I’dalwaysfounditanoddpairing.Shewas,afterall,mostfamousforthescandalwhereshefalselyclaimedtobeMarilynMonroe’sgranddaughterandgotsuedbyMonroe’sestate.AndthenJackStapletonhadbeenquotedinanEsquireinterviewsaying,“She’slikeaconspiracytheorist—aboutherself.”
Wow.HowdidIknowthismuchaboutthemwithouteventrying?
KellyseemedtobehavingthesamevisceralreactiontoherthatIwas.“Willshebehere?”sheasked,nostrilsflaring.
“Nah,”Glennsaid.“Justthrewthatoneinforfun.”Heclickedupanotherslide—thisoneofaguywholookedsomuchlikeJackStapletonthatitmadeyouwanttorubyoureyes.
“Isthattheprincipal?”Amadiasked,likewewerebeingtricked.
“It’shisolderbrother,Hank,”Glennexplained.ThenhebroughtupapictureofJack,andwestudiedthetwosidebysidelikeafind-the-differencespicturegame.
That’swhereGlennpausedtheslideshow.“Ican’timaginethere’sapersoninthisroomwhohasn’tseenTheDestroyers,”hesaid.“Andyouprobablyallknowthebasicsofhow,rightafteropeningweekend,JackStapleton’syoungerbrotherDrewwaskilledinanaccident.Thatwastwoyearsago.Jacksteppedoutofthepubliceye,movedtotheremotemountainsofNorthDakota,andhasn’tmadeamoviesince.”
Yes,weallknewthat.EverybodyinAmericaknewthat.Babiesknewit.Dogsknewit.Maybeevenearthworms.
“Theaccidentgotcoveredup.Imean,”Glennshookhisheadwithadmiration,“theydidafantasticjob.Therearenodetailsanywhere,andI’vehadKellyonthisallday.”
WenoddedatKelly.Shewasthebestdirt-diggerwehad.
“IfI’dknownwhyyouhadmeonthis,”Kellysaid,“I’dhaveworkedharder.”
Glennstayedfocused.“Allyoucanfindanywhere,”hewenton,“arethebasics:caraccident.Jackandhisyoungerbrotherweretogether.OnlyJacksurvived.”
GlennflashedaphotoofJackandhisbrotherDrewatsomepremiere,insuits,smilingforthecameraswiththeirarmsaroundeachother.Wegaveitamomentofsilence.
ThenGlennwenton.“Buttherearerumors.RumorsthatJackwasdriving—andtheremighthavebeenalcoholinvolved.Kelly’sworkingtoseeifshecanconfirm.”
Kellywrinkledhernoseandshookherheadlikeitwasn’tgoingwell.
SoGlennwenton.“Whatwedoknowisthat,inthewakeofthataccident,thefamilyhasbeenestranged.Inparticular,thereseemstobebadbloodbetweenJackandtheolderbrother.There’snoreportingwecanfindthatexplainstherift.”
Glennflashedaphotoofthefamilyfrombeforetheaccident—twosweetlookingparentsandthreegrownboys—apaparazziphototakeninthestandsofastadium.
“Also,despiteStapleton’sstatedintentionofretiringfromacting,heisstillundercontracttomakethesequeltoTheDestroyers.He’sbeenfightingincourttobreakit,andit’sunclearatthispointwho’llprevail,buthehasn’tleftNorthDakotaforanyvoluntaryreasonsince.Untilnow.HearrivesinHoustontoday.”Glenncheckedhiswatch.“Landedtwenty-threeminutesago.”
“Hefinallycomesoutofhiding,andhepicksHouston?”Robbysaid.
“Hey,”Kellysaid,likeshewasoffended.“We’renotsobad.”
Robbyshookhishead.“Nobodycomeshereonpurpose.”
Glennseizedthemeetingback.“JackStapleton’snotcominghereonpurpose,either.”
“He’sfromhere,”Doghousevolunteered,proudtoknowsometrivia.
“Correct,”Glennsaid.“He’sfromhere.AndhisparentsliveonaranchoutpastKatyontheBrazosRiver.Andhismotherwasjustdiagnosedwithbreastcancer,andsohe’scominghometostayforawhile.”
“That’swhyit’shappeningsofast,”Doghousesaid.
Itwasfast.We’dnormallytakeweeks,atleast,togetpreppedforsomethinglikethis.
“Yes,”Glennsaid.“ShegotherdiagnosisonMonday,andhersurgeryisscheduledforFridaymorning.”
“Aggressiveprotocol,”Amadisaid.Hisfatherwasanoncologist.
Glennnodded.“FromwhatIunderstand,itwouldn’tbeyourfirstchoiceofcancer.Butit’snotunbeatable.”
Weallnotedthedoublenegative.
“What’sthedurationoftheassignment?”Iaskedthen.
“Unclear.Butit’smyunderstandingthatStapletonintendstostayfortherunofhertreatment.”
“Weeks?”Iasked.
“Atleast.We’llknowmorewhenthefamilydoes.”
ItwassostrangetothinkofJackStapletonashavingafamily—orashavinganykindoflifeoutsideofhisprimaryroleofgivingusallsomethingtoogleabouthumanity.
Andyet,thereitwas.JackStapletonwasarealperson.Withamom.Whowassick.Andahometown.AndnowhewascomingtoHouston.
Glennchangedtheslideshowtoaseriesofphotosofamodern,three-storyhouse.“He’srentedaplaceintownnearthemedicalcenter.Wecouldn’tgetaccessuntiltoday,butherearesomephotosfromtherentallisting.”
Whatnormalpeoplewouldhaveseeninthosephotoswasabrand-new,high-end,luxuriousmodernhouse,withhighceilingsandhugewindowsandlushlandscaping.Ithadapale-bluefrontdoorwithapottedfiddle-leaffigplantnexttoit.ItlookedlikesomethingoutofArchitecturalDigest
Butwealllookedatthoseimagesthroughadifferentlens.
Thefiddle-leaffigmadeforaprettypicture,butitwasn’trelevanttoanyoneinthisroom.Unlesswecouldhideasecuritycamerainit.Thehighwallaroundtheyardmeantitwouldbehardforastalkertoscaleit.Thecirculardrivewayoutfrontwasalittletooclosetothestructure.Thatgiantoleanderbushwouldneedtobetrimmed.Therooftoppatiowouldbeeasyforasnipertoaccess.Innightshots,thelightingoutfrontwasmuchmoreaboutmoodthanvisibility.
Glennwalkedusthroughthesecurityfeatures.“Securitycamerasgalore—evenoneinterior,motion-activated,inthefronthall.Top-of-the-linealarmsystemandhigh-techlockswithremoteaccess.Thoughtheclient’srepresentativesaysheforgetstouseit.”
Redflag.Uncooperativeclient.
Iraisedmyhand.“Didhehireus?Orwasit,like,hismanagerorsomething?”
Glennpaused.Andwiththatpause,weallknewtheanswer.“Alittlebitofboth,”hesaid.“Hismanagertechnicallyhiredus.Butit’satthestrenuousurgingofhisteam.Andthestudiothat’sabouttomaketheDestroyerssequel.”
Itwasnotuncommonforourclientstohave“teams.”
“Whyistheteam‘strenuouslyurging’himtohiresecurity?”Iasked.
“He’shadsomestalkersinthepast,”Glennsaid,“andoneofthemliveshereintown.”
Thetablegaveacollectivenod.
“Sothefirststrategy,ofcourse,istoconcealthefactthathe’shereatallforaslongaspossible.Butthat’sawildcard.Heiswidelyrecognizable—”
Kellyletouta“Ha!”
“But,”Glennwenton,“he’sbeenoffthegridforawhile,sohemightnotbeintheforefrontofpeople’sminds.Andhedoesseemtoavoidthespotlightprettywellthesedays.”
Thatwasgood.Thelessspotlight,thebetter.
“Hehasindicatedthathe’llaccompanyhismothertohersurgeryandappointments.Otherthanthat,heplanstolieprettylow.”
Iwastryingtoremainuncommitted,butmybrainwasalreadystartingtochurnandworkoutthestrategy.We’dneedtogetthehospitalarchitecturalplans.Doasitevisitinadvance.Findthebestingressandegressoptions.Secureaprivatewaitingarea.
“What’sthesituationontheformerstalker?”Doghouseasked.
Glennnoddedandpulledupaphoto.Amugshotofamiddle-agedwomanwithno-nonsensehair,pale-pinklipstickoutsidethelines,and,mostnotably,wearingearringbobswithJack’sfaceonthem
“Don’tyouhavethoseearrings?”DoghousesaidtoKelly.
Sheflungherballpointpenathim,nexttoher.Whenitclattereddowntothetable,shetookitback.
Weallrelaxed.Afemalestalkerwasagoodthing.Womendidn’ttendtokillpeople.
“AlotofactivityinthetwoyearsbeforeTheDestroyerscameout,”Glennsaid,“butlesssincethebrotherdiedandStapletonwentoffthegrid.”Glennputupalistonthescreenandgesturedatit.“Infiveyears,she’ssenthundredsofletters,someofthemthreatening.Lotsofonlineharassment,too—mostofittryingtofrightenhimintodatingher.”
“Oldesttrickinthebook,”Isaid.
IheardRobbylaughatthat.
Glennwenton.“ShetooktripstoLAandfoundhishouse.Hewokeuponemorninganddiscoveredherasleepinhisbathtub,clutchingadollwithaphotoofhisfacetapedontoit.”
“So,standardladystalkerstuff,”Taylorsaid.
“Correct,”Glennnodded.“She’sdoneeverythingfromknittinghimsweaterstothreateningsuicideifhedidn’timpregnateher.”
“Isn’tshekindof…pastchildbearingage?”
“Notaccordingtoher.”
“Anydeaththreats?”Amadiasked.
“Notthatweknowof.Notfromher,anyway.Therewasarecentseriesofunhingedinsultsonafansitefromausername”—Glenncheckedhisnotes—“WilburHatesYou321.We’rekeepinganeyeonit.”
“GuessweknowhowWilburfeels,”Kellysaid.
“WhydoesthenameWilburjustnotseemthreatening?”Taylorasked.
“Because,”Ianswered,“Wilbur’sthepiginCharlotte’sWeb.”
“Aww,”Kellysaid.
“Ladies,”Glennsaid.“Focus,please.”
“Ifyouwantedustofocus,”Kellysaid,“youshouldn’thavekickedthingsoffwiththatbeefcakeslideshow.”
“They’redrunkonhormones,”Doghousesaid.
Kellyelbowedhim.“Youwish.”
Thebriefingwasfarmore…brief…thanusualbecausewe’donlyjustgottenthecase.Catchingupanddoingallournormalduediligencewouldbeascramble.Glennbrokeusintoteamstogettowork.
GlennassignedRobbytoanalyzeJack’smediacoverage,includinghisInstagram,tofindouthowmuchofhispersonalinformationwasoutthere.HeassignedDoghousetodoaphysicalassessmentontherentalhouseintown—includingarchitecturalplansandfeatures,crimeinfoontheneighborhood,andadeepdiveintothesecuritysystem.HetoldAmaditogathereverythinghecouldontheparents’ranch.HeassignedKellytocompileadossierontherecentlyhiredhousekeeper,andTaylortocreateacomprehensiveportfolioonallpaststalkeractivity.
Andme?
Glenntriedtosendmetothebeautyparlor.
“Whatthehell?”Isaid,rightthereinthemeeting.
“You’retheprimaryonthisone,Brooks.Youneedtolookthepart.”
“Firstofall,”Isaid,“Ihaven’tagreedtobetheprimary.”
Glennflaredhisnostrils.“Youwill.”
Ilookeddownatmysuit.Ilookedfine.Didn’tI?
Glennwenton.“Ifyouneededaburka,we’dgetyouaburka,andifyouneededasari,we’dgetyouasari—sosinceyouareheadedtothefancyrent-a-mansionofaHollywoodA-lister,we’regettingyouamakeover.”
“Idon’tneedamakeover,”Isaid—butthenIregretteditrightaway.
Thewholeroomburstoutlaughing.
“You’regoingtoshadowJackStapletonlikethat?”Robbysaid.
Itouchedmyplainbrownhair,whichwasalreadyfallingoutofitslowbun,andthenglanceddownatmyoutlet-mallAnnTaylorpantsuit.“Maybe,”Isaid.
Onassignment,Iworewhateverblendinginrequired.I’dworneverythingfromlittleblackdresses,toleatherjackets,totennisoutfits.I’ddressedlikeateenager,likeapunkrocker,andlikeafrumpyschoolmarm.Iwashappytobeincognito.I’ddoanythingtoplaythepartright.
ButnomatterwhatIworeonassignment,IalwaysreturnedtomysetpointoftheAnnTaylorpantsuit—withflats,notheels,becauseyoualwayshavetobeabletorun.
Footwearreallyiscrucial.
IwasstillreactingtothemakeoverideawhenRobbysaidtoGlenn,“YoushouldgivethisgigtoKelly.”
Kellyshriekedwithdelightattheidea—eventhoughRobbyhadzeroauthoritytomakethatcall.
Glennwasnotafanofbeingchallenged.HeturnedtoRobby.“Whatwasthat?”
Robbyflickedaglanceinmydirection,soweallknewexactlywhohewastalkingabout.“She’snotrightforit.”
“That’snotuptoyou.”
Robbygaveahalf-shrugandsaid,“Justsaying.”AndbeforeIhadtimetoevenconsiderifhemaybehadagoodpoint,hekeptgoing.“Justlookather,”hesaid.“Shecan’tpassinthatworld.”
Jesus,Robby.
WasthishowhewasgoingtocompetefortheLondonthing?Bysabotagingme?
ButIshiftedmyattentionfromRobby’spetulantface—whichsuddenlyseemedsomuchmorepunchablethanI’devernoticedbefore—andpannedtotherightuntilIlandedonGlenn.
“You’resayingI’mtheprimaryonthiswhetherIlikeitornot?”
“That’sexactlywhatI’msaying.”
“Why?”
“BecauseifyouwanttohaveachanceattheLondonjob,youneedtodoit,anddoitright.Ifyoudon’tknockthisassignmentoutofthepark…thenRobby’sgoingtoLondon,andyou’restayingrighthereinTexasonofficedutyforever.”
Heheldmygazeinalittleministandoff.
Thenheadded,“Youshouldbethankingme.”
“I’llpassonthat.”
“You’redoingthis,”Glennsaid.“Andyoudon’tgettocomplain,ordialitin,orfeelvictimized,orpoutbecauselifeisunfair.Lifeisunfair.That’snotnews.IknowexactlywhatRobbydidtoyou,andIknowthisisn’texactlytheescapeyouwerelookingfor—”
“It’snotanescapeatall,”Iinterrupted.
“—butthisisthebestopportunityyou’vegot.Soyou’remakingthemostofit.Andthatstartswithanewgoddamnedwardrobesoyou’renotstandingnexttotheSexiestManAlivelookinglikeasadtempwhoneedsashower.”
DidhethinkI’dbecowedbyinsults?Iateinsultsforbreakfast.Isquaredmyshoulders.“WhyareyoumakingmeprovemyselfwhenyoualreadyknowwhatI’mcapableof?”
“Iknowwhattheoldyouwascapableof.Thisyou?I’mstillnotsure.”
Fine.Ithought.Iwasn’tentirelysure,either.
WasiteverythingIwanted?No.
Butwasitsomething?
AndwasIdesperateenoughtodoanything?
“Fine,”Isaid.
“‘Fine’what?”
“Fine,I’llmakethemostofit.”
Glennlookedatmeoverhisreadingglasses.“Damnright,youwill.”
“But,”Iadded,liftingbothmyeyebrowsandpausingsohe’dknowexactlywhereIdrewtheline.“There’snowayI’mdoingafriggingmakeover.”
IWANTTOtellyouthatIwasaverycoolpersonwhowasnotflusteredbyfame.TaylorhadoncerunintoTomHollandatabarinLA,andshe’dlitacigaretteforhisfriendwithaZippolighterlikeabadass.Nobigdeal.
Iwouldnothavebeensochill.
ReviewingJackStapleton’sfile,Ihadtoadmit,tomyselfifnooneelse,Iwastheoppositeofchill.
Onpaper,hewasnodifferentthananyotherclient.Hehadabank,andcreditcards,justlikeeverybodyelse.HehadtwocarsbackinNorthDakota—avintageWagoneerandapickuptruck—buthe’dleasedaRangeRoverforhistimeinHouston.He’dhadasthmaasachild,andhehadacurrentprescriptionforsleepingpills.Under“KnownEnemies”hehadseveralpagesofcrazedfanswho’dappearedanddisappearedovertheyears,butthatwasaboutit.Under“KnownAssociates/Lovers,”itlistedKennedyMonroe—andsomebody,probablyDoghouse,hadwrittenin“hubbahubba”byhername.
Nosurprisethere.
Anormalfile.Anormalfile,dammit.
Fine.Okay.IwasnotunawareofJackStapleton’scharm.
Imean,Iwasn’tafangirllikeKelly.Ididn’thavetheman’sfaceonmysocks
ButI’dseenmostofhismovies—exceptforFearoftheDark,whichwasaslasherfilmandnotmything.I’dalsoskippedTraintoProvidencebecauseIheardhesacrificedhimselftothezombiesintheend,andwhywouldIwanttoseethat?
ButI’dseenalltheothers,includingTheUnhoneymoonerssomanytimesI’daccidentallymemorizedthescenewhereheconfesses,“It’ssoexhaustingpretendingtohateyou.”HisdramaticworkinASparkofLightwastragicallyunderrated.AndeventhoughYouWishwaswidelypannedforincludingeverysinglerom-comtropeinhistory—including,ofallthings,amaddashtotheairport—theystilldidthosetropesreallywell,andsoitwasoneofmyperennialgo-toswhenIwasfeelingdown.
Also,thewayhekissedKatiePalmerinCan’tWinforLosing?Oscarworthy.Whywasn’tthereanOscarcategoryforBestKiss?Heshouldgodowninhistoryforthatonekissalone.ThefirsttimeIsawit,itjustaboutkilledme.
Like,Ialmostdiedfromdelight.
SoitwasnotnotabigdealthatI’djustbeenassignedtoprotecthim.
Notethedoublenegative.
Hewasnotnotonmyradar.Iwasnotnotaffectedbythethoughtofhim.
I’dneverhaveadmittedit—leastofalltomyself—butIdidhavewhatyoucoulddescribeasaperfectlynormal,nonpathetic,comfortinglymild,not-at-allcreepylittlecrushonhim.
Youknow,inthewayyoumighthaveacrushonthecaptainofthefootballteaminhighschool.You’renotgoingtodatethecaptainofthefootballteam.Youknowyourplace—andyourplaceis:Ascribeforstudentgovernment.Astudentliaisonforcommunityservice.Vicepresidentofthespreadsheetclub.
It’sjustalittlesunnyplaceforyourfantasiestowander.Sometimes.Occasionally.Inbetweenyourmanyothermoreimportantthingstodo.
Noharminthat,right?
Wasn’tthatultimatelywhatmoviestarswerefor?Tobefantasiesfortherestofus?Toaddimaginarysprinklestothemetaphoricalcupcakeoflife?
Butnowtherealitywasgoingtocollidewiththefantasy.
ItwasthereasonIwantedtosayno.
Ilikedthefantasy.Ididn’twantJackStapletontobecomereal.
Plus,howcouldyouprotectapersonwhomadeyounervous?Howcouldyoustayfocusedwithanactualgod-living-among-humansjustfeetawayfromyou?Glennhadaprofessionalreptoprotect,butsodidI.IwassupposedtoimpressthehelloutofGlennifIwantedtheLondonjob,butwhatwasIgoingtodoifJackStapletonshoweduponedayinthatsamenavyandcornflower-bluebaseballTeehe’dworninTheOptimist?
GoodGod.Imightaswelljustquitnow
I’dseenJackStapletonkissfictionalpeople,buryafictionalfather,begforfictionalforgiveness,andsobfictionaltears.I’dseenhimtakeashower,brushhisteeth,curlupunderthecoversatbedtime.I’dseenhimrappeldownacliffface.I’dseenhimhughislost-then-foundchild.I’dseenhimscared,andnervous,andangry,andevennakedinbedwiththeloveofhislife
Noneofitwasreal—ofcourse.Iknewthat.Imean,Iwasn’tcrazy
Itwasn’treal,butitseemedreal.Itfeltreal.
Ialreadycaredabouthim,iswhatI’msaying.Thatdistanceyoualwaysmaintainwithyourclients?Hehadalreadybreachedit—eventhoughI’dneverevenmethim.
Plus,therewasjustsomethingaboutJackStapletonthatIliked.Theshapeofhiseyes—kindofsweetandsmiley.Thedeadpanwayhedeliveredhislines.Thewayhegazedatthewomenheloved.
Oh,itwasgoingtobealongassignment.
But—andherecamethepeptalk—notimpossible.
Theguyonscreenwouldn’tbethesamepersoninreallife.Couldn’tbe.Theguyonscreensaidfunnythingsbecausefunnywriterswrotehislines.Theguyonthescreenlookedpictureperfectbecausetheproductiondepartmentstyledhishairandputhismakeuponandchosehisclothes.Andthewashboardstomach?Youdon’tgetthoseforfree.Heprobablyspenthoursandhoursmaintainingthatthing.Hoursthatwould’vebeenfarbetterspent,say,fightingpoverty,orrescuinghomelesspets,or,Idon’tknow,readingabook.
Maybe,iftherewasmercyintheuniverse,he’dbenothinglikeIalwaysimagined.
Maybehe’dbeasunlikableasmostofmyclientswere.
Unlikablemighthelp.
ButI’dalsotakedumb.Rude.Slug-like.Pompous.Narcissistic.Anythingthatcoulddemotehimtoanordinary,real,mildlyirritatingpersonlikeeverybodyelse…andletmegetmyworkdone.
Imean,sure.I’dhavepreferredtokeepthefantasy.
Butrealityhaditsuses,too.Five
CUTTO:MEringingJackStapleton’sfancydoorbellintheMuseumDistrict.
Inmystandardpantsuit.WithoutthemakeoverIhadsovaliantlyrefused.
Kindofregrettingthatvictorynow.
Thiswasanintakemeeting,andI’ddonedozensofthem.Usually,thewholeteamwent—primariesandsecondaries—tomeetinpersonandgatherinformation.Buttheteamwasscramblingtoohardrightnowtotakethetime.
So,today:justme.
Alone,andtalkingmyselfthroughthemoment.Yougotthis.
Onceyoulearntolookattheworldfromaperspectiveofpersonalsecurity,youcan’tlookatitanyotherway.Icouldn’twalkintoarestaurant,forexample,withoutassessingthethreatlevelintheroom—evenwhenIwasoffduty.Icouldn’tnotnoticesuspiciouspeople,orvehiclesthatcircledtheblockmorethanonce,oremptyvansinparkinglots,or“repaircrews”thatmayormaynot’vebeendoingsurveillance.Honestly,Icouldn’tgetintomycarwithoutathree-stepprocess:checkingforsignsofentry,checkingthetailpipeforblockages,andcheckingunderthechassisforexplosives.
Ineightyears,I’dneveroncejustwalkedouttomycarandgottenin.
Imust’veseemedlikethecraziestpersonever.
Butonceyouknowhowterribletheworldis,youcan’tunknow.
Nomatterhowmuchyoumightwantto.
Iwasn’tsureexactlyhowmuchJackStapletonknewabouttheworld,butpartofmyjobtoday,andgoingforward,wastoeducatehim.Youabsolutelyhavetogetbuy-infromtheprincipal,becauseyoureallycan’tdoitalone.Makingitclearthatprotectionisnecessarywithoutfreakinganyoneoutisacrucialtaskatthebeginning.
Youhavetocalibrateexactlyhowmuchclientscanhandle.
ArrivingatJackStapleton’sdoor,Iclutchedachecklistofthingstocoversothathecouldholduphisendofthesafetybargain.Ialsohadsomebasicin-persontasksthathisassistantinLAcouldn’tdoforhim:fingerprints,ablooddraw,ahandwritingsample.Plus,alistofquestionsthatGlenncalledtheVPQ—VeryPersonalQuestionnaire—thatgatheredinfoontattoos,moles,fears,weirdhabits,andphobias.Normally,we’ddoavideorecording,too,but,obviously,forthisguy:noneed.
Anyway,thatwasallIhadtodo.Sticktothescript.
Butwow,didIfeelnervous.
Andthatwasbeforeheshockedthehelloutofmebyopeningthedoor.
Shirtless.
Justopenedupthefrontdoor.Toatotalstranger.Utterlynakedfromthewaistup.Whatkindofapowermovewasthat?
“JesusChrist!”Isaid,spinningaroundandcoveringmyeyes.“Putsomeclotheson!”
Buttheimageofhimwasalreadyburnedintomyretinas:Barefeet.FrayedLevi’s.Acordedleathernecklaceencirclingthebaseofhisneck,justabovehiscollarbones.AndIdon’tevenhavewordsforwhatwashappeninginthemidsection.
Isqueezedmyeyestighter.
HowthehellwasIsupposedtoworkwiththat?
“Sorry!”hesaid,behindmeinthedoorway.“Timedthatwrong.”Then,“It’ssafenow.”
Imademyselfdropmyhandandturnbackaround…
WhereIbeheldJackStapletonhalfwaythroughtheprocessofwrigglingintoaT-shirt—six-packmusclesundulatingliketheywantedtoputmeinatrance.
Letmejuststoptheclockrighthereforasecond,becauseit’snoteverydayyoustandinJackStapleton’sdoorway,squintingdirectlyintohismagnificence,whilehedoesacompletelynormalyetutterlyastonishingthing,likeputonaT-shirt.
Whatwasitlike,youmustbewondering,formetolivethroughthatmoment?
Maybethiswillhelp:Mybrainshutdown.
Like,Ilostthepowerofspeech.
Iknowheaskedmeaquestionsomewhereinthere.
ButIcannottellyouwhatitwas.
NorcouldIanswerhim.
Ijuststoodthere,gaping,likeawidemouthbass.
He’sjustaperson,you’rethinking.Justapersonwhohappenstobefamous.
Sure.Fine.
Butyoutrysteppingintothatmomentandnotjustfallingmutewithawe
Idareyou.
CanIalsojustaddthatIreallyhadn’texpectedhimtoanswerthedooratall?Iassumeditwouldbeanassistant,orasecretary,oraposhBritishbutlerinamorningcoatandtails—anyonebutthemanhimself.
Addtothat,hewasbiggerthanhelooked.
Andhelookedprettybigtostartwith.
Ifeltreallytiny,incomparison.Whichwasnotmyfavoritepowerdynamic.
AndI’lladd—andmaybethisgoeswithoutsaying—hewas…alive
Asopposedtoacelluloidrepresentationofhimself.
Hewasaliving,breathing,three-dimensionalcreature.
Whichwasnew.
Iwasgettingagoodlooknow,andhewasn’tnearlyasbuffashehadbeeninTheDestroyers—andofcoursenot—right?—becausewhocankeepafive-hour-a-dayworkoutregimengoingindefinitely?Soinsteadofwitnessingajacked-up,bemuscledhe-beast,Igotaslightlylessdefined,moresubtleyetsomehowmoresophisticated,ordinary,everydaywashboardstomach.
Awashboardstomachthatdidn’thavetotrytoohard.
Whichmadehimseemmorehuman.Whichshouldhavebeenagoodthing.
Butmorehumanmadehimmorereal.
Andhewasn’tsupposedtobereal.
TherealJackStapletonwaslesstanthanhismovieposters.Therealhimhadirisesthatweremoregraythanblue.Therealhimhadalittlenickwherehe’dcuthimselfshaving.Hislipslookedabitdry,liketheyneededsomeChapStick.HishairwasshaggierthanI’deverseen—Howlongsincehe’dhadahaircut?—andfloppingoverhisforeheadinawaythatjustbeggedsomebodytobrushitofftotheside.HehadaBand-Aidonthebackofhishand,andheworeabeat-updrugstoresportswatch,andhehadglasseson,ofallthings.Notcool-guyPradaglasses—justthekindofslightlybentglassesthatregularpeopleactuallywearforseeing.
That’showIknewIwasn’tdreaming,bytheway.BecauseitneverwouldhaveoccurredtometoputabentpairofordinaryglassesonJackStapleton.
Andtheysomehowmadehimlookbothbetterandworse.
Exhausting.
OKAY,LET’SSTARTthemomentbackup.
Wherewerewe?Oh,yeah:
Holyshit
Friendsandneighbors,IjustmetJackStapleton.
Barefoot.InLevi’s.Wearingaleathernecklacethatmademeredefineallmyopinionsaboutleathernecklaces.
“You’reearly,”hesaidthen,interruptingmyogle.“Iwasjustgettingdressed.”
Iwasstillmute.Iopenedmymouth,butnothingcameout.Icouldhearmyselfwantingtosay,“Iamexactlyontime,”inaprofessional,evenimperceptiblyirritatedvoice—butIcouldn’tactuallyorchestratetherequiredsqueezingofthediaphragmtomakeithappen.
UsingeveryounceofwillpowerIhad,Iratchetedmyopenmouthclosed.
Thatwassomething,atleast.
Hefrownedatthisforasecond,andthenhesaid,“Wait.Areyouearly?OramIlate?”Hecheckedhiswatch.“Youknowwhat?I’mstillonmountaintime.”
AllIcoulddowasnotgape.
“AreyouthinkingthatNorthDakotaiscentraltime?”
Noresponse,butIdidmaintaineyecontact.
Hewenton.“BecauseIgetthatalot.NorthDakotaiscentraltime,mostly.Exceptforthesouthwestcorner.WhereIhappentolive.”
Hewasunfazedbyone-sidedconversations.
Thismusthappentohimalot.
Butnowheturnedandwavedformetofollow.“Comeonin,”hesaid,headingfartherbackintothehouse.
Iclosedthedoorbehindmeandtrailedhimtothekitchen.Getagrip,Iscoldedmyself.He’sjustaperson!Hecuthimselfshaving!He’snotevenallthattananymore!
“Coolpinnecklace,bytheway,”hecalledbackashewalked.
Likeareflex,Itouchedmybeadedsafetypin.Huh.Observant.
AndthepinmusthavebeenevenmoreofatalismanthanI’drealized,becauseonlythendidImagicallyrememberhowtotalk.“Thankyou,”Isaid—thoughitcameoutmorelikeaquestionthanareply.
Inthekitchen,JackStapletonbentdownandstartedrummagingthroughthecabinetunderthesink,likeregularpeoplesometimesdo.
Imaginethat.They’rejustlikeus.
“I’mnewhere,”hewassaying,asIwatched,“soIdon’treallyknowwhatwehave,butjustletmeknowanythingyouneed,andI’llgetitforyou.”
Heturnedandstoodupthenwithacaddyfullofcleaningbottles,scrubbrushes,sponges,andtrashbags,whichhesetdecisivelyonthecounterinfrontofme.
Ifrownedathim.
“Forcleaning,”hesaid.
Ishookmyhead.
Hefrownedagain.“Aren’tyouthe…”
Andthen—sonewlygratefulforthepowerofspeech—Iansweredwith,“ExecutiveProtectionAgent.”
Justashesaid,“Cleaninglady?”
Really?HereIaminmybestpantsuit,andhe’sthinking“cleaninglady”?
MaybeRobbywasright.MaybeIcouldn’tpass.
“Iamnotthecleaninglady,”Isaid.
Hefrowned.“Oh.”Andthenhewaited,likeWhoareyou,then?
“I’mtheprimaryExecutiveProtectionAgentonyourpersonalsecurityteam.”
Hereallylookedbaffled.“You’rethewhatonmywhat?”
Isighed.“I’minchargeofyoursecuritydetail.”
“Idon’thaveasecuritydetail.”
Well,thiswasnew.“Prettysureyoudo.”
Atthat,heclampedhishandaroundmyarmjustabovetheelbow—notsohardthatithurt,buthardenoughthatIcouldn’tmistakethestrengthofthegrip—andheledmebackoutthefrontdoor.Intruth,it’sagripIknewhowtogetoutof,butIwassobefuddledbywhatwashappening,Ijustfollowedlikealamb.
Outside,heclosedthedoorbehindusandlockedit.
Then,hegotbacktobusiness.“You’retellingmeyou’renotthehousekeeper?”
“DoIlooklikethehousekeeper?”
JackStapletonshrugged,likeWhynot?
Ishould’veletitgo.“Howmanyhousekeepersshowupforworkinasilkblouse?”
“Maybeyouwereplanningtochange?”
Okay.Donewiththat.Igaveasharpsigh.“Iamnotthehousekeeper.”
That’swhenhehelduphisfinger,likeJustasec,turned,andwalkeddownthedrivewaydigginghiscellphoneoutofhispocket.
Afterafewsteps,Iheardhimsay,“Hey.Apersonjustshoweduphereclaimingtobepersonalsecurity.”
Wait.Washesuspiciousofme?
Icouldn’theartheresponse.
ButIcouldhearJackStapletonloudandclear.“Wedecidedagainstthatalready.Twice.”
Hewaskickingthecrushedgravelonthedriveway.
“Butthatwasyearsago.”
Apause.
“Itwon’twork.It’llbeadisaster.Therehastobeanotherway.”
Anotherpause.
JackStapletonandwhoeverhewastalkingto—Hismanager?Hisagent?Hisguru?—wentroundandround.Idon’tknowifhedidn’trealizethatIcouldhearhim,orifhedidn’tcare…buthevociferouslyprotestedmypresenceinhislife,rightwithinearshot.
Itstungalittle.Tobehonest.
HearguedforsolongthatIfinallysatdownonthelittlebenchnearthepottedfiddle-leaffig,notingthatitcouldbeusedtosmashthewindowbehinditandshouldbemoved,orsold,orthrownaway.Withnothingelsetodo,Ihalf-heartedlyassessedtheproperty—distancefromthestreet:adequate;lackofdrivewaygate:suboptimal;potentialskulldamagefromoneofthoselandscapingrocks:lethal—moreoutofhabitthananythingelse.
HadIevershownupforanintakemeetingwithaclientwhodidn’tevenknowhe’dhiredme?
No.Thiswasafirst.
Itwasunsettlingtothinkthathedidn’tevenwantmethere.
Mostpeoplewereatleastsomewhatgratefulforyourhelp.
Bythetimehewasfinishedarguing,fifteenminuteshadgoneby.Hewalkedback,lookingangry—afacialexpressionthat,weirdly,Ialreadyrecognized.I’dseenthatfaceinSomethingforNothing,rightafterthedrugdealersconfrontedhim.I’dalsoseenitinTheOptimist,afterhegotcheatedoutofwinningthecookingcontest.I’djustmetthisman,butIalreadyknewthefunnylittledimplethatinevitablyappearedonhischinwhenhewasreallypissedoff.
Andthereitwas.
AsIstoodup,Iwasnotun–pissedoffmyself.Wecould’vebeendonebynow.Icould’vebeenhomeandalreadypunchedoutfortheday.
“Didyounotknowtheywerehiringus?”Iasked,ashegotclose.
“Ijustthoughtwe’ddecidedagainstit,”hesaid.
“Guessnot,”Isaid.
“Imean,”Jacksaid,“Ididdecideagainstit.Butthestudiodecidedforit.”
“Ithoughtyouwantedoutofthatcontract.”
“Ido,”hesaid.“Butwhatyouwantandwhatyougetaren’treallythesamething.”
Notuntrue.
“Anyway,theirlawyerswantthemtoprotecttheirassets.”
“Isthatwhatyouare?”
Jacknodded.“Absolutely.Theydon’twanttrouble.Andtheydowantmetostayalive.”
“I’msureeverybodywantsthat,”Isaid.
“Noteverybody,”hesaid.“Isn’tthatwhyyou’rehere?”
Trueenough.
AsInodded,JackStapletonreallylookedatmeforthefirsttimesinceI’darrived:hisnewhousekeeper-slash-bodyguard.Ifelthisgazelikeaphysicalsensation—likesunraysonmyskin.I’dlookedathimsomanytimes.Itwasunbelievablyweirdforhimtoactuallylookback.
Heletoutalong,defeatedsigh.“Let’stalkinside.”
INSIDE,ASHISanger-dimplewilltestify,hestayedpissedforawhile.
ThoughIhopeditwasmoreatthestudiothanatme.
Wesatathisdiningtable,andIunclutchedtheaccordionfolderI’dbeenholdingtomychestsinceIgotthere.Itfeltstrangelynakedtoreleaseit.
JackStapletonwasnowslumpedindefeatonadiningchair.“Justdowhatyounormallydo,”hesaid.
Itookabreath.“Okay.”
WhatInormallydo.Thiswasbetter.Wewerebackinmywheelhouse.
“I’mHannahBrooks,”Ibegan.“I’veprotecteddozensofpeopleineverytypeofsituationimaginable.”
ThiswasanintroductoryparagraphI’dmemorized.Iuseditthesameway,everytime,whenImetnewclients.Itwascomfortingtoreciteit,likesinginganoldfavoritesong.
“Executiveprotectionisapartnership,”Iwenton.“We’reheretohelpyou,andyou’reheretohelpus.Whatyouneedfromusiscompetenceandexperiencedguidance,andwhatweneedfromyouishonestyandcompliance.”
JackStapletonwasn’tlookingatme.Hewascheckinghistexts.
“Areyoutextingrightnow?”Ipausedtoask.
“Icandoboth,”hesaid,notlookingup.
“Um.Notreally.Butokay.”
Nothingtodobutkeeptalking.AsIrememberedwhoIwas,Igainedmomentum.IpushedthehandoutI’dbroughtforhimacrossthetable.Printedonthecoverpagewasourguidingprinciple.Ireciteditoutloud.“Theobjectofpersonalsecurityistoreducetheriskofcriminalacts,kidnapping,andassassinationagainstaprincipalthroughtheapplicationoftargetedprocedurestonormaldailylife.”
JackStapletonlookedup.“Assassination?Really?I’vegotafifty-year-oldstalkerwhobreedsshowcorgis.”
Buthecouldn’tderailmenow.“Constantawarenessisthecornerstoneofgoodpersonalsecurity,”Iwenton.“Inaddition,securitymeasuresmustalwaysmatchthethreat.Basedonourlevelofknowledgeatcurrent,yourthreatlevelisrelativelylow.Ofthefourlevels—white,yellow,orange,andred—wepresentlylistyouat‘yellow.’ButweexpectthenewsofyourvisittoHoustontobreakatsomepoint,andwhenitdoes,we’llupyourclassificationto‘orange.’Thestrategyistohavesystemsinplacetomakethattransitionquickly.”
JackStapletonfrowned.Thiswasalotofhigh-leveljargoncomingfromthecleaninglady.
Iwenton.“Allsecurityisacompromisebetweenthedemandsofthethreatlevelandthereasonablehopesoftheclienttoliveasomewhatnormallife.”
“Igaveuponnormallifeyearsago.”
“We’dlikeyoutoreadthisguidancecarefullyandfamiliarizeyourselfwithyourresponsibilitiestowardyourownsafety.Anythingyoucandotopreventyourselffrombeingsuccessfullytargetedhelpsusallkeepyousafe.”
“Again,”Jacksaid,“thisladymostlyknitsChristmassweaterswithmyfaceonthem.They’reactuallykindofimpressive.”
Istoodupalittletaller.“Allsuccessfulkidnappingsandassassinationshappenbecauseofonefinalfactorandonefinalfactoronly:theelementofsurprise.”
“I’mreallynotworriedaboutbeingassassinated.”
“Andsothenumberonethingweneedfromanyprotectedfigureisawareness.Mostpeoplesleepwalkthroughtheirlives,barelycognizantofthedangerseverywhere.Butpeopleunderthreatdon’thavethatluxury.Youmusttrainyourselftonoticethepeopleandobjectsaroundyou—andtoquestionthem.”
“You’rekindoflikeatalkingtextbook,didyouknowthat?”
“I’veworkedforGlennSchultzforeightyearsandmademywaytothehighestrungsofhisorganization.IhaveaPPOcertificate,aswellasadvancedtrainingincountersurveillance,evasivedriving,emergencymedicine,advancedfirearms,andclosecombat.ButifIdomyjobright,we’llneverneedanyofthat.YouandIandtheteam,workingtogether,willanticipatethreatsanddiffusethemlongbeforeanycrisisoccurs.”
“IthinkIlikedyoubetterasthemaid.”
Imethiseyes.“Youwon’tsaythatatthreatlevelorange.”
Helookedaway.
Itookabreath.“Icansensefromyourbodylanguagethatyou’renottoointerestedinreadingthehandout,soI’llsummarizethemostimportantguidelinesforVIPs.”Itickedoffthelistonmyfingers,goingfasterthannecessary,justtoshowoff:
Don’tmeetwithstrangersatunknownlocations.
Don’tbookrestaurantsinyourownname.
Don’ttravelatnight.
Don’tfrequentthesameclubsandrestaurants.
Walkingroupswheneverpossible.
Don’tdriveadistinctivevehicle.
Alertthepolicetoanynewthreats.
Keepyourgastankatleasthalf-fullatalltimes.
Alwayskeepyourcardoorslocked.
Avoidstoppingattrafficlightsbypacingyourspeed.
Establishspecialcodewordstoindicateallisokay.
Therewasmore,buthewassmilingatsomethingonhisInstagram.
Istoppedtalkingandwaitedforhimtonotice.
Afteralongpause,helookedup.“Whatwasthatlastone?”
Iquotedmyself:“‘Establishacodewordtoindicateallisokay.’”
“What’sthecodeword?”
Idecidedonthespot.“Thecodewordis‘ladybug.’”
Jackdroppedhisshoulders.“Couldwedosomethingalittlemorebadass?Maybe‘cobra’?Or‘beastmode’?”
“Theclientdoesn’tgettochoosethecodeword.”
Clientschosethecodewordsallthetime.
Butthat’swhatyougetfortextingwhileI’mtalking.
Jackfrowned.“HowamIsupposedtorememberallthoserules?”heaskednext
“Readthehandbook,”Isaid.“Manytimes.Withahighlighter.”
It’spossiblemytonewasalittlesanctimonious.
Jacksetdownhisphonewithasigh.“Look,”hesaid.“Iwon’tbegoingtoclubsorrestaurants—ormeetingwithstrangersatunknownlocations.I’lljustbestayinghome—orgoingwithmymothertoherdoctor’sappointments.”Hesighed.“Iwillalso…underduress…makeafewtripsouttomyparents’ranch,butGodwilling,thosevisitswillbeshortandrare.Andthat’sit.I’mnotheretohavefun,ormaketrouble,orgetassassinated.I’mjustheretobeagoodsonandhelpoutmymom.”
“Great,”Isaid.“Thatmakesourjobeasier.”
Hestartedtopickhisphonebackup.
Iadded,“Ijustneedtocollectfingerprints,ahandwritingsample,andavialofblood,andwecancallitaday.”IwasforgettingtheVeryPersonalQuestionnaire.ButIwasdoingprettywell,allthingsconsidered.
“Avialofblood?”heasked.
Inodded.“I’mtrainedinphlebotomy.”ThenIglanceddownathisforearms.“Andyou’vegotveinslikefirehoses,anyway.”
Heputhisarmsbehindhisback.“Whatdoyouneedbloodfor?”
“Basicbloodwork.Andtoconfirmyourtype.”
Nowhewasblinkingindisbelief.Ienjoyedshockinghimalittle.
Thiswaswaybetterthanbeingthemaid
“YourassistantfilledinyourbloodtypeontheformasABnegative,”Isaid,“and,ifthat’sconfirmed,you’relucky,becausethat’smybloodtype,too.”
“Whydoesthatmakemelucky?”
“Wealwaysliketokeepatleastonepersonontheteamwhocanactasadonorforourprincipal,”Isaid,pullingouttherubbertourniquetandsnappingit.“Soyoumight’vejustmetyourownpersonalbloodbank.”Six
TENMINUTESLATER,IhadeverythingIneeded,andIwaspackingupmystuff,morethanreadytogetoutofthere.
Therewassomethingsoexhaustingaboutallthathandsomeness.
Seriously.Itwasunabated.Itwasrelentless.Itwasgrueling
AndIwasn’tevenlookingathim!Hewaslookingatme
Finally,Ipausedtolookback.“What?”
“You’renothinglikeIthoughtyou’dbe,”hesaid.
Igavehimalook.“Rightbackatcha.”
“Iexpectedyoutobebigger,forone,”hesaid.
“Youdidn’tevenknowIwascoming.”
“Today,Ididn’tknow.Wewereplanningtohireyoubefore,though.ThenIchangedmymind.”
“Andthenthestudiochangeditback.”
“Somethinglikethat.”
Jackwasstillassessingme,andIcan’tbegintodescribehowstrangeitwastobethewatcheeratherthanthewatcher.
Hewenton,“IguessIthoughtyou’dbemoreofatoughguy.”
Iwasnotatoughguy.Iwastheoppositeofatoughguy.ButIwasn’ttellinghimthat.“Nothingaboutthisjobrequiresyoutobeatoughguy.”
“Whatdoesitrequire?”
“Focus.Training.Awareness.”ItappedmyheadlikeIwaspointingtomybrain.“It’snotaboutbeingtough.It’saboutbeingprepared.”
“Butabodyguard,youknow?Ijustfeellikeyoushouldbelarger.You’re,like,tiny.”
“Iamhardlytiny,”Isaid.“Youjusthappentobeenormous.”
“Whatareyou?Five-four?”
“Iamfive-six,thankyou.”Iwasfive-five.
“Sowhatwouldyoudoifsomemassiveguytriedtobeatmeup?”
“Thatwouldneverhappen,”Isaid.“We’danticipatethethreatandremoveyoufromthescenebeforeitevercametothat.”
“Butwhatifitdid?”
“Itwouldn’t.”
“Butjust—hypothetically?”
Isighed.“Fine.Hypothetically,ifitdid—whichitwouldn’t—Iwouldjust…takehimdown.”
“Buthow?”
“I’vedonejujitsusinceIwassix,andI’masecond-degreeblackbelt.”
“Butwhatifhewasreallybig?”Jacklifteduphisarmslikeabear.
Isquintedathim.“Idon’tthinkyouunderstandhowjujitsuworks.”
Hesquintedback.
“Youdon’tbelieveme?”Iasked.“Doyourealizehowsexistthatis?”
“It’snotsexist…”heprotested.“It’sjust…physics.Howdoessomebodyyoursizetakedownsomebodymysize?”
“That’snotphysics,”Isaid.“That’signorance.”
“Showme,”hesaid.
“What?”
“Jujitsume.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Isighed.“Youwantmetotakeyoudown?Rightnow?”
“Imean,notreally.ButIdothinkI’dsleepeasierifIknewforafactthatyoucould.”
“You’resayingyouwantmetohurtyou?Forreal?BecauseifIdowhatyou’resuggesting,I’lldefinitelyknockthewindoutofyou—andpossiblydislocateyourshoulder,too.”
Thiswasagenuinelybadidea.
ButIguessJackdidwantmetohurthim,becausehegrabbedmyhandanddraggedmeouthisbackdoor,acrossthepatio,toapatchofgrassbythepool.“Badidea,badidea,badidea,”Isaid,ashetuggedmebehindhim.
“Seehoweasyitisformetomanhandleyou,though?”hecalledback.
AndIguessthat’swhenIgavein.Iwasneverabigfanofbeingunderestimated.EspeciallybyaguywhothoughtIwasthecleaninglady.
Hewantedmetohurthim?
Fine.I’dhurthim.
Whenwereachedthegrass,heletgoofmyhandandjoggedoffalittlefurther.ThenheU-turnedandcamebackatme,launchingintoarun.
Iguessweweredoingthis.
Sigh.
Bythispoint,therewasnodecisiontomake.Onceasix-foot-threeguystartsrunningstraightforyou—therearenodecisionsleft.Youjustdowhatyou’retrainedtodo.
Assoonashereachedme,Igrabbedhisleftwristwithbothhands,yankeditdown,andrammedmyhipsintohis.Thetrickhereistogetarollingmotion.You’repullinghisarmandshouldersdownwhileyou’reshovinghislowerhalfup—andthenforcingarolloverthepommelofyourbutt.
Itsoundsmorecomplexthanitis.
Tosumup:Youtuckyourhead,andoverhegoes.
That’sphysics.
Inlessthanasecond,hewasflatonhisback.
Moaning.
“Youaskedforit,buddy,”Isaid.
AsIstareddownathim,hiseyesfoundmine.Andthen,forthefirsttimesinceI’dbeenthere,hesmiled.Abigadmiration-saturatedsmile.“OhGod,thathurts,”hesaid.
“Itoldyou,”Isaid.
Hecradledanarmaroundhismidsection,panting.Orwait—washelaughing?“You’resuchatoughguy!”
“I’mreallynot.”
“You’reawesome,”hesaid.
“Thatwasneverinquestion.”
Next,heflattenedoutandspreadhisarmswide,staringupatthesky.“Thankyou,HannahBrooks!Thankyou!”
Whyonearthwashethankingme?
Thenheshoutedattheclouds.“You’rehired!”
ButIrefusedtobeamazedwithhimaboutsomethingI’ddoneathousandtimes.Itwasn’tamazing.Itwasjusttraining.“Iwasalreadyhired,”Isaid.
“You’rehiredagain!You’redoublehired!You’rehiredwithgreatfanfare!”
Ishookmyheadandwalkedbackinsidetogethimsomeice.
WHENHEMADEittothekitchenminuteslater,stillpanting,stillaglowwithappreciation,helooked,shallwesay,likehe’djustlearnedavitallifelesson.
Isecuredanicepacktohisshoulderwithtied-togetherdishtowels,refusingtobeflustered,now,inaslowermoment,bytheproximityofhisbodytomine.
“Yourshoulder’sreallygoingtohurtforafewdays,”Isaid.
“Worthit,”hesaid.
“Takesomeibuprofenbeforebed.”
“Okay,doc.”
“AndnexttimeItellyouI’mgoodatsomething,”Isaid,“don’tmakemehurtyoutoproveit.”
“Rogerthat.”
Igatheredupmystuffandthenturnedtosaygoodbye,clutchingmyfolderofpaperworktomychestlikeIhadbefore—butfeelinglikeawholenewversionofthegirlwho’dwalkedinhere.
Nothinglikeflippingamanonhisbacktobolsteryourself-esteem.
Recommend
“Soitlookslikewestartinearnesttomorrow,”Isaid,checkingthetentativescheduleGlennhadgivenme.“Youwanttodriveouttoyourparents’placeinthemorning,right?”
Jacknodded.
“We’vegotateamassessingtherouterightnow,”Isaid.“Thisismuchmorerushedthanournormalpreptime,butwe’rejustgoingtofakeittillwemakeit.”
Jackwaslookingdown.Hedidn’tanswer.
“Wecanbringaremoteteamwithustomorrow,andtheycanassesstheranchpropertywhilewe’reoutthere—getsomecamerasinstalled,evaluatethelayout.”Thatfeltlikeagoodplan.
ButthenJacksaid,“Actually,thatcan’thappen.”
Ishookmyhead.“Whatcan’thappen?”
“Wecan’ttakeasecurityteamouttomyparents’place.”
“Whynot?”Iasked.
Hetookadeepbreath.“Becausemyparentscan’tknowanythingaboutthis.”
“Anythingaboutwhat?”
Hegesturedaround,likeAllofit.“Threats,stalkers,personalsecurity.”
“Howisthatsupposedtowork?”
Heshookhishead.“Mymom’ssick,youknow?She’ssick.Andifsheknowsaboutthis,she’llworry.Eventhoughthere’sreallynothingtoworryabout.I’vehadstalkersforyears—I’mtotallyimmunetoallthatbynow.ButI’venevertoldheraboutanythingscary—andI’msureashellnotstartingtheweekshehassurgeryforcancer.”
“But…”Isaid.ThenIwasn’tsurewhattosay.
“She’saworrier,”Jacksaid.“Like,aworld-championworrier.Andshe’sfacingsometestresultsthatare…notgreat.Andeversincemybrotherdied…”Jackstaredathishandslikehedidn’tknowhowtofinishthatsentence.“Forme,Iadmit—abodyguardisagoodthing.Igetit.Butformymom?Notgood.Iwasreadingupontreatmentsonline,andstresscanreallyimpactpeople’soutcomes.Ican’tmakethingsharderthantheyalreadyareonher.Theonlywaytodothisistomakesuremyparentsneverknowwhoyouare.”
“But…how?”
“Yourwebsitesays‘Outside-the-boxsolutionsforeveryscenario.’”Heturnedhisphonetowardmetoshowmethewebsiteforproof.
“That’swhatyou’vebeendoingonyourphone?”Idemanded.
Jackshrugged.“It’soneofthethingsI’vebeendoingonmyphone.”
Igavehimalook.“Thewebdesignerwrotethat.”
“Yourboss—what’shisname?FrankJohnson?”
“Notevenclose.GlennSchultz.”
“Hesaysmuchofthesurveillancecanbedoneremotely.”
DidGlennalreadyknowaboutthisandnottellme?
Jackwenton.“Hesaysyoucanstayclosetomeandasecondgroupcanmonitorfromafar.”
“Butifyou’retotinganagentalongeverywhereyougo,won’tthatkindoftipyourfamilyoff?”
“Notatall.”
Iputmyhandsonmyhips.“Whynot?”
“First,”Jacksaid,“myparentsaresweetandimpossiblygullible.Andmybigbrotherbarelyspeakstome.Second,youdon’tlookanythinglikeabodyguard.”Hetiltedhisheadalittleandgavemehismostheart-meltingsmile.“Andlastbutnotleast?”hesaid.“We’regoingtotellthemyou’remygirlfriend.”
BACKATTHEoffice,Glennwasstillintheconferenceroom,andhalftheteamwastherewithhim.Itwasall-hands-on-decktogetthisJackStapletonprojectgoing.
Ididn’tcare.
“Nope,”IsaidtoGlenn,chargingrightuptotheheadoftheconferencetable.“That’sahundredpercentnope.”
Glenndidn’tevenlookup.“Arewetalkingaboutthe‘girlfriend’thing?”
“Isthereanythingelsetotalkabout?”
“It’snotadealbreaker.We’vedoneweirderthingsforclients.”
“You’vedoneweirderthingsforclients,”Isaid.
“You’veseentheman.Woulditreallybesoawful?”
“Ican’tbelieveyouknew,andyoudidn’ttellme.”
“Ithoughtitmightbebettercomingfromhisownfamouslyhandsomemouth.”
“Well,itwasn’tbetter.Itwasworse.Iwastotallyunprepared.Ihaveneverwalkedoutofaclient’shouselikethat.”
“That’sonyou.”
“No,it’sonyou.Youdidn’twarnme.”
Hekepthisvoicereasonable.“Ididn’twarnyoubecauseit’snotnearlyasbigadealasyou’reactinglikeitis.Histhreatlevelismild.He’sbeenofftheradar.Thepressdoesn’tknowhe’shere.Themoney’sgood.Thisisthedefinitionofeasy.”
“Youbehisgirlfriendthen!”Isaid.
Glennflaredhisnostrils.
“Oranybodyelsehere.”
Kelly’shandshotup.“Ivolunteerastribute.”
“Perfect.SendKelly!”Isaid.“OrsendTaylor.”
“You’rethebestI’vegot,”Glennsaid.“Andit’sgonnabeatrickyone.”
“Youjustsaiditwas‘thedefinitionofeasy.’”
“It’sboth!It’seasyandtricky!AndIneedatopperson.Andthat’syou.”
“Don’tflatterme,”Isaid.
Glennleanedincloser.“Look,”hesaid“He’sestrangedfromhisfamily.He’llbarelyseethem.Sowhatifyouhavetodoalittlebitofcoveringwhenthey’renearby.Fromthelooksofthings,thatshouldn’tbetoooften.”
“Glenn.Hisfamily’sthewholereasonhe’shere.”
ButGlennshookhishead.“Fromwhatwe’vegathered,hisrelationshipwithhisolderbrotheriscompletelynonexistent.”
“Whatabouttheparents?”
“That’slessclear.Eitherway,hedoesn’tspendmuchtimewithanyofthem.”
Ididn’tknowhowelsetoprotest.“Everythingaboutthisfeelswrong.”
Glennkepthiseyesonme.“You’vebeenincognitobefore.”
“Totheoutsideworld.Nottotheclient.”
“Thefamily’snottheclient.JackStapleton’stheclient.”
“Samething,”Isaid.
“Youwon’tbeboredanymore,that’sforsure,”Glennsaid.
“Hello?”Kellysaid,wavingtotheroom.“IsaidI’lldoit.I’mvolunteering.Youdon’tevenhavetopayme.I’llpayyou.”
“It’sunethical,”Isaid,turningtoher.
ButKellyflungherarmtowardthephotoofJackStapletonstilllingeringonthewhiteboard.“Whocares?”
Wasitunethical?Ethicswerealittlehardtogaugeinthisbusiness.Thethingaboutprivatesecuritywas,ithadexplodedinrecentyears—partlybecausetheworldwasmoredangerousforrichpeopleandpartlybecausethosesamepeopleweremoreparanoid.Agentscamefromallbackgroundswithdifferentkindsoftraining—ex-military,ex-police,evenex-firefighters,likeDoghouse.Mostagentsfreelanced.Nothingwasstandardized.ItwasliketheWildWest,really—withpeopledoinganythingtheythoughttheycouldgetawaywith.Itmeantmorefreedom,butalsomorerisk—andalotmoreshenanigans.
Ultimately,wewereonlyaccountabletotheclients.Wehadtokeepthemhappy,andforthemostpart,wedidwhatevertheyasked.Ioncehadaclientaskmetocoverhis$7,000barbill.IoncewentskydivingwithaBelgianprincess.Ioncespentanightkeepinganeyeonaclient’spanther.
WasthisJackStapletonthingthatmuchweirder?
Youservedatthepleasureoftheclient,iswhatI’msaying.Atleast,ifyouwantedtogetpaid.
It’slikelyeverybodyinthatconferenceroomsawthesituationclearlyexceptforme.IfJackStapletonwantedapretendgirlfriend,hegotapretendgirlfriend.AndifIwantedtoworkforJackStapleton,thenthat’swhatIhadtobe.
“Thepointis,”Glennwenton,“it’ssuchagreatopportunityforyou.”
“Andit’smoneyforyou.”
“It’smoneyforallofus.”
Iwasstillshakingmyhead.“Wecan’tdoaproperjobundertheseparameters.”
“It’llbeharder,yes.”Glennconceded.“Butkeepinmind:Histhreatlevelisalmostwhite.”
Igavehimalook.“It’syellow.”
Kellyjumpedin.“Butaverylightyellow.Almostlikealemonsorbet.”
GlennpointedatKelly.“Stopnamingcutesyshadesofthreatlevels.”
Glennwasn’ttakingmeseriously.SoIsaid,“Ithinkyou’vegotdollarsignsinyoureyes.”
Itwasatest.Toseehowhe’dreact.
ItoldyouIcouldreadfaces,right?Bythewayhisjawtightened,IcouldreadthatGlennwasinsulted.That’swhenIstartedtocave.
Hegenuinelythoughtwecouldhandlethis.
“DoyouthinkI’mjustgoingtothrowusallintothefire?”Glennsaid.“Everybody’sreputation’sridingonthis—especiallymine.I’msayingit’sdoable.I’msayingtherearestrategiesformakingitwork.”
Isighed.“Likewhat,exactly?”
“Aremotebackupteam,forone.Cutting-edgesurveillancetech.Placingyouastheeyesandearsontheinsidewithfulltwenty-four-hourbackupteamsontheoutside.”
IguessIcouldkindofseehispoint.
ThenGlennuppedtheante.
“Thepointis,”hesaid,“ifyouwantanychanceofgettingtheLondonposition,you’regoingtogetonboard.”
“SoI’mdoingthiswhetherIlikeitornot.”
“Prettymuch.Butitwouldbenicerifyou’dlikeit.”
Ilookedaroundtheroom.Everyonewaswatchingme.WhywasImakingsuchafuss?
“Howaboutthis,”Glennsaidnext,bothofusawarethathehadallthepower.“Dothiswithoutcomplaining,andI’llsendyouwhereveryouwantforyournextassignment.Youcantakeyourpick.TheKoreathing’sbackon.Youwantit?It’syours.”
I’dbeenwaitingforanotherKoreaassignmenteversincethelastonegotcanceled.“IdowantKorea,”Isaid.
“Done,”Glennsaid.“SixweeksinSeoul.Endlessbowlsofblackbeannoodles.”
Itriedthatideaonforsize.
“Isthatayes?”Glennasked.“Arewesettled?Nomorewhiningandfoot-dragging?”
Iwasjustabouttosayyes,andwewerejustabouttohaveadeal…whenIheardRobby’svoicebehindme.
“Areyouserious?”Robbysaid.“Thisisnevergoingtowork.”
Everybodyturnedtostareathim.TiminghadneverbeenRobby’sthing.
Robbywaslookingaroundthegrouplikethewholeroomwascrazy.“Iseveryonekidding?Thishastobeajoke.”
Washeworriedaboutmysafety?WasheprotestingthewaythatGlennwasstrong-armingme?Washe—maybe—jealous?
Istudiedthelayersofoutrageonhisface.
Andthat’swhenRobbyclearedeverythingup.HeheldhishandsouttowardmeinaBehold!gestureandsaid,“Justlook!Nobodyinamillionyearswilleverpossiblybelievethatthisperson,righthere,bestedthelegendaryKennedyMonroetobecomeJackStapleton’sgirlfriend.”
FIRSTTHINGSFIRST.WecouldsettletheJackStapletonthinglater.
IflewthetenstepstowhereRobbywasstanding,grabbedhimbytheknotofhisnecktiesotightthatitchokedallthepompous,judgmentalasshatteryoffhisface,andIdraggedhimbytheneckouttothereceptionarea.
Hopingtoyellathimalone.
Butofcourseeverybodyfollowedus.
Iwastoomadtocare.
“Whatisyourproblem,man?”Idemanded,lettinggoashecoughedandsputtered.“ThelasttimeIsawyou,youweredumpingme.It’sbeenradiosilencefromyouforafullmonth,andnowyoushowbackuphereandactlikeyou’retheonewhowaswronged?IsthishowyoucompeteforLondon?Withinsultsandname-callinglikeagrade-schoolbully?Whatishappening”—andhereIpressedmypointerfingertohisforehead—“inthattestosterone-soaked,raisin-sizedbrainofyoursthatyoucannotstoppeltinginsultsatme?Infrontofeverybody!What!Is!Wrongwithyou?!”
Ourentireaudience,semihiddenbehindtheficusplants,waitedforRobby’sanswer.
ButbeforeRobbycouldsayanything,theelevatordinged,andthedoorsslidopen.
AndoutsteppedJackStapleton.
Youreallycan’toverstatethedramaofthecollectiveindrawnbreathatthesightofTheDestroyerhimself,intheflesh,steppingintoouroffice.Ofallplaces.
I,ofcourse,hadalreadymetTheDestroyer.I’drolledhisfingersaroundonaninkpad.I’dforcedhimtocopythelyricsoftheArethaFranklinsong“Respect”forhishandwritingsample.I’dstuckhimwithaneedle.AndImayormaynothavedislocatedhisshoulder
SoIwasn’tquiteasshockedtoseehimaseverybodyelse.
ButevenIwasshocked.
SameT-shirt,samejeans—butnowwearingabaseballcapandsneakers,too.Helookedjustordinaryenoughtoputordinarypeopletoshame.Ilookedaroundatmycoworkers,staring:Amadi,thevaledictorianofhishighschoolandnowakindhearteddadofthree;Kelly,thestress-knitterwhohadmadescarvesforeverypersonintheoffice;Doghouse,theex-firefighterwho’dgottenhisnicknamenotbecausehewasineveryone’sdoghouse—butbecausehecompulsivelyfosteredhomelesspuppies.
JackStapleton’spresenceinourofficemadethemallseemmorereal.Andtheymadehimseem…unreal.
Wewaitedforhimtodosomething.
SohetookinthesightofmyfingeronRobby’sforeheadandsaid,“Areyoubullyingthatpoorcoworker?”
Idroppedmyhand.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Heaimedhisgazerightatmine,litupthoselegendarygray-blueeyes,andsaid,“HannahBrooks.Ireallyneedyou.”
Backbythecopymachine,Kellyreleasedaburbleofvicariousdelight.
Jacktookacoupleofstepsclosertome.“Ineedtoapologizefornotgivingyouthewholepicturesooner.AndIneedtosaythatIunderstandyourhesitations.And”—here,hedroppedtohiskneesontheindustrialcarpet—“Ineedtoaskyoutobemygirlfriend.”
Everysinglepersonintheroomwasfrozenstill.
“Getup,”Isaid,tryingtograbJackbytheshouldersand—What?Somehowhoistalltwo-hundred-pluspoundsofhissolidmusclebackup?“Youdon’thavetodothis.”
Buthewasunbudgeable.Duh
“Ireallyneedyourhelp,”hewenton.“Ihavetobehereformymom,andIcan’tshowuphereandbringdanger,orrisk,or—youknow—assassinationswithme.AndIcan’tmakethismomentanyharderonherthanithastobe.Please,pleasetaketheassignment.Andpleasehelpmeprotectherbyconcealingwhoyoureallyare.”
“Whatareyoudoing?”wasallIcouldthinkoftosay.
Hepulledmyhandsintohis.“I’mbegging,”Jackanswered.“I’mbeggingyou.”
Hisexpressionwassoearnest,soplaintive,sointense…forasecond,Ithoughthemightcry.
AndIwasdumbfounded.Again.Forthesecondtimethatday.BecausenobodycrieslikeJackStapleton.
DoyourememberhowhecriedinTheDestroyers?Mostpeoplerememberthemomentwhenheblowsupthemineshaft.Andofcoursethescenewherehegiveshimselfsurgerywithnoanesthesia.Andthecatchphrase,“Neversaygoodbye.”Butwhatactuallymadethatmoviegreatwasthesightofanactionhero,athisdarkestmoment,thinkinghe’dlosteveryonehelovedandfailedthembeyondrecognition,weepingtearsofgrief.Youneverseethat,ever.That’swhatmadethatmovieaclassic.That’swhatmadeitbetterthanallthehundredsofothersjustlikeit—thatraw,humanmomentofvulnerabilitycomingfromthelastguyyou’deverexpect.Itmadeusallwanttobebetterpeople.Itmadeusalllovehim—andhumanity—justalittlebitmore.
Anyway.Thissceneinthereceptionareawasalittlelikethat.
Butwithficusplants.
Hedidn’twindupcrying,intheend.Butjustthesuggestionofitwasenough.
JackStapleton—theJackStapleton—wasonhisknees.
Begging.
Andhere’sthetruth.ThisshouldhavebeentheepiphanywhenIrealizedthatJackStapletondeservedallhisfameandmore.Everythinghedidrightthenheldme,andeveryoneelse,spellbound.
Themancouldact
Heleanedhiskneelingbodyforwardandlookedupatmewithhishandsclasped.“I’mbeggingyoutohelpmysickmom,”hesaid.
Imean,comeon.
I’mnotmadeofstone.
“Fine,”Isaid,summoningaratherOscar-worthyfakenonchalance.“Stopbegging.I’llbeyourgirlfriend.”
AndthenIwentaheadandsnuckonepeekattheslack-jawedexpressiononmyterribleex-boyfriend’slousy,ratty,deplorableface.
Which,tobehonest,feltlikeawinforthegoodguys.
Andforhumanity.
Andespecially,atlast,forme.Seven
THENEXTMORNING,IdrovewestoutInterstate10withJackStapletoninhisshinyblackRangeRovertomeethisparents—fullyincharacterashispretendgirlfriend.
Glennhadsentoverapretendwardrobeforthepretendgirlfriend,courtesyofapersonal-shopperladyfriendofhis.Nopantsuitsallowed.
Fairenough.
That’showIwoundupwearinganembroideredsundresswithsandals,myhairwrappedinamessybun.
Iguessit’shardtofeelprofessionalinasundresswithpuffycapsleeves.ItwaslateOctober,Ishouldmention,butthatcanmeananythinginTexas,weather-wise—anditwasasolideightydegreesoutside.Evenso,Ifeltunderprepared,alittlebitchilly,weirdlynaked,anduncharacteristicallyvulnerable.
Imissedmypantsuit,iswhatI’msaying.
Andyet.
IcouldseewhyJackwouldwanttodoitthisway.Whenmymomwassick,I’dbeenallaboutbolsteringherspirits,andkeepingherhopesalive,andprotectingherfromdespair.Igotit.TheideathatJackmightbeindangercouldbeverystressful.It’shardenoughbeingsick.
I’dthoughtaboutitlastnightasI’ddriventhefreeway—doingaquickrouteassessmentouttotheranchandback—andIdecidedIwasfinewithit.
Intheory,atleast.
Now,today,asitwasactuallyhappening,Iwaslessfine.
Isatprimlyinthepassengerseatwithmykneespressedtogether,feelingnotmyself
JackStapleton,incontrast,positivelyloungedinthedriver’sseat,steeringwithonehandandmanspreadinglikeachampion.Hairunbrusheddefiantly.Chewinggum.Wearingaviatorsunglasseslikehe’dbeenborninthem.
Weweregoingtoaranch,soIguessI’dexpectedacowboylookfromhim.ButheseemedmorelikewewereheadingforaweekendattheCape—asnugbluepoloandstone-coloredkhakiswithloafersandnosocks.
True,IgrewupinHouston.YoumightguessI’dbeentoaranchbefore.But,honestly,no.I’dbeentotheEiffelTower,theAcropolis,theTajMahal,andtheForbiddenCityinBeijing,butI’dneverbeentoaTexasranch.
IguessIwasalwaystoobusyescaping.
Untilnow.
Itouchedtheskinofmykneesandworriedabouthownakedtheywere.ShouldIhavewornjeans?DidIneedtoworryaboutrattlesnakes?Fireants?Cacti?
Ihadapairofstop-sign-redcowboybootsthatmymomhadgivenmeformyeighteenthbirthday,sayingeveryTexasgirlshouldownapairofboots.I’dneverhadagoodreasontowearthemuntilnow.Theyweren’tpartofmyofficialgirlfriendwardrobe,butI’dpackedthemonprinciple.Right?IfIwouldn’twearthemonaranch,I’dneverwearthemanywhere.
MaybeIshouldputthemon.Fortarantulaprotection,ifnotforstyle.
Behindhisshades,IsawJackglanceoveratmyhands.“Areyounervous?”heasked.
Yes.“No.”
“Good.Thiswon’tlastlong.Myparentswillbegladtoseeus,butmybrotherhatesme,sohe’llgetridofusprettyfast.”
“We’reprobablygoingtoneedtotalkaboutthat.”
“Mybrother?”
“Yep.”
“Nope.”
“I’mjustsaying,themoreIknow,thebetterIcanhelpyou.”
“Sotherapyisincluded?”
“Sometimes.”
“Yousignedthenondisclosureagreement,right?”
“Ofcourse.”
Jackthoughtaboutit.“Yeah.I’mstillnottalkingaboutit.”
“Yourcall,”Isaid.I’dbeensoflusteredthefirsttimewemetthatI’dforgottentorunthroughtheVeryPersonalQuestionnaire,andnowseemedlikeasgoodatimeasany.Ipulledmy“J.S.”fileoutofmybag.“Let’sdosomeotherquestions,though.”Westillhadthirtyminutesonthefreeway.
Jackdidn’tagreetoanswer,buthedidn’trefuse,either.
Ipulledoutaballpointpen.“Areyouonanydrugsthatweneedtobeawareof?”
“Nope.”
“Anyvices?Gambling?Hookers?Shoplifting?”
“Nope.”
“Obsessions?Secretlovers?”
“Notatthemoment.”
“Yousoundawfullymonkishforaworld-famousactor.”
“I’mtakingabreak.”
Noted.Iwenton.“Angermanagementproblems?Deepdarksecrets?”
“Nomorethananybodyelse.”
Mentalnote:atadevasivethere.
Iturnedbacktothelist.“Medicalconcerns?”
“Pictureofhealth.”
“Markings?”
Hefrowned.“Markings?”
“Onyourbody,”Iclarified.“Tattoos.Birthmarks.Moles—remarkableorotherwise.”
“IhaveafreckleshapedlikeAustralia,”hesaid,pullingtountuckhisshirt.
“Stop!”Isaid.“IknowwhatAustralialookslike.”Iwrotedown“Australiafreckle”andthenwenton.“Scars?”
“Afew.Nothingtowritehomeabout.”
“Atsomepoint,I’llneedtogetpicturesofeverything.”
“Why?”
Irefusedtohesitate.“Incaseweneedtoidentifyyourbody.”
“Mydeadbody?”
“Yourlivebody.Likeinaransomphoto.Notthatitwouldevercometothat.”
“That’sdisturbing.”
Ikeptgoing.“Otherphysicalabnormalities?”
“Like?”
Mostpeoplejustansweredthequestions.“Idon’tknow.Crookedtoes?Extratooth?Vestigialtail?Getcreative.”
“Nothing’scomingtomind.”
Okay.Next.“Sleepingdifficulties?”
Iwaitedforhimtodemandexamples,butinstead,afterapause,hejustsaid,“Nightmares.”
Inodded,likeGotit.“Frequency?”
“Acoupleoftimesamonth.”
Acoupleoftimesamonth?“Recurrent?”
“What?”
“Isitthesamenightmareeverytime?”
“Yep.”
“Canyoutellmewhatit’sabout?”
“Doyouneedtoknow?”
“Imean,kindof.”
Heworkedthesteeringwheellikehewasconsideringhisoptions.Finally,hesaid,“Drowning.”
“Okay,”Isaid.Itwasonlyoneword,butitfeltlikealot.Nextquestion.“Anyphobias?”
Apause.
Thenacurtnod.“Alsodrowning.”
Inotedthatinthefileandwasabouttomoveonwhenheadded:
“Andbridges.”
“Youhaveaphobiaofbridges?”
Hekepthisvoicetightandmatter-of-fact.“Ido.”
“Theideaofbridgesoractualbridges?”
“Actualbridges.”
Huh.Okay.“Howdoesthatmanifest?”
Hechewedontheinsideofhislipasheweighedhisoptions,decidinghowmuchtoshare.“Well,inabouttwentyminutes,we’regoingtocometopartofthehighwaythatgoesovertheBrazosRiver.Andwhenthathappens,I’mgoingtopullover,stopthecar,getout,andwalkacrossthebridgeonfoot.”
“Whataboutthecar?”
“You’regoingtodriveitoverthebridgeandwaitformeontheotherside.”
“Isthathowyoualwayscrossbridges?”
“It’showIprefertocrossthem.”
“Butwhatifyou’rebyyourself?”
“Itrynottobebymyself.”
“Butifyouare?”
“IfIam,Iholdmybreathandkeepgoing.ButthenIhavetopullofftheroadforawhile.”
“Whydoyoupullofftheroad?”
“Tothrowup.”
Itookthatin.ThenIasked,“Whyareyouafraidofbridges?”
“DoIhavetotellyou?”
“No.”
“Thenlet’sjustsaythatAmerica’sinfrastructureisn’tnearlyassturdyaswe’dallliketothink.Andleaveitatthat.”
WENEVERDIDfinishthequestions.
WhenwegotclosetotheBrazosbridge,Jackreallydidpulloverontheshoulderjustbeforethebridge,getoutoftheRangeRover,andwalkacrossonfoot.
Ididmypartanddrovetomeethimontheotherside.
Iwaitedforhim,leaningagainstthebumperofhiscar,rockingfromtheblastsof18-wheelerszoomingby,watchingthetensioninhisfaceandthefocusofhiseyesashemadeastraightlinefromoneshoretotheother.
Wow.Howmanypeoplehavedrivenpastarandompedestrianwalkingacrossahighwaybridge,neverrealizingitwasmegastarJackStapleton?
Whenhereachedme,hisfacewaspaleandtherewassweatonhisforehead.“Youweren’tjoking,”Isaid.
“Ineverjokeaboutbridges.”
Hegotbackinthedriver’sseatandrolleddownthewindows,and,withthat,heshiftedbackintocharacterasarelaxed,carefreeguywhohaditall.
“You’veaskedmealotofquestionstoday,”Jacksaidthen.“Ihaven’taskedyouevenone.”
“Andweshouldkeepitthatway.”
“Ican’taskyouquestions?”
“Youcanask…”IsaidwithalittleI-don’t-make-the-rulesshrug.
Butthequestionheaskedwasn’twhatIwasexpecting.
Heturnedandlookedmeupanddown.“Haveyoudoneanyacting?”
GivenwherewewereheadedatthatverymomentandthecollaborationI’djustsignedupfor,thiswasoneIprobablyneededtoanswer.
Afirst.
Ithoughtaboutit.“I’veportrayedafewbarnyardanimalsinafewChristmaspageants.”
“Sothat’safullno.”
Itriedtogivehimsomething.“Thereareelementsofactingtomyjob.SometimesIhavetoplayakindofroleinasituation.Butit’smostlyaboutblendingintothebackground,orvaguelyseeminglikeapersonalassistant.”
Jacknodded,thinking.
“Neveranythingso…detailed,though.”
“Okay,”hesaid,stillthinking.“I’mgoingtotellthemthatyou’remygirlfriend,andthatshoulddoalotoftheheavylifting.Oncethat’sestablished,I’lldomostofthework.Imean,wholiesabouthavingagirlfriend?Allyoureallyhavetodoisjustbepleasant.”
“Bepleasant,”Isaid,likeIwaswritingitdown.
“Yeah,like,youdon’thavetomemorizelines,ordeliverasoliloquy.Thisisn’tShakespeare.Justbenormal,andthecontextshoulddotherest.”
“SoIdon’thavetoactlikeI’mmadlyinlovewithyou?”
Hegavealittlesidewaysglance.“Notunlessyouwantto.”
“Whatiftheydon’tbelieveyou?ThatI’myourgirlfriend?”Ihadn’trealizedhowvulnerableitwouldfeeltoaskthisquestionuntilIwasdoingit.
ButJackgaveaconfidentnod.“They’llbelieveme.”
“Why?”
“You’retotallymytype.”
Icouldn’tresist.“Cleaningladiesareyourtype?”
Hepointedatme.“Thatwasanhonestmistake.”
IactuallyhadnoideahowIwasgoingtopassforJackStapleton’sgirlfriend.IdidnotbuyforasecondthatIwashistype.I’ddoneathoroughGooglesearchonhimandI’dseenenoughBarbiedollstolastmealifetime.Oneofthemhadclearlyhadsomuchcosmeticsurgery,Icouldn’thelpbutwonderifhermothermissedherface.
NottomentionKennedyMonroe.
“Hey—”Isaidthen.“Whataboutyourrealgirlfriend?”
“Whatdoyoumean—‘realgirlfriend’?”
Igaveasharpsigh.“IthinkyourparentsmightnoticethatIamnotKennedyMonroe.”
Jackpuffedoutalaugh.Thenhesaid,“Myparentsdon’tpayattentiontothatstuff.”
“Areyousayingyourparentsdon’tknowyou’redatingKennedyMonroe?YouwereonthecoverofPeople!Inmatchingsweaters!”
“It’spossible.”
“It’sreallynot.Nobodydoesn’tknowthat.”
Jackthoughtaboutit.Thenheshrugged.“Iftheyask,I’lljusttellthemwebrokeup.Buttheywon’task.TheyknownothinginHollywoodisreal.”
WasKennedyMonroenotreal?Suddenly,Ifelttooshytoask.
ItriedtoimagineanyonebelievingthatJackwoulddownshiftfromKennedyMonroetome.Justhowgullibleweretheseparents?Weretheyincomas?
ThesoundofRobbysayingtherewasnowayIcouldpassechoedthroughmymind,andIsohatedthatIagreedwithhim
Butherewewere.
Jackwasstillnoodlingonit.“Ithinkourbestoptionisjustforyoutosmilealot.”
Thatdidn’tsoundtoohard.
“Justsmile.Atthem.Atme.Justsmileuntilyourcheekshurt.”
“Gotit.”
“Howdoyoufeelaboutmetouchingyou?”
HowdidIfeelaboutJackStapletontouchingme?“Whatkindoftouchingarewetalkingabout?”
“Well,thewayIamaroundgirlfriends…I’dsaythatItendtotouchthemalot.Youknow.Ifyou’reintosomeone,youjustwanttobetouchingthem.”
“Sure,”Isaid.
“So,thatcouldaddsomeauthenticity.”
“Agreed.”
“Woulditbeokayformetoholdyourhand?”
Notahardquestion.“Yes.”
“CanI…drapemyarmoveryourshoulders?”
Anothernod.“Thatsoundsacceptable.”
“CanIwhisperthingsinyourear?”
“Thatmightdependonwhatyou’rewhispering.”
“Maybeit’sbettertoask:Isthereanythingyoudon’twantmetodo?”
“Well,Ipreferyoutokeepyourclotheson.”
“That’sagiven,”hesaid,“whilehangingoutwithmyparents.”
“Butjustbroadly,”Isaid.“Ingeneral.Nosurprisenakedness.”
“Agreed.Andrightbackatya.”
“AndIcan’timaginethatyou’dneedtokissme…”
“I’vealreadythoughtaboutthat.”
He’dalreadythoughtaboutthat?
“Wecanusestagekissing,”hesaid.“Ifwegetinapinch.”
“Whatisstagekissing?”
“It’swhatyoudoinaplay.Itlookslikeakiss,butyourmouthsdon’tactuallytouch.LikeIcouldcupyourfaceandthenkissmythumb.”Heliftedhishandoffthesteeringwheelandkissedhisthumbfordemonstration.
Ah.“Okay.”
“Probablyshouldn’ttrythattoday.”
“No.”
“Thosetakesomepractice.”
PracticingfakekissingwithJackStapleton…“Gotit.”ThenIadded,“Andobviously,ofcourse,ifyouneedtodoarealkissforsomereason—that’sfine.Imean,I’mfinewithit,ifit’snecessary.Imean,Iwon’tbemad.”
GoodGod.Isoundedlikealoonybird.
“Noted,”Jacksaid,movingrightalongasifheencounteredthisparticularbrandoflooninessallthetime.Whichheprobablydid.Hewenton:“IguesswhatI’mtryingtosayisthatIappreciatewhatyou’redoingforme—andmymom—andIdon’twanttomakeyouuncomfortable.”
“Thankyou.”
“I’lltrynottomakeanywrongmoves,butifImessup,justtellme.”
“Same,”Isaid.
Andwiththat,hecrankeduptheradio,rolledbackthesunroof,andfoundhimselfafreshpieceofcinnamongum.Eight
THESTAPLETONS’RANCHwasmanylong,labyrinth-likeroadsfromthehighway—deepinfarmcountry.Youhadtopassfieldsofcornandcottonandpasturesfullofcows.Therewasevenafieldwithreallivelonghorns.
Whenwearrived,Jackturnedontoahalf-mile,gravelentryroadthatstartedatacattleguard,crossedawide-openfield,andseemedtogoonforever.
“Howbigisthisranch,anyway?”Iasked,startingtosuspectthatitwasnotsmall.
“Fivehundredacres,”hesaid.
Thesheersizemadeitmorerealforsomereason.Thiswasanactualplace.Thoseweregenuinebarbed-wirefences.Bonafidehumanslivedhere.Thiswasreallyhappening.
Butitdidn’treallyhappen,intheend.
Wenevermadeittotheranchhouse.
Isawthehouseupaheadinthedistance—whitestuccowitharedSpanish-tileroof—buthalfwayupthegravelentranceroad,wespottedaguyoutinthefieldwhocouldonlybeJack’sbrother.Idon’twanttocallhimapoorman’sJackStapleton,butthat’saboutright.Samejawline.Sameposture.Hehadonbrownropersandaplaidshirtandabluegimmecap.
“Isthatyourbrother?”Iasked.
Jacknodded.“Yep.Meetmyfolks’ranchmanagerandmyownpersonalnemesis,HankStapleton.”
JackstoppedthecarandshiftedtoParkrightthereintheone-laneroad.WewatchedasHankpulledahaybaleoffthebackofapickupbedanddroppeditbyhisfeet.Thenhelookedupandsawus.
Hewentstillandstared.Hedidn’twave.Hedidn’twalktowardus.Justpulledoffhisworkglovesandwatchedus,allwary,likehe’dseenacoyoteorsomething.
AndI’lltellyouthis:Theminutethoseguyslockedeyes,everymuscleonJack’sbodytightened.Itwasdownrightanimalistic.
Estranged?Yeah,thataboutcapturedit
IthoughtaboutthoserumorsthatKellyhadneverbeenabletoconfirm.Thecaraccident.ThepossibilitythatJackhadbeendrivingafterdrinking.DidHankStapletonseemlikehemightbelookingatadrunk-drivingmanslaughtererwhohadcovereditalluptosavehiscareer?
Sure.Whynot?
Hecertainlywasn’tlookingatsomeonehewasgladtosee.
“Stayhere,”Jacksaid.Andashegotoutandwalkedintothefieldtowardhisbrother,itdefinitelyhadaShootout-at-the-O.K.-Corralvibe.Icouldalmosthearthespaghetti-westernthememusic.
Weretheygoingtohaveafightoutthere,withJackallsocklessinapairofItalianloaferslikeacityslicker?
Iputmyfingersonthedoorhandle,readytospringoutifJackneededme.
ThenIwaited,watching.
WasIgoingtoeavesdroponthem?
Mostdefinitely.
Irolleddownthewindowsandcutthemotor—and,atfirst,IthoughtIcouldn’thearthem.UntilIrealizedtheyweren’tactuallytalking.Unlessyoucouldcallhostilesilenceatypeofconversation.
Finally,Hanksaid.“Iseeyoubroughtanentourage.”
“Justmygirlfriend.”
Hankglancedmyway.“Thatdoesn’tlookmuchlikeKennedyMonroe.”
Icringed.Noshit.
Jackshookhishead.“StopreadingPeople.Webrokeup.”
“Youhaven’tbeenhereintwoyears,andyoubringsomerandombrand-newgirlfriend?”
“Tryingtoevenuptheteams.”
“Fortherecord,Idon’twantyouhere.”
“Fortherecord,Ialreadyknewthat.”
“Mominsisted.AndDadwantswhatMomwants.”
“Iknewthat,too.”
“Idon’tneedyoumakingthisanyharderforherthanithastobe.”
“Agreed.”
Alongsilence.Whatweretheydoing?
ThenHanksaid,“Anyway,youcanheadbacktothecity.She’snotupforavisittoday.”
Jacklookedovertowardthehouse.ThenbackatHank.“Isthatherassessmentoryours?”
“She’sinbedwiththecurtainsdrawn,soIexpectwe’reinagreement.”
“Where’sDad?”
“He’swithher.”
WhenJackspokeagain,hisvoicewastight.“YoucouldhaveletmeknowbeforeIdroveallthewayouthere.”
Apause.“Idon’thaveyournumber.Anymore.”
Theymayhavesaidotherthingsafterthat,butIconfess—Imissedthem.
Becauserightthen,outofnowhere,likesomethingoutofahorrorfilm,agiantfaceappearedatmyopencarwindow.
Agiant,whitecowface.
ItwascloseenoughthatIcouldfeelitshumid,otherworldlybreathwashingovermyskin.Idon’twanttosaythecowsnuckuponme,butlet’sjustsaythefieldhadbeenemptyuptothatpointandthensuddenly—Boom
Whatwerethecow’sintentions?We’llneverknow.
Butinonesecond,thereitwas.
Andonesecondlater,thefacecamethroughtheopenwindowandlickedmyforearm.
Withitsrough,greentongue.
MaybeIscreamed.
Ormaybenot.
It’sablur.
Idefinitelymadeanoiseofsomekind,though—loudenoughtogetthatcow,andapparentlythewholeherdthatwasrightbehindit,togallopawayafewsteps,beforeseemingtorunoutofenergy,slowtoastop,andturntostareatme.
Atthispoint,I,intheRangeRover,wassurroundedbyawholeherdofwhite,floppy-necked,sad-facedcows.
AndI’mnotgoingtopretenditwasn’tscary.
Ofcourse,cowsaren’tgenerallyregardedasterrifyingcreatures.Buthere’swhatyouneverrealizewhenyouseethemonmilkcartons,oronTV,oreveninsomedistantfield:They.Are.Enormous.
TheymakeevenJackStapletonlooksmall.
SoeventhoughIwassafelyencasedinaluxurySUV,Icouldstillfeelmyheartgoingdouble-timeinmychest.Iwassurroundedbythem.Ahundred?Athousand?Awholehellofalot.Allwithlimpidblackeyes,andsurprisinglyfemininelashes,staringpoint-blankintomysoul.
WhatevernoiseI’djustmade,itstartledJack,too.
Atthesound,heturnedandstartedrunningbacktowardthecar—andthegenuineconcernIsawonhisfacerightthenonlyamplifiedmyanxiety.
Inmydefense,herearethefactsasIexperiencedthem:
Doesn’tthatfeellikecauseforconcern?
Attheedgeoftheherd,Jackslowed,adjustingintoacalmsaunter,buthekepthiseyesonme.Heenteredthecrowdofbeastsandwalkedcalmlyamongthemuntilhe’dreachedthedriver’sdoor
Heclimbedin.
“Whathappened?”hesaidthen,lookingmeover,allintense.
Iblinked,likeDuh
“Areyouhurt?Whatwasit?”
“Whatwasit?”Isaid.“Lookaround!”
Jacklookedaround—butdidn’tseemtoseeanything.“WhatamIlookingfor?”
“Whatareyoulookingfor?”Iasked,andthenIlaunchedmyarminapanoramic,asiftosay,BeholdTerrorinalldirections.
Nowhisexpressionwasshifting.“Doyoumean…”Andthenhegavethetiniestheadshake,likehewasrejectingtheguessevenashewasmakingit:“Thecows?”
Keepingmyeyesonhis,Inodded.
“Thecows?”heconfirmed.“We’retalkingaboutthecows?That’swhyyoujustscreamed?”
Itriedtorecalibrate.“Incaseyouhaven’tnoticed,we’refullysurrounded.”
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Bycows.”
Icouldfeelhistoneshifting,butIwasn’tsurewhatitwasshiftingto.“Therearemillionsofthem,”Isaid.
“Therearethirty,”hesaid,“tobeexact.Aherd.”
“Arethey…”Ididn’tquiteknowhowtoputit.“Angry?”
Jacksquintedalittle.“Dotheylookangry?”
Idouble-checkedmyreadonthem,justbaldlystandingthere,staring.“Itfeelsalittleaggressive.”
Jackturnedtomethen,infascination.“Areyouafraidofthesecows?”
“I’mnotgoingtocommentonthat.”
“You,whoflippedmeonmyasswithouteventrying?”
“Thesecowsmakeyoulooklikeadollhouseperson.”
“Butyouknowthatcowsaregentlecreatures,right?”
“I’veheardofpeoplegettingtrampledbycows.Thathappens.”
“Well,sure.Ifyoutripandfallrightinfrontofonethat’salreadyrunning,maybe.Butontheaggressionscale…”Hetiltedhisheadandthoughtaboutit.“Nope.They’renotevenonthescale.”
NowIfeltlikeIhadtostandupformyself.“Iwasn’ttheonlypersonscaredjustnow.Youcamerunninglikeashot.”
“Yeah.Becauseyouscreamed.”
“WhydidyouthinkIdidthat?”
“Ididn’tknow.Copperheadsnake?Fireantattack?Murderhornets?Somethingscarierthancows?”
ButwhosesidewasIgoingtotakebesidesmyown?Idoubleddownanddeclared:“Oneofthemattackedme.”
“Define‘attacked.’”
“Itlickedme.Withintention.”
Nowhewassuppressingasmile.“Youmean,asifitmight—what?Eatyou?”
“Whoknowswhatitsendgamewas?”
“‘Trampledbyacow’mightbeathing.‘Eatenbyacow’isdefinitelynot—inanyway,ever—athing.”
“Thepointis,Iwaslicked.Byitsgreentongue.Ididn’tevenknowcowshadgreentongues.”
Jack’sexpressiongottotallyhijackedbyamusementnow.Heclosedhiseyes,thenopenedthem.“Cowsdon’thavegreentongues.It’sthecud.”
Istaredathim.
“It’sgrass,”hesaid.“It’sregurgitatedgrass.”
“What!”Ithrashedaround,tryingtowipeoffmyalready-dryarmagainonmysundress.
WatchingthismadeJackactuallylaugh.Heleanedforwardandrestedhisforeheadonthesteeringwheel,andIwatchedhisshouldersshake.
“What?”Isaid.“It’slegitimatelydisgusting.”
Thisjustmadehisshouldersshakeharder.
“Whatissofunny?”
Nowheleanedbackagainsttheheadrest,stilllaughing.“You’reafraidofcows.”
“Um,hello?Weareoutnumbered.”Ilookedaround.“Wearetotallysurrounded.Imean,whathappensnow?Dowejusthavetolivehere?”
ButJackjustkeptlaughing.“Ithoughtitwouldbeabananaspider,atleast.”
“YouthinkI’dbescaredofaspider?”
“You’veclearlyneverseenabananaspider.”
“Canyoujustgetusoutofhere,please?”
“NowIkindofwanttostay.Thiscouldbearealityshow.”Thenhisfacejustrelaxedintoabiggrin.“Mymoney’sonthecows.”
Iglaredathimuntilheputthecarindriveandslowlyeasedforwardintotheherd.Iputmyhandovermyeyes,butafterasecond,Ihadtolook.Theherdwasmovingforus,steppingaway,likeWhatever
Asheturnedoffthegravelroadandintothefield,steeringabumpyandwideU-turnoverantbedsandthistlebushes,Jackjustkeptlaughing,wipingattearswithonehandandsteeringwiththeother.
“OhGod,”hesaidfinally,aswepulledbackupontothegravel,nowdrivingawayfromthehouse,backtowardtown.“Thankyousomuch.”
“Whatareyouthankingmefor?”Iasked.
ButJackjustshookhisheadinamazement.“Ididnotexpecttolaughtoday.”Nine
BYTHETIMEwemadeitbacktoJack’shouseinthecity,Iwasreadyforsomerelief.
Everythingaboutthattriptothecountrywasdestabilizing—fromthedressIwaswearingtothecowattack.
Iwasnotgoingtolovebeingundercover.
Buttheteamhadtakenthedaytofinishoutfittingthecityhouse,andsothegaragewasnowsetupasanonsitesecurityheadquarters.Moresurveillancecameraswereupandoperational—mostlyoutside,aroundtheperimeter,inspotswherestalkersweremostlikelytolurk,supplementingtheonesathisbackdoor,thepatio,andinsidehisfronthallway.
Wewouldn’tbehereallthetime.Hewasonlythreatlevelyellow,afterall.I’dputinaregular,twelve-hourshiftandthenJackwouldbeonhisownforthenight.We’dinstructhim,again,toreadthehandbookandmakegoodchoicesonhisown—andwe’dmonitorthesecuritycamerasforsignificantmovement.Differentmembersoftheteamwouldbeoncall.
Allthiswasstandard.
Oncewegotbacktothehouse,Icouldfallintomynormalrole.Ichangedoutofthedress,whichsomehowfelttooflutterytoallowmetodomyjobright,andbackintoapantsuit,andthenIstoodjustoutsideJack’sdoorintheat-easeposition.Meandthefiddle-leaffig.
Theplanwasthis:OnnormaldaysinthecitywithJack,Iwouldbetheprimaryagent,stayingwithhimwhereverhewentduringmyshift.Doghousewasthesecondaryagent,asbackup.AndthentherewasaremoteteamofTaylorandAmadidoinglightremotesurveillance—mostlymonitoringthecameras.
Kellywasn’tinvolved.GlennhaddecidedthesockswithJack’sfacewereadealbreaker.
Robbywasn’tontheteam,either.Iwouldn’thaveexpectedGlenntopassupanopportunitytoforceustoworktogether.Glennwasabigfanofpunishment.Especiallyifhecouldmeteitouthimself.
Butitwasn’tmyjobtoquestionhim.NoRobbywasfinewithme.
OnthedaysthatJackandIhadtovisithisparents,theteamswouldflip:TaylorandAmadiwouldbeprimaryagents,doingheavysurveillanceremotelywithDoghouse,andIwouldbesecondary,asetofeyesandearsontheinside,butmostlyjusttheretonotblowmycover
ItgoeswithoutsayingthatIpreferredbeingprimary.
Ialsopreferredbeingabletodomyjobright.
HowexactlywasIsupposedtocompeteforLondon,ifallIcoulddowasstandaroundinacottondress?
Beingbackintownfeltgood.Standingguardatafrontdoorisnotalwaysthemostthrillinguseoftime,butcomparedtofeelinguselesswhilebeingmenacedbycattle,itwassurprisinglycomforting.
Atonepoint,JackpoppedhisheadouttoseeifI’dlikeacappuccino.
Ididn’tmeethiseyes.“No,thankyou.”
“Yousure?”
“Don’tbreakmyconcentration.”
Towardtheendofmyshift,TaylorandRobbyshowedupatthepropertytomakeafewnotesonthegardenlayout.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”IsaidtoRobby.“You’renotonthisassignment.”
“Everybody’sonthisassignment,”Robbysaid.“Thisisateameffort.We’reateam.”
“That’snothowitusuallyworks.”
“Wedon’tusuallyhaveclientsthisfamous.”
ITWASALMOSTtimeformetopunchout,andTaylorandRobbyhadbeengoneawhile,whenIdecidedtogivethesurveillancecamerasonemorecheck.Wehadthemonitorsetupatamakeshiftdesk,butIdidn’tevensitintherollingchair.Ijustleanedintoscrollthroughthecameraviews—justforaquickall-clearbeforeheadinghome—whenInoticedsomethingonthemonitor.
Downinthecornerof“Pool1”cameraviewIsawwhatlookedlikeapantslegandpartofashoe.
Allmyhackleswentup.Ienhancedtheimagetogetabetterlook,andthenIadjustedthecameraangletotheright.
Andthat’swhenIsawsomethingInever,everwould’veexpectedtosee.
InJackStapleton’sgarden,outbythepoolhouse,partiallyhiddenbehindaPalmettotree…Robby,myex,andTaylor,myfriend…
Werekissing.
Eachother.
Robby…whohaddumpedmeamonthagoonthenightaftermymother’sfuneral…andTaylor…whohadcomeoverrightafterwardtoconsolemewhileIcried…
Werekissing.
Andworsethanthat:onthejob
There’snowaytodescribehowitfelttolivethroughthatmoment.Myeyestriedtolookawaybutcouldonlystare,ClockworkOrange–style,asthetwoofthemwentonandon,alltangledandpressedtogether,suckingfacelikehatefulteenagers
RememberwhenIcouldn’tfeelanyfeelingsaboutRobby?
Well,thatcuredthat.
TheclosestwordIhaveforitispanic.Justanagonizing,urgentfeelingthatIneededtoturnitoff,ormakeitstop,orfindsomewayforittonotbehappening.Thenaddsomerage.Andsomehumiliation.Anddisbelief,too—asItried,andfailed,tounderstandwhatIwasseeing.
Itwasaphysicalfeeling—burningandsearing,likemyheartwaspumpingacidinsteadofblood.
Upuntilthatmoment,Ididn’tevenknowthatfeelingexisted.
Atsomepoint—Fiveminuteslater?Fivehours?—Iheardavoiceovermyshoulder.“Theyshouldgetfiredforthat,huh?”
Iturned.ItwasJackStapleton,hiseyesonthemonitor.
AsIlookedathim,helookedatme,andhisexpressionshiftedfromamusementtoconcern.“Hey,”hesaid.“Areyouokay?”
ButIdidn’tknowwhattodowithmyface.Itwaslikethemusclesdidn’tworkright.Myeyesstayedwideandbewildered,andmymouthcouldn’tseemtocloseitself.
Jackcertainlydidn’tknowhowuniverse-shatteringthismomentwasforme,andthelastthingIwantedwasforhimtofindout.Iwantedtocover.Tosmileandshakemyheadandsay,“idiots,”liketheywerejustdumbcoworkerswhoIwasjudgingforfoolingaroundonthejob.
ButIcouldn’tsmile.Orshakemyhead.Orspeak.
WhatwasJackevendoinghere,anyway?Shouldn’thebeinsidedoingmoviestarstuff?
AndthenIrealizedsomethingelse,asJackpulledthecuffofhisshirtsleeveovertheheelofhishand,liftedittomyface,andstarteddabbingatmycheeks.
Iwascrying.
Myeyeswere,atleast.Withoutmypermission.
Afterafewdabs,Jackpulledhishandawaytoshowmehowthewetnesshaddarkenedhiscuff,and,withatendervoiceIrememberedfromthegrandfinaleofYouWish,hesaid,“What’sgoingonhere?”
Atlast,Ishookmyhead.Ahistoricachievement,allthingsconsidered.
Activatingtheneckmusclesseemedtoreleasethejawmusclesaswell,andIwasabletoclosemygapingmouth.Withthat,Ibecamefunctionalenoughtolookaway.
“Areyoucrying?”Jackasked,tryingtosteparound.
OfcourseIwas.ObviouslyIwas.ButIshookmyhead.
“Ithoughtyouwereatoughguy.”
“Ialreadytoldyou:I’mnot.”
“Ibelieveyounow,”Jacksaid.
“It’sallergies,”Iinsisted.
ButIdidn’tevensoundconvincingtomyself.
“Whatareyouallergicto?Yourcoworkerskissingbymyinfinitypool?”
Ishouldhavegonewith“pollen.”Right?Aclassic.
Butinstead,asmybrainshort-circuited,Ifeltthatacidbleedingoutfrommyheartandsaturatingmefromtheinside.WhatwasIallergicto?Iwasallergictodisappointment.Iwasallergictobetrayal.Iwasallergictofriendship.Tohope.Tooptimism.Tolife,towork,tohumanityingeneral.
AndsojustIansweredwith,“I’mallergictoeverything,”andIwalkedoutofthegarage.
Jackletmeleave,whichwasarelief.
Ididn’twanttotalk,orprocess,orexploremyfeelings,forGod’ssake—andevenifIhadwantedtodoanyofthosethings,Iwouldneverinamillionyearshavedonethemwithhim.
Youdon’ttalkaboutyourlifewithclients.
Youjustdon’t.
Youwindupknowingeverythingaboutyourprincipals—buttheyneverknowanythingaboutyou.Andthat’showithastobe.
Buthere’sthething:Theclientsneverunderstandthat.Itfeelssomuchlikearealrelationship,it’shardtokeepitclear.You’retravelingtogether,goingtobarstogether,skiingtogether,hangingoutatthebeachtogether.You’retherefortheirupsanddowns,theirfights,andtheirsecrets.Yourpurposeintheirlivesistocreatesecuritysotheycanfeelnormal.
Ifyou’redoingagoodjob,theydofeelnormal.
Butyouneverdo.
Youneverlosesightofyourpurpose.Andpartofkeepingthatfocusisknowing—backward,forward,insideout,andupsidedown—thattheyarenotyourfriends.
Friendsmightwipethetearsoffyourfacewiththeirshirtsleeves,butclientsnevershould.
WhichiswhyIhadneveronceineightyearscriedinfrontofaclient.
Untiltoday.
Youhavetomaintainprofessionaldistance,oryoucan’tdoyourjob.Andtheonlywaytodothatwhilespendingeveryminuteofeveryshifttogetheristonever,evershareanythingpersonal.Clientsaskpersonalquestionsallthetime.Youjustdon’tanswer.Youpretendyoudidn’thear,oryouchangethesubject,or—mosteffectiveofall—youturnthequestionbackonitself.
Theanswerto“Areyouscared?”shouldbe“Areyouscared?”
Theanswerto“Doyouhaveaboyfriend?”shouldbe“Doyouhaveaboyfriend?”
Seehoweasythatis?Workseverytime.
Andwhat’smore?Theyneverevennotice.
Becausemostly,whenpeopleaskyouaboutyou,whattheyreallywanttotalkaboutisthem.
Right?
It’shardtodescribethemaelstromofemotionschurningaroundinsidemeasImademywayouttothedrivewaywiththesingulargoalofgettingtomycarandheadinghome.Shock,agony,humiliation—allthere,sure.Butaddtothat:asenseofdeepdisappointmentatlettingmyselfgetcaughtbyaclientinarealmomentofemotion.
Wasthereawaytorecover?
He’dseenthetears,yes.Buthecouldn’tknowforsureexactlywhattheymeant.
I’dgohome,regroup,andthen—onlythen—iftherewastimeandIwassoinclined,wouldIletmyselfthinkaboutwhatI’djustwitnessed.
Ormaybenot.
BecauseifIjustwitnessedwhatIthoughtIdid,itmeantthatinoneshortmonth,I’dlosteverysingleoneofthethreemostimportantpeopleinmylife
Mother.Boyfriend.Bestfriend.
AndnowIwastrulyalone.
Therealizationthreatenedtobringmetomyknees.
Ihadtogetoutofthere.Ihadtomakeittomycar.
Butthat’swhenRobby—notevenontheteam—showedupagainafewfeetaway.
Hestoppedwalkingwhenhesawme,andIdidthesamebacktohim.
“Oh,hey,”hesaid.
Couldheseemyface?CouldhetellthatIknew?
“Shift’sover,”Isaid,maxingoutthesyllablesIcouldaccess.“Headinghome.”
“Great.Yeah.Ithinkwe’regoodhere.”
Iputmyheadbackdowntokeepwalking
“Hey—”Robbysaidthen,takingafewstepsfast,likehewasgoingtointerceptme.“CanItalktoyouaboutsomething?”
“Nope,”Isaid.
“Justforaminute,”hesaid,surprisedatmyanswer.
“You’renotevensupposedtobehere,Robby.Don’tmakemereportyoutoGlenn.”
“Thirtyseconds.”Washebargaining?
“I’mtired,”Isaid,shakingmyhead
ButnowRobbyjumpedaroundtofullyblockme.“It’skindofimportant.”
WasIgoingtohavetofighthim?ForGod’ssake,Ijustwantedtogohome.“Nottoday,”Isaid,startingtogirdmystrengthforwhateverIneededtodotonothavethisconversation
Butthat’swhenRobbylookeduprightbehindme,andthenIfeltaweightsettlingonmyshoulder.
ItwasJackStapleton.Drapinghisarmaroundme,asI’dalreadygivenhimpermissiontodo.
“She’sprettytired,Bobby,”Jacksaid,pullingmesidewaysagainsthiminasqueeze.
“It’sRobby,”Robbysaid.
“I’mgettingavibelikeshereallyjustwantstogohomerightnow,”Jackwenton.“Maybeit’sfromthewordsshe’ssaying.”
Robby,ofcourse,couldn’tgoagainsttheclient.
Helookedatme,butIlookedaway.
“You’renotgoingtomakeherreportyoutoGlenn,areyou?”Jackturnedtome.“Orifyou’retoobusy,Icoulddoit.”
IfeltmorethansawRobby’sshouldersdropindefeat.
Jackgaveitanothersecond,asiftosay“Arewedonehere?”Andthen,decisively,hesteeredmedownthedrivewaytowardmycar,leavingRobbystaringafterus.
Later,inanefforttogetRobbyintrouble,I’dreporteverythingbutthekissingtoGlenn.
Anditwouldbackfire.
I’dsay,“Robbyjustshowedupherefornoreasonandinsertedhimselfintotheassignment.”
AndGlennwouldsay,“That’sagreatidea.”
I’dfrown.“Whatis?”
“PuttingRobbyonthisassignment.”
“No,I—”
“I’mstilldecidingbetweenthetwoofyouforLondon,youknow,”Glennwouldsay.
OfcourseIknew.
“Anyway,he’sthebestwe’vegotforvideosurveillance.AndyouknowIneverwanttomissachancetotortureanyone.”
“Haven’tyoutorturedmeenough?”
AwinkfromGlenn.“Imeanthim.”
WasGlennclueless?Asadist?
Littlebitofboth,maybe.
Eitherway,headdedRobbytotheteam—andgavemethecredit.
Butthatnight,asJackfishedaroundinmypurseformykeysandthenhittheunlockbutton,Ididn’tseeanyofthatcomingyet.Ididn’tseemuch,really—otherthanwhatwasrightinfrontofme:Jackguidingmetothepassengerside,openingthedoor,sittingmedown,andleaningacrossmetobucklemein.
Hesmelledlikecinnamon.
Again:notsomethingI’dnormallyletaclientdo.
Butsolittleaboutthisassignmentwasnormal.
WhenJackwalkedaroundtothedriver’sside,gotin,andstartedthecar,Ididn’tstophim.
Aswepulledawayfromhishouse,Imusteredaweak,“Whatareyoudoing?”
“I’mtakingyouhome.”
“Buthowwillyougetback?”
“I’llborrowyourcar,”hesaid,“andcomebacktogetyouinthemorning.”
JackStapletonwasofferingtopickmeupinthemorning?“Thatseemslikealotofwork.”
“WhatelsedoIhavetodothesedays?”
“Yourprofilesaysyouarealatesleeper.Likenoon-to-afternoonlate.”
“Icansetanalarm.”Thenapause.“Wasthatguyyourboyfriend?”
“Wasthatguyyourboyfriend?”
Ugh.Iwastoohaywiretodoitright.
Jackfrownedandtriedagain.“Youweren’tdatingthatguy,wereyou?”
“I’mnotgoingtotalkaboutthiswithyou.”
“Whynot?”
Ileanedmyheadbackagainsttheseatandclosedmyeyes.“BecauseIdon’ttalkaboutmylifewithclients.”
EvenjusttellingaclientthatIdidn’ttalkaboutmylifewithclientswasmorethanI’devertoldaclient.
Anothertacticalerror,forsure—butIwastoonumbtocare.
“Justtellmethatguyisnotyourboyfriend.”
“Thatguyisnotmyboyfriend,”Irepeatedmechanically.AndthenIdon’tknowifitwasjustsomemeaninglesssparkinginmyshort-circuitingbrain,oranewcomprehensionthatfollowingtherulesdidn’tseemtogetyouanywhere,orahunchthatmaybenothingreallymattered,afterall…buttwosecondslater,Iadded,“Anymore.”Ten
IMADEMYactingdebutwithJack’sfamilythenextdayatthehospital.
Byaccident.
Butfirst,wehadtosneakhimin.
HismotherhadaVIProomwhereJackcouldwaitduringhersurgery,sothedayshouldhavebeeneasy.
Theplanwastogethimtotheroomunnoticed—early,bysixthatmorning—sohecouldseehismombeforetheywheeledherout.Thenhe’dwaitthereuntilthesurgerywasover,whileDoghouseandImonitoredthehospitalhallsandtherestoftheteamsnuckouttotheStapletons’ranchtoinstallafewsecretsecuritycameras.Thingsonourendweresimple.AllJackhadtodowasstayinthatroom.
“Youcan’tleavetheroom,”Iexplainedonthedriveover.
“Atall?”
“Juststayintheroom.It’snothard.”
“Isn’tthatalittlemuch?”Jackasked.
“Ifyou’dreadthehandout—”Istarted.
“I’mnotahandoutsguy.”
“Thisisahigh-threatsituation,”Iwenton.“Therearemultipleopportunitiesforyoutobeseen,recognized,photographed—”
“Igetit.”
“Onceyou’reseenhere,everythinggetsharder.Sojustdowhatyou’retold.”
“Gotit,”Jacksaid.Thenheadded,“YoushouldknowI’malreadygoodatthis,though.”
Ilookedover.
Hesaid,“Ibettheoilguysyouusuallyprotectaren’tusedtohiding.ButI’vebeenmakingmyselfinvisibleforyears.”
“Thatcan’tbeeasy,”Isaid.“Beingyou.”
“Therearetricks.Baseballcapsaresurprisinglyeffective.Glassesseemtobreakuppeople’spattern-matching.Notmakingeyecontacthelps,too.Ifyoudon’tlookatpeople,theytendnottolookatyou.Thoughthebigthingistojustkeepmoving.Justkeepgoing.Assoonasyoubreakstride,theyseeyou.”
“Youdoknowmorethanmyaverageoilexecutive,”Isaid,lettingmyvoicesoundimpressed.
“See?AndIdidn’tevenreadthehandout.”
Iglancedoverathim.Hewasdoingitall:thebaseballcap,andtheglasses,plusagraybutton-down.Buteventryingtolookasunremarkableaspossible,hestilljust…glowed.
“Thoseexecshaveabigadvantageoveryou,though,”Isaid.
“What’sthat?”
“Nobodycaresaboutthemexceptmeandthebadguys.”
ThenJacknarrowedhiseyesandstudiedme.“Doyoucareaboutthem?”
“Imean,sortof,”Isaid.
“Thatsoundslikeano.”
“Icareaboutdoingmyjobright.”
“Butyoudon’tcareaboutthepeopleyou’reprotecting.”
Ishouldn’tbesayinganyofthis.Wherewasmyhead?“Notinthetraditionalsense,no.”
Jacknoddedandthoughtaboutit.
Didhewantmetocareabouthim?Whatastrangeexpectation.“Caringaboutpeopleactuallymakesithardertodoagoodjob,”Isaidthen,inmyowndefense.
“Igetit,”Jacksaid.
Anyway,hewasn’twrongabouthimself.Hewasgoodatthis.Heknewexactlyhowtomovethroughaspacewithoutbeingspotted.Webroughthiminthroughadeliveryentranceanduptheserviceelevator.Thehallwaywasdeserted,andDoghouseandIsawhimmakeittothedooranddisappearthroughitwithoutahitch.
Thatwasonehugehurdlecleared.Thedoctorsandnursesonhismom’steamhadsignednondisclosureagreements.NowallJackhadtodowasstaythere.
Buthedidn’tstaythere.
Justbeforelunch,afterI’dstoodattheendofthehallwaylongenoughtoknowtherewere207floortilesfromedgetoedge,IsawJackwalkoutoftheroomandstartmeanderingoffdownthehallway,likehewasheadedtothenurses’station.
“Hey!”Ishout-whispered.“Whatareyoudoing?”
ButJackdidn’tturn.
Whatwashethinking?Hadn’twejusttalkedaboutthis?Hecouldn’tjustwanderloose.
Itrottedafterhim.“Hey!Hey!Whatareyoudoing?Hey!Wetalkedaboutthis!You’renotsupposedtoleavethe—”
Rightthen,Icaughtup,andIgrabbedhisforearm,andheturnedtolookatme…
Anditwasn’tJack.
Itwashisbrother.Hank.
“Oh!”Isaid,thesecondIsawhisface—droppinghisarmandsteppingback.
Shit.
NowthatIsawhim,HankwasclearlynotJack.Hankwasaninchorsoshorter.Andalittlebitbroader.Andhishairwasashadeortwodarker.Hissideburnswereshorter.Andnoneofthosedetailsshouldhaveescapedme.
IfI’mhonest,thesmellofthehospital,andthelighting,too,remindedmeofwhenmyownmotherwassick—whichwasn’tallthatlongago—andithadmeslightlyoffmygame.
HankStapletonwasstaringatme.“DidyoujusttellmeIcan’tleavetheroom?”
“I’msorry,”Isaid.“IthoughtyouwereJack.”
Hanktiltedhishead.“CanJacknotleavetheroom?”
Whattosay?“Hewasn’tplanningonit,”Isaid.“No.”
Hanktiltedhishead.“Andwhoareyou?”
“I’mHannah,”Isaid,hopingwecouldleaveitatthat.
Apparentlynot.Heshookhisheadandfrowned,likeIsthatsupposedtomeansomething?
AndthenIdidwhatIhadtodo.Isaid,“I’mJack’sgirlfriend.”ButIswearitfeltlikethebiggest,fakest,mostunconvincinglieintheworld.
Buthere’sthesurprisemiracle:Heboughtit.
“Oh,sure,”Hanksaid,lookingmeover,remembering.“Theonewho’safraidofcows.”
Howdidheknowthat?Didmyscreamgiveitaway?
Hewenton.“Didyoucometoseemymom?”
Myheadstartednoddingasmystomachturnedcold.Iwasn’tready.Ihadn’tpreparedtomeetthefamily.Iwasn’tevenwearingmygirlfriendclothes.Buttherewasn’tanotheranswer.“Yes.”
“Shejustwokeup,”Hanksaid.“I’mgoingforicechips.”
“I’llgetthem,”Ioffered,wantingtogethimbackintotheroom.Hewasn’tJack,buthewascloseenoughtomaketrouble.
Plus,Ineededaminutetoregroup.
“Yougoonback,”Isaid.“Ibroughtflowers,butIforgottheminthecar.So—icechips.Nextbestthing.”
Flimsy.Butheshruggedandsaid,“Okay.”
Onthewaytothenurses’station,IexplaineditalltoDoghouse’searpiece.“I’mgoingin,”Isaid.Then,icechipsinhand,IstartedtowardConnieStapleton’sroom—butIpausedwhenIcaughtmyreflectioninthechromeelevatordoors.
DidIlooklikeagirlfriend?Anybody’s,even?
Itwashopeless,butItriedzhuzh-ingmyselfalittlebit,anyway.Itookoffmyjacketandhiditbehindapottedplant.Irolledmysleevesandunbuttonedthetopbuttonofmyblouse.Iunwrappedmyhairfromitsbunandshookitouttofluffit.IpoppedmycollarforasecondbeforedecidingIwastoonervoustopullthatoff.
I’djusthavetomakeitwork.
ImentallyreviewedwhatIknewaboutJack’sparentsfromthefile.Dad:WilliamGentryStapleton,aveterinarian,nowretired.WentbyDoc.Widelybelovedbyallwhoknewhim.Oncerescuedanewborncalffromafloodedoxbowlake.MarriedtoConnieJaneStapleton,retiredschoolprincipal,foroverthirtyyears.Highschoolsweethearts.They’dspentfiveyearsinthePeaceCorps,rescuedhomelesshorses,belongedtoarecreationalswing-dancingclub,andwere,byallaccounts,goodpeople.
Iknockedonthedoor,andthenIopeneditasIsaid,redundantly,“Knock,knock.”
ThethreeStapletonmenwereseatedaroundConnieStapleton’sbedinchairsthey’dpulledclose.Shewassittingupalittle,wearingadaboflipstickwithherfeatherywhitehairneatlybrushed—andlookingsomehowmoreput-togetherthanapostsurgerypatientinahospitalgownhadanyrightto.
Shecouldhavepulledoffapoppedcollar.Ifshe’dhadacollartopop.
Atthesightofthem—live,actualpeople—Istartedoverthinkingit.WhatkindofexpressionwouldJack’sgirlfriendhaveonherface?Warmhearted?Concerned?Whatdidthoseexpressionsevenlooklike?Howdidyouarrangeyourfeatures?Howdidactorsevendothis?
Isettledonahalfsmile,halffrownandhopeditwasconvincing.
Jackmusthavereadmypanicbecausehepoppedupandstroderighttowardme.“Hey,babe,”hesaidinapitch-perfectlyaffectionatevoice.“Ididn’tknowyouwerecoming.”
“Ibroughtsomeice,”Isaid.
Jackwaslookingatme,likeIthoughtyouwerestayinginthehallway.
Ijustblinkedathim,likeChangeinplan.
HecouldtellIwasnervous.
Thatmust’vebeenwhyhekissedme.
Astagekiss,butstill.
Hewalkedrightuptomewithoutbreakingstride,cuppedbothhandsoneithersideofmyjaw,leanedin,andplantedanot-insignificantkissonhisownthumb.
Andthenhe…lingeredthere.
Hishandswerewarm.Hesmelledlikecinnamon.Icouldfeelhisbreathfeatheringthepeachfuzzonmycheek.
Iwassoshocked,Ididn’tbreathe.Iwassoshocked,Ididn’tevenclosemyeyes.Icanstillseethewholethinginslo-mo.Thatepicfacecomingcloserandcloser,andthatlegendarymouthaimingrightformineandthendockingitselfonthatlegendarythumb,stationedrightatthecorner.
Technically,itwasnotarealkiss.
Butitwasprettydamnclose.
Forme,anyway.
Ashepulledback,mykneeswaveredalittle.DidheknowIwasgoingtoswoon?Itwaslikehesenseditcoming.Maybethat’swhathappenedtoeverywomanhekissed—realorfake.Helatchedhisarmaroundmywaist,andbythetimehesaid,“I’dlikeyoualltomeetmygirlfriend,Hannah,”hewasbasicallyholdingmeup.
Theytookinthesightofus.
“Hello,”Isaidweakly,saggingagainsthim,butliftingmyfreehandinalittlewave.
DidIexpectthemnottobelieveit?
Imean,maybe.Itwassopatentlyobviousthatweweretwototallydifferentcategoriesofpeople.Ifthey’dthrowntheirnewspapersandreadingglassesatmeandshouted,“Getouttahere!”Iwouldn’thavebeensurprised.
Butthat’swhenJacksaid,“Isn’tshecute?”andgavemeanoogieonthehead.
Next,Hankswoopedovertotaketheicechips.“Shebroughtyouricechips,Mom.”
Ontheheelsofthat,DocStapleton—lookinggentlemanly,pressed,andneatinablueoxfordandkhakis—tookmyhand,pattedit,andsaid,“Hello,sweetheart.Cometakemychair.”
Ishookmyhead.“Icanstand.”
“She’sadorable,”ConnieStapletonsaid,andhervoicejustpulledmetowardherwithitswarmth.Thenshereachedformyhand,andwhenItookhers,itwassoftlikepowder.Shesqueezed,andIsqueezedback.“Finally.Someonereal,”shesaidthen.
Andsuddenly,Iknewwhattodowithmyface.Ismiled.
“Yes,”Conniesaid,lookingoveratJack.“Ilikethisonealready.”
Justthewayshesaidit—withsuchfull,unearnedaffection—mademefeelalittlebashful.
Conniemetmyeyes.“IsJacksweettoyou?”
WhatcouldIsay?“Verysweet,”Ianswered.
“He’sgood-hearted,”shesaid.“Justdon’tlethimcook.”
Inodded.“Gotit.”
Next,sheaskedtheboystohelphersitupbetter.Shewasalittlenauseatedandalittledizzy,sotheytookitslow.Butshewasdetermined.Whenshewasready,shelookedatallthefacesaroundherbed.“Listen—”shesaid,likeshewasabouttostartanimportanttopic.
Butthat’swhenheroncologistwalkedin.
Weallstoodtogreethim—andhedefinitelydidadoubletakewhenhesawJack,likehe’dbeentoldtoexpectafamousactorinthatroom,buthehadn’treallybelievedit.
“Hey,Destroyer,”thedoctorsaidwithalittlesidewaysgrin.“Thanksforsavinghumanity.”
“Thanksforsavingmymom,”Jacksaid,graciouslynudgingusbacktowardreality.
Thedoctornoddedandcheckedhisclipboard.“Themarginsaroundtheedgesofthetumorwerenegative,”shesaid.“Whichmeansitwasveryself-contained.”
“That’sgreat,Mom,”Jacksaid.
“Thatmeansnochemo,”thedoctorwenton.“We’llstillhavetodoradiation,butthat’snotforeightweeks,afterthesurgery’sallhealed.Rightnow,it’saboutjustresting,andstayinghydrated,andfollowingthedischargeinstructions.”HeturnedtoConnie.“We’llgetyouontheradiationschedule,andtheneverybodycantakeabreathuntilit’stimetostartthatup.”
Whateverybodywantedhimtosaywasthatshewasfine—thatshe’dbefine.
Finally,Jackdidit.“Istheprognosis…?”
Thedoctornodded.“Theprognosisisprettygood,thoughnoguarantees.Ifthesitehealswell,afterhercourseofradiationshe’sgotagoodchanceofbeingokay.”
JackandHank,standingrightnexttoeachother,letoutmatchingsighs.
You’dneverknowtheyweremortalenemies.
Thedoctorgavesomemoredetails,pulledaprivacycurtainwhileheexaminedthesite,thenreemerged,saying,“Ialmostforgotthemostimportantthing.”
Weallstoodatattention.“What’sthat?”
ThedoctorpointedrightatJack.“CanIgetaselfie?”
ONCEHEWASgone,ConnieStapletongotdowntobusiness.
“I’mnotgoingtoaskyoutostayfortheradiation,Jack,”shesaid.
“Mom.Icanstay.”
“Itdoesn’tstartforeightweeks.Youneedtogetbacktoyourlife.”
“Mom,Idon’t—”
Sheshookherhead,cuttinghimoff.“ButIamgoingtoaskyouforsomethingelse.”
NowJacknarrowedhiseyeslikeheshould’veseenthatcoming.“What’sthat?”
Shepaused.
Wewaited.
“It’sbeenahardfewyearsforus.Forallofus.AndI’dlikesomegoodtimewithyoubeforeyougo.”
Jacknodded.“I’dlikethat,too.”
“Sohereitis,”shewenton.“Idon’tknowhowmuchmoretimeIhaveleftonthisearth.Gettingcancerreallyclearsafewthingsupinyourhead,andaftermuchsoul-searching,I’vedecidedthereisonething,onlyonething,thatItrulywantrightnow,andIneedyoualltomakeithappen.”
“Thissoundslikeabigask,”Hanksaid.
“Whatisit,sweetheart?”Dr.Stapletonasked,leaningin.
That’swhenConniegaveusthemostirresistible,there’sliterallynowayyoucanpossiblyrefusemesmileandsaid,“IwantJack—andhiscutenewgirlfriend—tocomestaywithusoutattheranchuntilThanksgiving.”Eleven
“FOURWEEKS!”WASallIcouldsayonthedrivebacktoJack’shouse.“TherearefourweeksuntilThanksgiving!”
“Technically,”Jackpointedout,“it’sthreeandahalf.”
Iignoredhim.“Ican’tspendfourweeksdoingthingsIliketodo,muchlesspretendingtobeyourgirlfriend.”
“Thanksforthat.”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
“It’sherdyingwish,”Jackpointedout.
“She’snotdying,”Isaid.
“She’sprobablynotdying.”
“We’reallprobablynotdying.Youcouldgethitbyabustomorrow.”
“I’mnotthrilledaboutthis,either.Butitkindofsimplifiesthings.Itgivesusaclearendpoint.Fourweeks,andwe’redone.IgobacktoNorthDakota,yougo…whereveritisyougo.”
“Korea,thankyou.”Evenjustattheideaofit,Ifeltaflashofrelief.Thetimingwasgood,actually.TheSeoulassignmentstartedupinearlyDecember.
“Thiscouldhavelingeredonandon.Thisisobjectivelybetter.It’slikerippingoffthebandage.”
“Rippingoffthebandage,”Icorrected,“forfourweeks.”
“Threeandahalf.Let’stalktoyourboss.”
“IalreadyknowwhatGlenn’sgoingtosay.He’sgoingtosayIcan’tdenyherthisrequest.Thatit’snotthatbigofadeal.Thattheremoteteamscanhandleeverything—especiallyifwe’reinanisolatedlocationliketheranch.He’sgoingtocallit‘practicallyapaidvacation’anddemandtoknowwhy,exactly,it’sunacceptabletohavetoloungearoundatthecountryresidenceofaworld-famousmoviestar.He’llsaythereareworsefatesthanbeingtrappedinaremotelocationwithabeautifulman.”
IfJacknoticedmecallinghim“beautiful,”heplayeditcool.“Andwhatwillyousay?”
Iclosedmyeyes.“Idon’tknow.”
“He’snotwrong,youknow.Theranchisgreat.There’sanorchard,andahammock,andawildernessareaneartheoxbowlake.WecanhuntfossilsonthebanksoftheBrazos,andridetheretiredcircushorse,andgofishing.Itwouldbelikeapaidvacation.”
“Idon’tlikevacations,”Isaid.
“Itreallywouldn’tbelikework,iswhatImean.”
“Ilikework.Ipreferwork.”
“Youcouldrelax.”
“Ineverrelax.”
“Ijustmeanthereareworsethingsthanbeingtrappedtherewithme.”
“I’msureyou’redelightful,it’sjust—”
“Thatsoundedsarcastic.”
“Look—”
“Iknowit’sastrangeask.”
“It’snotstrange,it’simpossible.”
“Yousawherbackthere.That’smymom,Hannah.”
ItwassostrangetohearmynamecomeoutofJackStapleton’smouth,itthrewmeoffforasecond.Itriedtoregroup.Heclearlythoughtifheaskedsweetlyenough,I’djustdothisforhim.Ormaybeifhepaidmeenoughmoney.Thiswasaguywhoprobablygoteverythinghewanted.Ifhedidn’tunderstandwhythiscouldn’thappen,Ididn’tknowhowtoexplainit.Ifinallysettledon,“Idon’tknowyou.”
“I’mnotsobad.”
“Ijustcan’t.”
“Areyousayingno?”
DidanyoneeversaynotoJackStapleton?“Yes.I’msayingno.”
Jackfrownedatthat,likeitwasareallynovelconcept.
Helookedsobewildered,infact,thatasIstudiedhisprofile,Iquestionedmyself.
Iwassayingno,wasn’tI?
Imean,fourweeks!Thatwasalongtimetonevercomeupforair.Therewouldbenowaytodoanyofmyusualworkstuffinthatscenario.I’djusthavetoweargirlfriendclothesanddogirlfriendthingsandbe…trappedbehindthatfacade.Icouldn’tbethatpassive.I’dbeenstuckinlimboforsolong.Ineededtowork,andIneededtodomyjob,andthenIneededtobedoneandgetoutofhere.Witheachcopingmechanismthissituationtookaway,Iwasdyingalittlemore
Icouldfeelmysharkgillsgasping.
Ineededtomakemyworldbigger,notsmaller.Ineededtogofaraway,notgetfurthertrappedinthissamespot.Ineededtoresuscitatemyreallife,notdoubledownonafakeone.
Timetoshutthisconversationdown.
“WecantalktoGlenn,”Isaid,“butit’sstillano.”
“IT’SAYES,”Glennsaid,evenafterIvociferously,passionately,andveryarticulatelyobjectedtoConnieStapleton’swishes.
WemetinthesecurityHQinJack’sgarage.Thewholeteamshowedup—includingRobbynow—exceptforTaylor.
WhoIhadn’tseensinceI’dwatchedhersmoochingmyex-boyfriend.AndwhoIwouldhappilyneverseeagain,ifIcouldswingit.
Butthatwassomethingtoobsessoverlater.
RightnowIwasbusyfightingalosingbattle.
Itwasn’tthatmyopiniondidn’tmatter.Itjustdidn’tmattermorethananybodyelse’s.
“Thinkofitlikeapaidvacation,”Glennsaid.
“Yousaythatlikeit’sagoodthing.”
“Idon’tseethatthere’sadecisiontobemadehere,”Amadisaid.“Shetookthejob.Thesituationhasevolved.Butthatdoesn’tchangeourresponsibilitytowardtheprincipal.”
“Ididn’ttakethejobonpurpose,”Isaid.
“That’salotofnegativityrightthere,”Doghousesaid.
“Isigneduptoprotecthim,notlivewithhim,”Isaid.
Kellywaspositivelyoffendedbymyhesitation.“DoyouknowhowmanypeoplewouldselltheirsoulstoliveinthatgorgeousranchhouseforamonthwithJackStapleton?ItwasfeaturedinHouseBeautiful.”
“WhatamIsupposedtodoforfourweeksifIhavetostayincharactertwenty-fourseven?”
“Umm…”Kellysaid.“Enjoyit?”
Iarguedandargued,butIcouldn’tconvincethemhowsuffocatingthiswouldbeforme.Everybody,withoutexception,thoughtitsoundedfun
Theconsensusreallydidsolidifyprettyfast:Iwasbeingridiculous.Ineededtoappreciatemygoodfortune.Andsuckitup.Andstopwhining.
Inthefaceofallthatunanimousness,therereallywasn’tmuchIcouldsay.
Glennwaslovingit,too.“ThisisyourchancetoshowmeyourstuffforLondon,”hesaid.
Butitwasn’tfunny.Thiswasmylife.“Whatstuff?”Idemanded.“Nothingaboutthiswillshowanybodyanystuff!It’sjustforcedseclusionwith—”
“TheSexiestManAlive,”Kellyfinished.
Glennthoughtitwasallendlesslyfunny.“Strategy,flexibility,innovation,”hesaidthen,toanswermyquestion.“Plus,maybemostcrucial:thatall-importantleadershipqualityofbeingwillingtotakeonefortheteam.”
“Fine,”Isaid.ButIletmyselfpoutalittle.
“BenicetopoorJack,”Glennfinallysaid.“Hecan’thelpitthathe’shandsome.”
AFTERFINALLYLOSINGtheargumentspectacularlyinavoteofeverybody-else-to-one,Idecidedtostepoutforsomeair.
Ineededaminute.
Andthat’swhen,outinthecirculardrive,IranintoTaylor—arrivinglate.
Sheslowedtoastopwhenshesawme.NowthatIknewthesituation,herbodylanguagewasunmistakable:Thedowncasteyesofguilt.Thetightshouldersofshame.Theshallowbreathsofbetrayal.
HowhadImisseditbefore?
I’dbeenblindedbywarmthandtrustandaffection.Bytheideaofwhatafriendshouldbe.
It’ssoeasytoseewhatyouexpecttosee.
Inarrowedmyeyesintoaglare,butitwastoodarkforhertonotice.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iasked.
“Uh.Comingtowork?”
“You’relate.”
“Yeah.Traffic.”
“Isthatalie?”
“Alie?No.Therewastraffic.”
Icouldhearitinhervoicenow.Sheknewsomethingwasup.
“Everybody’sinside,”Isaid,tippingmyheadtowardthegarage.“Inthesurveillanceroom.Theroomwherewemonitorallthesurveillancefootage.”
Shefrowned.ShecouldtellIwastryingtosaysomethingmorethanI’dsaid.“Exceptyou,”shesaid,likethatmightbeaclue.
Deadend.“I’mtakingabreak.”Igaveheranothershot.“ButIhavespentalotoftimeinthatsurveillanceroom.Surveillingthings.”
“Well,yeah.You’retheprimary,so—”
“It’samazingwhatthosecamerascancatch.Thingsyouwouldnever—inamillionyears,ifyoulivedyourwholelifeoverandoveragain—expecttosee.”
Andthensheknew.
Isawitthesecondthecomprehensionhither.Thelittlezapofshockinhereyes.
“Doyoumean…”shesaid.
“You.”Iconfirmedwithanod.“AndRobby.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“That…that—”
“That’swhathappenedinMadrid?”
Shehesitated.Whichwasfascinating.Becausetherewasnoweaselingoutofanythingnow.Finally,shesaid,“Yeah.”Then,asifshecouldredeemherself,“Butbyaccident!”
Iknewitalready,ofcourse.AndIthoughtseeingitwouldbetheworstofit
ButIwaswrong.
Theconfirmationwastheworstofit.
“So,allthosetimesIcalledyouandcriedovermybrokenheart…youweredatingthepersonwhobrokeit?”
Taylorlookeddown.“Atfirst,weweren’treallydating.”
“Justsleepingtogether.”
“Butnotonpurpose.Notentirely.”
Therewasn’tapointineventalkingaboutit.IjustwantedhertoknowthatIknew.Thenwecouldallbeinagreementthatshewasaterribleperson.
Butthenshesaid,“Technically,youwerebrokenup.”
Ifrowned.“What?”
“Wedidn’tcheatonyou,iswhatI’msaying.Technically.”
Irefusedtodignifythatwitharesponse.
“I’msorry.Ireallyamsorry.Itjusthappened.Wedidn’tknowhowtotellyou.”
“Itjusthappened?”
“Youknowhowitisonassignment.”
“Yes,Idefinitelydo.SpecificallywithRobby.”
“Weweren’ttryingtohurtyou.”
Againwiththe“we.”We,we,we.“Doyounotunderstandthe…the…”Icouldn’tthinkofwordsthatcapturedit.Finally,Iwentwith,“theemotionalatrocityyoujustcommitted?”
“We’renottalkingaboutwarcrimes.”
“Youlootedourfriendship.YoufirebombedthetrustIhadinyou.Younukedmyfaithinhumanity.You’retheEnolaGayofbestfriends.”
MaybeIwasoverstatingitabit.ButIdidn’tbackdown,evenafteritoccurredtomethatthisconversationwasnotthatdifferentfromhowwetalkedwhenwewerelaughing.Theonebigdifference,now,ofcourse,beingthewhite-hothatred.
Ihadarealquestion,though.“Doyounotunderstandwhatyoudid,”Iasked,“orareyoupretendingnotto?”Istaredherdown,waiting.“I’llhateyouforever,eitherway,”Iwenton.“Butinonecase,I’llhateyouforbeingstupid,andintheother,I’llhateyouforbeingselfish.”
Taylorlookeddown.
“Nevermind.Iknowtheanswer.It’s‘selfish.’Nobody’sthatstupid.Notevenyou.”Ithoughtitmightfeelgoodtosaysomethingmean.Butitdidn’t.
“Look—”
“Ihopehe’sworthit,”Isaid.“Youjustforfeitedourentirefriendship.Youjustgaveupeverymovienight,everymargaritaFriday,everygoofyGIFexchange,everysleepover,everyGalentine’sDay,everyfantasyroadtrip,everyhug,andeveryatomofadmiration,warmth,andaffectionyoucouldeverhavehadwithme.Right?Yougaveupborrowingmyjeanswiththerainbowpockets.Yougaveupbookrecommendations,andhomemadebirthdaycards,andlate-nighttacos.Andyougaveupthebestnext-doorneighborever,too,becauseI’mdefinitelymovingout.”
Icouldfeelmyvoiceshaking.
Iwastryingtomakeherfeelbad,listingeverythingshe’djustlost.
Butofcourse,Ihadlostitall,too.
“Andyouknew,”Iwenton.“Youknewhewasterrible.Youknewwhathedidtome—howheabandonedmerightafterIlostmymom.”Itookalong,tremblingbreath.“That’swhatkillsme.Yougaveitallup—everynourishingthingwehad…notjustforaman,butforabadman.”
“I’msorry,”Taylorsaid.
“Idon’tcare.”
“Idon’twanttoloseyou,”Taylorsaid,hervoicetremblingnow,too.
“He’sgoingtoleaveyou,”Isaid.“He’slefteverywomanhe’severbeenwith.Didyouknowthat?He’salwaysthedumper—neverthedumpee.Andthenyou’llcometomeandbegmetoforgiveyou,butIwon’t.Youwanttoknowwhy?BecauseIcan’t.Becausecertainbrokenthingscanneverberepaired.”
Iwasreadyforthattobemyexitline.Iwasreadytoabandonherthereinthedrivewaywithonlytheechoofthosewordsremaining.Istartedtowalkaway.
Butshecalledafterme,“You’rewrong.”
Iturnedback.
“He’snotgoingtoleaveme.Hedumpedallthoseotherwomenbecausehehadn’tfoundtherightone.”
Wow.Thehubris.“Youthinkyou’retheone?”
“Iknowforsurethatyouweren’t.”
Oof.
Andhere,righthere,isthetroublewithbeingclosetootherpeople.Thebettertheyknowyou,thebettertheycanhurtyou.
“Heneverlovedyou,”shesaidthen,“becauseyouwouldn’tlethim.”
Howdareshesidewithhim?“Youhavenoideawhatyou’retalkingabout.”
“Askhimsometime.Hetried.”
Itdidn’tsurprisemethatRobbytriedtomakehimselfouttobethevictim.ButitdidsurprisemethatTaylorwouldbelievehim.
Shemusthavereallyneededtoseemeastheproblem.
Thensheshruggedandfixedhereyesonmine.“You’resosureit’sallRobby’sfault.”
“Yeah!Andyoushouldbe,too!”
“Butyouwon’tseeyourpartinit.”
Howwasthishappening?Shewassupposedtostandupforme.Shewassupposedtofeeloutragedandwrongedonmybehalf.That’swhatbestfriendswerefor
“Howcanyoudothis?”Iasked,myvoicesinking.“Youweremybestfriend.”
ButTaylorshookherhead.“Iwasneveryourbestfriend.Iwasyourworkfriend.Andthefactthatyoudon’tknowthedifference?That’syourwholeproblemrightthere.”Twelve
ANYHOO.
That’showIwoundupmovingtoJackStapleton’sparents’five-hundred-acrecattleranch—againstallmybetterjudgment.
NotthatIhadachoice.
ButcomparedtolivingnextdoortoTaylor,itsuddenlydidn’tseemsobad.
Comparedtostayinginourfourplexwithitspapier-machéwalls,eatingcerealinmykitchen,andlisteningtoRobbyandTheWorstPersonEvermakingwafflesontheotherside,comparedtooverhearingthetwoofthemwatchinghorrormoviesonhersofa,ororderingtakeout,orgoingatitallnightinherbedroom…comparedtoallthat,movinginwithTheDestroyerwasdefinitelyanupgrade.
IcalledmylandlordfromthecarafterthatfightwithTaylortocancelmylease.
I’dfindanewplaceonlineandrentitsightunseen.I’dhiremoverstopackupmyentireapartment,dirtylaundryandall,andhaulitaway.
I’dleaveonassignment,andthenI’dneversetfootinthatapartmentagain
AndI’dmakesuremynextrentalhadaworkingfireplacesoIcouldunpack,findallthethingsTaylorhadgivenmeovertheyears—theWonderWomanT-shirt,thejournalwiththeYOUAREMAGICglittercover,thepicturebookoftheworld’scutesthedgehogs—andthrowtheminthefireonebyonetoburnthemalltoashes.
Apurge.Acleansing.Anewfriggingstart.
THEMORNINGJACKandImovedouttotheStapletons’ranch,itwasJackwhowasinabadmood.
Likehewastheonewho’dearnedone.
Gonewasthataggressivelynonchalantvibeheworemostofthetimelikeacologne.Hisshouldersweretenseashedrove,hisjawwastight,andhisbloodpressure—Iswear,Icouldreaditfromacrossthecar—waselevated.
Hebarelyevenspoketometheentiredrive.
ItwastheloudestquietI’deverheard.
Itwasonlythen,ontheinterstate,inJack’spassengerseat,thatIrealizedTaylorhaddonemeafavor,inaway:ShehadturnedgoingtoJack’sranchintoakindofescape.
Itwasn’ttheescapeI’dbeenwanting
Butitwoulddofornow.
Thatrealizationbrightenedmymoodquiteabit.
BythetimewegottotheBrazosbridge,andJackgotouttowalkacross,helookedalmostnauseated.Andbythetimewepulleduptothehouseitself,theairaroundhimwaspositivelybrittlewithmisery.
Anescapeforme.Butmaybetheoppositeforhim.
ThoughKellyhadn’tbeenkiddingaboutHouseBeautiful.Itwasa1920’sSpanish-stylehaciendawithared-tiledroofandpinkbougainvilleablossomingeverywhere.Weparkedonthegraveldrive,andasIsteppedoutofthecarabreezebrushedpastusandflutteredthesundressaroundmybareknees.
Itfeltnice,actually.
Iguessgirlfriendclotheshadtheirperks.
“It’ssoidyllic,”Isaid,ofthehouse.
Jackdidn’tcomment.
Butthatwhole“thinkofitlikeapaidvacation”thing?
Icouldsuddenlyseeit.
Thiswasn’twhereJackhadgrownup.Helatertoldmethathisgrandparentslivedherewhenhewaslittle,butaftertheyweregone,itbecameaweekendplace.Hisparentshadonlymovedoutfulltimeafterthey’dretired,andthat’swhenhismomstartedthegarden,andhisdadhadconvertedhalfoftheoldbarnintoawoodworkingshop.
I’mprettysureJackdidn’tspeakevenoneunnecessarywordashewalkedmearoundandgavemethetour.
Iwastotallycharmedbythestuccowalls,exposedceilingbeams,roundeddoorways,redceramic-tilefloor,andhismom’scollectionofchickenfigurinesonthebreakfront.Plus,thedecorativepaintedtilesinthebathroomsandinthekitchen.Windowseverywhere,andsunlight,andbougainvilleablossomsineveryview.Therewasagardenthatseemedtogoonforevernearasideporchdrapedwithhoneysuckle,andascreenedporchbiggerthanalivingroomofftheotherside.Itwaslikeanenchantedplacefromanothertime.
ItwasalateOctoberday,andallthewindowswereopen.Thekitchenhadcottonginghamcafécurtains,andabreadbox,andanold-timeyradioonthecounter.Thereweresaltandpeppershakersintheshapesofearsofcornatthetable.Jack’sdadkeptarecordplayeronthecounteratthefarendofthekitchen,andJackopenedupthecabinetsaboveittoshowme—insteadofdishes,likeyoumightexpect—hismassiverecordcollection,arrangedbydecade.
Imean,thewholesituationwascharming.
Except,maybe,forJack.
Ifollowedhimthroughalonglivingroom,withthreesofasarrangedaroundagiantstuccofireplace,andthenintoahallwaythatledtothebedrooms.
Thehallwaywascovered—absolutelywallpapered—withframedfamilyphotos.Andhalfofthem,atleast,wereofthreeboys,smilingbigandgoofyintocameraaftercamera.
JackandIbothstoppedatthesight.
Likeneitherofushadeverseenitbefore.
ItouchedaphotoofayoungJackuponayoungHank’sshoulders—whileHankheldtheiryoungestbrotherupsidedownbyhisankles.“Thisisyouandyourbrothers?”Iasked.
Jacknodded,hiseyestravelingaroundthewall.
“Lookslikeyouhadalotoffun.”
Jacknoddedagain.
Thenhesaid,soquietIcouldbarelyhear,“Ihaven’tbeenheresincethefuneral.”
Jackkepthiseyesonthephotos,soIdid,too.
Mostofthemweresnapshots.Theboysastoddlersrunninginafieldofbluebonnets.Downatthebeachinthewaves.Eatingpuffsofcottoncandybiggerthantheirheads.Then,older:Tallandskinnyinfootballuniforms.Doingmatchinghandstands.Danglingfishattheendsofpoles.Onhorseback.Atthetopofaskislope.Playingcards.Shootingbaskets.Dressedupforprom.Hammingitup.
Totallyordinary.
Andsoheartbreaking.
JustasIfoundmyselfthinkingIcouldadmirethosephotosallafternoon,Jackpulledinasharpbreath,openedthedoortohisbedroom,andchargedaway,likehecouldn’ttakeitonemoresecond.
Ifollowedhiminside.
Jack’sroomwasthesameastherestofthehouse—sameceramic-tilefloorandstuccowalls,sameFrenchdoorsoverlookingbrightpinkflowers,samearcheddoorways.Buthisroomfeltmoremanly,somehow.Leatherier.Itsmelledlikeiron,andhadanoldsaddleinthecorner,andanEameschairbythewindow.
“Thisisyourroom?”Iasked,tobesure.
“Ourroom,”Jacksaid.
Ofcourse.We’dbesharingaroom.Wewereadults,afterall.Adultsinafakerelationship.
“Youcanhavethedresser,”Jacksaid,droppinghissuitcaseonthefloorbesidethesaddle.
“Wecanshare,”Isaid.
ButJackshrugged.“Doesn’tmatter.”
Next,Ilookedatthebed.“Isthatadoublebed?”
Jackfrowned,anditwasclearhe’dneverthoughtaboutit.“Maybe.”
“Doyoufitinthatbed?”
Thetiniestflickerofasmile.“Ihavetohangmyfeetofftheend.”
Ithadoccurredtomethattherewasagoodchancethisroomwouldhaveonlyonebed.
Butherewewere.
“I’lltakethefloor,”Isaid.
Jacktiltedhisheadlikeithadn’toccurredtohimthatanyonemighttakethefloor.“Youcansleepinthebed,”hesaid,and,atfirst,Ithoughthewaslettingmehaveit—beforeheadded,“I’llshare.”
Igavehimalook.“It’sfine.”
“Yourealizethat’saceramic-tilefloor?”
“I’llmakeitwork.”Itwascertainlybetterthanmycloset.
“Igetitifyou’reuncomfortable,butIpromiseIwon’ttouchyou.”
Ididn’twanttoadmitIwasuncomfortable.Thatwasneed-to-knowinformation
Igesturedathim,likeLookatyourself.“Wewouldn’tbothevenfitinthatbed,dude.”
Nowanactual,wrysmile,andIfeltgladtohaveledustoalesspainfultopic.“I’vesqueezedgirlsintoitbefore,”Jacksaid.
“Ipreferthefloor,”Isaid,tosettleit.
“There’snowayI’mmakingyousleeponthefloor.”
“There’snowayI’msleepinginyourbed.”
“Let’snotbefussy.”
“IthinkI’mbeingremarkablyunfussy,actually.”
Hethoughtaboutthat.“Yes.Youare.Thankyou.”
Ihadn’texpectedtobethanked.
“But,”hewenton,“youstillgetthebed.”
“Ireallydon’twantit,”Isaid.
“NeitherdoI.”
“Fine.We’llbothsleeponthefloor.”
JackstudiedmelikeIwasodd.“AreyousayingthatevenifIsleeponthefloor,you’llalsosleeponthefloor?”
Thismightbemyonlyareaofautonomyforamonth.“Yes,”Isaid.“I’llbeonthefloornomatterwhat.”
“You’drathersleeponcold,hard,ceramictilethansleepnexttome?”
“Ibetyoudon’tgetthatalot.”
Jacksmiledlikehewasimpressed.“Absolutelynever.”
“It’sprobablygoodforyou,”Isaid
Jackshrugged,likeMaybeso.Then—andit’spossibleagentlemanwouldhavefoughtmealittleharder—Jacksaid,“Suityourself.”
Thatsettled,Ilookedaround.
Ihonestlyhadnoideawhatthisassignmentwasgoingtomeanforme.Almostallmynormalresponsibilitieshadbeenshiftedovertotheremoteteam,whichhadsecuredanoff-siterentalhousejustacrossthefarmroadasanoperationsbase.Theywerehandlingvideosurveillance,monitoringtheperimeteroftheproperty,watchingsocialmedia,anddoingallthethingsI’dnormallydo.
Pluswewereatthreatlevelyellow.
Andwewereinthemiddleofnowhere.
Inahousesurroundedbyfivehundredacresofpastures.Sotherewasn’teventhatmuchtodo.Besidespossiblytrackthepositioningofthecattle.
Imean,itmightaswellbethreatlevelwhite.
Apaidvacation,everyonesaid.ButtherewasareasonInevertookvacations.What,exactly,wasIsupposedtodowithmyselfallday?
I’dbetechnicallyworking.Ijustwouldn’thave…anyduties.
ButbeforeIcouldpanic,therewasaraponthedoorasloudasashotgun.
Webothjumped.
Throughthedoor,weheardHank.“Jack,Ineedtotalktoyou.”
Itwasn’tuntilallofJack’stensionsnappedbackintoplacethatIrealizedhowmuchjokingaroundaboutoursleepingarrangementshadrelaxedhim.
Evenhispostureshifted.Hestraightenedupandlefttheroom.
ShouldIfollowhim?
Ihadn’tbeeninvited.
Inanormaljob,wheneverIwasonshift,Ialwayskepttheprincipalinmysights.Butthiswasanythingbutanormaljob.
Stilluncertain,Imademywaybacktothekitchen,butIstoppedwhenInearedthebackdoor.JackandHankwerejustpastit,onthescreenporch.Icouldn’tseethem,butIcouldheartheirvoicesthroughtheopenkitchenwindow.
Andtheyweretalkingaboutme.
“Youactuallydidit,”Hanksaid.“Youactuallyshowedupherewiththatgirlintow.”
“Youseemedfinewithitatthehospital.”
“Yeah.Iseemedfinewithalotofthingsatthehospital.”
“WhatamIsupposedtodo?Mominvitedher.”
“Onlybecauseshethoughtyouwouldn’tcomewithouther.”
“Momwasright.Iwouldn’tcomewithouther.”
“You’remakingthingsharderonMom.Andyoudon’tevencare.”
“You’remakingthingsharderonher.AndIcareaboutthatverymuch.”
“Doesn’tshehaveenoughtodealwithrightnow?”
“I’monlyherebecausesheaskedmetobe.”
“Shewantstoseeyou.Notsomestranger.”
“Hannah’snotastranger.She’smygirlfriend.”
Iwincedalittleatthelie.
“She’sastrangertous.”
“Notforlong.”
“Tellhertoleave.”
“Ican’t.Iwon’t.”
“Tellhertoleave,orI’llkickyoubothout.”
“Idareyou.IdareyoutodothatandthentellMomwhatyoudid.”
“Thisisaprivate,familymatter.ThelastthingMomneedsrightnowistobeentertainingsomeHollywoodbimbo.”
ThenIheardascuffle.Thenaclunk.Isteppedclosertopeekthroughthescreen,andIsawthatJackhadshovedHankupagainstawall.
“DoesanythingaboutthatgirlseemlikeHollywoodtoyou?”Jackdemanded.
It’saheckofathingtoseetwogrownmenfightingoveryou.Evenifyouknowit’snotarealfight.Andevenifyouknowthefightisreallyaboutsomethingelse.
Still.Iheldmybreath.
Forasecond,IthoughtJackwasgoingtodefendme.
“She’sasun-Hollywoodasitgets,”Jacksaidthen,hisvoicelowandmenacing.“Haveyouseenmyothergirlfriends?HaveyouseenKennedyMonroe?She’snothinglikeanyofthem.She’sshort.Herteetharecrooked.Shebarelywearsanymakeup.Shedoesn’tself-tan,wearextensions,ordyeherhair.She’satotallyplain,unremarkableperson.She’stheepitomeofordinary.”
Wow.Okay.
“Butshe’smine,”Jacksaidthen.“Andshe’sstaying.”
Iwasstillcopingwith“epitomeofordinary.”
Anotherscuffle,asHankpushedJackoffofhim.
Isteppedwaybacksotheywouldn’tseeme.Ofcourse,thatmeantIcouldn’tseethemanymore,either.
“Fine,”Hanksaid.“IguessI’lljusthavetomakehersomiserablethatsheleavesonherown.”
“IfyoumakemyHannahmiserable—”
MyHannah!
“—Iwillmakeyoumiserablerightback.”
“Youalreadydo.”
“That’smoreaboutyouthanaboutme,buddy,”Jacksaid.
ButHankwasstilltryingtowinthefight.“I’mtellingyouIdon’twantherhere.ButIcan’tevenrememberthelasttimeyoucaredaboutwhatanybodyelsewanted.”
“Youdon’twantherhere,butIneedherhere.Andsodoyou,eventhoughyoudon’tknowit.Sobackthehelloff.”
Iguess,atthat,oneofthemdecidedtostormoff,becausenextIheardthescreendoorwhapclosed.Then,ontheheelsofthat,Ihearditagain.
Outthekitchenwindow,IcouldseeHankstompingofftowardhistruck—andJackchargingintheoppositedirection,alongthegravelroadtowardathicketoftrees.
WhatIwantedtodo…wasgohidemyplain,unremarkable,epitome-of-ordinaryface.
For,like,ever
ButJackwasmyprincipal.Andthiswasmyjob.
SoIfollowedhim.Thirteen
WHENICAUGHTup,hestoppedwalking,buthedidn’tturn.“Don’tfollowme.”
“Ihavetofollowyou.”
“I’mtakingawalk.”
“Icantell.”
“Ineedamoment.Tomyself.”
“That’snotreallyrelevant.”
“Doyoureallythinkyou’remygirlfriendorsomething?Don’tfollowme.”
“DoyoureallythinkI’myourgirlfriend?I’mnotfollowingyoubecauseIwantto.Youaremyjob.”
Atthat,Jackstarteddownthegravelroadagain—headingverypurposelytowardnowhere,asfarasIcouldtell.
Ilethimgetaboutahundredfeetahead,andthenItookadeepbreathandfollowed.
WhenJacksaidhewastakingawalk,hewasn’tkidding.Wefollowedthetirerutsintheroadthroughacowpasture,overacattleguard,pastarustymetalbarn,anddownalong,slowhillintoawoodedlowlandovergrownwithvines.
WasIdressedforanexcursionlikethat—inmyembroideredsundresswithbareankles?
Iwasnot.
Everyhundredfeetorso,Ihadtoshaketherocksoutofmysandals.
ReallywishingI’dchangedintothosebootsnow.
DidJackknowIwasfollowinghim?
Hedid.
Wheneverwecametoagate,he’dunlatchthechainandwaitforme.Then,wordlessly,onceIwasthrough,he’drelatchit,andtakeoffwalking,andI’dwaitpolitelyuntilhe’dreestablishedourdistance.
Ievenwalkedintheoppositerutfromtheonehewasusing,outofcourtesy.
Theroaddescendeddeeperintothewoods,andthegrassgottaller,andthepathgotmoreovergrown,andjustasIwastryingtorememberwhatpoisonivylookedlike,wecametoatumbledown,rusty,barbed-wiregate.
Pastit,theforestopenedupcleartoawide,bluesky,andIrealizedwe’dmadeittotheriverbank.
AsIgotcloser,Jackwaslookingmeupanddown.“Areyoukiddingmewiththatoutfit?”
Ilookeddownatmybarelegs.“Ihavebootsbackatthehouse.”
“Youshouldbewearingthem.”
“Noted.”
Jackshookhishead.“Nevercomedowntotheriverwithnakedankles.”
“Tobefair,”Isaid,“Ididn’tknowthatrule.Ialsodidn’tknowwewerecomingtotheriver.”
Jackturnedandlookedatthedistanceahead.Theroadstoppedatthegate.Fromheretotheriverbankwasjusttallgrass—andweedsandbramblesandthistlebushes.Andlet’snotforgetpoisonivy.
Jacksquatteddownandturnedhisbacktowardme.“Climbon.I’llgiveyouaride.”
“I’mfine,thanks.”
Stayingcroucheddown,Jackstartedcountingoffallthethingsinthatgrassthatcouldcomeafterme:“Stickerburrs,armadillos,stingingnettles,redants,blackants,fireants,poisonivy,blackberrybrambles,blackwidows,brownrecluses,copperheads,rattlesnakes,watermoccasins…”
Hewaitedformetorevisemyanswer.
Ihesitated.
Soheadded,“Nottomentionferalhogs,bobcats,andcoyotes.”
Honestly,he’dhadmeat“armadillos.”
“Fine,”Isaid,andclimbedon.
Jackhookedhisarmsundermylegsandstoodupfastenoughtomakemedizzy—soIclutchedhimtight.ThenhelaunchedbackintothatpatentedJackStapletonwalkingpaceInowsuddenlyknewsowell.
Ridingwasnicer.Maybehe’dcarrymeback.
Attheriverbank,theforestdroppedaway,andsodidtheearth.Jackstoodatthecrestofthebankforaminuteaswebothtookinthesightoftheriverdownbelowanditsendlesssandybeach.
“That’stheBrazosRiver?”Iasked.
“Yep.”
“It’swiderthanIthought.And…browner.”
ButJackdidn’trespond.Justlaunchedusdownthebankuntilwemadeittotheshore.
There,hedroppedmeprettyfast,andwalkedofftowardthewater.
Hewasheadingvaguelynorth,soIdecidedtoheadvaguelysouthandgiveusbothsomespace.
Itwasprobablytwohundredfeettothewateritself,andIletmyheadtiltdownasIwalkedandmarveledatallthedifferentkindsofrockspepperingthesand:brownones,blackones,stripyones,bitsofanimalbones,petrifiedwood,evenfossils.Nottomentiondriftwood,anoccasionaltangleofrustybarbedwire,andanotablenumberofoldbeercans.IcouldseewhyJackwantedtocomehere.Acrossfromuswasahighbankwithnothingbutgrassandsky,andallarounduswastheendlessbreezethatflowingwatermakes,makingitfeellikeweweremilesandmilesfromanywhere.
Which,ofcourse,wewere.
Attheriver’sedge,Ikickedoffmysandals.Itwasawarmday,andallthatjoggingtokeepuphadleftmealittlehot.Thewaterwasclearerupclose—and,asIdippedmyfeet,itfeltgreat.Coolandswirlywithrefreshingeddies.ItfeltsogoodaroundmyanklesthatsoonIwassloshingoutalittlefurther.
Iliftedthehemofmysundress.Ireallywasn’tplanningtogopastmyknees.Iwasjustgoingtocooloffforaminuteandenjoyit,honestly.Anotherfewsteps,andIwasgoingtoturnaround.Butthen,afewthingshappenedallatonce.
AsItookmynextstep,IheardasoundlikemaybeJackwascallingmyname,butitwassomuffledbythewind,Icouldn’tbesure.Iturnedtolook,butasIdid…theflooroftheriverdisappeared.
Therewasjust…nothingformyfoottolandon.AndsoIlostmybalanceandsplasheddownintothewater.
It’salwaysshockingtolandincoldwaterwhenyou’renotexpectingit,buttherewassomethingmoreshockingaboutthewaterinthatriver.
Ithadacurrent.
Areallystrongcurrent.
AcurrentstrongenoughthatwhenIhitthewater,Ididn’tbobbackuptothesurfacewithakickortwo…becausethewatertuggedmedownward.
Itallhappenedsofast.
Iwassloshingthroughthewater—andthen,withinseconds,myheadwasgoingunder.
Itactuallygivesmeshiverstothinkaboutitnow.HowcloseIcametodrowning.
Butjustasithappened,beforeIhadtimetopanic,Ifeltsomethinghardasmetalclamparoundmyarmandhaulmebackup.
Jack.
Heyankedmeoutandtowardhimlikesomekindofmachine,grabbingmearoundthewaistandclampingmewithanooftohischest,thendraggedmebacktothebanksofast,webothstumbledandfellontothesandyshore.
DidhelandontopofmelikewewereinFromHeretoEternity?
Yes,thathappened.
Wasitinanywayromanticlikethat?
Um.No.
Assoonashecould,Jackscrambledupandstompedaway,leavingmedrenched,andstunned,andcoughingonthesand.
WhenIcaughtmybreath,Isaid,“Whatwasthat?Ariptide?”
“Areyoukiddingme?”hedemanded,hisjeanssoakingwetfromthethighsdown.“DidyoujustwadeoutintotheBrazos?Didthatjusthappen?”
Istoodupandtriedunsuccessfullytobrushthewetsandoffmylegs.“WasI…notsupposedtodothat?”
“Nobody’ssupposedtodothat!Don’tyouknowhowmanypeopledrowninthatrivereveryyear?”
“WhywouldIknowthat?”
“Everybodyknowsthat!NeverswimintheBrazos.”
“Firstofall,Iwasn’tswimming.Andsecond—no.That’snotathingeverybodyknows.”
ButJackwasrantingnow.“Andwhy?Whycan’tyouswimintheBrazos?Becauseit’ssandyatthebottom,andsothecurrentmakeseddies,andtheeddiescarvecavernsinthatsandyflooroftheriver,andthecurrentswirlsaroundintherelikeliquidtornadoes—andifyou’reunluckyorstupidenoughtogetsuckedintoone,you’redonefor.”
“That’ssomeprettyspecializedknowledge,there—”Istarted,coughingsomemore.
“So,”Jackwenton,likeIwasn’teventalking,“whenidiotsdecidetogoswimmingorfishingorwadinginthatwater,thenextthingtheyknow,they’repulledintotheundertow.Wholefamiliesdietryingtosaveeachother,onebyone!”
Didhejustcallmeanidiot?Itriedtodecideifitwasworsethanbeingtheepitomeofordinary.“So.Notariptidethen.”
Ieyedthewater,sotranquillookingfromhere.Icouldstillfeelthepullofit,likesomeliquiddeathmagnet.Suddenlytherewereshiverspricklingmyarmsandlegs.“Scary,”Isaid,almosttomyself.
Mycalmnessjustseemedtomakehimmadder.
“Scary?”Jackyelled.“You’redamnright!Whatthehellwereyouthinking?”
“Idon’tknow,”Isaid,turningtohimnow.“Iwashot?Thewaterfeltnice?”
“Youwerehot?”hesaid,inatonelikehe’daskedmewhyIwasdrinkinggasolineandItoldhimIwasthirsty.
Hewenton.“Doyouhaveadeathwish?Doyou?Becausehere’swhyit’scalled‘theBrazos.’From‘losbrazosdeDios,’whichmeans‘thearmsofGod’—andpeoplethinkit’sfromthirstytravelerswhoweresogratefultofindwater,butit’sactuallybecauseitdrownedsomanypeoplethatit’swhereGodcollectstheirsouls.”
Yikes.Okay.Thattookadarkturn.
IwillgrantthatJackwasconveyinganimportantsafetytip.But,Imean,really?Iwasobviouslyhalf-drownedandsuper-shaken.Didhehavetoyell?
Idon’tknowaboutyou,butIcanonlygetyelledatforsolongbeforeIstartyellingback.Jackwantedtoyell?Fine.Icouldyell,too.Icouldyellallday.
“Whyareyouyellingatme?!”Iyelled.
Anotherfirstforme—yellingataclient.
“Because!”Jackyelledback.“You’regoingtogetyourselfkilled!”
“Notonpurpose!”Iyelledback.
“Thatdoesn’tmatteronceyou’redead!”Jackyelled.
“Peoplewadeintowaterallthetime!”Iyelled.“It’satotallynormalthingtodo!”
“NotintheBrazos!”
“ButIdidn’tknowthat!”
“Andifyougounder,thenIgounder—becausethenIhavetogoinafteryou!”
“Sodon’tgoinafterme!”
“That’snothowthisworks!Ifyoudieintheriver,Idieintheriver!AndIreallydon’twanttofuckingdieinthefuckingriver!”
Forasecond,Ihadnoresponse.Ididn’tknowwhattosaytothat.Andinthatsecond,Irealizedsomethingelse:Iwasshaking.Alot.Hard.Fromsomeplacedeepinmycore.
Mostlikely,itwasfear.
Thoughitdidn’tfeellikefear.
ButmaybeI’djustforgottenwhatfearfeltlike.
Usually,theantidotetofearwaspreparation—butIhadn’tbeenpreparedforanythingaboutthisweek,fromwatchingmyjobmutateintosomethingIdidn’tevenrecognize,tomovinginwithabunchofstrangers,tolosingmybestfriend,towindingupinthemiddleofsomehatefestbetweenJackandhisbrother,tobeingcalled“ordinary,”toalmostdrowning,and—now—togettingyelledatlikeIhadn’tbeenyelledatinyears.
Itwasalot.
Suddenly,itwastoomuch.
“WhatamI?”Idemandedthen.“SomekindofhistorianoftheTexaswaterways?HowexactlyamIsupposedtoknowthatthisisariverofdeath?I’mjustlivingmylifeinthecity,tryingtogettoLondon,orKorea,oranywhereatallthat’sliterallynotTexas,andsuddenlyI’mhavingtomovetoacattleranchandactinthiscrazyrealityshowwithyouandyourfamily?Ididn’twantthisjob,Ididn’taskforit,andnowI’mtrappedinitwithnoescapeforweeksonend!Somaybeyoucouldgivemeaheads-upifI’mabouttoaccidentallykillmyselforanyoneelse—”
Andrighthereiswheremyvoicebroke.
RighthereiswhereIlostholdof“angry”andmyemotionsjustkindofcrumbled.BythetimeIfinishedwith“insteadofjustyellingatmeoutofnowherelikeanasshole,”myvoicesoundedbroken,eventome.
Ifroze,andsodidJack,aswebothregisteredthatI’djustcalledmyemployeranasshole.
Iwouldhavelikedtomarchoffrighttheninagestureofself-respect,buteverythingwastrembling,includingmylegs.
Withoutevenreallythinking,Ireacheduptotouchmybeadedsafetypin.IjustwantedaquickhitofthattinysparkleofcomfortIalwaysgotwhenIfeltthebeads.
Butitwasn’tthere.
Myneckwasbare.Thenecklacewasgone,too.
“Hey,”Isaid,lookingdown.“Where’smysafetypin?”
“Yourwhat?”
Ipawedatmycollarbones,likeImightfinditifIkepttrying.“Mysafetypin.Withthebeads.It’sgone.”
Haditcomeoffinthewater?Wasitsomewhereonthebeach?
Istartedsearchingthesand.
“Thatcoloredsafetypinyoualwayswear?”heasked,forgettingwewerefightingandstartingtolook,too.
“Itmusthavefallenoff,”Isaid.
Ipacedthebeach,retracingallmysteps.I’dbeenwarmonthewalkdown,butnow,aftertheshockoftheriver,Ifelttheopposite.Iwasdrenched,andcold,andIcouldn’tstopshivering.ButIdidn’tcare.
Aswelooked,Jack’sentiredemeanorsoftened.
“We’llfindit,”hesaid.“Don’tworry.”Thenheadded,“I’mreallygoodatfindingthings.”
Ilookedup,andwhenIdid,Irealizedjusthowvastthatbeachwas—comparedtoasafetypin.Thisbeachwaslikeinfinity.Wewerenevergoingtofindit.
AndthenIdidwhatanybodymightdo,Iguess,inthatsituation.
Istartedtocry.
Jackdidn’tevenhesitate.Heclosedthedistancebetweenusandwrappedhisarmsarounddamp,trembling,uncharacteristicallyshakymeandkeptthemthereaminute.Thenhesteppedbackandtookoffhisflannelovershirt,putitonmeandbuttonedthebuttons,andthenpulledmebackintohisarms.
“I’msorry,”hesaid,andnowIwashearinghisvoicemuffledthroughhischest.“I’msorryyoulostyoursafetypin,andI’msorryyoualmostdrowned,andI’msorryIyelledatyou.Ishouldhavewarnedyou.It’scompletelymyfault.Youjustscaredme,isall.”
Washestrokingmyhair?WasJackStapletonstrokingmyhair?
Orwasitjustthewind?
Heheldmeforalongtimelikethat,thereonthatbeach.HeheldmeuntilmytearshaddriedupandI’dstoppedshaking.Anotherfirst:Thefirsttimeaclienthadeverhuggedme—andthefirsttimeI’deverallowedit.
AndasmadathimasIstillwas,Ialsoreallydidn’tmind.
Heseemedtohaveaknackforit.
JACKWOUNDUPcarryingmepiggybackallthewaytothehouse.
Atfirst,hewasjustgoingtotakemeuptheriverbankandthroughtheovergrowngrass—justbacktothegravelroad
Butoncewegotthere,hejustkeptonwalking.
“I’mgoodnow,”Isaid,mylegsdangling.“Youcanletmedown.”
“Thisismyworkoutfortheday.”
“Icanwalk.I’mfine.”
“Ilikecarryingyou.Imightstartdoingitallthetime.”
“Iknowhowtowalk.”
“I’msureyoudo.”
“Soputmedown.”
“Don’tthinkso.”
“Whynot?”
“Mostly’causeit’sgettingdark,andlotsofthingsthatbitecomeoutatdusk.Youwon’tbeabletoseewhereyou’restepping.Andyou’rebarelegged,likeanamateur.”
“We’vealreadyestablishedthat’snotmyfault.”
“SowhatI’mdoingrightnowischivalrouslyprotectingyoufromdanger.”
“Ah.”
“Also,Ifeelbadformakingyoucry.”
“Youdidnotmakemecry.”
Jackgavealittlehaveityourwaypause.Thenhesaid,“Also,it’sfun.”
“Soyou’rereallynotgoingtoputmedown?”
“I’mreallynot.”
Ofcourse,aswewent,Icouldn’thelpbutassesssafetyaspectsoftheproperty.Thatwasmybrain’sdefaultactivity.Imadementalmapsofthelayout,includingpotentialhidingspotsforbadactors,potentialescaperoutesinemergencies,andareastomonitor.
All,ofcourse,beforeJacktoldmethathisparentsneverlockedtheirdoorsatnight.
“OhmyGod,youhavetomakethemdothat!”
“I’vebeentryingtoforyears.”
Notgood.I’dbehighlightingthatintonight’slog.
Andyet,alotofmyusualanxietiesfeltunusuallymuted,thereonJackStapleton’sback.Maybeitwastherhythmofhiswalking.Orthevelvetinessofhisflannelshirtenrobingme.Orthesolidnessofhisshoulderundermychin.Orthatcinnamonscentthatseemedtofollowhimeverywhere.
Ormaybeit’sjustobjectivelyhardtoworryaboutanythingwhenyou’regettingapiggybackride.
Icouldfeelthemusclesinhisbackshiftingandtighteningwitheachstep,especiallyaswemadeourwayuphill.Icouldfeelhimbreathingthroughhisribcage.Icouldfeelthewarmthofhisbodywherewewerepressedtogether.
Iwon’tlie.Itwasnice.
Toonice,maybe.
“Youreallycansetmedown,”Isaid.
Butnothingdoing.“We’realmostthere,”Jacksaid.
SoIguessIhadnochoicebuttostaythereandenjoyit.Fourteen
HELLOFAfirstday.
Thatnight,aspromised,Isleptonthefloor.
Jackfoundayogamatinthehallcloset,andIfoldedacoupleofblanketsontopofit.
Itwasfine.Iwasfine.Iwascomfortablebeinguncomfortable.
AtleastIwasn’tsleepinginacloset
I’dsleptinamillioncrazyplaces—hallways,rooftops,evenabrokenelevatoronce.WhatIhadn’tdone,though,wassleepinaroomwithJackStapleton
Alittleoff-putting.Notgonnalie.
WouldyouliketoknowwhatJackStapletondoeswithhispillowwhenhesleeps?Hedoesn’tresthisheadonitlikeregularpeopledo.Heshovesitunderhisbody,vertically,likeasurfboard,andthendrapeshimselfoverit.
Andwannaknowwhathewearsforpj’s?
Loosesweatpantsandanaggressivelyclingyundershirt.
Butwhatdoeshedowithhisdirtyclotheswhenhechangesintothosepj’s?
Heleavesthemalloverthebathroomfloor.
Iwalkedinwhenitwasmyturntochangeandfoundhismuddyboots,hiswaddedsocks,theT-shirthe’dwornallday,andhisstill-dampjeans—withthebeltstillintheloopsandtheunderwearstillinside—justlyingthereonthefloor,splayedoutinanalmost-humanshape,likeabearskinrugmadeofJackStapleton’sdirtylaundry.
Imean,Ihadtostepoverthemtogettothesinktobrushmyteeth.
WhenIcameoutofthebathroom,Jackwassittingontheedgeofhisbed.Helookedup.
Istaredathim,likeWhatthehell?
Andhefrownedback,likeWhat?
SoIpointedbackatthebathroomfloorandsaid,“Canyoucomedealwiththis?”
ButJackjusttiltedhishead.
“Hey,”Isaid.“Thisisasharedspace.Youcan’tleaveyourcrapalloverthefloor.”
ButJackwaslookingmeupanddown.
“Hello?”Isaid.
“Isthatwhatyou’resleepingin?”
Ilookeddown.“Um.Yes?”
“Isthatwhatyoualwayssleepin?”
Ilookedup,likeWhat?“Sometimes.”
“Ididn’tevenknowtheystillmadethose.”
Ilookeddownagain.“Nightgowns?”
“Imean,”Jacksaid,andnowhewaslookingatmelikeIwasfunny.“YoulooklikeaVictorianchild.”
“It’sanightgown,”Isaid.“It’sanormalpieceofhumansleepwear.”
“Nope.”
“Peoplewearnightgowns,Jack.”
“Notlikethatone,theydon’t.”
“Hey,”Isaid.“I’mnotmakingfunofwhatyou’rewearing.”
“WhatI’mwearingisnormal.”
Ishuffledovertohismirrorandlookedatmyself.Whitecotton.Shortsleeves.Alittlerufflebelowtheknees.“IdonotlooklikeaVictorianchild.AVictorianchildwouldhavelaceandribbons.Andalittlecaponitshead.”
“Prettyclose,though.”
“Iwasjusttryingtobringgirlfriend-likesleepwear.”
“I’veneverseenagirlfriendinanythingevenclose.”
“Yourgirlfriendsprobablyonlysleepinthongs.”
“Atthemaximum.”Jackgaveanexaggeratedsighandgazedupattheceilingasifrememberingitfondly.
Icheckedmyreflectionagain.“Thisseemed,”Isaid,inmyowndefense,“likethemostprofessionalofallmysleepwearoptions.”
“But—Imean,isityours?”
“Ofcourseit’smine.YouthinkIstoleit?”
“Yeah.Fromaninety-year-oldgrandma.”
NowIwasannoyed.He’dcalledmealotofinsultingthingstoday,from“plain,”to“anidiot,”to“theepitomeofordinary.”Nowhewassaying“grandma”?Tomyface?
Somehow,thiswasthebestretortIcouldmanage:“You’renotinapositiontothrowshade,MisterClothes-All-Over-The-Floor.”
Itwassupposedtobeaburn,butJackjuststartedlaughing.
Likereallylaughing—hisshouldersshakingandeverything.“That’saterribleburn,”hesaid.“Ithinkthat’stheworstburnI’veeverheard.”
“It’snotfunny,”Isaid.
“I’msorry,”hesaid,tumpingoverandpressinghisfaceagainstthebedspread.“Butitabsolutelyisfunny.”
“Hey!”Isaid.“Nobodywantstoseeyourunderwear.”
“Actually,”hesaid,sittingbackupandsoberinghisface.“Peoplepayverygoodmoneytoseemyunderwear.”
“Notyourdirtyunderwear.Onthebathroomfloor!”
Buthejustgavealittletrustmeonthisnod.“You’dbesurprised.”
“Well,”Isaid,feelinglikeIneededtomakethispoint.“Iamnotoneofthosepeople.”
“Iknow.It’sathingIlikeaboutyou.”
Washetryingtoweaseloutofpickinguphismessbyflatteringme?Itriedagain.“Letmeaskyouthis.AmIyourmaid?”
Themorehetriedtokeepastraightface,themorehisfaceseemedtofightwithhim.“Weestablishedthatondayone.”
“Thenlet’sjustagreethatIwon’tmakeyouinteractwithmydirtyunderwear,andyouwon’tmakemeinteractwithyours.Okay?”
“Okay,”hesaid,tryingtomakehisfaceserious.“Agreed.”
Butnowhehadthegiggles.
JackStapletonhadthegiggles
Hefellbackdownonthebed.
“Go,”Isaid,walkingovertohimandshovingathisshouldertopushhimoffthebed.“Gopickupyourdirtyclothes.”
Heresistedforasecond,soIpushedharder,andthen,onpurpose,hegavewayfastandIfellontothefloor—landingonmysleepingnest.
Finewithme.Itwastimeforbed,anyway.
“Anddon’tleaveyourtoothpastecapoff,either,”Isaid.“Whatareyou,fiveyearsold?”
“It’smybathroom,”hesaid.
“It’sourbathroomnow.”
BYTHETIMEJackcameout,I’dalreadyturnedoffallthelights,andhetrippedovermemakinghiswaybacktohisbed.
“Watchit!”
“Sorry.”
Heclimbedunderhiscoversandhunghisheadoverthesidetotalktomelikewewerehavingasleepover.
“Youreallycansleepinthebed,youknow.”
“No,thankyou.”
“It’sbotheringmethatyou’reontheceramictile.”
“Getoverit.”
“Wecouldbuild,like,awallofpillowsdownthemiddleasabarrier.”
“I’mgood.”
“Whatifmymomwalksinandseesyousleepingonthefloor?”
Ihadn’tseenhismomsincewe’dbeenhere.“Doesyourmomjustwalkintothebedroomofheradultsonwithoutknocking?”
“Probablynot.Goodpoint.”
“Andevenifshedid,wecouldjustsaywewerefighting.Whichistrue.”
“We’renotfighting,”Jacksaid.“We’replaying.”
“Isthatwhatthisis?”
Themooncameoutfrombehindthecloudsandtheroomlightenedabit.IcouldseeJack’sfaceaboveme.Hewasstilllookingdown.
“Thankyou,”hesaidthen.
“Forwhat?”
“Forcominghereanddoingthis,eventhoughyoudidn’twantto.Andfornotdrowningtoday.Andforwearingthatridiculousnightgown.”
Iturnedonmysidetoignorehim,butIcouldstillfeelhimwatchingme.
Afterawhilehesaid,“Ireallydohavenightmares,youknow.ApologiesinadvanceifIwakeyou.”
“WhatshouldIdoifyouhaveone?”Iasked.
“Justignoreme,”Jacksaid.
Somucheasiersaidthandone.“Iwillabsolutelytrymybest.”Fifteen
JACKWASGONEwhenIwokeupthenextmorning—hisemptybedatangleofsheetsandblankets,asifhe’dspentthewholenightscubadivinginthere.
Wherewashe?Itclearlystatedinthehandoutthathewassupposedtostaywithornearmeatalltimes.Hewasn’tsupposedtojustsneakoutwhileIwassleeping.
Igotdressed—jeansandbootsthistime—andwenttolookforhim.
Inthekitchen,insteadofJack,Ifoundhismomanddad.
Beingadorable.
Hismomwassittingatthetableinachenillerobe,andhisdadwasacrosstheroom,wearinghiswife’sfloralapron,standingatthestove,burningbacon.Smokeeverywhere.Thestovefanrunninginatoo-little-too-lateway,andthisbigmanflappinghisruffledhemhelplesslyatthewholesituation.
ShouldConnieStapletonbelaughinglikethat?ItwasthefirsttimeI’dseenhersincethesurgery.Wasthatsafeforherstitches?
Granted,shewasmoresubduedthanhewas.
Imean,nowDocStapletonwasdoublingoveratthewaist.
Hetookaminutetocollecthimself.Thenheliftedthecharcoal-blackstripsoutoftheskilletandbroughtthemtohiswife,wellawarethatbaconwassupposedtobeawholedifferentcolor.
“Iblamethestove,”Docsaid.
“Metoo,”Conniesaid,pattingthebackofhishand.
Then,withremarkablegenerosity,shebrokeoffablackenedpiece,putitinhermouth,andsaid,“Notbad.”
Asifburntbaconreallygotabadrap.
Ifeltsoshy,standinginthedoorway,assomethingtotallyastonishinghitme:Thesepeoplewerehappilymarried.Everythingabouttheirbodylanguage—theirfaces,thewaytheywerelaughing—confirmedit.
Happilymarried.
Imean,youhearaboutpeoplelikethat.Intheory,theyexist.ButI’dsureashellneverseenanythinglikeitbefore.
Itfeltlikeglimpsingaunicorn.
Istartedtobackaway.Idefinitelydidn’tbelonghere.
Butthat’swhenDoclookedupandnoticedme.
Conniefollowedhisgaze.“Oh!”shesaid,allwarmandwelcoming.“You’reawake!”
Noescapenow.
KnowingeverythingConniehadjustbeenthrough,andknowing,too,howmuchofaninterloperItrulywas,IsuddenlywishedlikecrazythatJackweretheretocushionthemoment.
Andthen,asifheheardmesomehow,thekitchendoorswungopen,andJackhimselfsteppedin—lookingwindblownandmanlyinaplaidshirtandjeans—withhisglassesalittlebitcrooked.
Healsohadagolfbagoverhisshoulder.
“You’reup,”hesaidtome,liketherewasnooneelseintheroom.
DoctookinthesightofJack.“Hittinggolfballsintotheriver?”
“Everymorning,”Jacksaidwithalittlenod.
“Golfballs?”Iasked.“Intotheriver?Isn’tthat,like,environmentallyunsound?”
Jackshookhishead.“It’sfine.”Thenhewalkedoverandkissedhismotheronthetopofthehead.“Hey,Mom.Howareyoufeeling?”
“Onthemend,”shesaid,liftinghercoffeeathimintoast.
Jackseemedtoregistermydiscomfort.Hestroderighttowardme,pulledmebythehandtothebreakfasttable,satmedown,sathimselfrightnexttome,andwrappedhisarmaroundmyshoulders.
Ithinktheycallthatowningtheroom.
Iheldverystill—astonishedathoworderingmyselftorelaxandactcasualhadtheoppositeeffect.
Jackrespondedtomystiffnesswiththeopposite.Kneesapart.Armlanguidandheavy.Voiceassmoothaschocolatemilk.
“Youlookamazingtoday,”hesaid.AndI’dbarelyrealizedhewastalkingtomebeforehepressedhisfaceintothecrookofmyneckandbreathedinafullgulpofmyscent.“Whydoyoualwayssmellsogood?”
“It’slemonsoap,”Isaid,alittledazed.“It’saromatherapeutic.”
“I’llsay,”Jacksaid.
Iknewwhathewasdoing,ofcourse.Hewascompensatingformybadacting.Iclearlyhadsomekindofstagefright,andsohewasactingtwiceashardmakeupforit.
Hereallywasgood.
Thewarmthinhisvoice,theintimacyofhisbodylanguage,thewayhestaredatmelikehewasdrinkingmeup…
NowonderI’dseenYouWishsomanytimes.
I’dseensomanydownsidestocominghere.I’dworriedabouttheboredomofbeingondutywithnothingtodo.I’dworriedaboutthedifficultyoftryingtodomyjobwhilepretendingnotto—andwhatthatmightmeanformyperformance.I’dworriedthatImightbeanunconvincingactor.
Itjusthadn’toccurredtometoworryaboutJack.
Inthoseshortminutesrightafterhewalkedin,though,asheworkedtoestablishusasagenuine,lovingcoupleinfrontofhisfolks…that’sexactlywhatitfeltlikewewere.
Iboughtit,too,iswhatI’msaying.
Ifeltlikehewasgladtoseeme.Ifeltlikehewassavoringbeingnearme.Ifeltlikehelikedme.
Heseemedexactly,convincingly,heartbreakinglylikeamaninlove.
Uhoh.
HowwouldImakeitfourweekswithoutgettingtraumaticallyconfused?Icouldn’tevenmakeitfourminutes
Justthen,Hankshowedupinthekitchen,thescreendoorslappingbehindhim.Insteadofsittingatthetable,heleanedagainstthecounterandglaredatthelovey-doveyness.
Thatwashelpful.Icouldfocusonthat
Jack’smomdidn’tevennoticeHank.Sheleanedtowardusandsaid,“Tellusabouthowyoutwomet.”
We’dplannedforthis.
JackeyedHankforasecondbeforegivinghismomhisfullattention.Then,hepouredacupofcoffeefromthecarafeandsaid,inafriendlyvoice,“She’saphotographer.Shecametomyplaceinthemountainstoshootourinfamousalbinomoose.”
IgaveJackalook.Thealbinomoosead-libwaspushingit.
Hankwasn’tbuyingit,either.Hecrossedhisarmsoverhischest.
“Youhaveanalbinomoose?”Docasked
Jacknodded.“Veryelusive.”Hegesturedatme.“Shewastryingdoaphotoessayonit,butshenevercouldfindit.”
“Toobad,”Conniesaid.
“ButIhelpedherlookforalongtime,”Jacksaidthen,givinghismomawink.
“Youwerekindtohelpherout,”Docsaid.
“Itwasn’tkindness,”Jacksaid.“Itwaspureselfishness.”
Hanksnortedalaugh.
Jackignoredit.“Becauseitwasloveatfirstsight.”
Jackturnedthenandgavemethedreamiest,mostlovestrucklookI’deverseen.Thenhetuckedawispofhairbehindmyear.“Ijustwantedanyexcusetobearoundher.”Thenheleanedbackandputhishandsbehindhishead,likehewasreminiscing.“Isawthatfeisty,stumpylittleladyclimboutofherLandRoverwithfivehundredcameras,andIjustknew.”
Ifrowned.“Didyoujustcallme‘stumpy’?”
“Inagoodway,Stumps,”Jacksaid.
Inarrowedmyeyesathim.
“Inalovableway,”Jackinsisted.“Inanadorable,irresistible,how-can-I-get-this-little-lady-trapped-in-my-mountain-cabinway.”Thenheturnedtohisparents,grabbedmeinaheadlockthatmessedupmyalreadymessybun,andsaid,“Lookhowcutesheis.”
“Iamnotstumpy,”Isaidhelplessly.
ButJack’smotherwastotallyonboard.Sheleanedforward.“Whatdoyoulikebestabouther?”
Jackreleasedmeandletmesitback.“Iliketheselittlewispythingsthatneverquitemakeitintoherbun.Andhowshelookslikeawetcatwhenyoumakehermad.Andactually”—hesaid,likethiswasjustoccurringtohim—“Ilikehowshegetsmad.Shegetsmadalot.”
“Youlikehowshegetsmad?”DocStapletonasked,likehissonmighthaveafewscrewsloose.
“Yeah,”Jacksaid.“Peopledon’treallygetmadatyouwhenyou’refamous.Atfirst,it’sgreat—butafterawhileitstartstofeellikeyou’relivingonaplanetwithnogravity.”Hethoughtaboutthatforasecond.Thenheturnedbacktome.“ButnotStumps!Onesockonthefloor,andIgetthemadcatface.Iloveit.”
Iglaredathimfromundermymessed-uphair.
Hepointedatmyfacewithadmiration.“Thereitisrightnow.”
Conniewaslovingthis.Sheturnedtome.“AndwhatdoyoulikebestaboutJack?”
Ihadn’tpreparedforthisquestion.Butananswerjustpoppedrightintomyhead.“Ilikethathethanksmeallthetime.Forallkindsofthings.ThingsIwouldneverhaveexpectedanyonetothankmefor.”
IglancedatJack,andIcouldtellheknewthatI’dsaidsomethingtrue.
Hestudiedmeforasecond,seemingtofalloutofcharacter.Thenhepickedupawaddedpapertoweloffthetableandthrewitatthekitchentrashcanlikehewasmakingafreethrow—andmissed.
Westaredatitwhereitlanded.
ThenHanksaidtome,“Whatdoyoulikeleastabouthim?”
“Least?”Iasked.Ihadn’tpreparedforthisone,either.Butanotheranswerpoppeduplikemagic.“That’seasy.Heleaveshisdirtyclothesalloverthefloor.”ThenIadded,“It’sliketheRapturehappened,andtheytookJackfirst.”
Ahalfsecondofsilence,andthentheyall—evenHank—burstoutlaughing.
Astheysettled,ConniesaidtoJack,“Sweetheart,you’renotstilldoingthat,areyou?”
Butasshewassayingit,Hankwasstartingtoleave,hisfaceseriousagainasifhehadn’tmeanttolaugh,andnowheregrettedit.Hemovedtowardthekitchendoorandputhishandontheknob.
“You’releaving?”Conniesaidwithatone,likeWewerealljuststartingtohavefun
“I’vegotworktodo,”Hanksaid.
Conniegavehimalook,likeReally?andHankexplained:“I’mstartingontheboattoday.”
FromConnie’sreaction,thatwasserious.
ItcaughtJack’sattention,too.“Theboat?”heasked.
Connienodded.“ItoldDadtheotherweekthatiftheydidn’tgetbusybuildingit,IwasgoingtosellitoneBay.”
Jacknodded.ThenheturnedtofaceDoc.“Doyouwantsomehelp?”
ButHankspunaround,likehecouldn’tbelieveJackhadjustsaidthat.“What?”
Thewholemoodintheroomwentrigid,butJackstillkepthisfriendly,relaxedvibe.
“I’mofferingtohelpyoubuildtheboat,”Jacksaid.
“You’reoffering,”Hanksaid,likehecouldnothaveheardcorrectly,“tohelpbuildDrew’sboat?”
JackkeptasteadygazeonHank.“It’sbetterthanMomsellingitoneBay,right?”
“Nope,”Hanksaid.
“Sweetheart,”ConniesaidtoJack,“weknowyoumeanwell…”
Docletoutashakysigh.“That’sprobablynotagoodidea,son.”
Attheconsensus,Jackputuphishands.“Iwasjustoffering,”Jacksaid.
That’swhenHanktookastepcloser.“Well,don’t.”
Jackwasholdingstillnow,allpretenseofaffabilityfrozen.
“Don’ttalkabouttheboat,”Hanksaidnow,glaringatJack.“Don’tgoneartheboat.Don’ttouchtheboat.AndforGod’ssakedon’teveroffertohelpbuilditagain.”
Atthat,Jackwasonhisfeetandmovingtowardhim.“Whenareyougoingtoletitgo,man?”
TheywerestaringateachotherliketheywereinagameofchickenwhenHanknoticedtheleathernecklaceatthebaseofJack’sthroat.Hiseyeslockedonthesight.
“Whatareyouwearing?”
“Ithinkyouknowwhatitis.”
“Takeitoff.”
ButJackshookhishead.“Never.”
Atthat,Hankreachedforit,likehemighttrytoripitoff.ButJackblockedhim.“Don’ttouchme,man.”
“Takeitoff,”Hankdemandedagain—andthentheywerefighting.Notlandingpunches,exactly,butgrabbingateachother,scuffling,shiftingoffbalance,slammingintothekitchencabinets.Prettystandardfightingforpeoplewhodon’tfightmuch.
DocStapletonandIwereonitrightawaytoseparatethem.DocsteeredHankaway,andItwistedJack’sarmsbehindhimlikeaprobeforeworryingthatmightgivemeaway—andthenshiftingintoanawkwardhug.
Whenwe’dbrokentheirmomentum,thetwoguysstoodback,breathing,glaringateachother.
That’swhenConniesaid,“Enough!”
Theyloweredtheireyes.
Hanksaid,“Doyouseewhathe’swearing?”
“Idon’tcarewhathe’swearing,”Conniesaid.“Icarewhatyou’redoing.”
“He’snevertouchingthatboat.”
“Allhedidwasoffertohelp,”Conniesaid.Then,likeHankmightnot’vegraspedthewords:“Tohelp.”
“Idon’twanthishelp.”
“Yes,youdo.Muchmorethanyourealize.”
Apause.
Conniewenton,“WhenIfirstfoundoutIwassick,canItellyouhowIfelt?Ifelthappy.Ithought,Good.Ithought,Maybecancerisbadenough.Maybethis,atlast,wouldforceusalltorealizethatwecan’tkeepwastingourtime.AndwhenIsawyouallafterthesurgery,andeverybodywasgettingalong,Ithoughtmaybe,justmaybe,weweregoingtofindawaytobeokay.ButIguessIwaswrong.”
Theboysdidn’tlifttheireyes.
ConniestudiedHankforasecond,likeshewasthinking.Thenshesaidtohim,“Iwantyoutomovehome,too.”
Hanklookedup.“What?”
“Iwantyoutomovebackintoyourroom.Hereatthehouse.StayuntilThanksgiving.”
“Mom,I’vegotmyown—”
“Iknow,”Conniesaid.
“It’snotgonnabe—”
“Iagree,”Conniesaid.“ButIdon’tknowwhatelsetodo,andthere’snotimetofigureitout.”
Hanklookeddownatthefloor,toeingaspotwithhisboot.
“Bringyourthingsbydinnertime,”Conniesaidthen.“Youboysaregoingtofindawaytogetalong—orkilleachothertrying.”Sixteen
ALOTTOprocessthere.
Afterthebrothersstompedoffinoppositedirections,andDochelpedConniebacktoherbedtorest,Ifoundmyselfsittinginthehammockchairundertheoaktree,realizingoneverysimplething.
Ihadtoquit.
Itwasn’tConnie’shealthtroubles.I’ddealtwithsickpeoplebefore.Anditwasn’tthemysteriousbeefbetweenthebrothers.Allfamilieshadsecrets.
ItwasJack.
I’dhopedthatbeingaroundhiminreallifewouldbedisappointing—thatwithoutastylistandawritertofeedhimhislines,he’dlosehisappeal.AsmuchasIdidn’twanttoletthefantasygo,Ialsoknewitwastheonlywaytodothisassignmentright.
I’dbeencountingontherealitybeingworsethanthefantasy.
Butthereality…wasbetter
Thiswastheproblem.AsmesmerizingasthecelluloidversionofJackwas,therealguy—theguywholefthisclothesonthefloor,andmadefunofmynightgown,andgavemepiggybackrides,andwasterrifiedofbridges—thisguywasbetter.
Andwhetheritwasbecauseofthosesmileyeyesofhis,orbecauseIhadnoneofmyusualrelentlessbusynesstokeepmedistracted,orbecauseI’dalreadyletmyselfswoonoverhimwhenIhadnoideaI’devermeethiminreallife—itdidn’tmatter.
Thefactwas,noneofmyusualdefensesworked.
Whenhelookedatmelikehewasinlove,myinsidesmelted.EverythingIreadforpretendonhisface…Iwasfeelingforreal.
Hewasfakingallthosefeelings—butIwasfeelingthem.Genuinely.
Andnomatterwhatyourskilllevelis,orhowmuchyoumightcareaboutyourprofessionalreputation,orwhatyourbosshasorderedyoutodo,orwhatotherrulesyoumightbeabletobreakandgetawaywithit…youcan’t—absolutelycannot—haveathingforyourprincipal.
That’sjustExecutiveProtection101.
AndifIhadtoconfessittoGlenn,Iwould.He’drespectmydecisiontodotherightthingandputtheprincipalfirst.
Or,atleast—Ireally,reallyhopedso
QUITTING.
Theendofthejob.Theendofmycareer,too,mostlikely.Buttherewasnowayaroundit.
Lovemakesyoumuddled.Lovecloudsyourjudgment.Lovederailsyouwithlonging.
Orsotheysay.
Thathadn’thappenedtomewithRobby…but—andthiswasonlyoccurringtomenow—maybethathadn’tbeenlove?BecausewhateverwasgoingonwithJackStapletonwasfarmoredestabilizing.
Ididn’tunderstandit,butonethingwasclear.Itwascomplexenoughtomakethingsprettysimple.
Ineededtogetoutofhere.
Iclimbedoutofthehammockswing,stoodup,andstartedwalkingalongthegravelroadtowardthesurveillancehouse.I’dwalkover,callGlenn,andquit.Easy.ButI’donlymadeithalfwaytothegatewhenIheardanunmistakablesound.Thecrackofariflefiring.
Istoppedinmytracks.
Turned.
Anothershot.
Itwascomingfrompastthebarn.
Itookoffsprintingthatway,andvaultedthefence,and,asIdid,Iheardanothershot.
Whatwasgoingon?Whowasshooting?Hadthecorgi-breedingstalkerfoundus?Goneballistic?TrackedJackdowninarandomravineinthemiddleoffivehundredacresofnowhere?AsIchargedacrossthefield,stumblingoveranthillsandthistlebushes,ImadementallistsofpossibilitiesforwhatIwasabouttofind—andawholesetofcontingencyplansforhowtohandleeachone.
Why,oh,whyhadn’tGlennauthorizedafirearmforme?
“Youwon’tneedit,”he’dpromised.
Toolatenow.
WhateverI’dfindinthatravine,I’djusthavetothinkfastandfiguresomethingout.
Godwilling.
ButwhatIfoundtherewasn’tamadcorgibreeder.Orablood-soakedJackStapleton.
Itwassweet,kindly,DocStapleton,residentpatriarch.Withalever-actionrifle.Shootingatbottles.
BythetimeIcrestedtheravineandsawhim,Iwascloseenoughforhimtohearme.HeturnedasIdescended.Islowedfromasprinttoastop,andthenbentover,handsonmyknees,pantinglikecrazyandwaitingformylungstostopburning.
WhenIfinallylookedup,Docwasstaringatmelikehecouldn’tfathomwhatIwasdoingthere.
“Iheardtheshots,”Isaid,gasping.“Ithought—”ThenIshifted.“Youscaredme.”
Docmadeapffftnoiseandthensaid,“Cityslicker.”
Fine.Wecouldgowiththat.
Istoodup,stillpanting,andwalkedcloser.Lineduponrocksagainstabendintheravinewereglassbottles—maybetwenty.Greenones,brownones,clearones.Belowtherocks,onthegroundunderneath,wasaveritablelakeofshatteredglass.
“Gunshots,”Docwenton,asItookinthesight,“meanawholedifferentthinginthecountry.”
Asfarasheknew.ButInodded.“Targetpractice.”
Docheldouthisguntome.“Caretotakeashot?”
Ilookedatit.Theanswerwasno,ofcourse.No,Iwasn’tgoingtostandaroundshootingbottleswhenIwasjustonmywaytoquitmyjob.No,Iwasn’tgoingtospendonemoreminuteonthisloony-binranchthanIhadto.Orblowmycoveratthelastminutebyputtingmyskillsondisplay.
No.Just,no.
Andyet,Ididneedaminutetocatchmybreath.
Anditmightactuallyfeelgoodtoshootsomethingrightnow.
Andthat’swhenDocsaid,“Youdon’thavetohitanything,”inatonelikeIwashesitatingbecauseIdidn’tknowhowtoshoot.
Iwasstillresistingthatlittlechallengewhenheadded:
“Thisrifle’salittletoughforladiestohandle,anyway.”
Imean,Comeon
Icouldsparefiveminutes.Right?
Iheldmyhandsoutfortherifle,andIlethimhandittome.ThenIlethimgivemealesson.
Ididn’tlietohim,exactly.Ijuststayedpleasantlymutewhilehewalkedmethroughthemostbasicofbasicintroductionstotheguninmyhands:“Thisisthestock,”hesaid,“andthisisthebarrel.Thisisthetrigger.Youpullthislevertoreloadbetweenshots.”Thenhepointedatthemuzzle.“Thisiswherethebulletscomeout.Besuretopointthatatthegrounduntilyou’rereadytomakesometrouble.”
Thisiswherethebulletscomeout?Theurgetoshowhimuproseinmybodylikewaterfillingaglass.
“Takethatlittlegroupoverthere,”Docsaid,gesturingatrowofoldbeerbottles.“Ifyoucanhitone,I’llgiveyouaquarter.”
Wow.Therewassomethingsoinspiringaboutbeingsounderestimated.
RightthenIdecidedtodomorethanjusthitthebottles.Iwasgoingtohitthemwithsomestyle.
Fastandeasy.Likeabadass.Andalso:fromthehip.
“Okay,littlelady,”Docsaidthen.“Justtryyourbest.”
Mybest?
Okay.
Iflippedoffthesafety,steppedintoacomfortablestance,pressedtheriflebutttomyhipbone,andpulledthetriggerwithaBOOM!
Theriflehadahellofakick,butthefirstbottledisappearedinapuffofsand.
ButIdidn’tevenstoptoenjoyit.AssoonasI’dpulledthetrigger,Iwaspoppingtheleveroutandbackwithasatisfyingka-chunkandthenpullingthetriggeragain.
AnotherBOOM!Andanotherbottleturnedtodust.
Thenanother,thenanother,thenanother.BOOM—ka-chunk,BOOM—ka-chunk,BOOM!Rightacrosstherow,asthebottlesexplodedoneaftertheother.
Itwasoveralmostassoonasitstarted.
ThenIturnedbacktoDocwithonefinalshiftofthelever—ka-chunk.Niceandladylike.
Iflippedthesafety,tooktherifleoffmyhip,andsaidtoDoc’sgapingface,“Thatwasfun.”
I’djustrevealedwaytoomuchaboutmyself,andIshould’vebeenhalfwaybacktoHoustonbynow.Butitwasworthit.
That’swhenInoticedsomethinguptheravine.
ItwasJack.Watchingus.Andfromtheadmiringlookbehindthoseslightlycrookedglasses,he’dseenthewholething.
Hegavemealittlesaluteofrespect.
AndIgavehimalittlenod.
AndnowitwastimetogetthehelloutSeventeen
THEFIRSTTHINGIsawwhenIsteppedintosurveillanceheadquarterswasRobbyandTaylor—withtheirhandsineachother’sbackpockets.
Beforethatimagecouldburnitselftoodeepintomymemory,Icoughed.
Theysprungapartatthesound,but—
Toolate.Couldn’tblinkawaytheafterimage.
“Where’sGlenn?”Iasked.
“Intown,”Tayloranswered,justasRobbyasked,“Where’stheprincipal?”
“IneedtotalktoGlenn,”Isaid.
Doghouse,sittingatadeskacrosstheroom,liftedthereceiverofalandlineandhelditouttome.
Iwalkedover,tookit,dialedGlenn’snumber,andmentallypreparedmyselftoquit—righthere,infrontofbothofmynemeses—andignoringallthequestionsinmyhead.WouldGlennyellatme?WouldRobbyandTaylorgloattoseemefail?WasIforfeitinganychanceatLondon?
MybodyfeltastightasawireasIwaited.
ButGlenn’sphonewenttovoicemail.
“It’sgoodyou’rehere,anyway,”Robbysaid,asIhungup.“We’vehadsomeactivityontheStapletonproperty.”
Ishookmyhead.“Theshots?Thatwasjusthisdadhittingbottlesintheravine.”
“No,”Robbysaidthen.“Athisplaceinthecity.”ThenRobbyglancedtowardthemonitors.“Taylor,pullitup,”hesaid.Allbusiness.Likealiar.
Butwhatshepulleduponthemonitorsmademetakeastepcloser.
Thenanother.
“Whatthehell?”Isaid.
“Yeah.”
TheywereimagesfromthecamerasaroundJack’sHoustonhouse.Allthefirst-floorwindowshadbeenspray-paintedwithpinkheartsandthename“Jack”overandover.
Istudieddifferentfootagefromdifferentangles.“Everydownstairswindow,huh?”
Robbynodded.
“WasittheCorgiLady?Doweknow?”
“We’reninety-ninepercentsureitwas,”Robbysaid.
Taylorswitchedtofootagefromearlierofawomanintheact.
“That’sher?DidwegetafaceID?”
Robbyshookhishead.“No,butsheleftgifts.”
“Gifts?”
“Yep.Onthefrontporch,”Robbysaid.Thenheadded,“Ingiftbags.”
“Whatwerethey?”
Robbycheckedthetextsonhisphone.“AccordingtoKelly,itwasahandknittedsweaterwitharemarkablyphotorealisticimageofStapleton’sfaceonthefront,analbumofsnapshotsofhernewlitterofpuppies,andabatchofnudes.”
“Abatchofnudes?”Iasked.“Nudesofwho?Nudesoftheprincipal?”
“Nudesofthecorgibreeder.”
Jesus.
“ShealsoleftahandwrittennotewelcomingJackhometoHouston—andremindinghimthatherbiologicalclockisticking,andshe’dreallypreferhimtoimpregnatehersometimethisspring,ifthatworksforhisschedule.”
RobbyhandedmeatabletsoIcouldscrollthroughthephotosKellyhadsent.
“So,”Isaid,thinkingoutloud.“Doesthismeanwe’reweatthreatlevelorange?”
“Ithink,giventhepuppiesandhearts,we’restillatyellow.”
“Thenudesarealittlemenacing.”
“Pointtaken.”
Taylorpipedup.“Nothreats,though.Notfromher,anyway.”
“Otherthan…”Ithoughtaboutwhatonearththetermforitwouldbe.“Coercedimpregnation?”
“Thatpart’sworrisome,”Robbyagreed.
“Andthefactthatshenowknowshe’sinHouston,”Taylorsaid.
“Andknowshisaddress,”Iadded.
WepsychoanalyzedtheCorgiLadyforalittlewhile,tryingtoassessthedangersheposed,andthenweadjustedprotocolsattheHoustonhouse.Kellyhadalreadyfiledthepolicereportandbegunproceedingsforarestrainingorder.We’dneedtoswitchouttheRangeRoverforadifferentcolorandmake,aswell.
BythetimeIleftHQ,itwasgettingdark.
Ihadn’tevenmadeittotheStapletons’gatewhenRobbyshoutedafterme.“Hey!”hecalled.“Glenn’sonthephone.”
I’dforgottenaboutGlenn.Butitwasprettylatenow.Conniewouldbeupfromhernap,andshe’dneedsomethinginherstomachbeforehernextroundofmeds.
“Youknowwhat?”Isaid.“I’llcallhimlater.”
Andthat’show,withoutevenrealizingit,Idecidedtostay.
IWASHALFWAYdownthegravelroadtothehouse,sweepingmyeyesbackandforthforanysignsofcattle,whenIsawJackrunning—actuallyrunning—outtomeetme.
Hereachedmewithoutevenbreakingstrideandenclosedmeinhisarms.
“Wherewereyou?”heasked,squeezingtight.“Iwasworried.”
“Ihadtogotoheadquarters.”
Icouldfeelhisheartbeating.Itdidseemalittlefast.
Forasecond,Ithoughtitwasreal.
Irelaxedintoitthewayyoudoinarealmoment.
ButthenIthoughtIshouldconfirmbeforeIenjoyedittoomuch.“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked,myfacepressedintohisshoulderandmyvoicemuffledagainsthisshirt.
“Myparentsarewatching,”Jacksaid.
Ah.
Gotit.
Ihuggedhimback.Butnowonlyforpretend.
Whenheletmegoatlast,wewalkedbacktowardthehousearminarm—alsoforpretend.
“Bytheway,youcan’tbesneakingouttotheriverwithoutmeinthemornings.”
“Whynot?”
“Ifyou’dreadthehandout,you’dknowthatI’msupposedtostaywithyouatalltimes.”
“Iwillneverreadthehandout.”
“Andwhatareyoudoinghittinggolfballsintoariver,anyway?You’regoingtochokeadolphin.”
“Theydissolveinwater.”
“That’sascam.”
“Isittoomuchtowantanhourortwotomyself?”
“Yes.Itis.”
“Justsleepinanddon’tworryaboutit.”
“Ihavetoworryaboutit.It’smyjobtoworryaboutit.”
“Tellyouwhat,”Jacksaidthen.“I’llstopsneakingofftotheriverwhenyoutellmewhatthatsongisyou’realwayshumming.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Thatsongyouhumallthetime.What’sthenameofit?”
“Idon’thumasong.”
“Youdo.”
“IthinkI’dknowifIwerehummingasong.”
“Apparentlynot.”
Ifrowned.“DoIhumasong?”Itriedtorememberhummingasong.
“Whenyou’reintheshower,”Jacksaid,likeitmightjogmymemory.“Also,whenyou’repouringyourcoffee,orwalking.Sometimeswhenyoubrushyourteeth.”
“Huh,”Isaid.“I’mnotsureIbelieveyou.”
Jackfrowned.“YouthinkI’mmakingitup?”
“I’mjustsaying,IthinkI’dnotice.”
Wefellquietasweapproachedthehouse,andIthoughtaboutstickingmyhandinhisbackpocketasalittlehomagetoheartbreak,andmytwoexes,andhowmeanlifealwaysis.
Butmaybethatwascrossingtheline.
AFTERDINNER,IwalkedJackouttowardthefarendoftheyard,whereIcouldbriefhiminprivateaboutthecorgisituation.
Therewasahorsepenoffthesideofthebarnwithabenchwherewecouldsit.WeclimbedthefenceandsatsidebysidenearthewatertroughasIfilledJackinonthedetails,outofearshotfromthehouse.
There’sanarttotellingclientsaboutthreats.Adelicatebalancethatinformsthemwithoutalarmingthem.Or,moreaccurately—alarmsthemjustenoughtogettheirattention,andtheircooperation,andtheircompliance,withoutfreakingthemout.
ButJackwasn’talarmedatall.
Infact,Ihadbarelysaidtheword“nudes”beforehestartedlaughing.
“Hey,”Isaid.“Thisisn’tfunny.”
ButJackjustleanedbackandtiltedhisfacetothestars,hisshouldersshaking.
Andthenheleanedforwardandputhisfaceinhishands.
“I’msorry,”hesaid,afteralittlewhile,wipingathiseyes.“It’sthenudes.Andthenotes.Andthephrase…”
Buthewasovertakenbylaughterandcouldn’tfinish.
“Andthephrase…”hetriedagain.
Butnope.Morelaughing.
“Andthephrase,”hesaidagain,loudernow,asifcommandinghimselftogetitout.“Thephrase,‘ifit’sconvenientforyourschedule.’”
Nowhecollapsedforward,hiswholetorsoshaking.
It’ssurprisinglyhardnottolaughwhensomeone’scrackinguprightinfrontofyou.Thisisserious,Iremindedmyself.Stayfocused.ThenIsaid,allbusiness,“Youshouldprobablytakealookateverything.”
“Notthenudes,”hesaid,laughingharder.“Don’tmakemelookatthenudes.”
“Youneedtotakethisseriously,”Isaid,tryingtosettlehimwithmytoneofvoice.
“I’lltakethesweater,”hesaid,wipinghiseyes.“Mymomlovesthem.”
Ishookmyhead.“It’sallbeingimpoundedasevidence.”
Thatsethimoffagain.Hedoubledover,gaspingforbreath.
“I’venevermetanybodywholaughsasmuchasyoudo,”Isaidafterawhile
Hewasstilllaughing.“Ineverlaugh.Ihaven’tlaughedinyears.”
“You’relaughingrightnow.”
Jacksatupatthat,asifhehadn’tnoticed.
Theirony.Tellinghimhewaslaughingfinallygothimtostoplaughing.
“IguessIam,”hesaid,seemingtomarvelattheidea.“Huh.”
“Youlaughconstantly,”Isaid,amazedthathedidn’tknowthisabouthimself.“Youlaughateverything.”
“Mostlyatyou,though,”hesaid.
Igavehimalook,likeThanks
Hestudiedme,likehewasjustrealizingwhathe’dsaidwastrue.
“Youcan’tignorethesethreats,”Isaid,fullyreadytolaunchintoafierylectureabouthowsmallthreatscouldsnowballintobigones.
Butjustthen,somethingunexpectedmademelosemytrainofthought.
Ahorsewalkedintothepenwhereweweresitting.
Ahorse
Awhiteandbrownhorsejustwalkedthroughtheopengateofthepenandstrodetowardus.Outofnowhere,Iswear.Anakedhorse.
Itensedup,andJacknoticed.“Don’ttellmeyou’reafraidofhorses,too.”
“No,”Isaid,onprinciple.“Just—what’sitdoinghere?”
“Doinghere?Heliveshere.”
Iwatchedasitcameatus.
Moreaccurately,itcameatJack—parkingitselfrightinfrontofhimandloweringitsvelvetymuzzlerightdowntohim,nosetonose.Andletmeassureyou:What’strueofcowsisalsotrueofhorses.TheylookalotsmalleronTV.
Thisthing’sfacewasthesizeofasuitcase.
I’dseenthehorsesofcourse—fromadistance.Inthecorral.Looking…lesslarge.
Jackhadexplainedtomethefirstdayhowhisfolkshadadoptedahalfadozenhomelessolderhorseswhoneededapleasantplacetoliveouttheirlives.
“Kindofahorseretirementhome,”he’dexplained.
Whichwasgreat,intheory.
It’sallfunandgamesuntilyouhaveagiantpairofnostrilsinyourface.
“Hey,friend,”Jacksaidtothehorse,liftinghishandstostrokeitsnose.“ThisisHannah.Don’tbiteher.”
ThenJackwalkedaway,andcamebackwithabagofoats.
Hesatbackdownbesideme,reachedin,andpulledoutahandful.
Heflattenedhispalm,andthehorsebroughthisfuzzylipsrightdownontoitandhooveredupeverylastgrain.
“Yourturn,”Jacksaidnext,offeringmethebag.
“No,thankyou.”
Jacktiltedhishead.“You’vegotthescariestjobofanybodyIknow,butyou’reafraidofhorselips.”
“It’snotthelips,it’stheteeth.”
Jackstartedlaughingagain.
“See?”Isaid.“You’relaughingagain.”
“See?”Jacksaid,likeitwasmyfault.“You’rehilarious.”
Jackdidthenexthandfulhimself—butthenhebwok-edlikeachickenatmeuntilIfinallysaid,“Fine.”
Ireachedintothebag,closedmypalmaroundaclumpofoats,andhelditouttowardthehorse.
“Keepyourhandflat,”Jacksaid,“sohedoesn’teatyourfingers.”
“Nothelping,”Isaid,asthehorsewhisperedhislipsovermypalmuntilhe’dcleanedhisplate.
“Tickles,huh?”Jacksaid.
“Inamannerofspeaking.”
“ThisisClipper,”Jacksaidthen.“He’saretiredcircushorse.”
IlookedupatClipperwithnewrespect
“WegothimwhenIwasinhighschool,”Jacksaid.“Hewasonlyeightthen.Hegotaninjurythatwasjustbadenoughtoretire…buthewasreallyfine.Ispentmysenioryeardoingtricksonhim.”Jackpattedhisneck.“He’sanoldmannow.”
“Whatkindoftricks?”Iasked.
Inresponse,withoutaword,JackgotahalterfromthetackroomandslippeditoverClipper’shead.Thenhemotionedformetofollowhimasheledthehorsethroughtheopengatetothepaddock.
IstoppedatthegateandwatchedasJackhoistedandswunghimselfupontoClipper’sbareback,andthehorse,seemingtoknowjustwhattodo,shiftedfromawalk,toatrot,toagentlecanter.
Thefencearoundthepaddockwasoval-shaped,andtheyfollowedtheperimeter.Jackheldtheleadropeinonehand,buthedidn’tevenhavetosteer.
“Howhaveyouneverdoneawestern?”Idemanded.
“Iknow,right?Ihave‘horsebackriding’onmyrésumé.”
“Doyouevenneedarésumé?”
“Nah.Butstill.”
“Youshoulddoawestern!Thisisatotalwasteoftalent.”
“Okay,”Jacksaid.“IfIevermakeanothermovie,Iwill.”
Iwasjustabouttoaskhimifhewouldevermakeanothermovie,butthenhesaid,“Getready.”
ThenJackleanedforwardandgrabbedtwofatfistfulsofhairatthebaseofClipper’smane…andIdon’tevenknowhowtodescribewhathedidnext:Withoutthelopinghorseeverbreakingstride,Jackswungofftheleftside,landedwithbothfeet,bouncedbackup,slidacrossthehorse’sback,thenswungofftotherightside,anddidthesamebounceoverthere.Andthenhejustkeptdoingit,backandforth,rightandleft,bouncingfromonesidetotheotherlikehewasslaloming.
Iwassoastonished,Icouldn’tevenmakeasound.
Ijuststoodthere,gaping.
Afterafulllap,JacksettledagainonClipper’sbackandturnedtometocheckmyreaction.
Clipperwasstilllopingatthatsteadypace.
“Cool,huh?”Jacksaid.
AllIcouldmusterwas,“Becareful!”
“Thatwasn’tscary,”Jacksaidthen,lookingpleasedatmyconcern.Thenhesaid,“Thisisscary.”
Andthen,beforeIcouldstophim,stillholdingtheleadrope,JackpressedhishandsagainstClipper’swithers,leanedforward,andbroughthissneakersuptothehorse’sback.Thenslowly,carefully,asClippercontinuedtocanteralongbeneathhim,Jackstoodup.
Hestoodup!
Kneesbentandarmsout,likeasurfer.
AndClipperjustkeptlopingaroundthepaddock.
“Amazing,right?”Jacksaid,whenmymuteastonishmenthadgoneontoolong.“It’sallClipper.Hisgaitissosmooth,andnothingspookshim.Youcandoanything.Youcanhangfromhisneck.Youcandoahandstand.”
“Donotdoahandstand!”Isaid.
“Nah,”Jacksaid.“I’mgoingtodosomethingbetter.”
Andthen,beforeIcouldrespond,Jacksquatteddownlow—allwithoutthehorseeverbreakingstride—pushedhimselfback,androlledabackwardsomersaultoffthehorse’srump,droppingtheleadropeashewent,andlandingonhisfeet.
“JesusChrist!”Ishouted,andnotinagoodway.
Jackboweddeepandlow,thenturnedtome,enjoyingmyhorror,andsaid,“BeenalongtimesinceIdidthat.I’mgonnabesoretomorrow.”
“Nomoresomersaults!”Isaid,likeIwasmakingarule.
Jackjustlookedreallypleasedwithhimself.“You’vegotmeshowingoffforyou.”
“Don’tshowoffforme,”Isaid.“Idon’twantyoutoshowoffforme.”
ButJackwaswalkingovertowardClipper—whohadslowedtoastopassoonasJacklandedandwasnowlookingatuswithhislong,sombereyelashes.
Jackcollectedtheleadropeandstartedwalkingthehorsetowardme.“Nowit’syourturn,”Jacksaid.
“No,thankyou.”
“God,you’reascaredycat.Howisthatpossibleinyourlineofwork?”
“Idon’tknowhowtoride,”Isaid.
“That’sthegreatthingaboutClipper,”Jacksaid.“Hedoesitallforyou.”
“Ican’trideahorse,”Isaid,asJackkeptcomingcloser.“Icandootherthings.Icandriveacarbackwardonthefreeway.Icanrappeloffaroof.Icanpilotahelicopter.”
DidInormallylikeanewchallenge?
Ofcourse.
ButmaybeIhadenoughskills.OrmaybeIjustdidn’twanttoembarrassmyselfanyfurtherinfrontofJack.
“Thisshouldbeeasy,then,”Jacksaid.
Ishookmyhead.“I’mgood.”
ButJackandthehorsewererightnexttomenow.“Justwalking,”Jackcajoled.“Notricks.Easy.You’llloveit.Allyouhavetodoissit.AndI’llholdtheleadrope.”
Iconsideredthehorse,thenIconsideredJack.
Jacklacedhisfingerstogetherandbentdowntoholdhishandslikeastirrup.“Grababighandfulofmane,andgivemeyourfoot,”hesaid.
Ihesitated.
Inawhisper,Jackstartedgoing,“Bwok,bwok,bwok.”
Ipushedoutasighandliftedmyfootintohishands.“Whyisyoubwok-inglikeachickenworkingonme?Whydoeseverythingyoudoworkonme?”
Ididn’tevenhavetimetoworrythatI’dconfessedtoomuchbeforeJackwashoistingmeupthesideofthehorse.
“Attagirl,”Jacksaid,movinghishandstomyhipsandthenpushingmybuttasIworkedmylegaroundandgotsituated.“Notsohard,right?”
IwasreallygladI’dwornjeansthatday.
Itriedtositupstraight,likeJackhad,butthat’swhenIrealizedhowridiculouslyhighupIwas.Itwaslikestandingonahighdive.
IletmyselflieonmybellyandholdonaroundClipper’sneck.
“Youcanflyahelicopter,”Jacksaid,“butyoucan’tsituponahorse?”
“Helicoptershaveseatbelts,”Isaid
“Thisisnotrocketscience,”Jacksaid.
“Settledown,horseboy,”Isaid.“Justbecauseyou’retheSimoneBilesofhorsegymnasticsdoesn’tmeantherestofushavetobe.”
IlookedoveratJack,andhe’dstartedlaughing.Again.
“Stoplaughing,”Isaid.
“Stopmakingmelaugh,”Jacksaid.
Then,withthat,westartedtowalk.
Anditwasn’tsobad.
Clipper’sgaitreallywasverysmooth.
IdidnotletgoofClipper’sneck.AndJackdidnotletgooftheleadrope.
“Howhaveyouneverbeenonahorsebefore?”Jackcalledbackoverhisshoulderafteraquietminute.
“Ihave,”Isaid.“Once.Onvacation,asakid.”
Maybeitwasthecomfortingrhythmofthewalking.Orthesalty,horseysmell.Ortheairyclopofhoovesonthepaddockdirt.OrthemotionofClipper’sneckasheswunghisheadsidetoside.Orthesolid,rockingweightofhimunderneathme.Orhisblusterasheletoutanoisybreath.Oreven,ifI’mhonest,theoccasionalsight—wheneverIpeeked—ofJackupahead,holdingtheleadropeinsuchaneasy,almosttendermanner,andwalkingaheadofusinsuchatrustworthyrhythm
ButIsaid,“Itwasthelastvacationwetookbeforemyfathermovedout.Actually,helefthalfwaythroughthevacation.Theyfought,heleft,andIneversawhimagain.”
“Youneversawhimagain?Notonce?”
Ishookmyhead.“Nope.Ofcourse,Ididn’tgolooking,either.”
“Doyouthinkyoueverwill?”
“Nope.”
IcouldtellthatJackwashesitatingtoaskwhy.
“Wewerebetteroffwithouthim,”Isaid.Itwasn’ttrue,ofcourse.Wewerefarworsewithouthim.Andthat,rightthere,wasthereasonIwouldnevermeethimforcoffeeandmakepleasantries.He’dforfeitedallrightstothefuturewhenheruinedourlives.
“Wow,”Jacksaid.
“Yeah,”Isaid,andthat’swhenClipperslowedtoastop.WhenIlookedup,Jack’sfacewasallsympathy—likehehadn’tjustheardwhatI’dsaidbuthadfeltit.
I’dnevertoldanyonethatstory.
I’dalmostforgottenaboutit,actually.
ButJack’sface,ashelistened,wassoopen,andsosympathetic,andsoonmysidethatinthatmoment,despiteallmyrules,thatmemoryjustshareditself.Iwasn’tasharer.Ididn’tevensharethingswithnonclients.Especiallynotpainfulthings.ButIsuddenlyunderstoodwhypeopledidit.Itfeltlikerelief.Itfeltlikedippingyourfeetincoolwateronahotday.
Thisreallywasarevelationtome.
IsuddenlyfeltlikeIcouldsharethingswithJackallnight.Lookingback,Imight’ve.
ButthenIgotsavedbyadisaster.
Because,next,weheardurgentyellingfrombacknearthehouse.
Jackwasunclippingthehalterandhelpingmedownbeforewecouldevenmakeoutthewords.Wetookoffrunningtowardthesoundandbothvaultedthefencetocrosstheyard.
ItwasHank,shoutingintothedarkness:“Jack!Jack!”Andthen:“Whereareyou?Jack!”
Aswereachedhim,Hankturnedtowardthesoundofus,hiseyeswideandalittleunfocused.
“Whatisit?”Jacksaid,outofbreath.
“It’sMom,”Hankanswered.“Shecollapsed.”Eighteen
YOUDON’TCALLanambulanceinthecountry.
Youjustgetyourselftothehospital.
Aswesprintedacrosstheyard,Jackcalled“getthekeys”tome,andIwasabletopulltheRangeRoveraroundtothesideporchjustasJackwascomingoutwithhismotherinhisarms.HeandHankworkedConnieintothebackseat,whileDocclimbedintheothersidetoholdherheadonhislap.
AsHankranofftohistruckandJackclimbedintothepassengerseat,Docasked,“Aren’tyoudriving?”
Jacksaid,“Trustme.WewantHannah.”
Thehospitalwastwentyminutesaway,andIhadnoideahowtogetthere.Theguyshadtodirectmewith:Leftpastthetractor!Rightatthelonghorns!Don’trunthestopsign!
Evenstill,wemadeitinfifteen.
Attheemergencybay,Idroppedthemoff,anditwasonlyasItookinthesightofTheDestroyercarryinghisunconsciousmotherthroughtheslidingdoorsthatIrealizedhedidn’thaveahat.
Imean,howexactlywashesupposedtohidethatworld-famousfacewithoutahat?Thecrookedglasseswouldneverbeenough.
IcalledRobbyatHQfromtheparkinglot,briefedhim,toldhimtogetonthehornwithintaketofindusaprivatewaitingroom,andaskedhimtobringus“anyotherincognitoitems”ASAP.
“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Idon’tknow!Afedora?Abignewspaper?Getcreative!”
Icheckedthegiftshoponthewayin,butitwasclosed.
BythetimeIgottoJack,itwastoolate.JackandHankwerefightinginthehallwayjustoffthewaitingroom—andeverysinglepersontherewasstaring-but-not-staringatthem.
“I’lltakeitfromhere,”Hankwassaying.
“Wedon’tevenknowwhat’swrongyet.”
“JustgohomeandI’llcallyouwhenthere’snews.”
“That’snothowthisworks.”
“ItworkshowIsayitworks.”
“I’mstaying.”
“You’regoing.”
“It’snotyourdecision.”
“It’ssureashellnotyours.”
“IfyouthinkI’mjustgoingtocarrymyunconsciousmotherintotheER,dropheroff,andgoonhometowatchTV,you’recrazy.”
“Andyou’recrazyifyouthinkI’mgoingtospendonemoresecondwithyouthanIhaveto.”
Jackwastryingtokeephisvoicelow.Butthatjustgaveitmorepressure.“Ididn’tasktocomehome!”
“Butyoucame,anyway.”
“WhatchoicedidIhave?”
“There’salwaysachoice.”
“Notalways.”
HankwasadvancingonJacknow.Theirvoiceswerelowandtight,buttheirbodylanguagewasloudashell.
“Don’tstandthereandactlikeyoudeservetobehere.Youknowwhoyouare,andyouknowwhatyoudid.Yougaveuptherighttobepartofthisfamily.I’mhere,everyday,pickingupthepiecesofeverythingyoushattered.Thisismyfamily,notyours—andwhenItellyoutogetthehellout,yougo.”
Hankhadbeenbuildinglikeawavereadytocrash.
IrootedforJacktolifthishands,takeastepback,anddefusethesituation.
Buthewenttheotherway.
“Fuckyou,”Jacksaid.
AnditwasjustthepermissionHankhadbeenwaitingfor.Hedrewhisfistuplikeanarcher,readytoletfly—
ButIsteppedinandcaughtit.
Caughthiswrist,morespecifically,andtwisteditdownbyhisside.Hankletoutagruntofpain.
SafetosayHankdidnotseethatcoming.AndneitherdidJack.
Thesurprisebrokethemoment.
“We’renotdoingthishere,”Isaid.
Inthesilencethatfollowed,themurmuringofthewaitingroomgotloud.
Igrabbedbothoftheirelbows,clampedtight,andsteeredthemaroundthecornertowardthevendingmachines.
Whatevertheywerefightingaboutwasbiggerthanthismoment.ButthismomentwastheonlythingIcouldsolve.
“Jack,you’recomingwithme,”Isaid.Andbeforehecouldprotest,Iadded,“Theentirewaitingroomisstaringatyou.”
“YouthinkIcareaboutthatrightnow?Peoplestareatmeallthetime.”Hisfacewastense.
“Igetit,butthere’sabiggerpicture.”
“Thisismymomwe’retalkingabout.”
IturnedtoHank.“Gobewithyourfolks.We’llmeetyouinafewminutes.”
ButHankdidn’tneedmyinstructions—ormypermission.Afterblinkingatme,likeWhatthehell?forasecond,heturnedandleftwithoutaword.
“Weneedtofindyouaroomtohidein,”IsaidtoJack.
“That’swhatIwastryingtodo,”Jacksaid,hisvoicetightlikeawire.“Hewon’ttellmetheroomnumber.”
Ifrowned.“Whynot?”
“Becausehe’sanasshole.”
Justthen,agaggleofteenagegirlsroundedthefarendofthehallway.
Oninstinct,Ireachedtothebackofhisheadtopullhisfacedowntowardmyshoulder.“Keepyourheaddown,”Iwhisperedintohisear,keepinganeyeonthem.“PretendI’mcomfortingyou.”
Jackdidn’tfightme.Heleaneddownandburiedhisfaceinthecrookofmyneck,asIpulledhimcloserwithbotharmstocoverasmuchofhimaspossible
Justasthegirlswentpast,Ifelthisarmscomearoundmeandtighten.
“Hey!”Iwhispered,oncethegirlshadpassedus.
“Yousaidpretend.”Hisbreathtickledmyneck.
“Notthatmuch.”
“Idon’tactuallyhavetopretendmuch.Youaregenuinelycomforting.”
Ibrokeawaytoscanthehallway.Clearnow—bothdirections.
“Itwouldbebetterifyoujustleftrightnow,”Isaid.
“AreyoutakingHank’sside?”
“You’regoingtobeallovertheinternetifyoustay.Youdon’tevenhaveahat.”
Iwasn’twrong,butJackshookhishead.“I’mnotleavingtillwefindoutaboutmymom.”
Fairenough.
Iledhimtothestairwell.“Canyouwaithere?I’llfigureoutwheresheisandthenassesstheroutetogetyouthere.”
“You’rereallynotkidding.”
“Juststayhere.Don’tmaketrouble.”
ButasIstartedtostepbackoutofthestairwelldoor,Isawthatsamerovingbandofteenagegirls.They’dcircledaroundandwerecomingbackourway.Whatweretheyevendoinghere?Astheymadeeyecontactwithme,Irealizedtheyhadtheirphonesout.
IduckedbackintothestairwellandgrabbedJack’shand,pullinghimbehindmeasIstartedupthestairs.
“What?”Jacksaid.
“We’vegotteenagersafterus,”Isaid,notinghowsillyitsounded.
Butseriously—therewasnothingworseforspreadingthewordofacelebritysightingthanapackofteenagegirlswithphones.“Comeon,”Isaid.“Move.”
Atthetopfloor,Ipulledhimintothehallway,andwemadefortheelevators.WewerehalfwaytherewhenIsawaclosetlabeledSUPPLIES
Ipulledusbothin,pushedthedoorclosed,andleanedagainstit.
Takingmylead,Jackdidthesame—andwedgedhissneakerheelagainstthedoor,too.
Westoodtherelikethat,sidebyside,breathing,foraminutebeforeInoticedthereweretowelsandsetsofscrubsfoldedontheshelves.“Iknowhowwe’regettingyououtofhere,”Iwhispered.
“How?”
“Scrubs.”
JacklookedtowhereIwaspointing,butjustashedid,wecouldhearthegirlsthroughthedoorastheypassedby.
“Itwassototallyhim.”
“Itwasabsolutelytotallyhim.”
“ButthatwasnotKennedyMonroe.”
“Yeah.Notevenclose.”
Weheldourbreath,waiting,anysecond,forthegirlstotrythehandle.
Buttheydidn’t.
Onceallwasquiet,Idartedovertothescrubssupply.“Whatsizeareyou?”Iwhispered,lookinghimupanddown.
“I’mnotleaving,”hesaid.“Wedon’tevenknowwhat’shappeningwithmymom.”
Butjustashesaidit,hisphonedinged.
AmessagefromHank.Guesshehadhisnumbernow.
Can’tfindyou.Mom’sOK.Theythinkshe’sdehydrated.Possiblevertigo.Gettingfluidsnow.Muchbetter.Stayingthenightforobservation.Gohome.
Jackhelditoutformetoread.
“Ah.”
Heletoutadeepsighandclosedhiseyesforaminute.“Guesswe’regoinghomeafterall.”
“Youknow,”Isaid,expectingtheusualbrickwall.“Itreallymighthelpmetoknowwhat’sgoingonwithyoutwo.”
ButthistimeJackmetmyeyes.“HankhatesmebecauseI’mnotDrew.BecauseDrewdiedandIlived.”
“That’sit?”Iasked.
“That’senoughofit.”
Ifeltlikeananthropologist.Wasthishowsharingworked?HadIearnedsomesharingfromhimbyofferingsharingofmyown?Anyway,Inodded,likeGoon.
Tomysurprise,hedid.“Iwasthedumboneinthefamily,bytheway.DrewandHankwerethesmartones,sothey’dhangoutandbesmarttogether.IwastheonewithADDanddyslexiaanddysgraphia,too.Thewholepackage.”
“Noneofthatmakesyoudumb.”
“Tome,itdid.Andmyteachers,too.SoIdidtheclassclownthing.HankandDrewweretotalEagleScoutswithstraightAs.AndI…wasnot.”
“That’sthedealwithyouandHank?”
Jacksighed.“Iwasalwayskindofontheouts.Hankstayedhereandbecametheranchmanager.Drewwenttovetschoolhereandwentintopracticewithmydad.Iwastheonlyonewholeft.IwasclosesttoDrew,forsure,becauseIalwaysmadehimlaugh.AndhecouldalwaysseethatIwasgoodatdifferentthings.Hewaskindofmybufferzoneforthefamily.Butafterhedied…therewasnoonetobethatanymore.”
Inodded.“Hewasimportanttoyou.”
“Idon’tknowhowtobeinthisfamilywithouthim.”
Thatdidnotfeellikethewholestory.
Butitwasastart.
Andthen,realizingsomethingpositive,Isaid,“Hey!Youdroveoverabridgetonight!Withoutstoppingtothrowup.”
ThiswasnotnewstoJack.“Yes.”
“That’sprogress,right?”
Jacktiltedhishead.“Withoutstoppingtothrowuprightaway.Ithrewuplater.IntheERbathroom.”
Ah.Itookinthesightofhim,juststandingtherebeinghandsome.It’ssoeasytothinkthatotherpeoplehaveiteasy.“Stillthough,”Iliftedmyfist,likeYay.“Atimedelay.That’sprogress.”
Itossedhimthescrubsandalittlesurgicalhat,andthen—whilehewaschangingandIwasdeliberately,specificallynotlooking—Iscannedtheshelvesforanythingelsethatmighthelpobscurehisidentity.Ifoundaboxofthosedisposabledarkglassestheygiveyouaftertheydilateyoureyesandturnedtoholdapairout,likeThese?
Butmytimingcouldn’thavebeenworse.HewasjustpeelingoffhisT-shirtandIgotanaccidentaleyefulofhisnakedtorso.
Iclampedmyeyesclosed.
“Youreallydon’tlikethesightofmeshirtless,”hesaid,ashewriggledintothetop.
“It’slikelookingatthesun,”Isaid.
“Maybeyoushouldwearthoseglasses.”
“MaybeIshould.”
ThenJackasked,“Likelookingatthesuninagoodway?Orabadway?”
“Both,”Isaid,nowrummagingtheshelves.
“That’snotananswer.”
“Here’sanidea,”Isaid,afteraminute.“I’vegoteyelinerinmypurse.Maybewecoulddrawamustacheonyou.”
Inthewakeofthatsuggestion,theroomwentquiet.Anditstayedquietforsolong,Ihadtoturnbackaround.
AndtherewasJack,inascrubtopandhisboxerbriefs,onelegpartwayinthepants,andbentoverlaughingsohard,hewasn’tmakingasound.
Nosoundatall.Laughingtoohardtoevenmakenoise.
Finally,heliftedhisheaduptotheceilingtotakeabigbreath.“Youwant,”hesaid,“todrawamustacheonme?”
“Look,”Isaid.“Thisiscreativeproblemsolving.”
Buthewasstilllaughing.“CanIgetamonocle,too?Andapuppynoseandsomewhiskers?”
“Putyourpantson,”Isaid,lacingmyvoicewithirritation.
Buthewasprettyirresistible.
Ifeltanurgetolaugh,too.ButItampeditdown.Nineteen
IEXPECTEDEVERYTHINGtoblowupprettyfastafterthesceneatthehospital.
Fordays,wewaitedforphotosofJackandHankinthewaitingroomtosurfaceonline.
Buttheydidn’t.
EverydaythatpassedIbreathedalittleeasier—though,eventhepossibilityofthephotosturningupmeantweweremoretrappedontheranchthanever—becausenowwereallyhadtolielow.
Herewastheproblem:Itwasfuntobeontheranch.
Intheory,Iknewtobeonalert.But,inpractice,itreallywasaforcedvacation.
Andthere’sareasonpeopletakevacations,Iguess.
Theywork
Slowly,unintentionally,andfullyagainstmywill…Irelaxed.
Abit.
Wefellintoarhythm.Conniereturnedwithanofficialdiagnosisofdehydration-inducedvertigo,andshemadeanewcommitmenttohydrating.Doccluckedandfussedoverher,bringingblanketsandfixingcupsofherbaltea.HankandJackkeptawarytruce—notwantingtoupseteitheroftheirparents.AndImademyselfusefulbycookingallthemeals,wateringConnie’sgarden,andcollectingbouquetsofflowerstoplacearoundthehouse.Itwasapleasant,sunny,ruralwayoflifethatmadetherealworldfeellikeadifferentuniverseentirely.In
Hankredeemedhimselfalittlebitbybringinginbroccoli,brusselssprouts,andsquashfromthegarden—andwashingitformeinthesink.AsmeanashewastoJack,hewasnevermeantome—andIcouldn’tshakethefeelingthathehadtoworktoholdontothatanger.
Likeitmaybewasn’tnaturaltohim.
Bothoftheboys,forexample,wentoutoftheirwaytolookafterConnie—checkingonherinawaythatfeltalmostcompetitive,likesomeunspokenBestSoncompetition.
Shewasdefinitelynotneglected.
Astimewentby,shegotbetter.
Afteracheckupintown,shegotthenewsthatthesitewashealingwell.
Shestillworeherrobeeveryday—sayingshemightnevergobacktorealclothes—butshespentlessandlesstimeinherroom,andlessandlesstimenapping.
Thelesssickshefelt,themoreofherpersonalitycameout.Ilearned,forexample,thatshelikedtohookragrugsoutofoldclothing.Shewasalightning-fastreaderandcouldfinishanentirebookinaday.Andapparently,lastsummer,she’drippedsomethinginherkneewhenshe’dgottenoverenthusiasticlisteningtomusicwhiledoinghouseworkandhadstarteddoingthecancan.Shenowreferredtoitasher“cancaninjury,”anditstillactedupsometimes.
Conniealsohadfourhundredpairsofreadingglasses.Theywereeverywhere.Inthecupboards,betweensofapillows,inbowlsonthescreenporch,onthekitchentable.Shekeptonepaironachainaroundherneckandhadatleasttwoonherheadatanygiventime.
“ThisiswhoIamnow,”sheexplained.“Thereareworsefates.”
Shealsohadanastonishinghobby.Sherefurbishedolddollsandgavethemtothelocalwomen’sshelter.Shehadawholecollectionofcreepyonesshe’drescuedfromthriftshops—dollsthatlookedalmostlikeBarbiehadundergoneextremeplasticsurgery:overlymade-upcateyes,andgiant,swollenlips.Theyweresupposedtobe“teenagers,”andtheyweremarketedtowardlittlegirls,buttheyreallylookedmorelikemutantpornstars.
ButguesswhatConniedidwiththem?Shetooktheirfacesoff.
Shewipedthefaceswithacetoneuntiltheywerecompletelyblankandthenstartedfromscratchrepaintingthemtolook,thistime,likenormalkids.Bigeyes.Sweetsmiles.Freckles.Shebraidedtheirhairandsewedlittleplayclothesforthem.Shegavethemasecondchanceatanewlife.
HowcouldInotloveher?
Docwasutterlylovable,too,bytheway.
Hetooktosittingatthefarendofthekitchen,deejayingsongsformefromtheStapletonfamilyrecordcollectionwhileImadedinner,andsingingalongtooldieswithDocStapletonbecamemyfavoritetimeofday.
Addtothat:JackStapletonknewhowtodance.YousawAmericanRhythm,right?Whereheplayedaballroomdancer?Thatwasnobodydouble.Helearnedallthedanceshimself.Sowhenhe’dhearSamCookeontheturntable,orRosemaryClooney,orHarryBelafonte,he’dshowupinthekitchen,andpullmeoutintoaspin.
Jackinsisteditwasessentialforthefakerelationship.“That’stotallywhatI’ddowitharealgirlfriend,”hepromised.
Thepointis,Ididn’tresist.
IfJackStapletonjusthadtomakemejitterbugwithhimeverytimeheheard“Shake,Rattle,andRoll”—andspinmearoundanddipmeandputhishandsalloverme?
Fine.
Itwasfake.Itwasfake.Itwasallfake.
Butitfeltsoreal.
Itwasn’tjustJack.Hankgrufflyhelpedmeturnthecompost.DocnicknamedmeDesperadoandletmehelphimgroomthehorses.AndConnietooktohuggingme…andIdidn’tstopher.
ItmadememissmymominawayIneverexpected.Ormaybenother,exactly—butthepersonshecouldhavebeen.Therelationshipwecouldhavehad.
I’dalwayswonderedifotherpeople’smotherswereasgoodastheyseemed.
InConnie’scase,Ihadmyanswer.
Yes.
Itdidn’ttakelongformetofeelapartofthatfamily.
And,despiteallitstensionsandsorrows,I’dforgottenhowgooditfelttobesurroundedbyallthoseoverlappingbonds—ofaffection,ofmemory,evenoffrustration.SometimesI’dwatchConnieswatatDocforsomesnarkyremarktoJack,andI’dpositivelyachewithlongingformoreofwhateverthatwas.
Itriedreallyhardnottofallinlovewiththemall,Iswear.
ButIfailedmostofthetime.
WithJackmostofall.
Withunexpectedthings:Thewayhetookeveryopportunitytoshootfreethrowsatthekitchengarbagecan—andmissedeverytime.Thewayhewastryingtomakefriendswithacrowbysettingpopcornoutonthefence.Thewayhe’ddecidedthatthemostsanitarywayforeveryonetosneezewastoputtheirfaceinsidetheirshirtatthemomentofimpact.
“See?”hesaidonenight,aftersneezingintohisshirtatdinner.“Ittotallycontainsthespray.”
Weallstaredathim.“Butyoujustsneezedonyourself,”Hankpointedout.
Jackshrugged.“Theshirtdriesitoff.”
“Butnowyou’rewalkingaroundwithsnotonyourstomach.”
“You’remissingthepoint.Itreinsinthegerms.”
“Butit’sgross.”
“I’drathersneezeonmyselfthansneezeonsomeoneelse.”
“Arethosetheonlyoptions?”
ThenJackwouldlookatmelikeweweretheonlysanepeopleintheroom.“Yeah.Actually.Theyare.”
Thepointis,thedeckwasstackedagainstme.
Onanormaljob,youwerewiththeprincipalsallday,too—butnotlikethis.Youwereinthebackground.Youwereunnoticed—offatthesideoftheroom.Youwerenearthem,butnotwiththem.Youweren’tchattingwiththem.Orgettingteasedbythem.Orlettingthemgiveyounoogies
Thiswastheoppositeofanormaljob.
JackandIspentalldayeverydaytogether.Wefishedinthepondstockedwithbass.Weexploredthewildernessareaaroundtheoxbowlake.Wewalkedtheriverbeachalmosteveryday.Weplayedcroquetintheyard.Wethrewhorseshoes.Wespuneachotheronthetireswing.Weharvestedpears,figs,andsatsumasfromtheorchard.
Myfavoritethingwasswinginginthehammockchairsoutsidethekitchenwindow.We’dswingsidebysidewithourshoesoff,feelingthegrassbladesbrushingthesolesofourfeet,andI’dpassthetimebyaskinghiminanequestionslike,“What’sitlikebeingfamous?”
Helikedthatkindofquestion,though.“Peoplearenicetoyoufornoreason,”heanswered.Thenheturnedtomeetmyeyes.“Notyou,ofcourse.You’renotnice.”
Ipumpedmylegstoswinghigher.“Notme,”Iconfirmed.
“Buttheweirdthingis,”hewenton,pumpingtocatchup,“it’snotyouthey’rebeingniceto.It’sthefame.Theythinktheyalreadyknowyou,butyou’veliterallyneverseenthembefore.Soit’sveryone-sided.Youhavetobecarefulnottodisappointthemoroffendthem,soyouwindupspendingalotoftimebeingthemostgenericversionofyourself.Andsmiling.Smilingjustconstantly.I’vecomehomefromdoingmeetandgreets,andhadtowaithoursforthemusclesinmyfacetostoptwitching.”
“Huh,”Isaid.
“I’mnotcomplaining,”Jacksaidthen.
“Iknow.”
“It’sagreatjob.There’sfreedom.Andmoney.Andclout.Butit’scomplicated.”
Inoddedinagreement.“Likeeverything.”
“Peoplewhowanttobefamousthinkit’sthesamethingasbeingloved,butit’snot.Strangerscanonlyeverloveaversionofyou.Peoplelovingyouforyourbestqualitiesisnotthesameaspeoplelovingyoudespiteyourworst.”
“So,”Isaid,“untilthewholenationhasseenyourboxerbriefsonthebathroomfloor…”
Jackgaveadecisivenod.“Thenit’snottruelove.”
Irelaxedforaminuteandletmyswingslowdown.
Jackwenton.“Itskewsyourperspective,too.Everybodywantstobearoundyouallthetime,andtheyhangonyoureverywordandlaughateverythingevenifit’snotfunny,andyou’rekindofthecenterofeverysituationyou’rein.”
“Thatdoesn’tsoundtoobad,though.”
“Butthenyougetusedtoit.Youstartforgettingtonoticeotherpeopleoraskthemaboutthemselves.Youstartbelievingyourownhype.Everybodytreatsyoulikeyou’retheonlypersonthatmatters…andyoujuststartthinkingthat’strue.Andthenyoubecomeanarcissisticasshole.”
“Youdidn’tdothat.”
“Idid,though.Forawhile.ButI’mtryingnottobelikethatanymore.”
“Isthatwhyyoutookabreakfromacting?”
“Yeah,”Jacksaid.“That.Andmybrotherdied.”
LOOK,IKNEWIwaslettingmyselfgetconfused.
Ijustdidn’tknowhowtostopit.
Andthenoneday,neartheendofalate-morningjogwetooktotheriverandback,Jacksaid—nojoke:whilejogging—“Ifoundyoursong.”
“Whatsong?”Iasked.
“Theoneyou’realwayshumming.”Hetookouthisphone—stilljogging—andpulledupasongonit.
“Howdidyoufindit?”Iasked.
“Isecretlyrecordedyou,”Jacksaid.
“That’snotcreepy,”Isaid.
“Thepointis,Isolvedthemystery,”Jacksaid.“You’rewelcome.”
Wewereonastraightaway,inourlastquartermile,headingbacktothehouseonthegravelroad.Jackheldthephonevaguelyinmydirectionashejoggedalongbymyside.
Butassoonasthesongstartedplaying,Islowedtoastop.
Thatsong?ThatwasthesongIwasalwayshumming?Iknewthatsong.
Jackstoppedbesideme,lettingitplay
“Recognizeit?”heaskedafterabit,alittleoutofbreath.
“Yes,”Isaid,notofferingmore.
ItwasanoldiebyMamaCasscalled“DreamaLittleDreamofMe.”Whenthesongstartedover,Isangalongwiththefirstline:“Starsshiningbrightaboveyou…”WhenIwaslittle,mymomusedtosingitallthetime—whiledoingdishes,whiledrivingcarpool,whiletuckingmeintobed.
“Sowhat’sthedeal?”Jackasked.
“It’sjustasongIknow,”Isaid.
“Howdoyouknowit?”
“MymomusedtosingitallthetimewhenIwasakid.ButIhaven’thearditinyearsandyears.”
“Exceptfor,like,everyday,whenyou’rehummingit.”
Ididn’targue.
Whenthesongended,Jackputhisphoneaway.Itsuddenlyseemedawfullyquiet
“Ithinksheonlysangthatsongwhenshewashappy,”Isaid.
Jackjustnodded.
“IfI’mhonest,Ican’trememberhersingingit—notevenonce—aftermydadleft.”’
Jacknoddedagain,andasIfeltthetendernessinthewayhewaswatchingme,Ialsofeltarisingpaininmychest—penetrating,likewhenyourhandshavegottentoocoldandthenyouputtheminhotwater.Athawingpainthatstungbehindmyribcageandthenclimbedupintomythroat.
AndIguesstheonlywaythatpaincouldgetitselfoutwastomeltintotears
Ifeltthemstingmyeyes.
Istayedverystill,likeifIdidn’tmove,Jackmightnotnotice.
Butofcoursehenoticed.Hewassixinchesawayandstaringrightatme.
“Tellme,”hesaid,hisvoicesoft.
Ikeptstill.
“Youcantellme,”hesaidagain.“It’sokay.”
It’sokay.Idon’tknowwhatkindofmagicheinfusedintothosetwowords,butsomehow,whenhesaidthem,Ibelievedhim.EverythingIhadevertoldmyselfaboutbeingprofessionalandstayingonguardandmaintainingboundariesjust…flutteredoffinthewind.
Iblamethesunshine.Andthelonggrass.Andthatendless,gentlebreezeoverthepasture.Igavein.
“MydadleftwhenIwasseven,”Isaidthen,myvoiceshaking,“andmymomstarteddatingaguynamedTravisprettysoonafterthat,andhe…”Howtophraseit?“Hewasn’tthenicestguyintheworld.”Itookashakybreath.“Heyelledatheralot.Hepickedonherandtoldhershewasugly.Hedrankeverynight—andshestarteddrinking,too.”
Quietly,withoutevenshiftinghisgaze,Jacktookoneofmyhandsandwrappeditinhis.
“Onthenightofmyeighthbirthday,”Isaid,takingabig,shakybreath,“hehither.”
Jackkepthisgazesteady.
“Thosewordsaresotiny,whenyousaythem.Threequicksyllables,andit’sover.ButIthink,inaway,forme,it’sneverbeenover.”Ilookeddown,andmoretearsspilledover.“Shewasprotectingmethatnight.We’dbeensupposedtogooutforpizzaandcake,butTravisdecidedatthelastminutethatweweren’tgoing.IwassooutragedattheinjusticethatIslammedmybedroomdoor.Hestartedtocomeafterme.I’llneverforgetthesoundofhisfootstepsknockingthefloor.Butmymomblockedhim.Shestoodinfrontofthedoorandwouldn’tmoveuntilhewentafterherinstead.Ihidinmycloset,clampeddowntightintoaball,butIcouldhearit.Thescariestthingaboutthepuncheswashowquiettheywere.Buthercryingwasloud.Whensheslammedbackagainstthedoor,itwasloud.Whenshehitthefloor,itwasloud.
“Istayedawakeallnight,curledassmallasIcouldgetinthecloset,listening,atattention,tryingtodecideifmymotherhadlived.Ineverfellasleep.Whenthesunwasup,shecametofindme—andshehadasplitlipandacrackedtooth.AssoonasIsawherface,Iwantedtogetusbothoutofthere.Everyatominmybodywantedtoescape
“ButasIstartedtostand,sheshookherhead.Sheclimbedintotheclosetwithmeandputherarmsaroundme.
“‘We’releaving,right?’Iasked.
“Butsheshookherhead.
“‘Why?’Iasked.‘Whyaren’twe?’
“‘Becausehedoesn’twantusto,’shesaid.
“Thensheputherarmsaroundmeandrockedmebackandforth,inawaythatalways,beforethen,hadmademefeelsafe.ButIdidn’tfeelsafeanymore.Idon’tthinkIeverfeltsafeagainafterthat,tobehonest—notreally.ButguesswhatIstilldoevennowwhenIfeelscared?”
“What?”Jackasked.
“Isleepinthecloset.”
Jackkepthiseyesonmine.
“Remembermylittlesafetypinwiththebeadsonit?I’dmadethatpinforherthatverysameday.Inevergotachancetogiveittoher.Bythetimethatnightwasover,I’dlostit—or,IthoughtIhad.Aftermymomdied—notthatlongago—Ifounditinherjewelrybox.She’dkeptitallthoseyears.Findingitagainfeltlikefindingsomelittlelostpartofmyself.IwasgoingtoweariteverydayforeverbeforeIlostitonthebeachthatday.Asatalismanforbeingokay.”
“Butyou’reokay,anyway.”
Ilookeddown.“AmI?Idon’tknow.UpuntilIcameouthere,I’dbeensleepingonthefloorofmycloseteverynightsincemymomdied.”
JackliftedanonsweatypartofhisT-shirttowipemyface.HadIjustcried?Again?Whatwaswithme?ThenJacksaid,inatendervoice,“Sosleepingonmyfloorisanimprovement.”
Igavehimalittleshoveandstartedwalkingagain.
Hefellintostepbesideme.
“Anyway,”Isaid,regrouping.“That’sthestoryofthatsong.Ineverheardmymomsingitagainafterthatnight.Iforgotaboutitentirely.”
“Notentirely,though,”Jacksaid.
Andthen—eventhoughtherewasnobodyaroundtosee—hepulledmeintoahug.Twenty
WEWEREJUSTstartingtothinkwe’ddodgedgettingcaughtatthehospitalwhenaphotoofJackshoweduponagossipsite.
Andthentenminuteslater?Itwaseverywhere.
Sureenough,itwastakeninthewaitingroomoftheER.Andthoughitwasfromadistance,anditwasmorethesideofhisfacethanthefront,itdidlookalotlikehim.
Theinternetwasn’tsure,though.Articlesstartedpoppinguplike,“What’sWorldFamousJackStapletonDoinginKaty,Texas?”and“StapletonSightedinNowheresville”and“ReclusiveSuperstarTakesObscuritytoaNewLevel.”
EnthusiasticinternetsleuthsfoundpicturesofJacktakenatsimilaranglesandpostedthemsidebyside,parsingeachdetailwithOliverStone–likeprecision.WasthisthetrueshapeofJackStapleton’searlobe?Wasthedotonhisneckashadoworafreckle?WasthisthesameT-shirthe’dworninapaparazzishottwoNewYear’sEvesago?
Itwasimpressivework,actually.Glennshouldrecruitsomeofthosepeople.
Intheend,theinternetbroadlyagreed:Yes,TheDestroyerhadbeenspottedinarandomlittlehospitalinatinyTexastown.Thequestionnobodyseemedtohaveananswertowaswhy
Alltosay:Jackbeingsort-ofexposedbumpedusuptothreatlevelorangeatlast.
Maybealightorange—morelikeasherbet—butorangeallthesame.
Theteamhadtoevaluatemoreinternetchatterandtrackanewexplosionof“fans”wholookedliketheycouldcausetrouble.Istartedputtingonleggingsandsneakerseverydayfor“anafternoonrun”tojogoffthepropertyforsurveillanceupdatesatheadquarters.
Itwasjustdowntheroad,butitmightaswellhavebeenawholeotherworld.
Ididn’tlovegoing.
AndIloveditevenlessthedayIfoundGlennthere,midrant.
Doghousewasthere,too,aswereTaylorandRobby.
“Idon’tcarewhatyourfeelingsare.Feelingshavenoplaceinthisroom!”Glennwasshouting.Hebangedhishandonthedeskatthosewords.
“What’sgoingon?”Iasked,closingthedoorbehindme.
Glenn,lookingpissed,pointedatme.“Thisisyourfault,too.”
“Myfault!”Isaid.“Ijustgothere.”
“Twenty-fiveyearsIwentwithoutanyofmyagentssleepingwitheachother.Twenty-fiveyears!ThenyouandRomeooverherebreakthatrule,andnowit’safree-for-all.”
IlookedoveratRobby,whowasstaringatthefloor.Then,Taylor.Whowasstaringstraightahead,hereyesredandherfacepuffy.
“Whathappened?”Iasked.
“Didyouknowthesetwoweresleepingtogether?”Glenndemanded.
Iflaredmynostrils.“Yes.”
“Well,nowhe’sdumpedher,”Glennannounced,likeitwassomehowmyfault.“Andshecan’tgetanyworkdone—andneithercananybodyelse—becauseshecannotstopcrying.”
DidIfeelatinyflickeroftriumph?
Nocomment.
“DoesthismeanIgetLondon?”Iasked.“Sincehe’ssuchatroublemaker?”
ButGlennwasinnomood.“You’vegotyourdownsides,too.”
Hewasn’twrong.IturnedtoRobby.“Youdumpedher,huh?”
“Doyouevenneedtoask?”Glenndemanded.“Lookather!”
NowtherewerefreshtearsonTaylor’sface.
“Youwantalessononhowtogetdumped?”GlenndemandedofTaylor.“That,”hesaid,pointingrightatme,“ishowyougetdumped!She’sthegoldstandard!Thisguyrippedherheartoutonthenightafterhermother’sfuneral,butshewasbackatworkthenextdaylikeagoddamnedsuperhero.”
Taylorwasactivelycryingnow.
“Ugh,”Glennsaid,turningawayindisgust.“Getoutofhereandpullyourselftogether.Gogetsomefreshair.Amadi,takehersomewater.”
Taylorscuttledout,andAmadifollowed
GlennroundedonRobbythen.“Justwhatareyouandthathorndogpersonalityofyourstryingtoaccomplish?Areyoutryingtodrivemeintobankruptcy?Isthereonewomaninthiscompanyyouhaven’tscrewed?”
Kellyraisedherhandcheerfullyinthebackcorner.“Hehasn’tscrewedme!”
“Keepitthatway,”Glenngrowled.
“Yeah,”Doghouseadded.“Keepitthatway.”
“Yes,sirs,”Kellysaid,salutingthemboth.
“Hey,Kelly,”Isaidwithawave.
“Hey.”
ButGlennwantedanswers.“Whatareyoudoing?”hedemandedofRobby.“Whatareyouthinking?”
“Imadeamistake,”Robbysaid.
“Yousureashelldid.”
“No,”Robbysaid.“ImadeamistakewhenIbrokeupwithHannah.”
“OhGod,”Isaid,smackingmyhandonmyforeheadandwalkingtowardthedoor.“Seriously?”
ButRobbystoppedme.“Youcan’tgo.”
IgaveGlennalook.“Areyoureallygonnamakemestayforthis?”
Glenntiltedhishead.“Ibelievewestillhaveworktodo.Yourememberwork?”
“WhatamIsupposedtodo?”RobbydemandedofGlenn,inavoiceliketherewasnobiggervictiminthisroomthanhim.“Alldaylong,Ihavetowatchthesemonitors.”Robbyturnedtome.“Youknowweputcameraseverywhere,right?Whateveryoutwodooutside,I’mwatchingit.Ifhegivesyouapiggybackride.Ifhehelpsyouinthegarden.Ifheshowsyoutricksonthehorse,orheteachesyouhowtodoahandstand,orhestaresatyouwhenyouaren’tlooking.Iseeitall.”
Wait.JackstaredatmewhenIwasn’tlooking?
Robbykeptgoing.BacktoGlenn:“Youdidthistotortureme.”
Glenndidn’tevenlifthiseyebrows.“Absolutely.”
“Well,it’sworking.It’sdrivingmeinsane.”
“Good.Youdeserveit.”
“Isthispersonal?”
“It’slife,”Glennsaid.“Andifyou’resmart,you’lluseittogetstronger.”
IsquintedatRobby.“Isthisacavemanthing?Isthisachemical,knee-jerk,nobody-can-have-my-former-womanthing?Areyoupeeingonmetomarkyourterritory?”
Kellywasstilllistening.“Pleasedon’tlethimpeeonyou.”
Igaveheralook.“Metaphorically.”
ButRobbyshookhishead.“I’msorry,okay?Ishouldneverhaveletyougo.”
“Letmego?”Isaid.“Youdidn’tletmego.Youabandonedme.”
“Itakeitback.”
“There’snotakingitback.”
“Whynot?”
“BecausenowIknowwhoyoureallyare.”
Robbypoutedatthat.Thenhenarrowedhiseyes.“Iknowwhatthisis.Youthinkhelikesyou.”
Iheldverystill.
“Iseeyouwithhim,”Robbywenton.“He’sgotyouconvinced.Butthatcan’tberight.You’retoosmartforthat.Youcan’treallythinkthataworld-famousactorwhocouldhaveanywomanintheworldpickedyou.Tellmeyoudidn’tfallforthat.HaveyouseenKennedyMonroe?He’splayingwithyou!He’sbored!He’snoteventhatgreatanactor!Wakeup.You’rechoosingafakerelationshipoverme.”
Ididn’tknowwhattosaytomostofthat.Butthatlastpointwaseasy.“Wrong,”Isaid.“I’mchoosinganythingatalloveryou.”
“Hedoesn’tactuallylikeyou,”Robbysaid.
“Ineversaidhedid.”
“Butyouthoughtit.”
IhadtohandittoRobby.Araremomentofinsight.
Glennwasdonehere.“GetTaylorback,”hesaid,flinginghisarmatKelly.“Let’shavethisstalkermeetingandcallitaday.”
Robbykepthiseyesonme.“YouaskedmetheotherweekwhyIwasbeingsuchanass.”
Wow,thatwasahundredyearsago.“YoumeanwhenyousaidIwasnotprettyenoughforthisassignment?”Isaid.“IguessIdid.”
“Don’tyouwanttoknowtheanswer?”
Istoppedandturnedtolookathim.“Iknowtheansweralready,”Isaid.“Youwerebeinganassbecauseyouareanass.Simple.”
ButRobbygrabbedmyarm.“It’sbecauseIwantedtogetbacktogether.”
Thatgotmyattention.“Youwantedto—?”
“Eventhen,eventhatday.”
Itriedtoputittogether.“Youwantedtogetbacktogether…soyousaidIwasugly?”
“Ipanicked.”
“Isthatwhatit’scalled?”
“ImissedyouinMadrid.”
“YoumissedmeinMadrid—whileyouweresleepingwithmybestfriend?”
“I’vewantedyoubackeversincewegothome.ButIfeltguiltyaboutTaylor.”
“Wait!Areyoutryingtoseemlikeagoodperson?”
“I’msayingit’scomplicated.”
“No.It’sverysimple.”
Robbyseemedtoholdhisbreathforasecond.“BecauseofTaylor?”hedemanded,likeIwasbeingpetty.“Thatwasjustanon-assignmentthing.”
“NotbecauseofTaylor,”Isaid.“Becauseyoudumpedme.”Then,forgoodmeasure,Iadded,“Onthenightaftermymother’sfuneral.”
Robbymadeastranglednoiseasifwe’dhadthisargumentamilliontimes.“Whenareyougoingtostopfixatingonthat?”
“Never,”Isaid.“That’swhywe’renevergettingbacktogether.TheTaylorthingwasjustanothernailinawell-nailedcoffin.”
“Wewerejustbored,”Robbypleaded,likeIwasbeingunreasonable.
“IsthatwhatTaylorwouldsay?”
“I’mtellingyou,thepersonIwantedthen—andwantnow—isyou.”
“I’mprettysureweneverreallylikedeachotherallthatmuch,anyway.”
Icouldn’tbelieveIwasbeingforcedtohavethisconversation.
Yes,Iwaslonely.Yes,witnessingRobbyandTaylorkissinghadshreddedmeinwaysIneverknewwerepossible.ButIwasn’tpathetic.“We’renotgettingbacktogether,Robby.”
“Whynot?”
“Becauseyoudisqualifiedyourself.”
“You’dratherbealoneforeverthanletmemakeituptoyou?”
“Notsurethosearemyonlyoptions.”
“Ijustwantachancetomakethingsright.”
“Butthereisnowaytomakethingsright.Andeveniftherewere,youwouldn’tknowhow.”
AFTERTHEMEETING—AFTERTaylorwasdraggedbackintosit,catatonic,staringatthefloorwhileRobbysnuckresentfullooksatmelikeIwasthebadguy,andafterGlennwentonanotherrantabouthownobodyinthiscompanywasallowedtohaveanysexatallforanyreasoneveragain,andafterwetalkedthroughallthedetailsandramificationsandpolicychangesthattheviralphotoofJackwasgoingtomeanforthisassignment,Ijoggedbacktotheranchinadaze,turningonesimple,shockingthoughtoverandoverinmyhead.
Robbywasright.
LeaveittoRobbytosuckthefunoutofeverything.
Buthewasright.
LikingJackwasacatastrophicallybadidea.
Icouldn’tbelieveI’dletithappen.
HewasJackStapleton
Lettingmyselffallforhimwasemotionalsuicide.
That’sexactlywhatIwasthinkingwhenIsawthegodhimselfupaheadonthegravelroad,walkinginmydirection.
Whenhesawme,heshiftedintoajog,whichgavethedistinctimpressionthathewashappytoseeme.
SoMethod.
Ididn’tslowdown—justkeptwalking,evenashereachedme—andsoJackhadtoU-turntofollowme.
“Hey!”hesaid,stilljogging.“Welcomeback.”
Ididn’tanswer.
Hefellintopacebesideme.“Youokay?”heasked,tryingtostudymyface.“Youlooktired.”
“Longmeeting,”Isaid.
Jackwrinkledhisnose.“Aboutthestalker?”
“Yes.Apparently,sheTP’dyourhousewithpinktoiletpaper.Andleftapaintingforyou.”
“Apainting?”
“Aself-portrait.Oncanvas,”Isaid,aswearrivedbackintheyard.Ipulledthephotouponmyphone.WepausedinConnie’sgardentotakealook.“Anude,”Isaid,topreparehim.ThenIadded,“Self-PortraitwithCorgis.”
Jackletoutalowwhistle.“It’sactuallyprettygood.”
Inodded.“She’stalented.”
“MaybeIshouldimpregnateher.”
“Hey!”Isaid.“You’renotimpregnatinganybodyonmywatch!”Then,incasethatwastoostrident,Iadded,“Unlessyouwantto.”
Therehewas,again—laughing.“Imissedyou,”hesaidthen.
“What?”
“Justnow,”Jacksaid,gesturingbackatHQ.“Youweregonealongtime.”
“Wehadalottodiscuss.”
“Whatdoyouthinkaboutthat?”
“Aboutwhat?”
“Aboutmemissingyou.”
MaybeitwasbecauseRobbyhadjustweaponizedthiswholesetupagainstme,butnowIcouldn’tseeanythingJackdidasreal.Therehewas,withashyhalfsmile,lookingdownatmysneakersandleaningintowardme—justtextbookbashfully…andIcouldonlyseeitascalculated,andconstructed,andhollow,andfake.Andthefactthathewasfakingitsowell—thatIhadn’tevenbeenabletotellthefriggingdifference—wasjusthumiliating.
Hewasacting.He’dbeenactingallalong.
ButIwasn’t.
WasIsupposedtoplayalong?Icouldn’t.Iwouldn’t.WhatdidIthinkofhimtellingmehemissedme?“Ithinkyou’reamuchbetteractorthananybodygivesyoucreditfor,”Isaid.Noteventryingtodisguisethebitternessinmyvoice.
Jackwincedatthat—microscopically,butIfeltit.
Fine.Good.Betterthatway.
Becausesomethingwashittingmethen,surroundedbyConnie’sfallgarden,outinthemiddleofnowhere.IwasnotallthatdifferentfromtheCorgiLady.Iwaslivinginafantasyworld,too.
MychancesofwindingupwithJackStapletonwerejustasbadashers.
Worse,maybe,even.
AtleasttheCorgiLadyknewhowtopaint.Twenty-One
IWASALLsettokeepmydistanceafterthat.
Butthen,thatnight,Jackhadanightmare.
Abadone.
Iwoketothesoundofhimthrashingandchoking.Hehadsaidnottobealarmed,butI’mnotgonnalie:Itwasalarming.He’snotasmallguy,andwhateverwasgoingoninthatnightmare…hewasfightingitwitheverythinghehad
Istoodupfast,heartthumping,andclamberedovertohim.
“Jack,”Isaid,tryingtosteadyhisshoulders.“Wakeup.”
Buthewasthrashinglikeawildboar.Hisarmcameupandsmackedmeacrossthecollarboneslikeawoodplank.Itookastepback,foundmybreath,andregrouped.
Isteppedcloseragain.“Jack!Wakeup!”
Thistime,heheardme,andopenedhiseyes.Hegrabbedmynightgowntopullhimselfup—gasping,coughing,sobbing,andlookingaroundlikehehadnoideawherehewas.
“You’regood!”Isaid.“You’resafe!”Isaid,ashetriedtofocus.“Justadream.Justareallybaddream.”
AndthenwhatdidIdo?Ihuggedhim.
Isatclosetohim,andsqueezedmyarmsaroundhimtight,andsaideverysoothingthingIcouldthinkof.
Assoonasitallregistered—wherehewas,whoIwas,whatwashappening—heclampedhisarmsaroundmeandwouldn’tletgo.
SoIstayedrightthere.
Istrokedhisbackandpattedit.Iwaitedforhisbreathingtosettle.Icomfortedhim.Likerealpeopledowithpeopletheyreallycareabout.
Evenafterhe’dgottenquiet,whenIthoughtmaybehewasfeelingbetterandmightwanttobeleftalonetosleep,itwas—let’ssay—challengingtoleavehim.WhenItriedtounfoldmyselffromhisarms,hetightenedhisgrip.
“You’reokaynow,”Isaid.
Butthenhesaid,“Staywithmealittlelonger,okay?”Hisvoicewassoshaky,therewasnootheranswerbut,Ofcourse.
Andwhenhedecidedtoliebackonthepillowandkepthisarmsaroundme,clampingmecloselikeIwashisteddybear,Ilethimdothat,too.
“Justanotherminute,”hesaid.
IcouldmanufactureahundredreasonswhyIstayed.Buttheonlyonethatmattersisthis:Iwantedto.Ilikeditthere.Ilikedholdinghim—andbeingheld.IlikedfeelinglikeImatteredtosomeone.There’snothinglikethemutualityofahug—thewayyou’regivingcomfortbutyou’regettingit,too.
Ididn’tknowwhatwasrealorfakeanymore,butrightthen,itjustdidn’tmatter.
Wefacedeachotheronoursides.Hekepthisarmswrappedaroundme.Irestedmyheadonhisbicep.
Igavemyselffivemoreminutes.Thenanotherfive.Idecidedtowaituntilhefellasleep.Buthedidn’tfallasleep.
I’dclosemyeyes,buteverytimeIopenedthem,Isawhis,rightthere,open,gazingatme,pupilsdarkandwide.
Afterawhile,Iasked,“It’sthesamedreameverytime?”
“Yep.”
ThenIasked,“Canyoutellmewhatitis?”
Buthedidn’tanswer.
Finally,Isaid,“BecauseIreadupon‘howtocurenightmares.’”
“Youdid?”
“Yeah.Ireaduponalotofthings.”
“Wereyougoingtotellmeaboutit?”
“I’mtellingyourightnow.”
“Let’shearit.”
“Therearelotsofmethods,butonebigoneistotalkaboutthedream.”
“Idon’twanttotalkaboutthedream.”
“Igetit.Butapparentlyithelps.Youtellthestoryofthedream—whileyou’reawake…butthenyourewritetheending.”
“Howcanyourewritetheendingifit’salreadyended?”
“Yourewriteitfornexttime.”
“Ialwayshopetherewon’tbeanexttime.”
“Buttherealwaysis.”
Jacknodded.
“Solet’stryit,then.”
Jacksmiledthenandlethiseyesroamaroundmyface.“Icanseewhymymomlikesyou.”
Ididn’twanttoenjoythattoomuch.
“Rewritingtheending,”Isaid,“islikeofferingyourbrainadifferentscript.Sowhenitgoestotellthatstoryagain,ithasachoicetotellitadifferentway.”
“Thereisnodifferentway.”
“Notyet.Becauseyouhaven’twrittenone.”
Jacksighedlikeweweretalkingincircles.
“Likeoneexample,”Iwenton,“isaguywhohadarecurrentnightmareaboutamonsterchasinghim.Foryearsandyears.Andthenoneday,heturnedandaskedthemonsterwhyitwaschasinghim—andthenheneverhadthatdreamagain.”
“Nicesolution,”Jacksaid.“Oneproblemforme,though.”
“What?”
“Inmynightmare,I’mthemonster.”
“Oh.”
Aminutewentby.ThenJacksaid,“It’sthesameeverytime.”
Iwaitedwhilehetookabreath.
Thenhewenton,“I’minasportscarwithmylittlebrotherDrew.It’saFerrari.Iboughtittoshowoff.It’ssonew,itstillhaspapertags.Drewthinksit’sawesome.Andwe’regoingsofast,it’slikewe’reflying.Thefasterwego,thefasterwego—untilabridgeappearsupahead.It’slateafternooninwinter—andeventhoughit’snotthatcoldout,there’sblackiceonthebridge—thekindthat’sthecolorofpavement,thekindyouneverseeuntilit’stoolate.Assoonaswehitit,wejustgosliding.We’respinningandeverything’sablurandthenwecrashthroughtherailing.Ican’tbelieveit’shappening,evenasit’shappening.Everything’sinslowmotionandathyperspeedexactlyatthesametime.Wegoovertheedgeandthenwe’reinthisfreefallwheregravityisturnedinsideout.Itallhappensinseconds—andhours—andyears…andthenwehitthewater’ssurface—thechassisflat,likeabellyflop.Thisisgood,Ithink.Thisgivesustime.Thecarbobsatthesurface—andtimegoessideways.IrolldownmywindowandshoutatDrewtodothesame.Iholdthebuttonwithonehand,andIfumblewithmyseatbeltwiththeother—andthenIlookoveratDrew,andhehasn’tdoneanything.Hiswindow’sup.He’sbuckled.He’sstaringatmeinshock.Putyourwindowdown!Ileanoverandpophisseatbelt.Ipressagainsthischesttoholdhiswindowbutton—andit’shalfwaydownwhenthecarfillsuparushofwaterandit’ssocoldandsoangry.Swimup!Ishoutbeforethewaterovertakesus,andasIpushhimouthiswindowandfollowhim.Thewater’ssogray,it’sblack,butIpumpmyarmsandlegswitheverythingI’vegot—butIcan’tfindthesurface.I’velostthesurface,andthere’snotimetofindit.Thewatertanglesaroundme,pullingmedeeper,andwhenIwakeup,I’mdrowning.”
Wow.Okay.
NowonderhegotmadatmeattheBrazos.
Iwasinovermyheadforsure.Anhourofinternetresearchwasnotgoingtoequalenoughexpertisetocurethis.
ButI’dgottenthisstarted.I’dtoldhimtotellthestory.Noquittingnow
SoIaskedthefirstquestionthatcametomymind.“Whydoyouthinkit’stheexactsamedreameverytime?”
Alongpause.ThenJacksaid,veryslowly,“Because—exceptforthepartwhereit’smedrowning—that’sprettymuchthewayithappened.”
IpulledbackalittletocheckJack’sexpression.“That’swhathappened?Inreallife?”
Jacknodded.
“Youwentoffabridgeintoariver?”
Jacknoddedagain.
“I’dhearditwasacaraccident.”
“Technically,itwas.”
Jackpulledhisarmsawayfrommeandrolledontohisback,crookingonearmoverhiseyes,coveringhalfhisface.“Hediedintheriver.Thepolicethinkhegotturnedaroundinthedarknessandswamdowninsteadofup.”
Sothiswastheversionofthestorythatgotburied.
WasitJack’sfault?Wastherealcoholinvolved,liketherumorsaid?HadJackkilledhislittlebrother?
Icouldn’tbringmyselftoask.
“I’msosorry,”Isaidatlast,hopingmyvoicecouldmakeupfortheinadequacyofthosewords.“Ididn’tknow.”
Jacknodded.“ThePRfolkscovereditup.Nobodyknows.Exceptme.Andmyfamily.AndafewlocalofficialsinNorthDakota.And,ofcourse,Drew.”
Ithoughtforasecond.“Isthiswhythestudioinsistedonyouhiringprotection?”
Jacknodded.“I’vecausedthemenoughtrouble.”
Next,Isaid,“AndthisisthewarbetweenyouandHank?”
Jacknodded.“Thetroublemakerismymom.Shekeepswantingtoseeme.Shekeepsaskingmetocomevisit.Shejustkeepsonlovingmeandforgivingme.”
“Andwhenshegotsick,Hankdidn’twantyoutocomehere?”
“That’sright.”
“Butyoucame,anyway.”
“Icouldn’texactlytellherno.”
“Andnowyou’rejustwaitinguntilyoucandisappearagain?”
“That’sbasicallyit.”
“Ithinkitsoundslikeyou’rebeingawfullyhardonyourself.”
“Nexttimeyouletsomeonedrowninariver,callmeandwe’llcomparenotes.”
“Soyoucan’tforgiveyourself?”
“Can’t,”Jackshrugged.“Won’t.”
“Seemsalittleharsh.”
“Ijustwakeupeverydaythinkingabouthowaperson—areallygreatperson,amuchbetterpersonthanme—isn’there,andIam.Theonlywaytomakemyexistencebearableistotrytodosomethingeverydaythatjustifiesmylife.”
“Whatdoyoudo?”
“Oh,youknow,startfoundations.Fundscholarships.Makecelebrityappearancesatchildren’shospitals.Helpoldladieswiththeirgroceries.Donateblood.”
Wow.SomeluckypersongotTheDestroyer’sbloodanddidn’tevenknowit.
“Bigthings,”Jackwenton,“andlittlethings,too.Just—something.Onegoodthingeveryday.”
“That’salotofrepentance.”
Jacknodded.“You’dthinkthenightmarewouldhavefadedbynow,butit’sstillgoingstrong.”
“Okay,”Isaid.“Whatifthenightmareisn’tapunishment?Whatifit’sachance?”
Jackmetmyeyes.“Achancetodowhat?”
“Seeyourbrotheragain.”
“Prettyslim,aschancesgo.Sincehe’sdead.”
Ikeptgoing.“Ihaveanidea,butyou’llprobablyhateit.”
“Thatsoundslikeachallenge.”
“You’veheardofluciddreaming,right?Whereyou’reawarethatyou’redreaminginthedream?”
“Sortof.”
“Whatifyoutaughtyourselfhowtodothatandthen…talkedtoDrew?”
“Justtaughtmyselftodreamonpurpose?”
“Imean,yeah.”
“Andthenhadaconversationwithmydeadbrother?”
Inodded.
“How?When?Asthecarisfillingwithwater?”
“Whatifyoujust…steeredthedreaminadifferentdirection?”
“That’snothowdreamswork.They’renotscreenplays.”
“Butyouaretechnicallywritingthem.Weallare.”
“It’saterribleidea.Andevenifitworked,itwouldn’tbetherealDrew.”
“ButmaybetalkingtoDrewcouldbeawayoftalkingtoyourself.”
Jacklookedatmeforaminute.“You’reright.Ihateit.”
“Fine,”Isaid,movingtocrawlaway.“Hateit.Whatever.”
ButasIshifted,hecaughtmeandyankedmeback,pullingmeagainsthischest.Itwassolid,andwarm,andsmelledaseverlikecinnamon.“Stay.”
Myheadlandedonthepillowbesidehim.“I’mtired.”
“Twominutes.”
“Sixtyseconds,”Isaid.“Takeitorleaveit.”
“Sold,”Jacksaid.
“Sixtysecondsitis,”Isaid.“Justdon’tletmefallasleep.”Twenty-Two
OFCOURSE,Ifellasleep.
WhenIwokeupthenextmorning,IwasinJackStapleton’sbed,underthatmaelstromofwhateveritwashedidtohissheetseverynight,andIwaspinnedtothemattressbyoneofJack’senormousarms,slungacrossmyshoulders,andalsooneofhislegs—tangledaroundoneofmyown.
Allofwhichfeltprettynice,actually
Igavemyselfamomenttosavorit.
Imean…right?Thatkindofthingdoesn’thappeneveryday.IwastemptedtosnapaselfiesoI’dbelieveitlater.
Butthenmyphone—whichwassettoneverdingbefore8:00A.M.—starteddingingat8:01.
Alot.
AndbythetimeI’dwriggledoutfromunderJacktocheckit,IfoundathousandtextsfromeverysinglepersonIworkedwith,andplentyofpeopleIdidn’t.
Apparently,I’daccidentallygottenfamousovernight.
Becausewhilewe’dbeensleepinginhere—outthereontheinternet,thingswerewideawake.
Inlessthantwenty-fourhours,threemajorJack-relatedthingsoccurred.
One:TheCorgiLadydecidedtoupdateherJackStapletonfanpagewithphotosandvideosofallherstalkingshenanigans—spreadingthewordfarandwidethatJackwasinHoustonandthatshe’dmanagedtofindhishouse.Countlesspostsshowedupwithcaptionslike,“Loveisintheairatmyoneandonly’sluxuryrentalestateinHouston!Hecanrun,buthecannothide!#JackStapleton#JackAttack#JackHammer#TrueLove#CorgiAddict#CheckOutMyNudes#LetsMakeABaby.”
Two:AphotoofJackandmefromthehospital—thatnight,whenItoldhimtohidebyleaningintome—showedupandthenexplodedonline.Wedefinitelylookedlikewewereembracing,possiblyevenmakingoutlikecrazy,eventome.Andthisphotowaseverywhereunderheadlineslike“Who’sJackStapleton’sNewGirlfriend?”and,“MysteryWomanSucksFacewithJackStapleton,”andjustplainold,“GetIt,Jack!”
Andthree:TheCorgiLadyapparentlysawthephoto,lostwhatwasleftofhermind,anddeliveredabasketofstuffed-animalcorgipuppiestothedoorstepofJack’srentalhouseinHouston…withanotetuckedinsidelettingJackknowthatshewasdefinitely,withoutquestion,goingtomurderme.Ingraphicdetail.
Glenn,needlesstosay,wasnotpleased
TakeajogtoHQ!ASAP!hisfinaltextsaid.Let’sfigurethisthehellout.
ThisdefinitelybumpedJackuptothreatleveltangerine.Ormaybeevenpersimmon.
Itwasn’tadeaththreatagainsttheprincipal,butitwasathreatagainsthis“girlfriend,”whichwascloseenough.Also,thephotosshe’dpostedincludedallsortsofrevealingcluesaboutJack’shousethatenterprisingfanscouldstudy.Also,theworldnowknewthathewasbackincivilization—whichmadehimfairgame.
BeforeIleftJack’sroom,Igavemyselfaminutetopauseatthedoorandlookathim—stillfastasleepinthebedwhereIhadalsobeenjustminutesbefore.Theguyinthatbedwassodifferentfromthepersonallovertheinternet.Fromhiscrookedglasses,tohisdeath-defyingtricksoncircushorses,tothewayhecouldnotlandapieceoftrashinthecantosavehislife.
It’ssofunnytolookbackatthatmomentnow:Jacksleepingsopeacefully,andme,watchinghim,stillblissed-outfromanightinhisarmsandfeeling—withoutevenrealizingit—closertohimthanI’dmaybeeverfelttoanyoneatall.
Iwassoconfidentthatwe’dhandlethisnewcomplicationlikewe’dhandledeverythingelse.
Butsometimesconfidencejustisn’tquiteenough.
Becausemyfake-yet-somehow-impossibly-truerelationshipwithJackStapleton?
Itwasprettymuchalreadyover.
BACKATHQ,everythingwasmovingdouble-time.
Glennwashowlingorders,Kellywascollatingprintouts,Amadiwascorrectingsomebodyonthephone.Taylorhadcalledinsick,butRobbywasthere—andtheideaofadeaththreatagainsthisformerwomanhadthrownhimintomachomode.
“Youhavetotakeherofftheassignment,”hebadgeredGlenn,asIwalkedin.“It’snotsafenow.She’satarget.”
“Simmerdown,Romeo,”Glennsaid.“Youdon’tgettotellmewhattodo.”
“Damnstraight,”Isaid,closingthedoorbehindme.
Glenndidn’tevenglancemyway.“Youdon’tgettotellmewhattodo,either.”
“Icanstayonthecase,”Isaid.“It’sfine.”
“I’mnotsureitisfine,”Glennsaid,shufflingthroughastackofprintouts.“Theseareveryspecific.Thisladyhasreallythoughtitthrough.”
“There’smorethanone?”Iasked.“Ithoughtshejustwantedtorunmeoverwithhercar.”
“Shealsowantstopushyouoffaroof,”Glennsaid.“Andelectrocuteyou.Andpoisonyouwithratbait.”
“Thorough,”Isaid,steppingclosetoGlenntolookoverhisshoulder.
“Ratbaitisnojoke,”Robbysaid,butIignoredhim.
“Howdidshecomeupwithallthisintwenty-fourhours?”Isaid.“Thatphotoofmejustsurfaced.”
“Maybeshehadacontingencyplanattheready,”Glennsaid,“foranygirlfriendthatmightcomealong.”
“We’refineaslongaswestayontheranch,”Isaid,surprisedathowbadlyIwantedthattobetrue.
ButGlennwasshakinghishead.“You’recompromisednow.You’rearisktotheclientandtoyourself.”
“Wecanminimizethoserisksifwe—”
Glenncutmeoff.“Ifwetakeyouoffthegig.”
Robbylookedinfuriatinglytriumphant.
“Look,”IsaidtoGlenn.“Icanhandleit.”
“Butthere’snoreasonto,”Glennsaid.“Wehaveplentyofavailableagentswhocantakeover.”
“I’lltakeover!”Kellyvolunteeredfromherbackcorner.
“But…”Iwasn’tsurewhattosay.“WhatwillwesaytoJack’sparents?”
“Simple,”Glennsaid.“It’stimetocomeclean.”
“Aboutme?”Iasked.
“Aboutallofit.”
“Youmean”—Isaid,feelingsparksofpanicinmychestbuttryingsohardtosoundlikeIwasjustclarifyingformymentalfile—“I’mgoingtohavetotellthemitwasallalieandthenjust…leaveforever?”
“Prettymuch,”Robbysaidwithglee.
“Shutup,Robby,”KellyandIsaid,inunison.
“Iwasokaywiththedeceptionwhenthethreatlevelwasyellow,”Glennsaid.“Butnowit’sorangefortheclient,andit’sredforyou.Ifyoustay,you’reluringdanger—towardyourselfandtowardthem.Theyneedtoknowwhat’sgoingon.Everyone’ssaferifyoucomecleanandgo.”
Ithoughtaboutthat.
“Youdon’twanttoputtheStapletonfamilyatrisk,doyou?”
“Ofcoursenot.”
“Thenit’ssettled.Youleavetonight.”
Wait!What?“Tonight?”
Glennlookedatme,likeThisisn’thard.“Tellthemtoday,thenleavetonight.I’llsendAmadiwiththecarafterdinner.Andwe’llputanagentatyourapartmenttokeepaneyeonyouforthenextfewdays.”Glennturnedtocheckhisroster.
IcrossedmyfingersforAmadi.OrDoghouse.OrKelly.
“Taylor’sfree,”Glennsaid.
“Seriously?”Isaid.“She’smynemesis!”
“Getoverit,”Glennsaid.
Then,withdread,IrealizedthatifhewasputtingTayloronmydetail,thatleftRobbyfreeforit.Isaid,“Who’stakingmyplace?”
GlennknewwhatIwasasking.Butheplayeditlikehedidn’t.“Onceeverything’soutintheopen,we’llmoveateaminattheranchandalsoplaceateamatthehouseintown.AndI’llputRobbyontheprincipal.”
Isawitcoming.“Comeon!”
“Hey,”Glennsaid.“It’sexactlyliketheopRobbyraninJakarta.Youwantthebestforyourboyfriend,don’tyou?”
“Don’tcallJackmyboyfriend,”Isaid.
“Yeah,”Glennsaid.“Iguessthat’sallovernow.”
Robbynoddedwithasmirkthatmademewanttopunchhimintheface.
“Buthere’sthegreatnews,”Glennsaid.“You’restillintherunningforLondon.AndnowyouarefreetogotoKorea.”Thenhetappedhiswatch,likeEyesontheprize—thinkingIwasgettingexactlywhatIwanted.“Twoshortweeks.”Twenty-Three
ICOULDN’TEVENmustertheenergytopretendtojogbacktothehouse.Ijustwalked,allslouchy—protestingeverydisappointmentinmylifewithbadposture.
Jackmetmeonthegravelroadinhisnewlyswitched-outRangeRover.
“Sawthenews,”hesaid.“Let’sgototheriver.”
“Okay,”Isaidwithalimpshrug,andclimbeduptothepassengerseat.
Wedidn’ttalkonthedrivedown.Ijustwatchedthescenerywiththatslowed-downawarenessthatcomeswhenyou’llneverseesomethingagain.Thebarbed-wirefences.Theruttedgravellane.Thegrassflutteringinthefields.Thetallpecantreesbrushingthesky.Thebuzzardscirclinglazilyoverhead.
ItwaslikenoplaceI’deverbeen—orwouldbeagain.
Iwasneveremotionaltoendajob.Thatwaspartofnotgettingattached.Youwerejustworking.Whenyouleft,you’dbeworkingsomewhereelse.
Ididn’tknowwhattodowiththesadnessthatwassoakingintomyheart.Itfeltsofull,Icouldwringitoutlikeasponge.Whatdidpeopledowithsadnesslikethis?Howdidtheydryitout?
Whenwegottotheendoftheroad—tothesameplacewhereJackhadgivenmethatpiggybackridebackatthestart—Jackcuttheengine,butneitherofusgotout.
Iexplainedeverythingtohim,andwhatitallmeant,andwhywehadtodoallthethingswenowhadtodo.
Hetriedtoarguewithme.“Idon’twantBobbytoreplaceyou.”
“He’snotreplacingme.He’snotgoingto,like,sleeponyourfloorinawhitenightgown.”
“ThankGod.”
“It’llbeawholedifferentdealbecausethere’snomorepretending.He’lljuststandaround,secret-servicestyle.”
“Thatmightbeworse.”
“Itwillbe,”Isaid.
“Igetwhywehavetotellmyparents,andIgetwhyweneedtostepeverythingup.ButIthinkyoushouldstay.”
“Ishouldstay?”
“Staywithmeandbeprotected.”
“Bymyowncompany?”
“You’reindangernow.”
“That’snothowitworks.I’monlyindangerbecauseI’mnearyou.OnceIleave,thethreatlevel’stotallydifferent.”
Jackthoughtaboutit,thenarguedsomemore,thenfinallygavein.Ourwholemeticuloussetupfelledbyahomicidalpart-timecorgibreeder.
“Sothisisourlastdaytogether,”Jacksaid,whenhe’drunoutofwaystoargue.
“Yep.I’mleavingafterdinner.”
“Afterdinner?Thatfeelsfast.”
“Thefaster,thebetter.”
“Andthen—Iwon’tseeyouafterthat?”
“Nope.”
ThenJackaskedmethestrangestquestion.“Doesthismean,”heasked,“you’renotcomingtoThanksgiving?”
Thanksgiving?Whataweirdthought.“OfcourseI’mnotcomingtoThanksgiving,”Isaid.Andthen,becausehedidn’tseemtounderstand,Isaid,“I’mnotcomingtoanythingatall—everagain.”
Jackturnedtoreadmyeyes.
“Whenjobsend,theyjustend,”Isaid.“Youdon’t,like,becomefriendsonFacebookoranything.Robbywillfinishoutthejob—andthenyou’llgobacktoyouralbinomoose,andI’llgotoKoreaandeatblackbeannoodles,andit’llbelikewenevermet.”
“Butwedidmeet,though,”Jacksaid.
“Thatdoesn’treallymatter.Thisishowthisworks.”
Jacklookedveryserious.“Sowhatyou’retellingmeisthisisthelastdaywe’lleverseeeachother?”
Imean,yes.ThatwaswhatIwastellinghim.“Prettymuch,”Isaid.
“Okay,then,”Jacksaid,nodding.“Thenlet’smakeitagoodone.”
JACKINSISTEDTHAThecarrymetothebeach,foroldtimes’sake,eventhoughIwould’vebeenfineinmysneakers—andIjustlethim.
Wewalkedalongtheshoreforawhile,pickinguppiecesofpetrifiedwoodaswellasrocksandpebblesanddriftwood.Thewindwasasconstantastherivercurrent,andIcouldn’thelpbutfeelsoothedbyitsfluttering.
Afterawhile,wecametoawashed-uptreetrunk,andJackdecidedtositonit.
Isatnexttohim.
Usually,whenyouseepeopleforthelasttime,youdon’tknowit’sthelasttime.Iwasn’tsureifthiswasbetterorworse.ButIdidn’twanttotalkaboutit.Iwantedtotalkaboutsomethingordinary.Somethingwe’dbetalkingaboutifitwerejustanyoldday.
“CanIaskyousomethingaboutbeinganactor?”Iaskedthen.
“Sure.Shoot.”
“Howdoyoumakeyourselfcry?”
Jacktiltedhisheadatmelikethatwasaprettygoodquestion.“Okay.Thebestwayistogetsointoyourcharacterthatyoufeelwhathe’sfeeling—andthenifhe’sfeelingthethingsthatmakepeoplecry…suddenlyyou’recrying,too.”
“Howoftendoesthathappen?”Iasked
“Fivepercentofthetime.ButI’mworkingonit.”
“That’snotmuch.”
Jacknodded,watchingtheriver.“Yeah.Especiallyonamovieset.Becausetherearesomanydistractions—somanycranesandboomsandcrewmembersandextraseverywhere.Andit’stoocoldortoohotortheyputaweirdgelinyourhairthat’skindofitchy.Whenit’slikethat,youhavetoworkalotharder.”
“Likehow?”
“Youhavetoactivelythinkaboutsomethingrealfromyourownlife—somethingtrue—thatmakesyoufeelsad.Youhavetogotherementallyandfeelthosefeelingsuntilthetearscome.”
“Thatsoundshard.”
“Itis.Butthealternativeismessinguptheshot,soyou’remotivated.”
“Whatifyoujustcan’tcry?”
JacklookedatmelikehewasassessingifIcouldhandletheanswer.“Ifyoujustcan’tcry,there’sastick.”
“Astick?”
“Yeah.Themakeupfolksrubitunderyoureyes,anditmakesyoureyeswater.Likeonions.”
“Thatsoundslikecheating.”
“It’stotallycheating.Andeverybodyknowsyou’recheatingbecausetheyjustwatchedithappen.Andthey’rejudgingyou.Andthatmakesitallevenharder.”
“Viciouscycle,”Isaid,likeBeenthere
“Exactly.ButIhaveanothertrick.”
“What’sthat?”
“Don’tblink.”
Iblinked.
“That’sthetrick,”Jacksaid.“Justdon’tblink.”
“Youmeanjustholdyoureyelidsopeninastare?”
“Besubtleaboutit—but,yeah.Ifyoureyesstarttodryout,they’llwater.Then,presto.Tears.”
“Howdoyoudothatwithoutlookingweird?”
“Howdoyoudoanythingwithoutlookingweird?”
“Wait,”Isaid.“TellmeyoudidnotdothatforTheDestroyers.”
Jackclampedhismouthshut.
Ileanedcloser.“TellmethatwhenTheDestroyerisweepingforanentirelostuniverseandit’soneofthemostmovingmomentsinthehistoryofcinemathathedidnotjusthave…dryeyeballs.”
“Nocomment.”
“OhmyGod!You’reamonster!”
“Youasked,”Jacksaid.
Istaredathim.
Thenhesquintedatme.“YouknowI’mnotreallyTheDestroyer,right?”
“Ofcourse.”Mostly.
“Thatwasamovie.”
“Iknowthat.”
“Iwaspaidtoactinit.Itwasn’treal.”
ButIwasstillprocessing.“ShouldIbemadatyourightnow?”
ButJackwasmovingon.“No,”hesaid,rotatingtowardmeonthelog.“Youshouldbeadmiringme.”Heswunghislegoverthetreetrunk,sohewasastrideit,swattingatmykneeformetodothesame,untilwewerefacingeachother,kneestouching.“Okay,”hesaid,leaningin.“Firstonetocrywins.”
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“I’mteachingyouhowtocry.”
“Idon’tneedhelpwiththat.”
“Howtofakecry.Itcomesinsurprisinglyhandy.Justthinkofitasastaringcontest.”
“Idon’twanttohaveastaringcontest.”
“Toolate.”
Igavehimashortsighofcapitulation
“Comeon,comeon,”Jacksaid,wavingmecloser.
Fine.Ileanedforwardalittle.
Jackleanedforward,too.
Andthenwewerestaringateachother,nosesafewinchesapart—notblinking.Theairbetweenusfeltstrangelysilky.
Andwhenitgottoointense,Isaid,“I’veheardthere’sascientificthingthatifyoulookintosomeone’seyesfortoolong,you’llfallinlove.”
Jacklookedaway.
Noted.
Thenhelookedback.“Don’tmessmeup.Startingover.”
Afteralittlelonger,Isaid,“Myeyesarestartingtosting.”
“That’sgood.Leanintothat.Insixtyseconds,you’llbeaprofessionalactress.”
“It’snot…comfortable.”
“Excellenceneveris.”
Ishouldappreciatethismoment,Ithought.Iwashere,inperson,withJackStapleton—theJackStapleton—inthemidmorninglight,drinkinginthecontoursofhisin-real-lifeface.Thecrinklesathiseyes.Thestubbleofhisnot-yet-shavenjaw.Bytomorrow,I’donlyeverseehimagainonscreens.Rememberthis,Itoldmyself.Payattention
“Nocheating,”Jacksaidthen.
“HowwouldIevencheat?”
“Ifyoudon’tknow,I’mnottellingyou.”
“You’retryingtowinthis,aren’tyou?”
“Ofcourse.”
“Ithoughtyouwerejustteachingme.”
“Havetokeepitinteresting.”
Itwasalreadyinteresting,butokay.
“Anddon’tmakemelaugh,”Jacksaid,allstern.
“Youneverlaugh,”Isaid.
“I’mserious,”hesaid.“Stopit.”
“Stopwhat?”
“Stopdoingthatwithyourface.”
“I’mnotdoinganythingwithmyface.”
“It’smakingmelaugh.”
“That’syourproblem,notmine.”
Butnext,Jackbroke.Hiswholefacejustshiftedintoafull-territorysmile.Thenhedroppedhisheadandhisshouldersshook.
“You’reterribleatthis,”Isaid.
“It’snotme,it’syou.”Hestillhadn’tliftedhishead.
“Soit’snotthatthefirstpersontocrywins—it’sthefirstpersontodissolveintogigglesloses.”
“Mendon’tdissolveintogiggles.”
“Youdo.”
Jackliftedhishead,eyesstillbright,stillsmiling.“Iguessit’seasierifyoudislikeyourscenepartner.”
Thatgotmyattention.“Doyoudislikeyourscenepartners?”
“Sometimes.”
“Notintherom-coms,though.NotKatiePalmer.”
Jackmadeaface.“KatiePalmeristheworst.”
Igaspedinprotest.“Thatcan’tbetrue.”
ButJacknodded,likeSorry.“She’srude,she’snarcissistic,she’ssucksuptothebigshots.She’sthekindofpersonwhohumiliateswaiters.”
Iputmyhandsovermyface.“DonotspeakillofKatiePalmer!She’sanationaltreasure.”
“Well,she’samean-assperson.Andshe’saterribleactress.”
Icoveredmymouthwithmyhand.“Stop!You’reruiningher!”
“Shewasalreadyruined.”
“Butthatmovie!Youguysweresoinlove.”
“Guesswhat?Wewereacting.”
“Butthatkiss.Thatepickiss!”
“Youwannaknowwhythatkisswassogood?Becausethesoonerwegotthetake,thesoonertheshootingdaywasover.”
“But!But…”Thiswashowtodaywasgoingtogo?Jackwasgoingtoruinmyfavoritekissofalltime?
Thenheadded,“Andshehasterriblebreath,too.”
Dammit!“Thatcan’tbetrue.”
“It’strue.She’sfamousforit.Herbreathsmellslikeelephants.”
“Likeelephants?”
“Likewhenyougotothezooandstandneartheelephants.Thatsmell.Butwarm.Andmoist.”
Ijustsqueezedmyeyesclosedandshookmyhead.
Jackwenton,“That’swhypeoplecallher‘Peanuts.’”
NowIopenedmyeyesandblinkedathim
“Ihavegreatbreath,bytheway,”Jacksaidthen.
Iblinkedagain.
“Likecinnamonrolls,”hesaid,givingmeanactualwink.
Whatwashappeninghere?“But…whataboutthethingyousaidaboutcrying—whenit’sreallyworking,you’refeelingthefeelingsasthecharacter?”
“That’sagoodquestion,”Jacksaid,allprofessorial,pointingatme.“Whenyou’reworkingwithsomeonereallygood,thatcanhappen.IcouldtotallydothatwithMerylStreep.”
“Wait—haveyoukissedMerylStreep?”
“Notyet.Givemetime.”
Ipunchedhimintheshoulder,likeRootingforya,buddy
“Alltosay,”Jackconcluded,“yes.Youcankisseachotherasthecharacters.”
“Thankyou,”Isaid,likehe’djustputtheworldbackinitsproperorder.
Thenheadded,“Butnotwhenyou’rekissingKatiePalmer.”
“Dammit!”
Hekeptgoing.“It’sallchoreographed.You’rethinkingaboutyourblocking,andtheangles,andhittingyourmark,andnothavingadoublechin,andmakingsureyourlipsdon’tgetfoldedupinaweirdway.It’sverytechnical.Youtalkabouteverythingbeforehand.Youknow,‘Willtherebetongue?’Thatkindofstuff.”
“Willtherebetongue?”
“Almostnever.”
Wasthatdisappointing?Icouldn’tdecide.
“Youhavetoblockitoutinadvance,”Jackwenton.“That’strueforallon-screenkissing,really.It’stheoppositeofrealkissing.Screenkissingisallabouthowyoulook.Realkissing,ofcourse”—heglancedawayforasecond—“isabouthowyoufeel.”
“Huh,”Isaid.
“Yeah,”Jacksaid.
“SoyouhatedkissingKatiePalmer…”Isaid.
“Affirmative.IhatedkissingPeanutsPalmer.”
“Myfavoritekissofalltime,”Isaid,tryingtoabsorbthenews,“wasahatekiss.”
Jackshookhishead.“Yourfavoritekissofalltimewasalet’s-get-this-done-and-get-out-of-herekiss.”
Isighed.Ilookedattheriver,justoverthereflowingalonglikenothinghadhappened.ThenIsaid,“ImissthetimewhenIdidn’tknowthat.”
“SodoI.”
“Youjustruinedmyfavoritekiss.”
Jackgavemealittleshrug,likeThem’sthebreaks.Thenhesaid,“MaybesomedayI’llmakeituptoyou.”Twenty-Four
ATDINNER,IkeptwaitingforJacktoconfessthefakerelationshiptohisparents—andJackkeptputtingitoff.
I’dmadeusfishtacosfordinner.Maybehedidn’twanttospoilthemeal?
Ididn’twanttospoilthemeal,either.
Ifoundmyselflookingfurtivelyaroundthetable.Ididn’tfigureHankwouldcaretoomuch,butIdreadedthemomentwhenDocandConniewouldrealizewe’dbeenlyingtothemallthistime.
WhenDocwasstartingtoclearplatesandJackstillhadn’tsaidanything,Igotitstarted.“Doc?Connie?There’ssomethingJackandIneedtotellyou.”
Connieliftedherhandtohercollarboneindelight.“Iknewit.”
“Youdid?”Iasked,glancingatJack.
“Icalleditlikeaweekago.Didn’tIcallit,honey?”ConniesaidtoDoc.
“Youcalledit,”Docconfirmed.
IlookedatJack.
“Idon’tthinkthisis—”Jackstarted.
“Let’sdoithere,”Conniesaid.“We’llhandleeverything.”
“Dowhat?”Jackasked.
Hismotherfrowned,likeDuh.“Thewedding.”
Jacklookedoveratme.
Isighed.
“Mom,”Jacksaid,“we’renotgettingmarried.”
ButConniejustwavedthatnotionoff,likeNonsense.“Ofcourseyouare.”
“Mom—”
“I’mtellingyou.Ialreadycalledit.You’reperfectforeachother.”
Jacklookedalittlegreen.Thiswasgoingtobeworsethanhethought.“Mom,we’renotgettingmarried.Infact,”heglancedoveratmeforcourage,“Hannah’snotevenreallymygirlfriend.”
Jack’sdadhadreturnedtohisseat—andnowtheybothstaredatus,uncomprehending.
“Notyourgirlfriend?”Connieasked.“Whynot?”
“She’sactually…”Jacksaid.“Yousee…”hetriedagain.“Thetruthis…”
“I’mabodyguard,”Isaid.
BothJack’sparentsblinkedatme,butHankfixedhiseyesonJack.
“I’mhisbodyguard,”Iclarified,pointingatJack.
Wegaveitasecondtosinkin.
ThenDocsaid,“Aren’tyoualittleshorttobeabodyguard?”
“I’mtallerthanIlook,”Isaid,justasJacksaid,“Shehasatallpersonality.”
Jackelbowedmeandsaid,“Takehimoutintheyardandfliphim.”
DocfrownedandshiftedhiseyestoJack.“Canshe?”
“Likeyouwouldn’tbelieve.”
“Wewerepretendingtobeacouple,”Iwenton,stayingfocused,“soIcouldstaynearJackandprotecthim.”
Idon’tknowwhatkindofreactionIwasexpecting…butwhatIgot—fromConnieatleast—wasnotit.
“Well,that’sridiculous,”Conniesaid.“Youshouldbedating.You’reclearlyinlovewitheachother.”
“Itwasallpretend,”Isaidverygently.
ButConnieturnedtoJacklikeshedidn’tbelievethatforasecond.“Jack,”shesaid,“wasitallpretend?”
Jackheldhergazeforasecond,andthen,withadecisivenod,said,“Itwasallpretend.”
“Please,”Conniepooh-poohed,shakingherhead.
“I’msosorry,”Isaid.“Hewasacting.”
Butthatjustmadeherlaugh.“He’snotthatgoodanactor.”
“Itwasafakerelationship,”Isaidagain.
“You’vebeensleepingtogetherthiswholetime.Wereyoufakingthat?”
Jacklookeddown.“Hannahsleptonthefloor.”
Thisgotherattention.“Ontheceramic-tilefloor?”
“Iofferedherthebed,”Jacksaid.“Shewouldn’ttakeit.”
Nowthis,Conniewaspissedabout.ShestoodupandreachedacrossthetabletobatatJack’sshoulder.“YouletourHannahsleeponthatcold,hardfloor?Iraisedyoubetterthanthat!Beagentleman!”
Myheartflutteredalittleatthewords“ourHannah.”
“Iwasfine,”Isaid.“I’mtough.”
“Youshouldn’thavetobe,”Conniesaid,andforsomereasonthetendernessinhervoicemademyeyessting.
Icoughed.“Thepointis,weweretryingtokeepJack—everyone—safe.Withoutworryingyou.”
NowHank,whohadbeenmenacinglyquiet,hadaquestion.“Safefromwhat?”
IlookedoveratJack.
Jacktookthereins.“Aminor—almostnonexistent—stalkersituation.”
“Wedidn’twanttotakechances,”Isaid,“butwealsodidn’twanttocreatestressforanyone.”
“Youhadastalker?”Hankasked.
“Have,”Jacksaidwithanod.“Justaminorone.”
“Butratherthanjusttellanyoneaboutit…youlied?”Hanksaid
“Well…”Isaid,tryingtothinkofawaytospinitbetter.“Yes.Butwith…honorableintentions.”
“Idon’tcareifyoulied,”Conniesaid.“Ijustwantyoutogetmarried.”
Jackshookhishead.“Mom,we’renotgettingmarried.We’renoteventogether.”
“Bullshit,”Conniesaid,shockingthewholetable.ThensheofferedJackadeal.“Proposerightnow,andallisforgiven.”
ButbeforeJackcouldrespondtothat,Hankhadanotherquestionforus.“Whynow?”
“Huh?”
“Whyareyoutellingusnow?WhynotjustwaituntilafterThanksgivingandgoonyourway,noquestionsasked?”
“Ah,”Jacksaid.“So…yousee…theminorstalkingsituationrecentlybecamealittlelessminor.”
Hanktensed.“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Itmeansthestalker—who’salwaysbeenveryharmless,writingmelovelettersandknittingmesweaters—”
“That’swherethesweaterscamefrom?”Connieasked.
Jacknodded.
“She’sverytalented,”Conniesaid,withanodofrespect.
Idecidedtohelpout.“She’srecentlyrampedthingsupabit.”
“How?”Hankasked,stillbracingforthefullnews.
“Turnsout,”Isaid,tryingtomakeitfun,“someonesnappedaphotoofJackandmewhenwewereallatthehospitaltheotherweek,and,fromtheangle,itreallykindoflookedlikewewerekissing—whichwemostdefinitelywerenot—andnowthewholeinternetthinksI’mJack’sgirlfriend.”
“Itoldyoutheywereinlove,”ConniesaidtoDoc.
Docpattedherhand.
“Whichwouldn’tmattertoomuch,”Iwenton,“exceptthattheCorgiLadyseemstohavekindof—”
“Snapped,”Jacksaid.
Inodded.“Andnowshe’sbecomeasmidgemoreaggressive.”
“How?”Hankasked.
JackandIlookedateachotherforasecond,andthenJacktookabreathandsaid,“ShewantstomurderHannah.”
Inodded.“Inalotofcreativeways.”
Iwastryingtomakeitatleastalittlefunny—butHankwasn’tgoingthere.
“Jesus!”hesaid,standingsofastheknockedoverhischair.Hestartedpacingthekitchen.“You’vegotamurderousstalkeronyourtail?”
“Weonlyfoundoutthismorning,”Jacksaid.
“Shereallyhasbeenverybenignuntilnow—”Istarted.
“Doessheknowwhereweare?”Hanksaid,steppingtopeeroutthewindow.
“No,”Jacksaid.
“Hank,”Isaid,tryingtosoundasprofessionalaspossiblenow.“You’renotinanydangeratpresent.”
“Thatweknowof,”Hanksaid.
“Nothreatshavebeenmadeagainstyou,”Isaid,“oranymemberofthefamily.Theonlypersonindangerhereisme—andIcanhandlemyselfjustfine.”
“Whatifsheshootsatyouandmisses?”
“That’swhywe’reremovingmefromthisassignmentandreplacingmewithafullteam—bothhereandatJack’splaceintown.TheagencyIworkforisthebestthereis.OnceI’mgone,thedangerwillbeminimal.There’sacarcomingtonighttotakemebacktotown.”
Ihopedmytonewasreassuring.
“I’mstillstrugglingwiththebasics,here,”HanksaidtoJack,theangerbuildinginhisvoice.“Youwereworriedenoughtohireabodyguard,butyoudidn’tseefittotelluswhatwasgoingon?”
“Ididn’twantMomtoworry.”
ButHank’svoicejustkeptgettingtighter.“Diditoccurtoyouthatitmight’vebeenusefulforustohavethisinformation?”
“Thethreatlevelwasverylow,”Isaid.
“Itwasanabundanceofcaution,”Jacksaid.
“Youknewyouwereindanger,”Hanksaid,muchloudernow,“butyoucamehere,anyway.”
“Iwasn’treallyindanger.”
“Butnowyouare.”
“Evennow—”Istarted.
ButHankwasn’treallyinterestedinwhatIhadtosayrightthen.HeturnedtoJackwithhiseyesasdarkandhardasobsidian.“Yourselfishnessreallyknowsnolimits.”
Jackstoodupfast,sotheywerefacingoff.“Don’tcallmeselfish.Youhavenoidea.”
Doc,Connie,andIstayedseatedatourendofthetable—outofthelineoffire—asJackandHankfacedoff.
“TherewereamillionreasonsIdidn’twantyoucomingdownhere,”Hanksaidthen,hisvoiceshiftinguptowardyelling,“startingwiththefactthatI’dbeperfectlyhappytoneverseeyouagain.ButIconfessthatyougettingusallkilleddidnotcrossmymind.”
“Ididn’tgetanyonekilled!”Jackshouted—soloudthatthesilenceafterwardfeltasbrittleascrystal.
“Well,”Hanksaidnext,downshiftingtoalowtonethatwassomehowahundredtimesmoremenacing.“Ithinkthere’sonedeadpersoninthisfamilywhomightdisagreewiththat.”
Atthosewords,JackgrabbedhisdinnerplateandsmashedittothefloorsohardIhalfexpectedittoleaveacrater.Thenheshouted,“Ididn’tkillDrew!”
“Really?”Hankshoutedback,hisvoicesaturatedwithbitterness.“You’regivingyourselfapass?”Heheldupfingersashecountedoff:“Yougotinthecar—drovetoofast—hitthebridgegoingeighty-five—spunoutontheblackice—crashedthroughtherailingandplungedyourselfandourbabybrotherintoanicycoldriver!Whichpartofthatdidn’tkillhim?”
“Thepart”—Jackshouted—“whereIwasn’tdriving!”
Theroomfellquiet.
Jackblinkedatthefloor,likehecouldn’tbelievehe’dactuallysaidit.
Hanktookastepbackandshookhishead,likehewastryingtoclearitout.
“Honey,you…”Conniesaid,lookingupatJackutterlybewildered.
“Iwasn’tdrivingthecarthatnight,”Jacksaidagain,quieter.“Drewwasdriving.”
Hank’svoicewasquietnow,too.“You’resaying…”
“I’msayingIdidn’trealizeDrewhadbeendrinkinguntilwewerealreadyontheroad.AndwhenItoldhimtopullover,hewentfaster.I’msayingthatthewhiskeybottletheyfoundinthecarwasDrew’s.”
“ButDrewdidn’tdrinkanymore,”Docsaid,squintinguplikehecouldn’tmakeitallfit.“Notsincehighschool.HewasinAA.Ithadbeenyears.”
Jacklethiseyesrestonthefloor.“Iguesshewashavinganoffnight.”
Connie’sfacewasnowbrightwithtears.“Whydidn’tyoutellus,sweetheart?”
“Because,”Jacksaid,“Drewaskedmenotto.”
Everybodywaited.
“Whenwecrashedthroughtherailing,”Jacksaid,“andhitthewater,wefloatedatthesurfaceforaminute.Iwasrollingdownthewindowsandpoppingourseatbelts,butallDrewcoulddowasshakehisheadandsay,‘Don’ttellMomandDad.Don’ttellHank.’Hesaidittentimes—maybetwenty?Overandover.AndIwasjusttryingtogethimfocusedandgethimout,soIjustkeptsaying,‘Iwon’t,buddy.Justrollyourwindowdown.’Intheend,whenthewatercamein,Ipushedhimoutofthewindow.Andwhentheyfoundhimdrowned,allIcouldthinkwas,Thatwashislastrequest.Thatwasthelastthinghewanted.Tonotletthemdown.
“AndsoIhonoredit.ItseemedliketheleastIcoulddoforhim—forallofus.Tonotmakethingsworse.EvenaftertherumorsstartedthatIwastheonewho’dbeendrinking,Ididn’tfeellikeIcouldbreakthatpromise.Iwasgoingtotakeitalltomygrave,whateverittook.ButIguessIcouldn’tevendothatmuch.”
Hepushedoutasighlikehewasdisappointedinhimself.
Foraminute,wealljuststared.
Ithoughtabouthow,inhisdream,itwasalwaysJackwhohadtodrownandnotDrew.MaybeJackwasstilltryingtosavehim.Or,maybehewantedtotakehisplace.
Heseemedlikethekindofguywhowoulddothat,ifhecould.
Then,indecisivesteps,hisroperscrunchingoverbrokenbitsofJack’sdinnerplate,Hankwalkedstraightovertohisbrother.
“That’swhyyou’rewearinghisnecklace?”Hankasked.
ItwasDrew’snecklace.
Jacknodded,andthenheleanedinandpressedhisforeheadagainstHank’sshoulder.Hankbroughthisarmsupandcrookedthemintoahug.
AndthenIcouldseefromJack’sshouldershewascrying.
That’swhenDochelpedConniestandsotheycouldgototheboysandputtheirarmsaroundthem.
AndjustasIwasthinkingIshouldprobablybackawayquietlyandletthislittlefamilyhaveamomenttothemselves…Conniereachedoutformyhandandpulledmeintothegrouphug,too.
NEXT,HANKTOOKJackoutsidetogetsomeair.Alongoverduebrotherlymoment.
ItwasonlyaftertheyweregonethattherestofusrememberedthatI’dbeenrightinthemiddleofsayinggoodbye.
Afterabeat,Connieturnedtomeandasked,“Doesthiswholepretendrelationshipthingmeanyouwon’tbecomingtoThanksgiving?”Shewasblottinghertearyfacewithanapkin.
Ishookmyhead.“Iwon’t.”
“WillyouandJackstillseeeachother?”
“No.NotafterIgo.”
“Notevenforfun?”
“I’mnotverybigonfun,”Isaid.
Atthat,Connieburstoutwithalaughandsaid,“You’rethemostfunJack’shadinyears.”
IthoughtofRobbytellingmeIwasnofun,andIfeltsogratefultoConnieforcontradictinghim.
“You’realwayswelcometocomevisitus,”Conniesaidthen.
ButIshookmyhead.“That’snothowitworks,”Isaid,notinghowtightmythroatfelt.“Ireallywon’tseeanyofyouagainaftertoday.”
Connieshookherhead,likeshejustcouldn’tmakesenseofthat.
PoorDocandConnie.Theyhadalottotakein.
Andthat’swhenIdecidedtogoaheadandsaysomethingreal.“Iknowthetiming’sveryodd,”Isaid.“Butsinceit’smylastchancetosayit,Iwantyoutoknowthatthiswasahighlyatypicalassignmentforme.Inever,evergetattachedtoclients.ButIgotveryattachedtoyou.”
“Tome?”Connieasked.
“Toallofyou.Indifferentways,”Isaid—andthenIhadn’tplannedtosaythis,butbeforeIknewit,itwashappening:“Mymomdiedthisyear,andbeingwithyouhasbeenvery…meaningfulforme.”
“Oh,sweetheart,”Conniesaid,reachingformyhandandpressingitbetweenhers.
“Shewasn’tanythinglikeyou,”Ifoundmyselfsaying.“Shewastroubled.Anddifficult.Andshealwaysmadethingsworseinsteadofbetter.Youdon’tremindmeofher,but…”Mythroatfeltthick,butIkeptgoing.“IguessyouremindmeofthemomIalwayswishedIhad.”
Conniemetmyeyes.“I’mgladIcouldbethatforyou.”
“WhileIwashere,”Iwenton,“IfeltlikeIhadafamily.”Itookabreath.“Mychildhoodwasn’t…”Ididn’tknowwhattosay.“IguessIneverknewwhatalovingfamilyfeltlike.Andeventhough…”Ifeltmyvoicestartingtotremble.“EventhoughIwon’tbeabletobeapartofthisoneinthefuture,Ilovedbeingwithyou.AndI’mjustsogratefultoknowthatfamilieslikeyoursevenexist.”
Itookadeepbreathandheldit,tryingtosettlemyself.Buttherewasonemorething.
“I’llmissyou,iswhatI’mtryingtosay.Genuinely.”
“WhataboutJack?”Connieasked.“Willyoumisshim?”
Idebatedhowmuchtoconfess.“Iwill,”Isaid.Thatseemedlikeplenty.
“Helikesyou.Icantell.”
Butherewewere,attheend.Iwouldn’tevenletmyselfwishthatweretrue.Instead,Ishookmyhead.“Ithinkmaybe,”Isaid,“he’samuchbetteractorthanyouthink.”Twenty-Five
AMADISHOWEDUPtotakemebacktotownbeforeJackandHankcameback.
“You’realittleearly,”Isaid,checkingmyphone.
“Yeah,”Amadisaid.“We’vegotasicklittleoneathome,somywife…”
“Gotit.”Inodded.
Ithadn’ttakenlongtopackupmythings.Therewasn’tallthatmuchtodo.IevenputJack’stoothpastecapbackonforhim.
Ithought,forasecond,aboutleavinganoteortakingapicture.HowelsewouldIrememberthesightofJack’sunmadebed,ortheJack-shapedpilesofhisclothesscatteredaroundlikebearskinrugs?
ButIfellbackonprofessionalism.Therewasaleave-no-traceprotocolforthesethings.Iwasneverthere.
Amadiloadedmysuitcaseintoourblack,secret-serviceycompanyTahoe,andthen,withoutbreakingstride,heopenedthepassengerdoorformeandwalkedaroundtothedriver’sseat.
Hewasreadytomove.
Iwalkedtomydoor,butIhesitated.
Ilookedaroundforsignsofeitherbrother,butnothing—justtreesrustling,thefaintbeginningsofstars,aclumpofcowsbythefencewatchinguswiththeirsadeyes.
“I’msorry—”Isaid.“CanIjusthaveaminute?”
Amadicheckedhiswatch,buthesaid,“Okay.”
Therewasalightoninthebarn.Maybetheywerethere?
Butthebarnwasempty.
Iwalkedbackslowly,scanningthefields.IcouldseeClipperinthepaddock.Iblewhimakiss.
TheideaofnotsayinggoodbyetoJackmademefeel…panicky—eventhoughIneversaidgoodbyetoclients.Wouldsayinggoodbyeevenmatter?Itwouldn’tchangeanything.ButIfeltlikeIhadahundredurgentmessagesforJack—andallIwantedwastoconveythemall.Whatevertheywere.
BackattheTahoe,Istoodbytheopendoorforanotherminute,scanningtheyardandwaiting.
Andthenitwastimetoquitstalling.
Iclimbedin,swungthedoorclosed,andbuckledup.
“Okay,”Isaid.“Let’sgo.”
Amadipulledontothegraveldriveandsteeredusoutoftheyard,overthecattleguard,anddownthelongroadwhereJackhadfakehuggedmesomanytimes
Itwasfine.Itwasbetterthisway.Probably.
Itookabreathandheldittightinmychest.Iwasnotgoingtocry.Notinfrontofacolleague.Notoveraclient.Thatwassomethingtofocuson,atleast:holdingittogether.Icoulddothis.Icoulddothis.
ButthenAmadibraked.Heslowed,thenstopped,intheroad.
Hewascheckingtherearviewmirror.“Isthattheprincipal?”
Itwistedaroundtolookouttheback.
Yep.ItwasJack.Runningafterusdownthegravellane.
“Givemeaminute,”Isaid,climbingout.
Jackmetme,stoppingbarelytwofeetaway,outofbreath.“Youleft,”hepanted,“withoutsayinggoodbye.”
“Iwaited,”Isaid.“Butwehadtogo.”
Jacktriedtolethisbreathcatchup.“Ithoughtwehadmoretime.”
“Wherewereyou?”Iasked.
“Hankhadsomethingstosay.”
Inodded.
“I’mreallysorry,”Jacksaidthen,“aboutthedeaththreats.I’mreallysorrythatIputyourlifeindanger.”
“I’llbeokay,”Isaid.“AslongasIstayawayfromyou.”
Itwasahalfjoke,butJackdidn’tthinkitwasfunny.
“Don’tworry,”Isaidthen.“TheCorgiLadywillmoveoneventually.That’showthesethingswork.”
“Thankyou.Foreverything,”hesaid,takingastepcloser.“Iwantedtosaythattoyoubeforeyouleft.”
Inodded.“Iwantedtosaysomethingtoyou,too.”
Jackmetmyeyesandwaited.
Butthentwentydifferentthingspoppedintomyhead.Therewasnowaytosayitall.Orevenprioritize.Ifinallywentwith,“Youdidtherightthingjustnow.”
Jackletoutafunnylittlelaughandlookeddown.
“IknowitwasDrew’slastwish,andIneverevenmethim,butIdon’tthinkhe’dwantonethinghesaidinapanictoripyourfamilyapartforever.”
“Let’shopenot,”Jacksaid.Then,“Toolatenow.”
“Yourmomwasright,”Isaid.
“Mymom’salwaysright.”
“ForcingyouandHanktogetherwasagoodthing.”
Jacknodded.“Goodthinghe’ssogreatatpissingmeoff.”
Backinthecar,Amadiflickedthelightsonandoff.
“Lookslikeit’stime,”Jacksaid.
“Yes,”Isaid.“ButIneedyoutoknow…”
Ihesitated.Itreallywastimetogo.TherewasatinypartofmethatthoughtIshouldtellJacksomethingreal.ThatIlikedhim.ThatI’dfallenforhim.Thateventhoughithadbeenfake—maybeevenbecauseithadbeenfake—ithadsomehowbecomethemostrealthinginmylife.
Buthowhumiliatingwasthat?
Onceweparted,there’dbenowaytogetintouchwithhim.He’ddisappearbehindthatcurtainoffamethatseparatescelebritiesfromeverybodyelse,andI’ddisappearintomyworkaholic,on-the-runlife.IfthisreallywasthelasttimeI’deverseehim,thenthiswasmyonlychancetotellthetruth,andIdidn’twanttospendtherestofmyliferegrettingeverythingIshould’vesaid.
Hehadmeantsomethingtome.Hehadmatteredtome.HehadtaughtmethingsIdidn’tknowIneededtolearn.Mytimewithhimhadchangedme,andIwasgrateful.
Iwantedhimtoknowthat.
Thiswasmyonlychancetosayit…
ButIchickenedout.
Itwastoounprofessional.Itwastooscary.ItwastoomuchliketheCorgiLady.
Thatwasme,apparently:scaredofcows,andscaredoflove.
Instead,Iheldmyhandouttoshakelikewewereacorporateevent.“Ineedyoutoknowthatitwasreallygreatworkingforyou,”Isaid.
Andthen,justlikethat,onceI’dpoppedusbackintothatprofessionalframework,Jackhadnochoicebuttofollow
Hefrowned,buthetookmyhandandshookit.“Thankyouforyourservice.”
Igaveaprofessionalnod,turnedintightformation,andstartedwalkingbacktowardthecar—thecapsleevesofmyembroideredgirlfriendblouseflutteringatmyshoulders.
ButasIpulledopenthedoor,IheardJackcall,“Hannah!”
Iturned.
Hehadhishandsinhispockets,andhelookedatmeforagoodmomentbeforehesaid,“Ineedyoutoknowsomething.”
Iheldmybreath.
ThenJacksaid,“Iwillreallymissyou.AndIamnotacting.”Twenty-Six
ILEFTTHATnight,butIdidn’tgohome.
Homewasmyoldapartment,asweetlittleold-timeypadina1920’sfourplexinthefunkypartoftown.Homehadanarchwayintothelivingroomandalittlebuilt-intelephoneshelfinthehall.HomewaswhereI’dlivedforthreeyearsbeforefleeinginadesperateattempttoneverhavetoseeTaylornextdooragain.
TheapartmentIwentbacktonowwasoneI’drentedsightunseenontheeighthfloorofabrand-new,ultramodern,totallygenericcomplex—alsointhefunkypartoftown.
AndcanIjustnotetheironyofthis?WhenIfoundmywaytothefrontdoorforthefirsttime,whowasstandingguardatit?
Taylor.
Becauseofcourseshewas.
“Ithadtobeyou,huh?”Isaid,asIworkedthekeypad.ThenIsaid,“Glennmustbeanactualsadist.”
Shedidn’tturnherhead.“Iaskedforthisduty.”
WasIsupposedtorespondtothat?WasIsupposedtothankherorsomething?No.Noway.Shecoulddoalotofthingstome,butshecouldn’tforcemetomakechitchat.Isteppedinsideandclosedthedoorbehindme,andthatwastheonlyresponseshegot:aloud,hollowclonk
AndthenIwasalone.
Reallyalone.Forthefirsttimeinweeks.
Theplacewasstackedhighwithboxes,andthemovershadtakenajust-drop-it-anywhereapproachtothefurniture.Thebed,forexample,wasinthemiddleofthebedroom,likeanisland.
Butitwasfine.
Iwalkedovertothebalconyandsteppedouttotakeintheview.
Thiswasgood,Itoldmyself.Thiswaspersonaltime.Timetorechargeandreflect.MaybeI’dstartagratitudejournal.MaybeI’dtakeupcalligraphy.IhadsometimebeforeIleftforKorea.Therehadtobeawaytomakethemostofit.Maybeit’snotapunishment.Maybeit’sachance
Butachanceforwhat?
IorderedKoreantakeoutfordinner,andwhenthedeliveryguyshowedup,Isaid,“Kamsahamnida”tohimwithalittlenodinmywarmestpossiblevoice—tomakeutterlycleartoTaylor,standingrightnexttous,thathewassomeoneIwarmlyrespected…andshewasmostdefinitelynot.
ThenIwentinsideandsatonsomeboxeswithdisposablechopsticksandatebymyself.
BythetimeIwasdone,Ihadeatentoomuch,drippedonthebox,andhadsomuchleftoverbulgogiandbibimbapthatIcouldn’tstopthethoughtfromenteringmymindthatIshouldtakesomeouttoTaylor.
Butthenthatfeltlikelettingherwin
Instead,Iputtheleftoversinthefridgeforbreakfast,satcross-leggedonthefloor,andstaredoutmycurtainlesswindows.
Mymindwasablank.Thisapartmentwasablank.Mylifewasablank.
Ishouldhavefelthappy.Ishouldhavefeltrelieved.IfIhadn’twantedtogototheranchinthefirstplace,andifescapewasmyfavoritething,thenIshouldhavedrivenbacktothecityintriumph.
Butitfeltliketheoppositeoftriumph.
I’dgottenwhatIwanted—itjustwasn’twhatIwantedanymore.
I’dfallenforourfakerelationship,likethedumbestofdumbdummies,andI’ddoneacompleteone-eighty.NowallIwantedtodowasstay
Butofcourse,Icouldn’tstay.
Ihadplayedmyroleanddonemyjob.I’ddonewhatGlennwanted.I’dkeptmyselfintherunningforLondon.
Itwastimetogetbacktomyreallife.Andmyreallife—thewayI’dsetitup,thewayI’dalwayspreferredit—wasalwaysaboutgoing,notstaying.Iwasgoodatit.Ireveledinit.Inlessthantwoweeks,I’dleaveforKoreaandstartfreshinSeoul—anewjob,newclients,andnothingatalltoremindmeofJackStapleton.
Excepthe’dprobablyshowuponKoreanbillboardssomehow.Knowinghim.
Thepointis:No,Iwasn’tgoingtounpacktheseboxes.Iwasn’tgoingtogotoIkeaandbuythrowpillowsandarrangehouseplantsincolorfulScandinavianpots.Iwasn’tgoingtonest.IwasgoingtoletmylifeinHoustonfeelassadandsterileandunwelcomingaspossible,foraslongaspossible,soIwouldhavenothingatalltomakemeyearntostayhere.
Nothingelse,anyway.Besidestheobvious.
Thatbecametheplan.Iwouldmaxoutmymiserylevelssoanythingatallseemedlikeanimprovement.
Itwasn’tagreatplan,orevenagoodone.ButitwasallIhad.
Anditturnedout,Iwouldn’thavetoworkthathardtomakemyselfmiserable
Theworldwasgoingtodoitforme.
Becausethreenightsafterleavingtheranch,whenIwassittingonapackingbox,eatingtakeoutTex-Mexoutofthecontainerandscrollingmindlesslythroughmyphone,IhappenedtocomeuponapromotedvideobynoneotherthanKennedyMonroe.
“Holyshit,”Isaidoutloud,droppingmytaco.
ShewasinTexas,apparently—filmingsomekindofsuperheromovielocatedinadesiccatedhellscapeoutnearAmarillo.
Andshe’djustdecidedtopopdownandsurpriseherboyfriend.JackStapleton.InHouston.Oncamera.
“WhatpromptedthetriptoHouston?”thecameraguyasked.
“Oh,youknow,”KennedyMonroesaid.“Iwasintheneighborhood.”
“Whatneighborhoodisthat?”
Shesmiled.“Texas.”
Intheneighborhood?Please.AmarillowasninehoursfromHouston.Ifyoudidn’tgetcaughtinaduststorm.
ButIwasmesmerizedbyher.Theperfection.Theotherworldlybeauty.Shedidn’thaveabump,oralump,oranonsymmetricalplaceonherbody.Shecouldhavebeenbuiltinafactory—and,okay,sheprobablywas.Imean,sure,shewasaposterchildforcosmeticsurgery…butitwasgoodcosmeticsurgery.Ihadtohandittoher.Shewasaworkofart.
Iwasjustadmiringmyownabilitytobesocomplimentaryandemotionallygenerouswithher,ratherthan,say,rottinginwardlywithjealousy,whenthecamerapulledbackabitandIrealizedthatshewasstandinginfrontofaverystylishbluefrontdoor.
Nexttoanunmistakablefull-heightfiddle-leaffigplant.
Oh,shit.ShewasatJack’shouse
Allgenerosityofspiritdisintegrated.
Apparently,thiswassomekindofsneaker-upperWebserieswhereshewassurprisingJackwithhervisit.Shewalkeduptothedooratthesleekentrywayandknocked.Thensheturnedbacktothecameraguy,poutedherpoutylips,andmadeaShhgesture.
IpausedthevideototextGlenn.
DoyouknowthatKennedyMonroetookacameracrewtoStapleton’shouse???
Yes.Thisisoldnews.It’sbeinghandled.
Isentafewmoretexts—Whatthehell?Wholetthishappen?—butwhenGlenndidn’treply,Iswitchedbackovertofinishwatching:
Jack’sdoorswungopen,andoutsteppedthemanhimself.
Barefoot.InhisLevi’s.AndhisfavoriteflanneljacketoveraT-shirtI’dlastseenwaddeduponthebathroomfloor.
Justthesightofhim—evenphone-sizedandmadeoflightpixels—sentabuzzypleasurecascadingthroughmybody.
“Whoa!Hey!”Jacksaid,asKennedyMonroearchedherselfintoahugthatsomehowmadeherseemlikeaSiamesecat.Wasitthewayshestuckoutherassandpressedherunderboobsagainsthistorso?Orthewaysherubbedagainsthimlikeshewasmarkingherterritory?Orthewayshepurred?
Whatever.ItwouldbesomethingIcouldneverunsee.
“Ijustwantedtosayhi,”KennedyMonroesaidthen,turningbacktothecamera,“andIbroughtsomefriendsalong.”
Andthenshelaunchedintothemostvapid,pointlesscelebrityinterviewI’deverseeninmylife—comprisedmostlyofhairflips,giggles,accidentalcleavageshots,andhard-hittingquestionsforJacklike,“Areyougettinghotter?”
Iwillspareyoutheinsultingdetails.Iwatcheditsoyoudon’thaveto.
Actually,Irubberneckedit.
Icouldn’tforcemyselftolookaway.
ItwasmostlyJack,ofcourse—thesightofhimwaslikeafeastformysalivatingeyes.ButitwasalsoKennedyMonroe.Seeingherthere,withhim.Tryingtoimaginethetwoofthemasacouple.Lookingforanykindofsparkorchemistrybetweenthematall.Anything.
I’dkindofforgottenabouther.
Jackwasgraciousandcharmingandrelentlesslyhandsome.
ButIrealizedsomethingelseasIwatchedhim.Hewasn’tattractedtoher.
Afteralltheseweeksoffeelinglikemyradarwasoff—likealltheactinghadscrambledallmysignals—IsuddenlyrealizedI’dbeenunderestimatingmyself.
IcouldreadJackjustfine.
KennedyMonroewasposingforthecamera,andtossingherhair,andpreening—andhewaswatchingherandplayingalong.Butthetiltofhishead,thecrookofhiseyebrow,thesquintofhiseyes,theangleofhissmile,thetensioninhisspine…theyallsaid,Nope
I’mparaphrasing,butstill.
Thepointwas,Icouldreadhim.What’smore,Icouldseetheacting.Allthistime,I’dthoughtIcouldn’tdiscernthetruthabouthim.ButitturnedoutIcouldreadhimaswellasanybodyelse.Maybebetter.
Andonethingwasclearasday.Hewasmoreattractedtothatfiddle-leaffigthanhewastoKennedyMonroe.
Couldthisbeafakerelationship,too?
Whensheflippedherhair,hebarelynoticed.Whenhesmiled,itwasmechanical.Whenshepulledhisshirttotrytobringhiminforakiss,hetwistedawaylikehethoughthe’dheardsomeonecallhisname.
“Jack,”Kennedysaidthen,turningbacktothecameraandlookingstraightintoit.“I’mgoingtoneedyourfullattention.”
Jackturnedbackaround.“Okay,”hesaid.“You’vegotit.”
“BecauseI’vegotabigquestionforyou,andyoudon’twanttomissit.”
“Okay,”Jacksaid,puttinghishandsinhispockets.“Shoot.”
AtlastsheturnedawayfromthecameratomeetJack’seyes.“Myquestion,”shesaid,nowleaningincloser,“isthis.”Sheturnedbacktogivethecameraonemorewink.ThensheturnedbacktoJackandsaid,“Willyoumarryme?”
ATTHOSEWORDS,Idroppedmyphone.
AndbythetimeIpickeditbackup,thevideowasover.
DidIjustseethat?DidKennedyMonroejustproposetoJack?
Suddenly,Ifeltalotlesssureofmyself.
HadIbeenabletoreadhim?Orhadthatalljustbeenmyownwishfulthinking?
Irewoundtheending,wantingtoseeJack’sanswertotheproposal.Butmysecondwatchwasnomoreusefulthanthefirst.Apparently,they’dendeditonacliff-hanger.Kennedypopsthequestion,thenthecamerazoomsinonJackstaringather,andthenwe’redonefortheday.
Irewounditonemoretime.Justincase.
Noanswerthattime,either.Butonthisthird—and,honestly,notevenfinal—viewing,InoticedsomethingmoreinterestingthantheshockonJack’sface
Atminute8:03,justinthewakeofherkissattemptwhenshe’dpulledonhisT-shirt,asJackturnedbacktothecamera,hisshirtwasaskew.KennedyMonroehadpulleditforwardandshiftedthecollardown.
Whichrevealedhisleathernecklaceforthefirsttime.
Izoomedinalittleonhisface,lettingmyeyessavorhimforminute.Whynot?Avictimlesscrime.
Andthat’swhenInoticedmorethanjustDrew’snecklace.
HangingfromJack’sneck,rightthere—colorfulanddefiantandunmistakable—wasmybeadedsafetypin.
IDIDN’TEVENhavetimetoreacttothesightofitbeforetherewasaknockatmyapartmentdoor.
Ilookedthroughthepeephole,anditwasRobby,stillwearinghissunglassesinside,likeadouchebag.
“Goaway,Robby!”Ishoutedthroughthedoor.
“Ican’thearyou!”Robbyshouted.“Soundproofing!”
IcrackedthedoortoshoutGoaway!again,but,asIdid,Robbywedgedhistoeintothecrack.
“Ineedtotalktoyou,”Robbysaid.“Letmein.”
“I’mnotlettingyouin,”Isaid.Ilookeddownathisshoeholdingmydooropen.
Robbysteppedback.“Ireallyneedtotalktoyou,”hesaid,takingthesunglassesoffandglancingoveratTaylor,stoicashell.
“Talk,then.”
“Inside.”
“You’renotcominginside.”
“Look,”Robbysaid,glancingsidewaysatTayloragain.“IknowthatwhenyouwereoutontheranchyouwereinJackStapleton’sclutches,butI’mhopingnowthatyou’refree,youcanthinkalittlemorerationally.”
Ikeptmyeyeslevel.“Iwasneverinanyone’sclutches,Robby.Notevenyours.”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
“I’minthemiddleofsomething,so—”
“IknewdumpingyouwasamistakeassoonastheplanelandedinMadrid.”
Ipaused.“SoyouwentafterTaylor.”
“Iwassad!Iwaslonely!Iwasrejected!”
“Youdumpedme!”
RobbyglancedoveratTaylor,andthendecidedtokeeptalking,anyway.“Ididn’tevenlikeher,okay?Shewasjust…there.”
IfeltaglimmerofempathyforTaylor’sears,hearingthat.“Yourealizethatmakesitsomuchworse.”
“Atahardtimeinmylife,shewasbetterthannothing,okay?That’sallshewas.”
DiditfeelgoodtowinlikethatinfrontofTaylor?
Undecided.
Imean,wasanybodyreallywinninginthissituation?“Yourealizeshe’sstandingrightthere,right?”Isaid.
“That’syourfault!”Robbysaid.Andthenhesaidsomethingthathitmeinjusttherightwayattherighttime:“Youwouldn’tletmein!”
Atthosewords,Ipaused.Everynowandthen,somethingreally,genuinelytruecutsthroughallthechaosoflifeandjustgetsyourfullattention.“Iwouldn’tletyouin?”Iechoed,moretomyselfthantohim.Itwaslikesomebodyhadflippedthelightsoninashadowyroom.“OhmyGod,Bobby.You’reright.”
“StopcallingmeBobby,”Robbysaid.
“You’reright,though.Youreallyare.”
Robbyfrowned.“Iam?”
ItwaslikeIwasseeinghimforthefirsttime.“Iwouldn’tletyouin.WhenIwasworkingandmissedyourbirthdayparty?AndwhenIhadtodropoutofourgetawayweekendatthelastminute?AndwhenIlostthebraceletyougaveme?WhenI‘workedallthetime’?WhenIwas‘nofun’?Thatwasmenotlettingyouin.”
PossiblyalsowhenIwasa“badkisser.”ButIwasn’tgoingtodignifythosewordsbyspeakingthemoutloud.
RobbyglancedatTaylor,likeWhat’sgoingon?
Sheignoredhim.
Iwenton.“Ithoughtyouwereblamingme,butyouwerejusttellingthetruth.Ithoughtifweweresleepingtogether,thatwaslove.Butyouweresoright.Ididn’tknowwhatlovewas.”
IthoughtaboutJack.Ithoughtaboutthepiggybackridehegavemebackfromtheriver.Ithoughtaboutwhatitfeltliketomakehimlaugh.IthoughtabouthowIrootedforhimeverytimehetriedtoshootsomethingintothekitchentrashandmissed.IthoughtaboutthebuzzoffearthatwentthroughmybodywhenhesomersaultedoffClipper,asifJackbreakinghisneckmightbreakmine,too.Ithoughtaboutthefull-bodyblissofwakingupinhisbed,tangledunderhisweight.IthoughtofthecracklingagonyinmybodyasI’dlookedforhiminvainthatlastnighttosaygoodbye.Ithoughtoftheroiling,dark-greenjealousyjustnowatwatchingKennedyMonroeslatheringherundeservingselfalloverhim.
NowIknew.
InoddedatRobby.“Youwereright.Ididn’tletyouin.”
Robbyjuststared.Howofteninlifedoyouaccuseanex-girlfriendofsomethingandjust…watchheragreewithyou?
“Imean,”Isaid,lookinghimupanddown,“youdidn’tdeservetobeletin.Soit’sagoodthingintheend.Butthankyou.”
Robbywassobefuddled,hismouthhungopen.“Forwhat?”
“Forshowingmewhatloveisn’t,”Isaid.
AndIshovedmydoorclosedandflippedthedeadbolt.Twenty-Seven
THEDAYBEFOREThanksgiving,myphonerang,andwhenIcheckedit,itread:POSSIBLESPAM
Iansweredanyway,ifthatgivesyouasenseofhowlonelyIwas.
Butitwasn’tatelemarketer.
ItwasJackStapleton.
“Hey,”hesaidwhenIpickedup,andIknewhimfromonesyllable.
Icouldalsohearhewasgrinning.
ThensuddenlyhewasFaceTimingme—me,stillinmynightgownwithhairpointingintendifferentdirections—andIcouldseehewasgrinning.
“Didyoumissme?”heasked,lookingpleasedwithhimself.
Iwasdistractedbythereflectionofmyselfinthephone.“No,”Isaid,pawingatmyhair.
“Sonicetoseemyfavoritenightgownagain.”
“Whyareyoucallingme?”
“Importantbusiness.”
“Howdoyouevenhavemynumber?”
“Isweet-talkeditoutofKelly.”
“I’llbet.”
“Thepointis,”Jacksaid,“I’mcallingtotellyouabouttheplanwecameupwithtocatchthestalker.”
“Youcameupwithaplantocatchthestalker?”
Jacknodded.“Astingoperation.Tocatchherintheact.Andthenhaulherdowntotheclink.Andthenscare,pressure,andcajoleherinto,youknow,notmurderingyou.”
“That’stheplanyoucameupwith?”
“Yes,”Jacksaid,lookingpleasedwithhimself.
“YougotGlennonboardwiththat?”
“Yes,”Jacksaid.“Glenn,Bobby,andabunchofpolice.”
Itwassostrangetoseehisfaceagain,eventhroughthephone.Sinceleaving,Ihadtriedtoavoidanythingthatmightforcemetoseeit—watchingtelevision,scanningmagazinesinthecheckoutaisle,oreven,sincethatwhiskeyendorsement,glancingatbusesastheydroveby.
Ihadn’tanticipatedgettingaFaceTimecall.
“Look,”Isaid,“Ihatetodisappointyou,butit’salmostimpossibletodoanythingaboutstalkers.”
“Thanksforthenegativity.”
“I’mnotsureifwhatyoujustdescribedisevenlegal.”
“Don’tworryaboutit.I’vegotawholeteamofadvisors.”
“Whywouldyouevencareaboutthestalker?You’releavingafterThanksgiving,anyway.Twomoredays,andyou’reout.”
“That’sthething,though.Imightnotbe.”
Ididn’tmeanto,butIheldmybreath
“MymomhadthisideathatIshouldmaybestayforawhile.Dosomefishing.Hangout.Doalittlepersonalhealing.”
“That’sagreatplan,”Isaid.
“Youstilldon’tlikemystalkerplan,though,huh?”
“Idon’tevenknowthedetails.ButIcantellyoualreadythatit’llneverwork.”
Jacksmiled.“Butguesswhat?”
“What?”
“Italreadydid.”
Ileanedclosertothephone.“Youdiditalready?”
“Wediditalready.”
HowdidInotknowaboutthis?“Anditworked?”
“Itworked.I’magenius.I’malsoverylucky.”
“Nobodytellsmeanything.”
“IputsomepostsonsocialmediaasaluresayingIcouldn’twaittospendalazyweekendatmyhouseinHouston.”
“Thatwasenoughtolurehertoyourhouse?”
“TheKennedyMonroevideodidn’thurt,either.”
“Ineedtotalktoyouaboutthat.”
ButJackwascelebratinghistriumph.“Andthen,whentheCorgiLadyshowedup,wearrestedherfortrespassing.”
“That’snotgoingtostick.”
“No.Weweregoingtrytoscareherwithlawyersandthreatsanddoomsdayscenarios,butthensomethingbetterhappened.”
“What?”
“Sheusedheronephonecallwhentheybookedhertocallhersister—whowastednotimehoppingonaplanetoTexas,packingupherconversionvan,andmovingher,corgisandall,hometoFlorida.”
ThesisterhadapologizedprofuselytoJackandpromisedtokeepheronhermeds.“She’salwaysbeenmostlyharmless,”she’dsaid.“Shewasfineuntilthedivorcelastyear.Weshouldhavemadehercomehomesooner.We’reonitnow.”
“Thatwaseasy,”IsaidtoJack.ThenIfrowned.“Wasittooeasy?”
“There’snosuchthingastooeasy.”
“ButImean,howreliableisthissister?”
“Idon’tknow,butastalkerwithhersisterinFloridahasgottobebetterthanastalkerallalonerighthereintown.”
“Agreed,”Isaid.
“Anyway,”Jacksaid.“That’swhyI’mcalling.”
“TosayI’mlesslikelytogetmurderednow?”
“ToinviteyoutoThanksgiving.”
Ipaused.ThenIsaid,“Ican’tcometoThanksgiving,Jack.”
“Whynot?Yourwould-beassassinishalfwaytoOrlandobynow.”
“It’snotagoodidea.”
“That’snotarealreason.”
AnimageofKennedyMonroespreadingherselfoverJacklikehewasacakeandshewashisicingappearedinmyhead.“Ithinkit’sbest,”Isaid,“tomakeacleanbreak.”
“Justoneday.Onemeal.Tosayapropergoodbye.”
“Wealreadysaidgoodbye.”Ididn’twanttodoitagain.
“Ihavesomethingtogiveyou,though.”
AndthenheloweredhisphonedownpasthisfamousmouthandhislegendaryAdam’sapple,anglingthecameradownanddownuntilhestoppedonhisnecklace.Andthere,justleaningagainsthiscollarbone,inremarkablysharpfocus,wasmysafetypin.
“Youfoundit,”Isaid,touchingmyfingertothephonescreen.I’dknownit,ofcourse—butIhadn’tentirelybelievedit.
“Idid.”
“Wherewasit?”
“Onthebeachbytheriver.”
“Howcouldyoufinditthere?That’simpossible.”
“I’mprettygoodatimpossiblethings.”
“But—how?”
“Alotoflooking.Andsomedelusionaloptimism.”
I’dhavetorevisemyopinionofdelusionaloptimism.
Jackwenton.“RememberallthosemorningsItoldyouIwashittinggolfballs?”
“Yeah.”
“Iwasn’thittinggolfballs.”
“Youwerelookingforthesafetypin?”
Jacknodded.“Withmydad’smetaldetector.Theonemymomtoldhimwasatotalwasteofmoney.”
“That’swhatwasinthegolfbag?”
“Itsureasheckwasn’tnineirons.Ican’thitagolfballtosavemylife.”
“Youwentdownthereeverymorning?”
“Idid.”
“That’swhatyouweredoing?”
Jacklookedintomyeyesandnodded.
“Ijustthoughtyouwerebeingapainintheass.”
“Thatwasasidebenefit.”
“Youshouldhavetoldme.”
Hisexpressionshiftedonestepmoreserious.“Ididn’twantyoutogetyourhopesup.”
“But,Jack…”Istudiedhisface.Iwassobewildered.“Why?”
Hefrownedlikehewasn’tquitesurehowtoexplainit.Thenhesaid,“Becauseofthelookonyourfacewhenyourealizeditwaslost.”
Ifelttearsinmyeyes.“Idon’tknowhowtoevenstarttothankyou.”
Nowhewassmiling.“Inothernews,I’vestartedabottlecapcollection.”
Ilaughedalittle,butwhenIdid,thetearsspilledover.ItseemedlikeI’dcriedmoreinfourweeksofknowingJackStapletonthaninmyentirelifebeforethat.Thisguyjustkeptcrackingmeopen.Butmaybethatwasn’tentirelyabadthing.
Whenhespokeagain,hisvoicewassofter.“I’mguessingyou’dlikeitback.”
“Yes,please.”
“Easy,”hesaidthen.“Noproblem.Wecanmakethathappen.Allyouhavetodo”—andherehepausedtolookstraightthroughthephonelikehereallymeantbusiness—“iscometoThanksgiving.”
Wellplayed,JackStapleton.Wellplayed.
Isighed.“Fine,dammit.I’llbethere.”Twenty-Eight
IGUESSIexpectedThanksgivingtobethefiveofus.Justlikeoldtimes.
Butitturnedouttobethewholedarnedcounty.
Iarrivedtofindtheyardglowingwithstringlights,haphazardlyziggingandzaggingfromtreetotree,andalongtablerunningthelengthofthegarden,coveredindifferentcoloredginghamtablecloths.
Neighbors,andrelatives,and,actually—tomysurprise—thewholeGlennSchultzExecutiveProtectionteamweremillingaroundtheyard.HankwaschattingwithAmadi.KellywasadmiringConnie’spashmina.DocandGlennwerecheckingoutsomethingonGlenn’sphone.Guessthey’dallreallybonded.
“Lookslikewe’verelaxedabitsincesendingtheCorgiLadytoFlorida,”IsaidtoDoghouse.
“Threatlevelwhite,baby!”Doghousesaid,liftinghishandforahighfive.
Therewerethirtypeoplethere,atleast.
Docworeabowtiewithlittleturkeysonit.Connie,lookingheartyandwell-recovered,wasrockingapoppedcollarandalinentunic.AndJackjustworejeansandasimpleredflannelshirt.
Helookedsogood,Ialmostforgottobreathe.
I’dwornagirlfriendsundress,fornostalgia.Butwithasweater,tights,apom-pomscarf…andmyredcowboyboots.
TheStapletonsdidThanksgivingpotluckstyle.Because,asConnieputit,cookinganentireThanksgivingmealwas“backbreakingandridiculous,”everybodybroughtacoupleoffavoritedishesandsetthemoutinthekitchentoshare.Folksservedthemselves,thenwanderedoutsidetofindaseat.Candleslinedthetable,alongwithcutflowersinantiqueglassBalljarsandbottlesofhomemadeschnappsmadewithFredericksburgpeachsyrupandDoc’sownhomemademoonshine.
Iwasn’tabigdrinker—mymomhaddefinitelydrainedtheglamouroutofthat—buteverynowandthenIhadasiportwo.Todayfeltlikeagooddayforit.Howoftendoyougettositinacountrygardendrinkingmoonshine?
AsIapproachedthetable,therewasanopenseatnexttoJack.ShouldIsitthere?Ifeltatickleofshyhesitationbehindmyribs,butImademyselfstartwalkingtowardhim.Hewastalkingtosomeonedownthetable,hisprofilelitupbythecandles,andmyeyesslurpedinthesightofhim.IkepthiminmysightsasImovedcloser,butthen,justasIwasroundingthecorner,theseatgottaken.
Reallytaken.
ByKennedyMonroe.
Atthesightofher,Ispunaroundtofaceawayfromthem.Shewashere?HadJackinvitedher?Weretheytogetherafterall?Wait—weretheyengaged?Fromareality-TVproposalofhers?WhyonearthwasIevenhere?
Itookadeepbreathtosteadymyself.
Shewasbetterlookinginreallife.Herhairwasshinier.Herlipswereplumper.Herboobswere…boobier.Sheradiatedsexy-farmgirlperfectioninjeanshort-shortsandaginghamblousetiedjustbelowhercleavage.Shelookedlikeaposterofherself—and,needlesstosay,alsowildlyoutofplaceamongalltheselumpy,misshapennormalpeople.
ShewaslikealivingBarbiedoll.AndasbadlyasIwantedthattobeaninsult…itjustwasn’t.
Hemust’vesaidyes,right?Whyelsewouldshebehere?
Andwhocouldblamehim?
Facedwithallthatextreme,textbook,irreproachablebeauty,noonecouldpossiblysayno.
Atthestinginmychest,Ihadmyanswer.
WhywasIhere?ForthesamereasonDoghouseandGlennandAmadiwerehere.Thesamereasonalltheotherordinarypeoplewerehere.IthoughtofConnieslappingJackontheshoulderthattimeandsaying,Beagentleman!
Ilookedaround.
ItwasThanksgiving.IwasherejustlikealltheotherpeoplethatJackStapletondidnothaveathingforwerehere.Togivethanks.
Ifoughttheurgetosetmyplatedowninthegrass,walkstraighttomycar,anddrivebacktothecitygoingahundred.
Butthatwouldbeworse,ofcourse.
Feelinghumiliatedwasonething.Admittingtofeelinghumiliatedwasanother.
Ididathree-pointturnandfoundaseatatthefarthestendofthetable,nexttoDoghouse,whocouldatleastpartiallyblockmyview.
Isqueezedmyeyesclosed.Ofcoursethiswashowthingswere.Ithadbeenanactofself-jinxingtoimagineanythingdifferent.
Itooksomebreaths,butmylungsfelttrembly.
SoIdidwhatIalwaysdid:Imadeaplantoescape.IwouldtoleratethismomentinmylifeaslongasIcould,andthenI’dgraciouslystandupwithasmilelikeIhadanothereventtogoto,andthenI’delegantlysneakoffintotheshadowsanddisappear.
Easy.
HowlongcouldItoleratethismoment?
Idecidedonfifteenminutes—whichwasfartoomany—andthenIkeptmyeyesonmyplatesoIwouldn’taccidentallylookatJackandKennedy.
Holycow.Whatapreposterouscouplename.
ButDoghousewaslookingatthemenoughforthebothofus.“Canyoubelieveshe’shere?”hekeptsaying,elbowingme.“That’sKennedyMonroe.She’sMarilynMonroe’sgranddaughter.”
“Thatwasdebunked,”Isaid.
“She’sbetterlookinginreallife,”Doghousesaidthen.“Thatwasn’tdebunked.”
“Anyway,”Iprodded.“Don’tyoulikeKelly?”
“What?”Doghousesaid,hisvoicegoinguplikeonoctave.
ButIwasdonewithpretense.“It’ssoobvious,dude.Justkissheralready.Beamanandmakeithappen.”
Doghouselookeddownathisplateandthoughtaboutthatforasecond.
Andthenhedid.
Notkidding.Hestood,walkedovertowhereKellywassitting,tappedherontheshoulder,andsaid,“Hey,canIkissyou?”
Kellyblinkedupathimforasecond,andthenshejustsaid,“Yes.”
Itwasthateasy.
Iwatchedhimtakeherhandandleadherofftowardthebarn.
“Holyshit,”Isaidoutloud.Wasthatallittook?
Heleftmewithnoalternativebuttotakeabigswigfrommyjarofmoonshine
Theschnappswassweetatfirst.Butthenthemoonshinehit.
Iguessthere’sareasonmoonshine’smostlyillegal.Itwaslikedrinkingstraightantifreeze.MythroatburnedlikeI’dswallowedacid,and,forasecond,IwonderedifImightdie.Totrytogetsomeofthefumesout,Ileanedoverandhisseddownatthegroundlikeacat.
Justthen,Jack’ssneakers—I’dknowthemanywhere—showedupinmyfieldofvision.“Burns,doesn’tit?”
Ilookedup.Hewasnodding,likeBeenthere.
Inresponse,Imadeahackingnoise.
HesatdowninDoghouse’semptychair.“It’lltakethepaintoffyourcar,forsure.”
Isatupandstaredathim,likeYoudrinkthis?
“It’salsogoodforcleaningjewelry.Mymomsoaksherweddingringinit.”
Iputmyhandtomythroattomassageitalittle.
Jacknodded,allsympathy.“Youhavetobuildupanimmunity.”
Whatwerewedoing?Whywasheevenhere?Werewehangingoutlikefriends?WhoneededfriendswhentheyhadKennedyMonroe?
Next,JackofferedmeDoghouse’shalf-drunkwaterglasswithonehand,thenhetookaforkfulofsomethingthatdidnotresemblefoodoffDoghouse’sabandonedplate.“Youshouldchasethatwithsomeyamandmarshmallowsalad.”
Ishookmyhead.Thatwasinsulttoinjury.Then,makingwordsatlast,Isaid,“Youshouldgobacktoyourseat.”
ButJackjustfrownedatme.“Thisismyseatnow.”
That’swhenDocstoodupatthefarendandclinkedhismoonshinejarwithhisforkuntilweallgavehimourattention.
“Pleasejoinhands,”Docsaid,allformal.
Jacktookmyhand—andthewarm,smoothfeelofhisskinagainstminesenttinglesthroughmybody.
Ormaybethatwasjusttoxinsfromthemoonshine.
“Onthisbeautifulevening,”Docsaid,“herewithsomanyfriends,Iofferthankstowhatevergodsandgoddessesweallprayto:forourblessings,forourbig,beautiful,imperfectcountry,andevenforourhardships.Maywelookaftereachother,tolerateeachother,andforgiveeachother.Amen.”
ThenDoclookedatConnieandsaid,“Doesourhostesswanttoaddanything?”
Conniestoodupandraisedherglass.“YouallknowI’vebeensickthisyear.I’dneverhavechosentogetsick,ofcourse.ButI’vebeenthinkingalotabouttheupsidesofit.Howitforcesyoutoslowdown.Howitmakesyoutakestockofyourlife.Howitletsyouguilt-tripyourfamilyintospendingtimetogether.I’mgratefulmylymphsystemwasclear.I’mgratefultheygotcleanmargins.I’mgratefultobeonthemend.And:Morethananything,I’mgratefultohavelearnedhowtobegrateful.”Thenshenodded.“Thanksforcomingtonight.Becarefulofthemoonshine.Amen.”
Folkstooktheirhandsbackandturnedtotheirplates.
ThenDocadded,“Ifyou’vejoinedusbefore,youknowthemissusalwayslikesustogoaroundthetableandsaysomethingwe’rethankfulfor—largeorsmall.Startingtonightwith”—hepointed—“ourson,Jack.”
Jackdidn’tmissabeat.Heliftedtheforkhewasstillholdingasifmakingatoastandsaid,“I’mthankfulforthisyamandmarshmallowsalad.”
IthoughtI’dbenext,butthemanonJack’sothersidetookthebaton.“I’mthankfulthattherainforecastwaswrong.”
Theladynexttohimwentthen.“I’mthankfulformynewgrandbaby.”
ThenextguywasthankfulforDocStapleton’smoonshine.
Andwewentondowntheline.Amadiwasthankfulforhiswifeandkids.DocStapletonwasthankfulforConnieStapleton,andConniewasthankfulforhimrightback.GlennwasthankfultohavefoundanemptyseatnexttoKennedyMonroe,KennedyMonroewasthankfultohavereachedtwenty-fourmillionfollowersonInstagram,andDoghouseandKellywerenowheretobeseen—andI’llbettheywerebothverythankfulforthat.
Ialwaysfeelalittleshyinsituationslikethese.EverytimeIheardanewanswer,Ichangedmineinmyhead.
Atmyturn,Ijust…hesitated.
Everybodywatchedme,andwaited,whileItriedtodecidewhattosay.
Finally,Connieleanedforward.“Can’tyouthinkofsomethingyou’rethankfulfor,Hannah?”
Imethereyes.“Icanthinkoftoomuch.”
Thewholetablelaughedinreliefatthat.
“Justdothemall,sweetheart,”Conniesaid.
SoIdid.Iblamethemoonshine.“I’mthankfultobehere,”Isaid.“I’mthankfulforthetireswing.I’mthankfulfortheBrazosRiver.I’mthankfulforthatturkeybowtieDoc’swearing.I’mthankfulforthetimeI’vespentinthisgarden.I’mthankfulforthehoneybees.FortheStapletonrecordcollection.ForClipper.I’mthankfulforallthebougainvilleaeverywhere.I’mthankfultohaveseenwhatareal,lovingfamilyactuallylookslike.AndIthink…”Isuddenlyrealizedmyvoicewastremblingabit.Itriedtocoverbymakingitlouder.“Ithinkjustbecauseyoucan’tkeepsomethingdoesn’tmeanitwasn’tworthit.Nothinglastsforever.Whatmattersiswhatwetakewithus.I’vespentalotofmylifetryingtoescape.I’vespenttoomuchtimeontherunfromhardthings.ButnowIwonderifescapeisoverrated.Ithink,now,I’mgoingtotrythinkingaboutwhatIcancarryforward.WhatIcanholdonto.NotjustonlyalwayswhatIhavetoleavebehind.”
ThetablewasquietforafewsecondsafterIstoppedtalking,andIfeltalittlesqueezeofpanicthatmaybeIhadovershot“thoughtful”andlanded,instead,on“crazytown.”
ButjustasIstartedtogiveuponmyself,thewholetablebrokeintoapplause.
AndthenDocliftedhisjarofmoonshineandsaid,“Toeverythingwe’velost.Andtowhatweholdonto.”
Andthewholetableraisedtheirglasses,too.
AFTERDINNER,JACKandHankbuiltafireinthefirepit.
IwaswatchingtheflameswhenInoticedJack,ontheotherside,sittingononeofthegardenchairs,lookingstraightatmethroughthefirelight.
Ilookedaway.ButwhenIlookedback,hewaspattingtheseatnexttohim,likeaninvitation.
AndsoImademywayaroundthefire,unsurewhatanythingmeantanymore,andIwasjustabouttositdownbesidehim,whenKennedyMonroeslidinandtooktheseatfirst.
Istoppedshort.
“Isthisthegirl?”sheaskedJack,asifIweren’trightthere.“Theoneyoumadeoutwithinthehospital?”
“Wedidn’tmakeout,”Jacksaid.
“Sure.”
“Forreal,”Jacksaid.“Itwastheangle.Youknowhowthatworks.”
“Ido,”Kennedysaid,lookingmeover.“And,anyway,”sheadded,“nowthatIgetagoodlookather,Icanseeshe’svery…”KennedyMonroedrewthepauseoutsolongthatotherpeoplestartedtolisten.Shefinallysettledon,“Ordinary.”
Igotit.Nogirlfriendwouldwanttoseesuspiciousphotoslikethatallovertheinternet.Nogirlfriendwouldwantanotherwomancradlingherboyfriend’sheadtohershoulderthewayIhadthatnight—evenifitwasforagoodreason.Ofcourseshewouldbenonetoopleasedtoseemehere.
ThesamewayIwasnotparticularlythrilledtoseeher.
Alltosay,Ijumpedintoreassureher.“Wedefinitelyweren’tkissinginthosephotos.”
Shehonkedoutareallyloudlaugh—loudenoughtogettheattentionofthewholecrowd.Thenshestoodup—kindofunfurledherself—tookastepclosertome,andsaid,“Yeah.Duh.”
“Iwasjustonhissecurityteam,”Isaid.“Wewerejusttryingtokeephimfrombeingphotographed.”
“OhmyGod,”Kennedysaid,hervoicefalselyfriendly.“You’rehilarious.Youreallydon’tneedtotellmethetwoofyouweren’tkissing.”Atfirsthervoicehadahigh,sweettonethatconveyedavibe,likeItrustmyboyfriend.Butthenshedroppeditlikeanoctaveandadded,“That’sagiven.”
Jackstoodup.“Kennedy—”
“Imean…”SheleanedtowardJack.“Justlookather.”
Withthat,shelookedmeover,fromheadtotoeandbackagain—ataglacialpacethatinvitedeverybodyelseinthecrowdtodothesame.
Iwentpositivelystiffunderthescrutiny.Ifoundmyselfwonderingifthiswaswhatrigormortisfeltlike.
“Imean,comeon,”shesaid.“Right?”
“Don’tgetcompetitive,Kennedy,”Jacksaid,inavoicelikeWe’vetalkedaboutthis
“I’mnotgettingcompetitive,”Kennedysaid.“Theinternetgotcompetitive.Haveyouseenalltheposts?Allthecomments?”
“Ithoughtwetalkedaboutreadingthecomments.”
“Peoplearetextingme!DMingme!Evenmymomwantstoknow!”
“Youknownothing’sreal,”Jacksaid,tryingtocajole.
“Nothing’sreal,butit’sstillinsulting.”Shesteeredhereyesbacktowardme.“Imean,”shewenton.“Thewholeworldthinksyouchosethis”—shegesturedatme—“overthis”—sheputahandonherhipandliftedherboobslikeshewasgoingtosetthemonashelf.
EvenIhadtoadmitshehadapoint.
Whatwastheupsideoflookinglikeherifsomebodywholookedlikemecould—insemblanceifnotinfact—convinceJackStapletontocheatonyou?Igotit.Itviolatedthenaturalorderofthings.
“Itwasallamisunderstanding,”Isaid.
“Butthat’smypoint!”Kennedysaid,hervoiceloudernow.“Howcouldthatmisunderstandingevenhappen?Right?Imean,comeon.That’stherudepart.ThatanybodycouldthinkJackwouldchoosea”—andhereshestudiedme,tryingtofindthewords—“plain,ordinary,totallyaveragepersonoverme!”Hereyeslookedalittlewild,ifI’mhonest.“Right?”Shelookedaroundthecrowd.“Right?It’spreposterous!”Sheturnedhereyesinmydirectionforasecond,likeshewaslookingatabug.“BecausewhatisthepointofbeingmeifthewholeworldcansoeasilybelieveJackStapletonwouldpickyou?”Sheturnedbacktothecrowd.“Seriously!Showofhands.Whointhiscrowdwouldpickthisgirloverme?Who?Forreal!Isthereanybody?Thisisaseriousquestion!Ireallyneedtoknow.Let’ssee!Anybody?Wouldevenonepersonheredothat?”
Andthenshefellquiet.
Andsodidthecrowd.
AndasmuchasIdidgetthatshe’dfelthumiliatedbythephotosonlineandsonowshewantedtohumiliatemeback—IwasalsosohorrifiedbythescenethatwasunfurlingaroundmethatIfroze.Theobviouswaytoshutitalldownwould’vebeenformetoleave.Justwalkaway.Right?Ididn’thavetojuststandthereandendureabeautycontestI’dneverenteredagainstsomeoneI’djustseenonthecoverofVogue
Timetowalkaway.
Andyet:Icouldn’tmove.Iwasimmobilizedbyhorror.
Andsowastherestofthecrowd,fromwhatIcouldtell.
Everybodyjuststared—gaped—atKennedyMonroeasshestoodthere,aflamewithrighteousindignation.Shewaited.Shegaveitplentyoftime.Anepochwentby—ormaybeitwasjustafewseconds.Butshemadesure,inslo-mo,thatnoonecoulddenytheresults.
Then,inwhatshouldhavebeenthekillshot,shesaid,“Lastcall!We’redoingthis!Whointhiscrowdpicksheroverme?”
Andthat’swhenJackraisedhishand.“Ido,”hesaid.Thenheadded,“Inaheartbeat.”
Iwasfrozentootighttofeelanyrelief.
Thenheturnedandmetmyeyes,hisexpressionsoft.“Iabsolutelydo.”
Andassoonashe’dbrokenthesurfacetension,anotherhandwentup:Hank’s.“SodoI.”
Andthen,inabeautifulcascade,everybodyelsejoinedin—steppingforwardandraisingtheirhands:Amadi,thenGlenn,thenKelly,then—afteranelbowtotheribsfromher—Doghouse.Achorusof“Ido,”“SodoI,”“Me,too,”and“TeamHannah”roseup.EvenDocandConniejumpedin,wavingtheirarmstomakesuretheirvotescounted.
Folksputtheirhandsupandkeptthemthere—until,atlast,Jacklookedaroundandmadethecall:“Unanimous.”
Kennedy’sexpressionsankintoasimmeringpout.
Andinresponsetothat,Jackleveledhisgazeather.“Youknowwhatthatmeans,right?”
Shefrownedathim.
Jackgavealittleshrug.“Timetoleavethispartytothefolkswhowereactuallyinvited.Andtimeforyoutogetthehellout.”
IHAVETOhandittohomemademoonshine.
It’saveryrelaxingdrink.
Poisonous,butrelaxing.
ConniewasdelightedtofindoutthatI’daccidentallygottenalittletipsyandwouldhavetostaythenight.“JackcanlendyouaT-shirttosleepin.Andwe’llputJackonthesofaandputyouinhisroom,”shesaid,pattingmeontheknee.Thensheadded,“Unlessyoupreferthetilefloorforoldtimes’sake.”
“No,thankyou,”Isaid.
“Youwerehappytherebefore,”Jacksaid.
“Itwasmyjobtobehappytherebefore.”
Onebyone,thefriendsandneighborsleft,andtheelderStapletonswentontobed.
JackandIwoundupoutunderthenightskywatchingthefireburndown.Thetwoofustogether.Justlikeoldtimes.
“Isavedyouaseatatdinner,”hesaid.“Whydidn’tyousitthere?”
Iswilledmymoonshinejar.“Thatseatwastaken.”
“Notreally,though.”
“WhatwasIsupposedtodo?SitonKennedyMonroe’slap?”
“I’mmakingabiggerpoint.”
Washe?Whatwerewetalkingabout?ThankGodforthemoonshine.Idecidedtoask,atlast.“So.Thatinterviewyoudidwithherendedonkindofacliff-hanger.”
“Didit?”
“Yeah.Sheaskedyoutomarryher.”
“Didshe?”
“Youdon’trememberthat?”
“It’spossibleIwasn’tlistening.It’shardnottozoneoutwithKennedy.”
“Butwhatdidyousay?”
“When?”
Ikickedathim.“Whensheproposedtoyou?”
Jackshrugged.“Ihavenoidea.”
NowIleanedcloser.“Awomanproposedmarriagetoyou,andyouhavenoideawhatyousaidinresponse?”
Jackfrownedatmelikehecouldn’timaginewhythatwasweird.Thensomethingoccurredtohim.“Itwasn’treal.Ofcourse.Itwasallforthecameras.Ithoughtyouknewthat.”
Ifeltmybodyrelax,likeitwasstartingtomelt.“WhywouldIknowthat?”
Hefrowned.“Howcouldyounotknowthat?”
“So…itwasjustforshow?”
JacklookedatmelikeIwasanadorabledummy.“Ofcourse.”
“KennedyMonroeisnot…yourfiancée?”
“Please.”
“Issheyourgirlfriend?”
“Absolutelynot.”
“Doessheknowshe’snotyourgirlfriend?”
“Ofcourse.”
“Sowhatwasshedoinghere?”
Jackshrugged.“Boredom?Photoop?Herpublicistcalledmypublicistandaskedifshecouldcrash.”
“Butwhatwasallthatatthebonfire?”
“Competition.Andpathologicalinsecurity.”
Ishookmyhead.“Howcanawomanwhoistheprototypeforphysicalhumanperfectionbeinsecure?”
“That’sareallygoodquestion.”
“So.Justtosumup:YouandKennedyMonroearenottogether?”
“Wewerenevertogether.”
“Yourmatching-sweaterPeoplecovertellsadifferentstory.”
“Thatwasallmadeup.”
Itwassohardtocomprehend.“Butwhy?”
“Togivepeoplesomethingtotalkabout.”
“Butdon’tyoucarethatitwasn’ttrue?”
Jackleanedback.“I’dratherhavepeoplegossipingaboutfakethingsthanrealones.”
Itriedtotakeitallin.“So.Onemoretime.Justtoclarify:YouneverdatedKennedyMonroe?”
Jackgaveanod,likeAffirmative.Thenhesaid,“Never.”
Mywholebodymeltedwithrelief.ThenIsmackedhimontheshoulder.“Whydidn’tyoutellmethatsooner?I’vebeenthinkingshewasyourgirlfriendthiswholetime.”
Jackshrugged.“I’mnotreallysupposedtotalkaboutit.”
“ButIspecificallyaskedyouaboutitbackwhenwefirstmet.”
“Itwasneed-to-knowinformation.Andyoudidn’tneedtoknow.”Headded:“Backthen.”
Fairenough.
“Andwhataboutyou?”Jackaskednext
“Whataboutme?”
“IheardBobbywentbyyourplacetheothernight.”
“Howdidyouevenhearthat?”
“Youdidn’tgetbacktogetheroranything,didyou?”
IlookedatJack’simpossiblyhandsomeface,highlightedbythefire.Fine.Werewedoingthis?“Um.Hedumpedmeonthenightaftermymother’sfuneral,andthenhesleptwithmybestfriend,andthenhedumpedher,too,so…no.Wedidnotgetbacktogether.”
“Whoa,”Jacksaid.
“Butthat’snottheworstofit.”
“What’stheworstofit?”
“Hesaidsomethingreally,reallyterribletome.SomethingI’llneverforget.”
Jackleanedcloser.“Whatdidhesay?”
“Ican’ttellyou.”
“Whynot?”
“BecauseI’mterrifieditmightbetrue.”
“It’sdefinitelynottrue.Whateveritis.He’sdeadwrong.”
“Youdon’tevenknowwhathesaid.”
“That’swhyyouhavetotellme.”
“Ican’t!”Isaid,jumpingtomyfeetandpacingaroundthefirepit.
Jackgotupandpacedwithme.“Justtellme.I’mwaytoodrunktoremember.”
Ilookedhimover.Iwasgoodatjudgingthesethings.“You’renotevenclose,”Isaid.
ButJackwasreadytomakethishappen.
Hewalkedrightuptofacemeandstoodinchesaway.“Youhaven’taskedmeforyoursafetypinbackyet.”
Inarrowedmyeyes.“Igotdistractedbyyourmean-assgirlfriend.”
Jackliftedhishandstohisleathernecklace,unfastenedtheclasp,andlifteditoffhisneck,mysafetypinstillattached.“Inevercouldfindthenecklacepart,”Jacksaid,“sotakethenecklace,too.”
“That’sDrew’snecklace.”
“Hewouldn’tmind.”
JackwasgivingmeDrew’snecklace?Somethingaboutthatseemedlikeaverybigdeal.
Jackheldthenecklaceandthepinout,likeIwassupposedtotakethem.
ButasIreachedout,Jackjustgavemeamischievoussmile,closedthembothinhishand,and,instead,liftedhisfisthighaboveourheads.
Mymouthfellopenattheunfairnessofitall.
“Giveit!”Isaid,jumpingforhishand.
“Maybeit’safinders-keeperssituation.”
“Thisisnotcool.”Ijumpedsomemore.
“You’rehilarious.You’relikeaChihuahua.”
“Giveitback!”Isaid,stilljumping,usinghisshoulderforaboost.
“Ononecondition,”Jacksaid.
AndwhenIstoppedtofindoutwhatthatwas,hesaid,“TellmewhatBobbysaidtoyou.”
Istartedjumpingagain.“Never.”
“Okay,then,Stumpy.Kissthisfunlittlerattlythinggoodbye.”Hedrewhisfistbackbehindhishead,likehewasabouttopitchmysafetypinoffintothepasture.
Hewouldn’t.Ofcoursehewouldn’t.Butthethreatofitwasenough.
Isighed.Istoppedjumping.IlookedintoJack’seyes.“Fine.Butdon’tcallmeStumpy.”
“‘Fine’what?”
“Fine,I’lltellyou.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Areyoulying?”
“No.”
“Areyougoingtomakesomethingelseupsoyoucantakethepainofwhateverthatjackassactuallysaidtoyourlonelygrave?”
Thatgotmyattention.“No.Butthat’sagreatidea.”
Jackbroughthisfistdown,withanexpressiononhisfacelikeOkay,I’mtrustingyou.
ThenheleaneddownsocloseIcouldfeelhisbreathagainstmyskin,liftedthenecklacearoundmyneck,andfastenedtheclasp.
Whenheletgoandsteppedback,Ireachedupandtouchedthebeads,awestruckthattheywerereallythere.He’dfoundthem.He’dlookedandlookeduntilhe’dfoundthem.Andnowhewasgivingthembacktome—somethingsopreciousofmine,alongwithsomethingsopreciousofhisown.
Whatwashedoing?
Hesteppedback.IcouldhaverunoffrightthensoI’dneverhavetotellhimwhatRobbyhadsaid.
ButIdidn’t.
Iblamethemoonshine.OrmaybeitwasJackStapleton’sirresistiblegaze.Ormaybeitwasthewayhehadchosenmetonight—infrontofhisfolks,mycoworkers,andKennedyMonroe,herself.ButItookasecondtoappreciatemysafetypin,nowbacksafeandsound,andthen…Itoldhim.
Istillcan’tbelieveIsaidthewordsoutloud.Maybemoonshinemagicallyremovesinhibitions.OrmaybeIknewalltoowellhowunspokensecretscanfester.Ormaybe,justmaybe,IwasdaringtohopethatJackmighttrytoprovemewrong.
Thepointis,Ididit.
“Bobbysaid…”Ibegan,takingalongbreath.“Hesaid…thatI…wasabadkisser.”
Theminutethewordswereout,Iregrettedthem.
BecausewhatdidJackdo?
Heburstoutlaughing.
I’djustsharedthemosthumiliatingthingIknewaboutmyself—andhelaughed.
“Forgetit,”Isaid,turningaway.
“Wait—”Jacksaid.
ButIdidn’twait.Imightbetootipsytodrivehome,butIwasmorethansoberenoughtogoinsideandlockmyselfinthebathroomuntilIcouldescapeinthemorning.
Jackfollowedme.“I’msorryIlaughed.I’msorry!”
“It’snotfunny,”Isaid,myvoicewobbly.
Atthesideporch,justasIreachedthedoortothehouse,hecaughtupwithmeandspunmearoundbytheshoulder.“Itisfunny.It’shilarious.Butonlybecauseit’ssowrong.”
“Don’tmakefunofme,”Isaid.AndnowIcouldfeeltearsinmyeyes.Howhumiliating.
“I’mnotmakingfunofyou.He’saliar.”
“Ofcourseheis.Buthe’sgottenmorethanafewthingsright.”
“Well,he’snotrightaboutthekissing.”
“Youcan’tknowthat.”
“Idefinitelycan.”
“How?Whenhe’skissedmeforrealtonsoftimesandyou’veonlyeverkissedmeforpretend?”
“Justtrustme.”
“Trustyou?”
“Icantell,okay?”
“How?Howcanyoutell?”
“Ijustknow.I’vekissedalotofpeople,allright?”
“Look,you’resweet—”
“Iamhardlysweet.”
“—ButIcan’ttakeyourwordoversomebodywhohasactuallykissedme.”
“Athousanddollars,”Jacksaid.
“What?”
“I’llbetyouathousanddollars.He’sthebadkisser,buthe’sblamingyou.”
“That’sridiculous,Jack.YouthinkIhaveathousanddollarsjustlyingaround?”
“I’lllendittoyou.”
“Jesus,man.Justletitgo.”
“No.”
“Wecan’tallbegreatkissers,Jack.It’sfine.I’mgoodatotherthings.”
“Hedoesn’tgettolieyou.Andyoudon’tgettojust…believehim.”
Great.Self-esteemtipsfromtheSexiestManAlive.“Thanksfortheadvice.I’mgoingtobed.”
Iturnedtoopenthescreendoor,butthat’swhenheputhisarmouttosmackitbackclosed.
“I’mnotwrong,”hesaidthen,staringstraightintomyeyeswithintensity
“Okay,”Isaid.“You’renotwrong.I’mamazing.I’mheartbreaking.I’mlife-shattering.Happynow?”
ButJackjustshookhishead.
Andthenheleanedin,andhepressedhismouthtomine.
AndwhenIsay“leaned,”Imeanhiswholebody.Hepressedmeupagainstthatdoorwitheverythinghehad.
AndIguessI’dbeenwaitingforitallalong.
Myarmsreacheduparoundhisneck,andmyhandsfoundtheirwayintohishair,andmylegswrappedthemselvesaroundhiswaist.Didheliftme,ordidIjump?We’llneverknow.Buthewaskissingme,andIwaskissinghim,anditwashappening.
Irememberitinsnapshotsoffeeling.Tenderness,andtension,andwarmth,andconnection.Thestubbleonhisneck,andthetightnessofhisarms,thesmellofcinnamon,andthatincomparablefeelingofbeingheld.
Ofbeingcherished
I’dbeenlongingforthatkissforsomanyweeks,somanydays,somanyendlesshours—andI’dthoughtallalongthatitwouldneverhappen,thatitwasimpossible.…Sowhenitdidhappen,outofnowhere,nomatterwhatitwas,orwhatitmeant…therewerenodecisionstomake.Therewasnothingtodobutgoallin.
Itwasaseasyasflippinghimonhisass.
Ididn’tthinkaboutthethousanddollars.Ididn’tthinkaboutRobby.Iwasn’ttryingtoproveanybodywrong.
Ijustwantedthatkiss.
Andthiswasmychance.
AndIwasn’tgoingtowasteit.
BeforeIknewit,wewereworkingourwaythroughthedoor,lipsstilltouching,himstillholdingme,mestillwrappedaroundhim,andstumblingourwaythroughthelivingroom—offbalance,collidingwithasofaandthenalmosttopplingaceramicroosteronthebreakfront—towardJack’sbedroom.
Thenwestoppedbesidehisdoorway—himpressingmeagainstthewallashesearchedforhisbedroomdoorknobwithonehand.
Agoodkisseclipseseverythingelse.
Everythingexcepttouchandlongingandeachother.
Andthiswasonehellofagoodkiss.
WhenJackdidn’tfindthedoorknobrightaway,heletitgoandjustfellbackintothemoment.Hishandbehindmyneck,hisbodypressinguptomine,hismouthonmymouth.Itwaslikenooneandnothingintheworldexistedbesidesthetwoofus.
Thatis—untilweheardDoc’svoicefromthemasterbedroomdownthehall.
“Jack?Isthatyou?”
Thatbrokethespell.
Wefroze,openedoureyes,andstaredateachother,stillbreathing.
“That’smydad,”Jackwhispered.
“Iknow,”Iwhisperedback.
Jackshookhisheadasiftoclearit.Thenheliftedhisheadandtriedtosoundcoherent.“Yes,sir?”
“Gospraythehoseonthefirepittoputouttheembers,willyou?Ithasn’trainedinweeks.”
“Yes,sir,”Jackcalledback.
“AndJack?”
“Yes,sir?”
“Whileyou’reoutthere,canyoutakealookaroundtomakesureallthefoodcamebackinandthere’snothingtodrawthecoyotesintotheyard?”
“Yes,sir.”
“AndJack?”
Jacksighedatme,likeReally?“Yes,sir?”
“Gofindthatgirlsomethingtosleepinandsendherofftobed.”ThenDocadded,“Alone.”
Jacksighed.
Afteranotherfewseconds:“Yougotthat,Jack?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Attaboy.”
Moodbroken,Jackrelaxedhisarmsandloosenedhisholdonme.Isliddowntomyownfeet.
Itwasgoodthatwegotinterrupted.
Nevergotobedwithafamousactorafterajellyjarofmoonshinejustbeforeyou’removingtoKorea.
Isn’tthatasaying?
Wefacedeachotherlikethatforaminute,catchingourbreathandshiftinggears,asJackpulledatmyshirttostraightenit,brushingmeoffandneateningmeup.
Ileanedbackagainstthewallandlookedupathim,likeWhatjusthappened?
ThenJacksaid,“Hannah?”
Imethiseyes.“What?”
“Goonadatewithme.”
“What?”
Jacknodded.“Adate.Tomorrow.Backintown.Withnoparentsanywhere.”
“Youwanttogoonadate?”Iasked,likethatwordmightnotmeanthesamethingtobothofus.
“Yes.Iwanttoordertakeoutandsitupontheroofofmyhouseandeatitwithyou.”
ButIstillwasn’tquitesurewhatweweretalkingabout.“Why?”
Hefrownedlikeitwasobvious.“BecauseIhaveathingforyou.”
“Idon’tunderstand.”
“What’stounderstand?Ilikeyou.”
“But…aren’twepretending?”Iasked.
“Areyoupretending?”Jackasked.
Ididn’tknowhowtoanswerthat.“Ithoughtwebothwere.Wasn’tthatthewholeconcept?”
“I’mnotpretending,”Jacksaid.“Notanymore.”
IknowI’vealreadyconfessedmyinsecuritiesaboutwhetherornotIwaslovable.
Butthoseweredeep,subtleissues.
Ineedtopointoutherethatmostofthetime,inmylife,Iwalkedaroundfeelingreasonablyconfident.Iwasgoodatmyjob.Iwasaniceperson.Ihadgoodhair.Ifthishadbeenaregularmansayinghelikedme,I’mprettysureIwouldhavethoughtthatsoundedplausible.
Whynot,right?
Butthiswasn’t—Ithinkwecanallagree—aregularman.
Comeon.ThiswasJackStapleton.AndIwasjust…me.Imean,fromanyrationalperspective,noneofthiscouldpossiblybehappening
Thatwasn’tmyopinion.
Thatwasn’tmebeinghardonmyself.
Thatwasjust…true.
“IthinkI’mhavingastrokeorsomething,”Isaid.“Whatarewetalkingabout?”
“I’mtellingyouIhaveathingforyou.”
“AndI’mtellingyouthatdoesn’tmakeanysense.”
“Itmakessensetome.”
“Maybeyou’retheonehavingthestroke.”
“IsitsohardtobelievethatIlikeyou?”
“Um.Kinda,yeah.Youcalledme‘plain,’and‘non-Hollywood,’and‘theepitomeofordinary.’”
“Okay.Butthosearegoodthings.”
“Andstumpy!”Iadded.
“Well.You’renottall.”
“I’veseenyourgirlfriends,Jack.I’vegotawholefileonthem.Iamnothingatalllikeanyofthosepeople.”
“That’sexactlywhatI’msaying.”
“What?Whatareyousaying?”
“I’msayingyou’rebetter.”
Igavehimalook.“Nowyou’rejustinsultingeverybody.”
“You’rearealperson.”
“Realpeopleareadimeadozen.”
Jackthoughtforasecond.“Okay.Youknowthedollsmymomrescues?”
“Yeah?”
“WhatI’msayingis,thewomeninyourfile—thosewomenfrommypast—they’rethe‘befores.’Andyou…”Helookedrightintomyeyes.“You’rethe‘after.’”
Andjustlikethat,Igotit.
IgotwhatJackStapletonmeantby“real.”
Morethanthat,Ibelievedhim.
Jackkeptgoing.“Whenyou’renotaround,evenforalittlewhile,IfeellikeIhavetogofindyou.Ijustfeelthispulltobenearyou.Iwanttoknowwhatyou’rethinking,andwhatyou’reupto,andhowyoufeel.Iwanttotakeyouplacesandshowyouthings.Iwanttomemorizeyou—tolearnyoulikeasong.Andthatnightgown,andthewayyougetsocrankywhenIleavemystuffallovertheplace,andthewayyoutieyourhairbackinthatcrazybun.Youmakemelaugheverysingleday—andnobodymakesmelaugh.IfeellikeI’vebeenlostallmylifeuntilnow—andsomehowwithyouI’mjust…found.”
Jackpausedandwaitedformetoarguewithhim.
ButIjustsaid,“Okay.”
“‘Okay,’what?”
“‘Okay,’Ibelieveyou.”
“Youdo?”
Inodded.
“Soisthatayes,then?”
“Towhat?”
“Tothedate.”
“Yes,”Isaid,moredeterminedwitheachword.“Yes.”
That’swhenweheard,“Jack?”againfromDocinthebackbedroom.
“Yes,sir?”
“Thefirepit?Sometimebeforethesun’sup?”
“Yes,sir.”
IexpectedJacktowalkoffthen,butinstead,heleanedcloser,catchinghimselfonthewallbehindme.Hebroughthisfaceveryclose,stillalittlebreathless,helingeredthereforasecond,andthenheputhismouthonmineagain—thistimesofter,andsweeter,alllipsandwarmthandsilkiness.
AndIjustmeltedintoit.
Hishandwasagainstthewall,andweweren’ttouchinganywhereelse…buttherewasabsolutelynowhereIdidn’tfeelit.
Andwhenhepulledback,helookedaslostasIfelt.
Thenheseemedtoremembersomething,andhegavemeaslysmile.
“What?”Iasked.
Thesmiledeepened,andhelookeddownatthebeadedpinagainstmyneckandthenbackuptomyeyes.Andthen,ashetookareluctant,almostwoozystepbackward,hepointedatme,likeGotcha
“You,”hesaidthen,“owemeathousanddollars.”Twenty-Nine
ADATE.ATJackStapleton’shouse.
WhatthehellwasIthinking?
Iwascrazytogo.ButI’dbecrazynottogo.
Still,itwasgoingtotakesomecourage.Andsomeprep.
EspeciallysinceIhadn’tunpacked.SowhenIsuddenlyneededtofindagreatoutfit—onethatcould,intheory,ifIchoseright,helpmefeeluptothechallenge—Icouldn’tfindone.
Imean,afterawhile,Ijuststarteddumpingtheboxesoutonthefloorandpawingthroughthem.
Ihadsomedate-wearintheresomewhere
I’dleftmyselfplentyoftime,butasboxafterboxturnedupwrinkledsweatpants,Istartedgettingtense.
That’swhenIheardaknockatmydoor
Ilookedthroughthepeephole.
There,inthefish-eyelens,wasTaylor
“I’mnothome,”Icalledthroughthedoor.
“Youclearlyare.”
“I’mbusy,though.”
“CanIhavesixtyseconds?Ineedtosaysomething.”
Icrackedthedoor.“Sixtyseconds,”Isaid.
Sheheldoutagrocerysack,andasIlookedatit,shesaid,“It’stheshoesyoulentmeforthatthing.Andit’syourheart-shapedbakingpanIborrowed.Andsomebooks.”
“Keepitall,”Isaid.“Idon’twantit.”
“I’mnotkeepingit,”shesaid.
“Fine.Donateit,then.”
“Youlovetheseshoes!”
“Notanymore.”
Taylorhadbeenholdingthesackouttome,butatthat,shepulleditback.
“Okay,then,”shesaid.
“Whatdidyouneedtosay?”Iaskedthen,likeLet’sgetthisoverwith
“Morelike‘ask,’really.”
“Fine.Ask.”
“Isthere…anythingIcandoforyou?”
Ifrowned.“That’swhyyoucamehere?”
“Ijust…wanttodosomethingforyou.Anything.”
“Whatcouldyoupossiblydoforme?”
“That’swhatI’masking.”
“Areyoutryingtomakeamends?”
“Wedon’thavetolabelit.”
Ofcoursemyanswerwasno.No,therewasnothingshecoulddoforme.No,Iwasn’tgoingtolethermakeherselffeelbetterbymagnanimouslydoingmefavors.No.Hellno
But.
Somethingaboutthequietnessofhervoicegotmyattention.
“Iguess,”shesaidthen,“IjustwantyoutoknowthatI’mgenuinelysorry.”
It’snotallthatoftenthatpeoplewho’vewrongedyouactuallyapologize.Usually,inmyexperience,theygoonandonmaintainingtheirinnocence.Insistingthattheyweren’tsobad,ortheyhadtheirreasons,oryouweresomehowpartlytoblame.
But,inclassicTaylorfashion,shewasjustowningit.
Itmadememissher.
Shewasbackingupnow,andthenturning,andthenwalkingoffdownthehallway.Thecollarofherjacketwasflippedthewrongway.
Myplanwastolethergo.
Itoldmyselftolethergo.
ButthenIheardmyselfsay.“Youcouldhelpmefindsomethingtowear.”
Taylorfroze.Thensheturnedaround.“Somethingtowear?”
Istoodupalittletaller.“Ihaveadate.”
Taylorhadthegoodmannersnottoaskwhoitwaswith.
Iwenton,“AndIcan’tfindanythingtowear.Imeanthatliterally.Themoversdidn’tlabelthemovingboxes.Soyoucouldhelpmefindmyclothes.”
Taylortriedtoholdbackhersmile.“Icantotallydothat.”
“I’mnotforgivingyou,bytheway,”Isaid,pointingatherasshewalkedbacktowardme.
“Iwouldn’twantyouto.”
“I’mjustlettingyoureduceasmallamountofyoursoul-crushingguilt.”
“Thankyou.”Shestoppedinfrontofme.“Doyoumaybealsoneedyourhairandmakeupdoneforthisdate?”
Iheldverystill.Nowshewaspushingit.
“Ijustofferbecausesometimeswhenyoudoyourowneyeshadowyouwinduplookinglikeyougotpunchedinbotheyesbytwodifferentpeople.”
“Thanksforthat.”Shewasn’twrong.
Also,shewasverygoodathairandmakeup.
AndIwasgoingonadatewithfriggingJackStapleton.
“Fine,”Isaid.“Butjusttoreiterate—”
“Iknow.Iknow,”Taylorsaid.“I’mnotforgiven.”
TWOHOURSLATER,walkingupJack’sdriveway,asIbattledintrusivethoughtsofJack’smany,manypastgirlfriends,itseemedprettyclearI’dmadetherightchoice.
Ifyou’reevergoingtoletTaylordosomethingforyou,itshouldbehairandmakeup.Andshe’dtalkedmeintowearingtheslinkiestreddressIhad.
I’dbeentemptedtoputonapantsuit.
DidIfeelachinglyvulnerablewithmyshouldersbareandthesilkhemwhisperingaroundmynakedthighs?Ofcourse.
Emotionally—andphysically—Ifeltnakedashell.Andnotinagoodway.
“They’rethe‘befores,’”Irepeated,likeamantra,asaveritablecatwalkofex-girlfriendsstruttedthroughmyhead.“You’rethe‘after.’”
Everythingaboutmewasquivering.
Iwasfinewithcaringaslongasitwasmutual.Butwasit?Ithadseemedmorethanmutualyesterday,whenhewaspressingmeupagainstthewallinhisparents’hallway.
Butyesterdaywasamillionyearsago.
Iwonderedifthetriplepunchofitall—losingmymom,thenlosingRobby,thenlosingTaylor—hadleftabiggerscarthanI’drealized.
WasIlovable?Imean,areanyofusreallylovableifyouoverthinkit?
Itwastemptingtochickenout.
ButthenIthoughtofJackgoingbwok,bwok,bwok,andthenIwonderedifhavingfaithinyourselfwasjustdecidingyoucoulddoit—whateveritwas—andthenmakingyourselffollowthrough.
SoIdecidedsomethingrightthen:Everychanceyoutakeisachoice.Achoicetodecidewhoyouare.
Andsothat’swhatthatlongwalkupJack’sdrivewaywasaboutforme.NotaboutwhatRobbyandTaylorhaddone.OrwhatJackmightormightnotsayordoorfeel.Itwasaboutmechoosingwhotobeinthefaceofall…andrefusingtogiveuponhope.Ormyself.
Wasittotallyridiculousformetotrytodateamoviestar?
Absolutely.
WasIgoingtodoitanyway?
Youbet.Thirty
BECAUSEJACK’STHREATlevelhadbeendownshiftedtowhite,therewasnosecurityteamathisplace—thankGod.ThelastthingIneededinthosestrappyheelswastomakemywaythroughsomekindofEPagentobstaclecourseofjudgmentandmockery.
Thesecuritycamerasonthepropertywerestillrunning,ofcourse.
IrangJack’sdoorbell,tryingnottoimagineGlennsurveillingmeandsaying,“IsthatBrooks?Inadress?Whatthehell’sshegotonherfeet?”
Ijusthadtohopenobodywasmonitoringthem.
ButJackdidn’tcometothedoorrightaway.
Iwatchedanantmakingitswayacrosstheconcrete.
ThenIrangagain.
Maybehewasintheshower?Icrossedmyfingersthathehadn’tdecidedtocook,Godforbid.
Then,afewminutesaftermysecondring,Jackopenedthedoor—butonlypartway.
He’dgottenahaircut—andnowitwasspikingupinanintimidatinglymovie-starishway,likehe’djustfinishedashootforGQ.Hewasalsofreshlyshaved.HehadaNorwegiansweateron.Andanotherchange:Hewaswearinghiscontactsinsteadofhisglasses.ItwasthefirsttimeI’dseenhimwithouthisglassesinreallife.
Alltogether?Itmadehimlookalittlelikeadifferentperson.
LesslikeJackStapletonthepiggyback-ridegiver—andmorelikeJackStapletonthemoviestar.
Holyshit.JackStapletonwasamoviestar.
Ifeltacrampofanxiety.Theimpossibilityofitallhitmeagain.
Wasthishappening?Iguessitwas.
Butthat’swhenJacksaid,“Yes?”inavoicethatsounded…blank.
Justaveryslightlyclippedtone—anonymousanddisinterested,likehedidn’tknowme,andhewasprettysurehedidn’twantto.LikeIwasmaybeacablerepairguy.Orapoliticalcanvasser.Oracensus-taker.
Itwasjustthatonesyllable.Butitwasenoughtoregister.
“Hey,”Isaid,holdingupawinebottlewithaslightairofcaution.“Ibroughtwine.”
Itookastepcloser,expectinghimtoswingthedooropen.
Buthedidn’t.
Instead,hefrowned.“Why?”
“Whywhat?”
“Whyareyouhere?”
“Okay,”Isaid.“Let’snotevenjoke.”
Butthat’swhenJacknoddedbacktowardtheinteriorofthehouseandsaid,“I’veactuallygotsomeguestshererightnow,so…”
“Youdo?”Isaid.
“Yeah.So.”
“Wait—wasn’tittonight?”
“Wasn’twhattonight?”
Whatwasgoingon?Hehadaskedmeout,right?Ihadn’tdreamedit,hadI?“What’sgoingon?”
HefrownedatmelikehehadnoideawhatIwastalkingabout.“I’vejustgotfriendsover,so…Kindabusy.”
Hestartedtoswingthedoorclosed.
Oninstinct,ItriedtousetheRobbytrickofblockingthedoorwithmyfoot—forgetting,ofcourse,aboutmyridiculousfootwear—andJackwoundupshovingthedoorclosedonit,themetalweatherstrippingslicingmytoesandbreakingtheleathersandalstraps.
Thepainshotupmyleglikearocket.Isnatchedmyfootback,letoutastringofcursewords,andthenhoppedaroundforaminutebeforeInoticedIwasbleeding.
“Ouch,”Jacksaidinasucks-to-be-youvoice.Hewatchedmewithoutanydetectablesympathy—mostlyjustlookingbored.
WhenI’dsettled,hesaid,“Anyway,”andmovedtoclosethedooragain.
“Wait!”Isaid.
Jackgaveanirritatedsigh.
“Whatabout…”Istarted.ButIdidn’tknowhowtoaskthequestion.Iheldupthebottleofwine.
“Youcanjustleavethatontheporch,”hesaid,likeIwasadeliveryperson.“I’llgetitlater.”
“Jack!”Isaidthen,finallystandingstraight.“Wasn’ttonightourdate?”
JackfrownedlikehehadnoideawhatImeant.Theutternoncomprehensiononhisfacewasenoughtofloodmywholebodywithhumiliation.Then,asifpullingavaguememoryfromthedeepmistsoftime—andnot,youknow,yesterday—hesaid,“Ohhh.”Nodding.Likethatexplainedeverything.“Thedate.”
Whatthehell?He’daskedmeouttwenty-fourhoursago.Washejoking?Sleepwalking?Drunk?Andwhoaccidentallyinjuresanotherperson—anotherlivingcreature,even—tothepointofbleedingalloverthedoorstepandjuststandstherelikeapsychopath?Whatwashappening?
IturnedthesituationaroundinmyheadlikeIhadonelastpuzzlepiece,butitjustwouldn’tfit.
ButthenJackslidthepieceintoplaceforme.
Hetiltedhishead,andinavoicenothingshortofsaturatedwithpity,hefrownedinmocksympathyandsaid,“Didyouthinkthatwasreal?”
Everythinginmybodyjuststoppedatthatmoment.Myheartstoppedbeating,mybloodstoppedflowing,mybreathstoppedmovinginandout.
Maybetimeitselfstopped,too.
JacklookedatmelikeIwassupposedtoanswerthatquestion—andwaited.Hisfacewasallcuriosity.
“Wasitnot…real?”Iasked,whentimestartedupagain.Myvoiceseemedlikeitwascomingoutofsomeoneelse’sbody.
Jack’seyesmadeanexpressionIcanonlydescribeas“incredulousdisdain.”“Ofcoursenot.”
Ofcoursenot.
ThenJackadded,“Youreallyboughtit?Youbelievedme?That’ssofunny.”
“Wait—so…”Ishookmyhead.“Yesterday?Everythingthathappened?”
Jackgavealittleshrug.“Fake,”hesaid.
Icouldn’tseemtostopshakingmyhead.“Youwere…?”Ididn’tknowwhatIwasasking.
“Bored,”heconfirmed.
“Soyoupretended…?”
“Iwasdoingathingtheycallacting.”
“So…thethingwhereyou”—thequestionstungmymouthwithhumiliation,evenasIaskedit—“chosemeoverKennedyMonroe…?”
ButJackjustnoddedbig,likeI’dmadeagreatpoint.“Iknow,right?Igotbothofyouwiththatone.Atwofer.”
Ifeltmyselfsinking.“Youwereacting,”Isaid,tryingtoabsorbit.
“Justanotherdayattheoffice.”
“But…”Istilldidn’tgetit.“Butwhy?”
Jackgaveashortsigh,likeTrytocatchup.“DoyourememberwhenmymomsaidIreallywasn’tthatgreatofanactor?”Jackaskedthen.“Thatfeltlikeapersonalchallenge.”
“Youpretendedtolikeme,”Ipausedforasecond,puttingittogether,“toshowupyourmom’sassessmentofyouractingskills?”
Heshrugged.“Itwassomethingtodo.Right?Howelsedoyoukeepbusyinthemiddleofnowhere?”
Myheadjustkeptshakingitself.“So…yesterday?Allthat…kissing?”
“Choreographed,”Jackconfirmedwithanod.
Ifeltlightheaded.Iputmyhandagainstthedoorjambtosteadymyself.Somewhere,inanotheruniverse,mybleedingfootwasthrobbing.
“I’lltakethewine,though,”hesaid,inatonelikeMovingon
Weirdly,Ihandedittohim.
Hecheckedthelabel.“Cheap.”
Theairaroundussuddenlylookedstrange,likeitwasmadeoffumes.IwonderedifImightfaint.
“Speakingofbored,”Jacksaid.“Ireallydohavefriendswaiting.”
Wehadn’tbeen“speakingofbored,”butokay.“Sure,”Isaid.
Hiseyeslookeddullandflat.“They’regoingtolaughsohardatthisstory.It’ssohilariouswhenyouthinkaboutit.”
“Isit?”Iasked,notsuretherewasananswer.
“We’redonehere,right?”Jacksaid.
Andthen,withoutevenwaitingformetorespond,hejust…closedthedoor.Presumablytogorecountthestoryofthedumbest,mostgulliblesecurityguardinallofhistorytosomeviciousgroupofA-listmovie-starfriendsgatheredaroundacharcuterieboard.
Thiswashowtheloveofmylifewouldend?WithmeasthebuttofJackStapleton’sjoke?
It’ssohilariouswhenyouthinkaboutit
IhavenoideahowlongIstoodthereafterthat.ForallIknew,timehadcollapsedinonitselfinaninfinityloop
Mybrainfeltlikewhitenoise.Mythroatfeltlikesand.Myentirebeingpositivelyvibratedwithshame.Thehumiliationwastotal.Therewasnocellinmybodythatwasn’tsaturatedwithit.
Hewasacting.Hewasacting.He’dbeenactingthewholetime.
Ofcoursehewasacting.
Ofcourse.
Inslowmotion,Isquatteddowntotakeoffmysandals,andInoticedforthefirsttimehowbadthecutwasonmyinjuredfoot,andhowslipperythebloodwasmakingthesole.
Next,barefootandbleeding,Istoodbackup.
He’dbeenacting.
Asifgoingthroughachecklist,Iswallowed,pulledbackmyshoulders,andliftedmychin.Iclutchedmydumblittlepursewithonehandandlettheshoesdanglefromthefingersoftheother.
AndthenIlimpedbackdownthedrivewayasifthewholeworldwerewatchingmego.
ITTOOKAthousandyearstoreachmycar.
Foronething,Iwaswalkingbarefootoncrushedgranite,whichfeelsmorelikebrokenglassthanyoumightexpect.
Foranother,allmysensesweregoinghaywire.
SoIhadtotakeitslow.
Fromtheoutside,Iprobablylookedlikeawomanwithafootinjury,sensiblytakinghertime.
Theinside,ofcourse,wasadifferentstory.Mymindwaspositivelyassaultingitself,replayingeveryminuteofthatencounteratJack’sfrontdooroverandoversovividlythatIcouldbarelyseeinfrontofme.
It’sawonderIdidn’twanderoffintotraffic.
It’sawonderIdidn’tdiefrommisery.
It’sawonderIdidn’tjustceasetoexist
But…intheend…Imadeittomycar.
Acarthathadbeendrivenherebyaverydifferentpersonthantheonereturningtoit.
Iwalkeduptoit,bentover,andpressedmyheaddownagainstthehood.
Whatthehelljusthappened?
ThepersonIshouldhavebeenhatingatthatmomentwasJack.Obviously.Iknewthat.Ishouldhavehatedhimforbeingthemostcallous,soullessjackassinthehistoryoftheworld.Ishouldhaveburnedwithincandescentandpurifyingrage.
ButJackwasn’tthepersonIhatedrightthen.
ThepersonIhatedwasmyself.
Ihatedmyselfforbeingtakenin.Forbeingfooled.ForwantingtobelovedsobadlythatI’dsoeasilybecomesomebody’smark.
Ishouldhaveknownbetter.
Ishouldhaveprotectedmyselfbetter.
Thepartofmethatwasalwayssupposedtobeonguard,andonalert,andonduty—thepartthatwastaskedwiththejobofprotectingtherestofme—hadfailed.Massively.
Again.
Iwassupposedtoanticipatethesethings.Iwassupposedtokeepawatchfuleye.IwassupposedtokeepallmyflawsandshortcomingsforeveratthefrontofmyawarenesssoI’dneverfoolishly—ridiculously—hopeformore.
Iknewthat.I’dknownitsincethenightofmyeighthbirthday.
Later,Idecided,I’dgetangryatJack.I’dsummonmyself-righteousrage,andsalvagemydignity,andfindthestrengthtocarryon.
Iwasnottheassholehere.Ihadn’tdoneanythingwrong.
I’dstandupformyself,eventually.Iwould.
Butrightnow,inthissurrealmomentofaftershock,theonlythingIcouldmanagetofeelwasjustapocalypticallydisappointedinmyself.
Leaningagainstthehoodofmycar,Iwasastonishedathowphysicalmyreactionwas.
Myheadwasspinning.Icouldn’tcatchmybreath.Ifeltdizzy.
Flashesofwhathadjusthappenedkeptappearingonthescreenofmymindwithoutmypermission.Jackopeninghisdoorinfullmovie-starmode—hisfacetotallyblank,likeIwasastranger.Jacktiltinghisheadinmockeryashesaid,“Didyouthinkthatwasreal?”Jackslicingthehelloutofmytoes,andthenwatching,emotionless,asIbledinfrontofhim.Jack’spostureasrigidasamannequinashewaitedformetocatchup,graspmyowncontemptiblestupidity,acceptmyfate,andmoveon.
Hey—
Waitaminute…
Jack’spostureasrigidasamannequin?
JackStapleton—famoussloucherandworld-championmanspreader—withpostureasrigidasamannequin?
Thatdidn’tseemright.
Withthat,mythinkingstartedtoshift.Iknowthathe’djusttoldmeithadallbeenajokeandthathe’dneverreallylikedme.ButthelongerIstoodthere,themoreIstartedtowonderifIonehundredpercentbelievedhim.
Itwashardtoknowwhattobelieve.
ButthemoreIthoughtitover,themoreIwonderedifthebesottedversionofJackI’dseensomuchoflastnightwasmoreconvincingthanthepsychopathI’djustmet.
Nowmybrainshiftedgears,andIstartedflippingbackthroughthepagesofmymemorywithpurposetorereadthatmoment.
Somethingsaboutitwereoff,forsure
Jackhadonlyopenedthedoorpartway,forexample—buthewasmuchmoreofafling-the-door-wide-openkindofguy.I’dassumedhewastryingtokeepmeseparatefromhisfriends,butifhewasreallyenjoyingthejokehe’djustplayed,wouldn’theletthemseeme?Andifhewasreallyasociopath,wouldhehavecaredifI’dseenthem?
Ikeptscanningforabnormalities.Therehadbeenanunfamiliartensioninhisface—likehewastryingtolookrelaxedwithoutactuallybeingrelaxed.
Andhadtheexpressioninhiseyesbeencoldness—orintensity?
Hadthetightnessofhisvoicebeenirritation—oranxiety?
Ikeptflippingthroughtheinteraction,scanningeverythingwithdifferenteyes—untilonemomentstoppedmestill.
Rightafterhesaidhe’dbeenacting,justafterhegavemeanodofconfirmation,Jackhadglancedtohisleft.Almostliketherewassomebodystandingrightnexttohim.Andtheemotionthathadflashedacrosshisfacerightthen,inthesecondofthatglance,wasprettyunmistakableifyou’vebeeninthisbusinesslongenough.…
Itwasfear.
SOMETHINGWASWRONG.
TherewassomethinginthathouseJackwasafraidof.
Someone.
Igrabbedmykeys,hitunlock,anddivedintothebackseatformyiPad.
IloggedintocheckthesecurityfootageonJack’scamera,scrollingbackandforthattime-lapsespeed.
Nothingonthedrivewaycam.Nothingonthebackyardcam.Nothingonthepoolcam.Butthen,suddenly,onthemotion-activatedinteriorcamerainJack’sfronthall,IsawJacktalkingtoatallmaninjeans.Slowingdowntogetabetterlook,Iwonderedifthismightbeoneofthe“friends”Jackclaimedwerethere.
Untilthemanpulledouta9mmpistolandpointeditatJack’shead.
Holyshit.
Iscrolledthroughthefootagefast,tryingtogetthebasics.IsawJackputuphishands,butthenlowerthemagain.Isawthembothturntowardthedoor,andthenIsawJackopenit,justafewinches,andtheothermantakeastepbackandsettleintoastanceafewfeetawaywithhisgunpointedstraightout.
Thatwasenough.
ThatwasallIneededtosee.
Icalled911togetthepoliceontheway.
Next,IcalledGlenn.
“CodeSilveratJackStapleton’sin-townresidence,”IsaidtoGlenn,asIstartedbacktowardthehouse,notevenfeelingthegravelundermybarefeetnow.ThenIadded,forgoodmeasure,“Hostagesituation.”
Glennwasn’tfollowing.“Brooks,whatareyoutalkingabout?He’sthreatlevelwhite.”
“Checkthevideofootage,”Isaid.“There’samanwithaguninsideJack’shouse.”
“Rightnow?”Glennasked.
“Rightnow.”
“Whereareyou?”
“I’minthedriveway.Approaching.”
“Areyoualone?”
“Yes.ButsoisJack.”
“Jack’snotalone.He’swithanarmedintruder.”
“Right.Worsethanalone.”
“Arethecopsontheway?”
“Yes.”
“Waitforthecops,”Glennsaid.“I’malertingtheteam.”
“I’mnotleavingJackintherebyhimself.”
“Brooks!Waitforthecops!”
“Gettheteamonit,”Isaid.“Checkthevideo.CallmeifyougetanythingIcanuse.”Atthat,Iputmyphoneonsilent.
“Brooks!Donotenterthescene!Itisn’tsecure.”
Iknewhewasright.Ofcourse.Ididn’thaveaweapon.Ididn’thaveaplan.Ididn’tevenhaveshoes.RememberwhenIsaidfootwearreallyiscrucial?ThatwasbackwhenIthoughttherewasnothingworsethanhighheels.
AsImovedtowardthehouse,Iratedmysurvivalchancesatasolidfifty-fifty.
Imean:Iwasgoodatmyjob.ButIwasn’tasuperhero.
Partofbeinggoodatthisjobwasmakingsmartchoices.
Wasthisasmartchoice?
Notachance.ButIdidn’tcare.
Onlyonethingreallymatteredtomerightthen:TwopeopleonJack’ssidewerebetterthanone.EvenifIwasbarefoot,weaponless,backup-less,andinjured,Iwasn’tleavinghimintherealone.
“Brooks!”Glennyelledthroughmyphone.“Listenandlistenhard.I’mtellingyoutostandback.Ifyougoinagainstmyorders,youcankissLondongoodbye.”
Ofcoursehewouldsaythat.OfcoursehewouldusetheonethingIwantedthemosttotrytokeepmefromgettingmyselfkilled.Itwashisbestleverage.
Exceptforonething.ThethingIwantedmostwasn’tLondonanymore.
ThethingIwantedmostwasJack.
Ihungupthephone.
ScrewLondon.
Iwasalreadyrunning.
IKNEWTHEdoorcode.Iletmyselfin.
Thegroundfloorwasempty.There’sastillnessyourecognizeinanemptyroomonceyou’vebeendoingthisforawhile.ButIcheckedeverythinganyway—everyclosetandnook.Eventhepantry.
Nothing.
Passingthediningtable,Isawacharcuterieboardwithabottleofcabernet,openandbreathing,nexttoit.Andnexttothewinebottle?Acorkscrew.
Atlast.Aweapon.IgrabbeditasIwentby,withoutmissingastep,and—becausewomeninthisworldsomehowdon’tdeservepockets—shoveditintothesideofmybra.
Thesecondfloorwasempty,too.
They’deitherleftthehouse,or—
Theywereontheroof.
Itookthestairstothethird-floorgameroomtwoatatime.
Iedgedmywaypastthepooltabletothedoorthatledtotherooftoppatio.
Icrackedthedoortopeekoutandevaluatethescene—and,there,Ibeheldthemostsurrealsight:Thebulblightsstrunguparoundtheroof’sedgewereglowing,thedowntownskylinewaslitupbythesettingsun,theskywasdeepeningpurpleasitgaveitselfovertonight…andtherestoodJackStapleton,hiswristsandanklesboundbyzipties,andfacing,maybesixfeetaway,amanexactlyhissameheight,dressedinarippedT-shirtanddirtyjeans,aimingagunathim,fingeronthetrigger.
Anyotheragentwould’vewaitedforthepolice.
Buttherewasn’tanytime.Afingeronatriggerwasoneimpulse—oroneitch,orcough,orsneeze—awayfromdoingirreversiblethings.
Timetointervene.HoweverIcould.
Iwasjustslippingout,readytogentlyannouncemypresencewithmyhandsupsoIdidn’tstartlethegunman,whenthreethingshappenedatonce.
One:AsIslidthroughthedoorway,aburstofwindflashedacrosstherooftopfromnowhere,yankedthedoorhandlefrommyfingers,andslammedthedoorclosedwithanalmostsonicboomthatstartledevenme.
Two:Atthesound,thegunmanjerkedinmydirectionandapparentlypulledthetriggerashedid,because…
Three:Heshotme.Thirty-One
ATFIRST,Ithoughthemissed.
Atfirst,itwasjustasoundsoloudIfeltitinmychestandablastofwindpastmyface.
Then:IfeltitbeforeIunderstoodit.
WhenIthinkaboutitnow,Iseeitinslowmotion.Thebullethissingpastmyhead,shavingoffathinlineofhairasitwent.Asharpstingtakingovermyconsciousness,andthenawarmwetnessrollingdownmynecklikesomeonewassqueezingabottleofchocolatesyrup.
Itwasn’tsyrup,ofcourse.
Buthere’sthething—atthefeelofit,IdecidedIwasokay.
Thebloodonmyneckconvincedme:Itwasonlyagraze.
Idon’tknowhowIknewit,exactly—Ijustdid.Itjustfeltexactlythewayyou’dimagineitwouldfeeltogetgrazedbyabullet—tight,small,stinging.Almostlikeacutcrossedwithaburn.
Ijustdidn’tfeellikeapersonwhosebrainsweresplatteredalloverthewallbehindher.
DidIknowthatforsure?
No.
ButIdecidedtorunwithituntilIhadevidencetothecontrary.
Imusthavelookedghoulish,though.
Thegunmanstaredinhorror.“Jesus!”heshouted.“Youscaredme!”
Theirony.
Iputmyhandsout.“I’msorry,”Isaid.
“Don’tslamthedooratsomebodywhenthey’reholdingagun,okay?”
“Ididn’tmeanto,”Isaid.“Itwasthewind.”
Hisvoicewasallfrustration.“Nowyoumademeshootyou.”
Myneckwaswarmandwetwithblood,runningdowntosoakintothefabricofmydress.SomuchforbeingJack’spersonalbloodbank.“Youdidn’tshootme.”
“Um.Allthatbloodsaysotherwise.”
“Justascratch,”Isaid.“Justagraze.I’mcompletelyfine.”
“Well,youlooklikehell,”thegunmansaid.
“Headwoundsbleedalot,”Isaid,likeNobigdeal.“Itbarelyevenstings.”
Beyondhim,Jacklookedutterlyappalledtoseeme.Hewascrouchedforactionnow,asifhe’dforgottenthathiswristsandankleswerebound,andhemight—what?Hopovertosaveme?Assoonasherealizedhecouldn’treallymove,hedidthenextbestthing.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”hedemanded.
“Um.Helpingyou?”
“Didn’tIjusttellyoutoleave?”hesaid.“Didn’tIjustsaythere’snothingbetweenusthat’sreal?”
“Yeah.Ididn’tbelieveyou.”
Jackstaredatme,likethatmadenosense.
SoIadded,“Youaren’tthatgreatofanactor.”
Notevenacourtesychuckle.“Isentyouaway,”Jacksaid.“Innouncertainterms.”
Inodded.“Yeah.ButthenIcheckedthesecurityfootage.”
“Gohome,”Jacksaid,movinghiseyesbacktothestalker.“Thisisnotaboutyou.”
“Well.Itkindofisnow.”
Thegunmanwaslookingpanickednow.Nevergood.
Hishandswereshakingsobad,Icouldseethegunvibrating.He’dloweredhisaim—forgettingaboutthepistolforaminute,itseemed—andhewaslookingbackandforthbetweenmeandJack.“Thiswasn’thowthiswassupposedtogo.”
Hesoundeddisappointed.
Itriedtothinkbackovermyhostagenegotiationsprotocols.Iwasalittlerusty.Establisharelationshipcametomind,andsoIsaid,“Hey,friend,canyoutellmeyourname?”
Noresistanceatall.“Wilbur,”hesaid.
“Wilbur?”Iasked.“TheWilbur?”
Wilburwasn’tsurewhattosay.
“WilburHatesYou321?”
Thatmadehimsmile—alittleflatteredtoberecognized.“Youknowmyhandle?”
“You’reverymemorable.Mostlybecauseofthebook.”
“Whatbook?”
Whatelsecouldwebetalkingabout?“Charlotte’sWeb.”
WilburjustlookedatmelikeIwasbananas.
Okay.Enoughbonding.
“Hey,Wilbur?”Isaidthen,likeI’dhadafunidea.“Canyougivemethegun?”
“Iwasn’ttryingtoshootyou,”Wilbursaid.
“Iknow,”Isaid,makingmyvoicelikevelvet.“Itwasanaccident.I’mreallyfine.”
“Somebody’sgonnadieuphere,”hesaidnext,“butit’snotsupposedtobeyou.”ThenhegesturedbetweenhimselfandJack.“JackandIalreadydecided.Whenyourangthebell,Isaid,‘Who’sgoingtodietonight?Youorthelady?’Andhedidn’tevenhesitate.Hevolunteeredtodieinaheartbeat.”Wilburgavealittleshrug.“Isn’tthatsweet?”
Inodded,likeVery
Timetogetthatgun.
Slowly,Itookatookastepforward.
ButasWilbursawwhatIwasdoing,heshookhishead.“Youcan’thaveit,”hesaid.“Ineedit.”
That’swhenhetookseveralstepsbackward—andashedid,Icouldseethathewaslimping.Heangledhimselftowardtheledgeoftheroof,andheusedhisgoodlegtostepupontoit.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked.
“Ibetyouthinkthatguy’sprettygreat,”Wilbursaidtomethen.“Everybodythinkshe’ssogreat.”
“He’sokay,”Isaidwithashrug.
“Everybodyloveshim.TheDestroyer.Theythinkhesavedtheuniverse.Right?Theyallthoughtthatwasreallyhim.”WilburshookhisheadatJackandpointedthepistolbackathim.“Buthe’snohero.”
“That’sright,”Isaid,allgentle.“He’sjustaperson.Justaregularperson.”EmphasizingJack’shumanityseemedlikeagoodidea.
“Butnotregular,”Wilbursaid.“Notlikeyouandme.Becausehehaseverythinghewants.”HeturnedtoJackandliftedthegun,holdingitstraightouttowardhim.“Don’tya,Destroyer?Don’tyouhaveeverythingyouwant?”
Jackshookhisheadslowly.“Nobodygetseverythingtheywant.”
“Butenough.Toomuch,even.AndIdon’thaveanythinganymore.SoifyougettobeTheDestroyer,thenIgettobeThePunisher.”
Youcouldfeeltheenergyshiftjustthen.JackandIglancedateachother.Somethingwasabouttohappen.Itwasalmostlikeaclick.We’dshiftedtothenextgear.
WasIgoingtohavetopushthisguyofftherooftosaveJack?Icouldmakearunningdiveandsendusbothovertheside.
Athree-storyfallwon’tkillyou.
Probably.
Butthat’swhenWilburturnedtomeandsaid,“Mywifeleftmeforhim.”Then,toJack,“Areyouwithhernow?Areyoutwotogether?”
Jackjustfrowned.
“Lacey?”Wilburwenton,almostliketheywereplayingthenamegameforoldcollegefriends.“LaceyBayless?Mrs.WilburBayless?Didshefindyou?”
“Idon’tknowanybodynamedLacey,”Jacksaid.
Wilburturnedtowardme.“AfterIgothurtatwork”—hegesturedattheleghe’dbeenlimpingon—“shegotobsessedwithhim.Startedafanclub,thenanother.Startedsendingemailstohisagent.SpendingallhertimeonlinemakingGIFs.AndIwaslike,‘It’sokay.It’shealthytohaveahobby.’Right?Isupportedher!Iwasn’tjealous!Iwaslike,‘Liveyourbestlife,honey’!ButthenonenightIcamehomeandthereweresuitcasesbythefrontdoor.Andshe’dleftalasagnainthefridge.Andshetoldmeshewasleaving.”HelookedoveratJack.“Shetoldmemymangledlegturnedherstomach.Thatshe’dfalleninlovewithJack,instead.I’dneverbeabletocompare.Whycouldn’tIkissherthewayJackStapletonkissedKatiePalmer?”
IlookedatJack,likeShouldwetellhim?
Iflippedthroughallmyde-escalationtraininginmyhead.Irememberyouweresupposedtousepeople’snamesasmuchaspossible.Thesound—intheory,atleast—wascomforting.
“Wilbur,”Isaid.“That’shard.Igetit.”
ButWilburdidn’twantmysympathy.“Whatdoyouthink?”heaskedme.
“Aboutwhat?”
“AboutifI’mhandsome.”
WasWilburhandsome?
Um.Wasthisbinding?
Iscannedhispear-shapedphysique,hisrecedinghairline,hisyellowteeth,hisoilyskin,hisdirtyjeans,andhislimpDarthVaderT-shirtthatread:COMETOTHEDARKSIDE.WEHAVECOOKIES
AndthenIsaid,“Ithinkyou’reveryhandsome,Wilbur.”Iadded,“Very.”Then,whenhedidn’tlookconvinced:“Dashing,even.”
“So,”hegesturedwiththegunbetweenhimselfandJack.“Ifyouhadtochoosebetweenthetwoofus,whowouldyoupick?”
Jackhadrescuedmelastnightbypickingme,andIwasgoingtosavehimtonightbypicking…Wilbur.
“You,Wilbur!”Ideclaredinaflash.“Ahundredpercentyou!Inaheartbeat!”
“Right?”Wilbursaid.“That’swhatIkepttellingher!‘JackStapletonisafamousdipshit.’”
“Alegendarydipshit,”Iagreed.
Jackgavemealook.
Wilburcontinued.“‘HecouldneverloveyouthewayIloveyou,’Isaid.”
“Hedoesn’tknowthefirstthingaboutlove.”
Jackcoughed.
“‘He’snotgoingtobuildyouabirdhousefromscratchwithlittleworkingshuttersandhand-paintedcameliaflowers!’Nocontest,right?”
“Nocontest,”Iconfirmed.“JackStapleton’sneverbuiltabirdhouseinhislife.”
Jackflaredhisnostrilsatme,likeSettledown.
Wilburfellsilentforaminute.
ShouldItrytogethisweapon?
ThenWilburwenton.“Butsheleft.Sheleftanyway.Shetookthebirdhousewithher.Shewon’ttakemycalls.Shewon’tanswermytexts.”
“Howlonghasitbeen,Wilbur?”
“Amonth.”
Amonthwasalongtime.Longenoughtototallyupendyourlife.Icouldattest.
“Thingsaregoingtogetbetter,Wilbur,”Isaidthen.“Thingsgetbetter,andthenthingsgetworse,andthenthingsgetbetteragain.That’stherhythmoflife.That’showitisforeveryone.”
ButWilburwasintotellinghisstorynow.“ThenIsawhewasrighthereintown,”Wilburwenton.“AndIthoughtI’dcomefindhim.Seeifshemightbehere,too.”
“She’snot,”Jacksaid,justtoconfirm.
“ButthenIsawthepictureofJacksmoochinghisnewgirlfriend.Imean,reallygoingatit.Like,‘Getaroom!’Yousawthatpicture—amirite?”
“Wesawit,”JackandIsaid,inunison.
“AndIthought,”Wilburwenton,“I’vegottaputastoptothat.”
“Whywasthatagain,Wilbur?”Iasked
Wilburfrownedatme,likeitwassoobvious.“Soitwouldn’thurtLacey’sfeelings.”
“YouthreatenedtokillJack’snewgirlfriendtofreehimupsoyourwifecouldhavehim?”
Wilburnodded,lookingproud.“Thethingswedoforlove,right?”
“Nope.That’snot—”Istarted.
“Thedeaththreatswereyou?”Jackaskedthen.“Wethoughtitwasamiddle-agedcorgibreeder.”
Wilburtappedhisheadwiththeguntogestureathisbrains.“Icopiedherstyle.Tothroweverybodyoff.”
“Itworked,”Jacksaid.
ButWilburkeptgoing.“OnlyIdidn’twanttokillthegirlfriend.Justscarehersobadshe’dleavehim.”
“Justterrorizeherintoendingtherelationship,”Ioffered.
“Exactly,”Wilbursaid.“Butitdidn’twork.AndnowI’mamess.Ican’tsleep.Ican’teat.I’msoaloneallthetime.AndIjust…can’ttakeitanymore.”
Then,justasIwastryingtofigureouthowtomakeittoWilburbeforeWilburshotJack,Wilbursaid,“Sothat’sTheDestroyer’spunishment.Hehastowatchmedie.”
Atthat,Wilburliftedhisarmandbroughtthemuzzleoftheguntohisownhead.
Hewasn’theretokillJack.Orme.
Hewasheretokillhimself.
Ihadsomeexperiencewithhostagenegotiations,butthiswasnot,suddenly,ahostagesituationanymore.NotlikeI’dbeenexpecting,anyway.Ididn’thaveamanual,oraplaybook,oranyideawhatwouldwork.
Ijusthadtogooninstinct.
“Wilbur,”Isaid.“Ineedyoutoputdownthegun.”
WilburshiftedhisgazefrommetoJacktoseeifheagreed.Jacknoddedandsaid,“She’sright.”
Itookastepcloser.“Iknowyoufeelalonerightnow,Wilbur,”Isaid.“Butyou’renotalone.JackandIarewithyou.Wewantyoutobeokay.”
Ikeptgoing,thinkingmybestshotwastosaysomethingtrue,andsoIgrabbedforthefirstthingIthoughtof—eventhoughithadnothingtodowithhisstory.
ThoughlaterI’dwonderifmaybeitdid.
“Onmyeighthbirthday,”Isaidthen,“mymother’sboyfriendbeatherupsobadly,Ithoughtshewasdead.Ihidinaclosetallnight.”
Wilburlookedatme.
“Itwasabadnight.Itwastheworstnightofmylife.Asitwashappening,itfeltlikeitwouldneverend.Butitdidend.Andnowit’sadistantmemory.DoyouseewhatI’msaying?”
Wilburshookhishead.
“Terriblethingshappen.Butwecangetthroughthem,Wilbur.Andmorethanthat…wecanbebetterontheotherside.”
Wilburconsideredthat.
Thenheusedthemuzzleofthepistoltoscratchanitchonhishead.
Ikeptpushing.“Youcan’tcontroltheworld—orotherpeople.Youcan’tmakethemloveyou,either.Theywillortheywon’t,andthat’sthetruth.Butwhatyoucandoisdecidewhoyouwanttobeinthefaceofitall.Doyouwanttobeapersonwhohelps—orhurts?Doyouwanttobeapersonwhoburnswithanger—orshineswithcompassion?Doyouwanttobehopefulorhopeless?Giveuporkeepgoing?Liveordie?”
ThenWilbursaidsomethingthatpiercedalltheadrenalineofthemomentandkindofbrokemyheart.“IjustwantmyLaceyback,”Wilbursaid.
“Iknow,”Isaid.“Thatcouldhappen.Thatcouldstillhappen.Butitcan’thappenifyou’renothere.”
Wilburfrowned,likehehadn’tthoughtofthat.
“Yourlifeisimportant,Wilbur,”Isaid.“Theworldneedsmorepaintedbirdhouses.”
“ButwhoamImakingthemforwithouther?”
“Makethemforthebirds!Makethemforallthepeoplewho’llbedelightedtoseethem.Makethemforyourself.”
ThereweretearsonWilbur’sface.AndthenhesaidsomethingIstillthinkabouttothisday.Hesaid,inavoicethatsoundedgenuinelyweary,“Ijusthatemyselfsomuchfornotbeingloved.”
Oof.
Iabsolutelygotit.
Imademyvoicesoft.“Youcan’tmakepeopleloveyou.Butyoucangivetheloveyoulongforouttotheworld.Youcanbetheloveyouwishyouhad.That’sthewaytobeokay.Becausegivinglovetootherpeopleisawayofgivingittoyourself.”
Wilburchewedhislipashethoughtaboutthat.
“That’sallwecando,”Isaid.“Allwecandoisputawayouranger,andourblame,andourguns”—seewhatIdidthere?—“andtrytomakethingsbetterinsteadofworse.That’stheonlyanswerthereis.”
Wilburwipedathistearswiththebackofhisgun-holdinghand.
Itookastepcloser.“Giveyourselfsometime—andgivemethegun.”
Wilburloweredthegunandlookeddownatitinhishand.
“Youcanchangeyourlife,”Isaidthen.“Youcanmakegoodthingshappen.Youcanfillupyouryardwithpaintedbirdhouses.Hundredsofthem.Thousands.”Myvoicefeltalittleshaky.ButIkeptgoing:“I’dreally,reallylovetoseethat.Howmagicalwouldthatbe?”
Wilburdidn’tlookaway.HeknewIwastellingthetruth.HefelthowmuchImeantit.
“Comedownandgivemethegun,okay?”Isaid.
Wilburlookeddownthen,peeringoverhisfeet.Then,withsurrender,hesteppedbacktowardus,downofftheledge.Ashelanded,hisinjuredlegcrumpledunderhim,andhecollapsed.
Inthatsecond,JackandIbothtackledhim—Jack,stillbound,throwinghiswholebodydowntokeepWilburpinned,andmegoingforthegun—thoughWilburhadgonelimpatthatpointanddidn’tneedmuchrestraining.
AsIlanded,thewineopenerinmybraflewoutandwentskitteringacrosstherooftop.
ItwistedWilbur’sarmbehindhimandwrestedthegunoutofhisgrip,andthenIlookeduptoseeJackstaringatthecorkscrew.“What,exactly,wereyouplanningtodowiththat?”
ButIjustsaid,“Youdon’twanttoknow.”
Prettyeasy,rightthereattheend.
“Iwasnevergoingtokillyou,youknow,”Wilbursaidtomethen,hischeekagainsttheroof.“OrJack,either.TheonlypersonIwantedtomurderherewasme.”
“That’sgottachange,Wilbur,”Isaid,mykneeonhisback.“Youneedtolearnhowtobekindtoyourself.Andthenyouneedtosharethatkindnesswiththeworld.”
“Withbirdhouses,”Wilbursaid,clearlylikingmyidea.
“That’soneway,”Isaid.
Wecouldhearthesirensnow.Andvoicesdownbelow.Andbootsonthegraveldrive.
Shouldn’tbelong.They’dfollowmybloodyfootprintsuptousprettyfast.
Whilewewaited,Wilbursaid,“IjusthaveonequestionforJack.”
Jack,stretchedacrosshislegstokeepthempinned,said,“Whatisit?”
That’swhenWilburliftedhishead,angledbacktogiveJackhisbestsmile,andsaid,“Anychanceofaselfie?”Thirty-Two
THEDOCATtheERcalledthescrapeonmyheada“million-dollarwound.”
Badenough,intheory,toearnmesometimeoffwork,butnotbadenoughtoneedstitches.
Or,youknow,tohavekilledme
“Onemillimetercloser,”thedocsaid,afterlettingoutalongwhistle,“anditwouldbeawholedifferentstory.”
Oncetheycleanedmeupandgotagoodlook,itwaslikeatwo-inch-long,pencil-lead-widetrenchabovemyear—withthesidesbuiltupatinybit,likeaberm.
JacktookabunchofphotoswithmyphonesoIcouldsee.
Theydidn’thavetoshavetoomuchofmyhair,whichwasnice.Justpulledthebulkoffintoasurprisinglyperkysideponytail.Thentheyirrigatedanddisinfectedit,packeditwithanantibacterialointment,andcovereditwithadressing—encirclingmyheadwithgauzelikethesweatbandofa1970stennisplayer.
“Thisisactuallyagoodlookforyou,”Jacksaid.
Ijustkeptthinkingitcould’vebeensomuchworse.
Theydidn’tevenkeepmeovernight.OncetheMRIcamebackfine,theydischargedmewithsomeantibiotics,industrial-strengthTylenol,andstrictinstructionsto“treatitlikeaconcussion.”Nodriving,nosports,norollercoasters.
Check.
JackandIhadarrivedattheERinanambulance,andsoGlennsentacarlatertopickusup.Andinaclassic,GlennSchultz–stylesadisticflourish,hemadeRobbydriveit.
DoweneedtoreviewallthetimesRobbysaidtherewasnowayIcouldeverpassforJackStapleton’sgirlfriend?DoweneedtoreflectonRobby’sastonishingcallousnessfromthebreakupandbeyond?DoweneedtohaveamomentofrealizationherethatRobby’sstrategyforkeepingmeinabadrelationshipwastoconvincemethatIdidn’tdeserveabetterone?
Alltrue.
Butmaybewecanjustsavorthisparticular,exquisitemomentfromthatnight,rightasJackandIreachedthecar,whenRobby,tryingtomanifestsomebigsecret-serviceenergy,openedthebackdooroftheTahoeandstartedtohelpmein.
Robbymighthavepassedforacoolguyinthatmoment.
Ifheweren’tstandingtwofeetfromJackStapleton.
AndifIhadn’tjustcometoawholenewunderstandingofwhat,exactly,acoolguywas.
Anyway,Jackstoppedhimashereachedforme.
“Igotit,man,”Jacksaid.
“It’smyjob,”Robbysaid,tryingtocontinue.
ButJackstoppedhimagain,steppingbetweenustoblockRobby’saccess,movinginwithsuchpurposethatRobbyjustlosthismomentum.
Next,Jackputhisarmsaroundme,alltenderness,andliftedmeup.Hesetmeinthebackseat,clickedthebucklelikeIwassomethingprecious,gavemeabriefbutsuggestivekissonthemouth,andthenturnedtoRobby.“Thatmaybeyourjob,”Jacksaid,gesturingattheTahoe,“butthis”—heplacedhishandonmythighlikeitbelongedtohim—“ismygirlfriend.”
So.
Nottheworstnightofmylife.
Intheend.
JACKWOUNDUPsleepingover.
Atmyplace.Inmybed.
Nowallofpillowsnecessary.
Nothingphysicalhappened,ofcourse.Rollercoastersaren’ttheonlyno-noswithconcussions.Plus,IhadsurgicalgauzewrappedaroundmyheadlikeBj?rnBorg.Whichprettymuchputthekiboshonanything,yaknow,nonspiritual.
Butemotionalthingshappened.
Like,weheldhands.Andwethankedeachotherforeverythingwecouldthinkof.Andwefeltgratefultobealive.
Theremayormaynothavebeensnugglinginvolved.
AndIguesstherereallyissomethingprofoundlyhealingaboutlettingsomebodyloveyou.
Becausethenextmorning,whenIwokeandfoundJacksittingonthesideofthebedwithhisheadinhishands,Icouldtellsomethingwasdifferent.
BeforeIcouldask,Jackturnedandtookinthesightofme—headbandaged,hairmakingitsownrules.Hestoodup,camearoundtomyside,andsaid,“How’syourgunshotwound?”
Iwavedhimoff.“Totallyfine.”
“There’sbloodonthebandage.”
“It’slikeapapercut.”
Buthefussedovermeanyway.Hemademechangethebandageonmyhead—andalsoaroundmytoes.Whichhurtmuchworse.Healsomademebrushmyteeth,andputonasoftchenillerobe,anddrinksomewarmtea,andtakemyantibiotics.
Andthenhethankedme,again,fornotdying.
Andonlyoncewe’dtakencareofallthosethingsdidJackconfesstome,“Ihadmynightmareagainlastnight.”
“Thesamenightmare?”Iasked.
Henodded.“Yes.Butitwasdifferent.”
Differentwasgood,Ihoped.“Whathappened?”
“IgotinthecarwithDrew,likeIalwaysdo.Weheadedstraightforthebridge,likewealwaysdo.Butthen,aswegotclose,Isawsomethingintheroad.”
“What?”
“Aperson.Wavingusdowntostop.”
“Anddidyoustop?”
“Barely.Drewslammedonthebrakes,andweskiddedlikeahundredfeet.”Jackshookhishead.“Itwassoreal,Icouldsmelltheburningrubber.”
“Butyoustopped,”Isaid.“That’sdifferent.”
Henodded.“Justintime.Imean—justinchesfromhittingher.”
Her?“Wasityourmom?”
Jackshookhishead.“Itwasyou.”
Ileanedintogetagoodlookathisface.“Me?”
Jacknodded.“Youcametomywindowandgesturedtorollitdown.Andthenyousaidthebridgewasclosed.‘Youhavetoturnaround,’yousaid.
“Butthat’swhenIsawthatDrewwasn’tinthecaranymore.Igotouttolookaroundforhimandsawhimwalkingaway—offtowardthebridge,likehewasgoingtocrossit.‘It’sclosed!’Iyelled.‘Wehavetogoback!’
“Hestopped.Andturned.Buthedidn’tcomeback.
“‘Hey,’Icalled,alldetermined,likeifIconvincedhimhardenough,wecouldchangethings.‘Hey.Wehavetogoback.’
“ButDrewshookhishead.
“SoIgotoutandranovertohimandstoppedjustafewfeetaway.‘There’siceonthebridge,’Isaid.‘Wehavetoturnaround.Comeon.’
“ButDrewjustlookedintomyeyes.Heneededashave.Andhiscowlickwasmakingthatonelittlesprigofhairstickupintheback.Andhewouldn’tsayanything.JuststoodthereuntilIknewforsurethathewasn’tcomingbackwithme.AndthenIcouldfeeltearsonmyface.Itriedonemoretime.‘Justcomebackwithme,okay?Let’sjustgobacktogether.’
“ButDrewjustshookhishead.AndIknewhewasn’tcoming.ThattherewasnothingIcoulddo.
“AndthenmyvoicewassoshakyIalmostthoughtIwouldn’tgetthewordsout.ButIsaidtohim,‘IamsosorrythatIcouldn’tprotectyou.’
“AndthenDrewnodded,likeIknow.It’sokay.
“Andheturnedandwalkedofftowardthebridge.IwatchedhimuntilIcouldn’tseehimanymore.AndIthink—atleastitfeltthisway—likeyoustoodbesidemeandwatchedhimgo,too.WhenIwokeup,Iwascrying.ButIfeltbetter,inaway.”
Forsomereason,hearingaboutitgavemeshivers.
“Iknowitwasn’treal,”Jacksaid.“Butitfeltreal.”
“Maybeitwasrealenough,”Isaid.
“Thankyouforbeingthere,”Jacksaid.
Icouldhavepointedoutthatheputmethere.ButIjustsaid,“You’rewelcome.”
“Anyway,”Jacksaid,“Ithinkyouwererightaboutthedream.”
“Iwas?”
Jacknodded.“Thatitwasachance.”
“Tosaygoodbye?”Iasked.
ButJackshookhishead.“TosayI’msorry.”
THATDREAMWASthelastoneJackeverhadabouttheicybridge.
Hestilldreamedabouthisbrotherfromtimetotime—almostalwaysaboutlookingupinacrowdtoseeDrewsmilingathim,orwinking,orgivinghimanod,likeYougotthis
Jackdidn’tbelievethosedreams,exactly.Hedidn’tthinktheywereliteralwindowsintotheafterlife.Hefigureditwasjusthisimaginationtellingstories.
Buttheyweregoodstories.Comfortingstories.Andhewasgratefulforthem.
Theywerestoriesheneededtohear.
Didtheycurehisfearofbridges?
Thatdependsonhowyoudefine“cure.”
He’sstillnotafanofthem.Buthecancrossthemnow.
Hegetsalittleconcentrationdimpleinhischeek,andhetightenshishandsonthewheel,buthemakesitacrosseverytime.Withoutthrowingupafterward
AndwegoaheadandcountthatasawinThirty-Three
AFTERTHENIGHTIgot,um,shotinthehead,GlennmadeTaylorcoverthefirsttwoweeksofmyKoreaassignmentsomymillion-dollarinjurycouldhealcompletely.HeofferedtohaveTaylortakethewholething,butIdeclined.“NomoregivingTaylormyassignments,”Isaid.
“Goodpoint,”Glennsaid.
Jackwaitedarespectfullengthoftimeformyemotionally-alarming-but-not-all-that-lethal-or-even-painfulinjurytoheal…andthenhetalkedmeintotryingourdateagain.
Hesaid,“Canwejusthaveado-over?”
“Onwhat?”
“Thedate.”
“Thedate?”Iasked.“Theonethatalmostgotmekilled?”
Jacknodded,likeYup
“Nothanks,”Isaid.“I’mgood.”
“Ijustneedado-over,”Jacksaid.“Andsodoyou.”Thenheleanedincloser,marshaledallhishandsomeness,andsaid,“Ipromiseyouwon’tregretit.”
DidIwanttowalkupJack’sdrivewayinridiculousfootwearandnervouslyringhisdoorbellagain,evenknowingforcertainthatWilburHatesYou321wasincustody?
Notachance.
“Let’sjustdosomethingelse,”Isaid.“Minigolf.Bowling.Karaoke.”
ButJackshookhishead.“IhadsomeveryspecificintentionsforwhatIwasgoingtodotoyouinthatmoment,andIreallyneedtoseethemthrough.”
“YoumeanthemomentwhenIshowedupatyourdoorallnervousandyouflat-outrejectedme?”
“Let’snotefortherecordthatIwassavingyourlife.”
“ButIgotshotanyway.”
“Grazed,”Jackcorrected.
Ithoughtaboutit.CouldIbeartotryagain?Istudiedhim.“You’retryingtore-createthedate?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because,”Jacksaid.“IneedaversionofthatstorythatdoesnothaveWilburinit.”
Icouldseethevalueofthat.“Fine,”Isaid.
“Tonight,”Jacksaid.
“Fine.”
“Andwearthatreddress.”
Isighed.“TheoneIbledallover?”
“Youwashedit,right?”
“Imean…yes.”
“Soit’sallgood.”
“Theshoesareinthetrash,though,”Isaid.
“Idon’tcareabouttheshoes.Comebarefootifyouwant.”
Ishookmyhead.ThenIpointedatJackandsaid,“I’llwearmycowboyboots.”Andashenodded,likeCool,Isaid,“I’mneverwearingstupidshoesagain.”
THISTIME,WHENIrangthebell,Jackswungthedoorwideopenrightaway.
Hewasdressed,hewasclean-shaven,hewasblindinglygood-looking…andassoonashesawme,helethiseyessweepdowntomybootsandbackupinaslownodofappreciation.Thenhereachedout,hookedhisfingersintothefabrictiearoundmywaist,andpulledmeintohisentranceway—swingingthedoorclosedbehindus.
Hehadalookonhisfacelikehewasabouttokissmeintooblivion.
Butthat’swhenIliftedafingerandsaid,“CanIjustchecksomethingwithyou?”
Jackhadacertainmomentum.Buthepaused.“Sure.”
“Thelasttimewedidthis,”Isaid.“Youstoppedmeatthedoorandtoldmethatyouneverlikedme.Thatyou’dbeenfakingeverythingtheentiretime.”
“Iremember.”
“So,aslongaswe’rehavingado-over,”Isaid.“CanIjustgetyoutoconfirmthatyouwerelyingaboutfaking?”
Jackfrowned.“Don’tyouknowthatalready?”
“Imean,yes.Ido.Butthatmomentreallykindoffirebombedthequadrantofmybrainthatwe’lljustcall‘myworstfearsaboutmyself.’So.Aslongaswe’rerewritingthestory…canwefixthatpart?”
Jacknodded,likeOfcourse
Hemetmyeyes.“Iwasreallynervousaboutthedate.DidItellyouthat?We’dbeenlivingtogetherforweeks,soIshouldn’thavebeen.ButIwas.I’dorderedtakeoutfordelivery,sowhenthedoorbellrang,Ijustansweredit.Butitwasn’tthefood.ItwasWilbur.Withagun.AndhewasalotmoreterrifyingthananybodynamedWilburshouldeverbe.”
Agreed.
“Hewaswild-eyed,”Jackwenton.“Breathingfastandmanic-seeming,likeanythingcouldhappenatanysecond.Ithoughthemightwellbeondrugs.Iknewforsurehewaspointingapistolatmychest.Irememberhavingahardtimelettingtheideaofthedatego.Irememberthinking,Now’sreallynotagoodtime.Itriedtotalkhimintogivingmethegun.Heaskedmeathousandquestionswithouteverexplaininganything.AndjustasIwasthinking,WhatwouldHannahdorightnow?andtryingtorememberexactlyhowyou’dflippedmethattime,yourangthebell.”
Jacksighed.
Hewenton.“Wilburwentonhighalert.Hewantedtoknowwhoitwas,andthenhelookedthroughthepeepholeandsawyou,andhesaid,‘It’sawomaninaslinkydress.’Thenheturnedtomeandsaid,‘Okay.Who’sitgonnabe?’
“Iaskedwhatthatmeant,andhesaid,‘WhoshouldIkill?You?Orher?’
“SoIsaid,‘Me.Ofcourse.Obviously.’
“‘Youdidn’teventhinkaboutit,’Wilbursaid,likehewasdisappointed.
“SoIsaid,‘There’snothingtothinkabout.’
“‘Youwanttodie?’Wilburasked.
“‘No,’Isaid.‘Butbetweenthetwoofus,it’snocontest.’
“‘Ican’tbelieveyou’repickingyourself,’Wilbursaid.
“‘WellI’msureasshitnotpickingher.’
“‘Okay,then,’Wilbursaid.‘Getheroutofhere.’
“Ireachedforthedoor,butthenWilburadded:‘Anddoitright.Ifshefiguresoutsomething’supandcallsthecops,IguaranteeyouI’llkillusall.’
“‘Ibelieveyou,’Isaid.AndIdid.SoIopenedthedoorandIdidtheonlythingIcouldthinkoftomakeyouleaveandnotcomeback.”
IlookedintoJack’seyes.“Youactedlikeyoudidn’tlikeme.”
Jacknodded.“Didn’ttakeallthoseimprovclassesfornothing.”
“Whydidn’tyouusethecodeword?”
Jackgavemealook.“Um.BecauseIdidn’twantmylastwordstobe‘ladybug’?”
“Seriously,though.”
“Seriously?WhywouldIhavedonethat?”
“SoI’dknowsomethingwasup.”
“Thepointwasforyounottoknow.”
“YourealizeIdothisforaliving?IwaswaymorequalifiedthanyoutohandleWilbur321.ThereweretendifferentwaysIcouldhavedisarmedhim.”
“Ididn’tthinkaboutthat.”
“Obviously.”
“Ijustwantedyounottodie.Ireally,really,”Jacksaid,steppingcloser,“didn’twantyoutodie.”
Iappreciatedthat.Idid.“Thankyou.”
“SoIactedmyheartout.”
“Youreallygotme,”Isaid.
“Well,”Jacksaid,“Idothisforaliving.”
Ipeeredintohiseyes.“Justtoconfirm:Youdidn’tnotlikeme.”
“Ididn’tnotlikeyou,”Jacksaid.
“Youlikedme,”Isaidagain.“Forreal.Actively.”
“Forreal.Actively,”Jackconfirmed.“Morethananyoneelseeverinmywhole,dumblife.”
Istudiedhim.
“Ididn’tcareifheshotme,”Jackwenton.“TheonlythingIcaredaboutwastrickingyouintoleaving—anddoingitsowellthatyoudidn’tcomeback.”
“Well.Youcrushedit.”
“Butthenyoucameback.Likeadummy.”
“Ithinkyoumeanlikeaheroicallycourageousbadass.”
“Youweren’tsupposedtosaveme.Iwassavingyou.”
“Iguesswesavedeachother.”
“That’sonewayofspinningit.”
“Aren’tyoualittlebitgladthatIsavedyourlife?”
“Wilbursayshewasnevergoingtokillme,afterall.”
“Allevidencetothecontrary.”
“AssoonasIpickedyoutosave,hedecidedIwasagoodguy.Itwasatest.AndIpassed.”
“Butwhytestyouifhewasn’tgoingtokillyou,anyway?”
“Itwasafriendshiptest.”
IstudiedJack’sface.“Soitwasn’tthatheroicwhenyousavedme,afterall.”
ButJackjustgavemealook.“Itwasprettydamnheroic.”
Jacksighed.“Iamhonoredthatyoucameback,”hesaid.Andevenashewastalking,hewassteppingcloser,cuppingbothhandsbehindmyhead,lookingintomyeyesliketheywereaplacehewantedtogo.“But,”hesaidthen,“don’teverfuckingdoitagain.”
Thenhebroughthismouthtomine,andpressedusbackupagainstthedoor,andkissedmelikehemightnevergetanotherchance.
Yep.
Heckofado-over.
Apologiestoeveryoneintheworldwhoisnotme…butthetruthis—asgoodasJackisatscreenkissing,he’sathousandtimesbetterattherealthing
Imean,hemakesiteasy.
Youdon’toverthinkit.
Youdon’tthinkatall,infact.
Youjustletyourselfgetlost,andyourbodytakesover,andbeforeyouknowit,yourarmscrookuparoundhisneck,andyou’repressedagainstthatwashboardstomach,andyou’remeltingagainsthimanddissolvingintoamomentthat’ssomind-numbingit’sasifhehijackedeverysingleoneofyoursenses.
Inthebestpossibleway.
Hekissesyoulikeit’sdestiny.Likethat’swhatalwayshappened.Likethere’snootherconceivableversionofthestory.
Andyoukisshimbackthesameway.
Andyourwholebodyfeelslikefireworks.
Andsodoesyoursoul.
Andit’slikeyou’reinyourlifeandflyingaboveitatthesametime.Likeyouarebothonearthandintheheavens.Likeyouareallheartbeatandrushingpulseandwarmthandsoftness—butyouarealsothewindandtheclouds.You’rejusteverything,allatonce.
It’sasiflovingsomebody—really,bravely,justall-inlovingsomebody—isadoorwaytosomethingdivine.
Andlater—manyhourslater—afterhe’stakenyoutobed,andyourredbootsareforgottenonthefloor,andyou’rebothexhaustedandtangledandhalfasleep,andyouhavehelpedhimdowhatevercrazythinghealwaysdoestohissheets,Jack,allcasual,yawnsandstretchesoutthatfamoustorso,andsays:“Iwonderifanybody’smonitoringthesurveillancefootage.”
“Whatsurveillancefootage?”youask.
“Inthefronthallway.”
Ofcourse,Robbyis.Sincehe’sstilltheprimaryagentonJack’sdetail.
YouliftuponyourelbowstoreadJack’sface.“DidyoukissmeinthefronthalllikethattoshowupRobby?”
“IkissedyouinthefronthallbecauseI’vebeendesperatetodothatexactthingforweeksandweeks,”Jacksays,clampinghisarmaroundyouandpullingyoutohimtight.
Thenheadds:“ShowingupouroldpalBobbywasjustabonus.”
AND,INTHEend,doyouevertrulyknowforsureifyou’relovable?
Whataquestion.
Youdon’t.Youcan’t.Ofcoursenot.
Lifeneverhandsouttheanswerslikethat.
Butmaybethat’snoteventherightquestion.
Maybeloveisn’tajudgmentyourender—butachanceyoutake.Maybeit’ssomethingyouchoosetodo—overandover
Foryourself.Andeveryoneelse.
Becauseloveisn’tlikefame.It’snotsomethingotherpeoplebestowonyou.It’snotsomethingthatcomesfromoutside.
Loveissomethingyoudo.
Loveissomethingyougenerate
Andlovingotherpeoplereallydoesturnout,intheend,tobeagenuinewayoflovingyourself.Epilogue
“HOW’SWILBURDOINGthesedays?”mightnotbeyourmostpressingquestionrightnow.
ButcanIjusttellyou?Themanisthriving.
He’slivinghisbestlife,timesten.
Alltosay:Thebirdhousesreallytookoff.
Afterhegotoutofprison,hestartedabirdhouse-buildingcompany,andhefilleduphisentirefrontyardwiththem.Hundreds.Inalldifferentcolors,onpolesofalldifferentheights,inalldifferentshapes:barnswithslidingdoors,Dutchwindmillsthatspin,andevenalittlemodernreplicaofFallingwater.It’sbecomethemostphotographedbirdhouse-themedlocationontheinternet.Notonlyforitswhimsy,butalsobecauseit’saperfectselfiebackground.
HenamedhiscompanyMakeItBetterBirdhouses.
Nowadays,he’lltellyouthatnightonJack’sroofwasthedarkestmomentofhislife.Infact,it’sinthemissionstatementonhiswebsite,undertheheading,“WhyBirdhouses?”Heencounteredapowerfuldoseofkindnessatexactlythemomentheneededitmost—anditwasarevelation.Hegotsomeprofessionalhelp,andsomemedication,andnowhetrieseverydaytopayitforward.
Torejectrage—andtochoosekindness,instead.
Andbirdhouses.
HeevendidaTEDTalkaboutit.
LasttimeIchecked,ithadfourmillionviews.
DammitifWilburdidn’tturnouttobethewisestoneofusall.
Imean,sortof
He’salsoveryawarethathealmostkilledbothmeandhimselfthatnightlongago,andnotonlydidhesendasternlywordedlettertothemanatthegunstorewhosoldhimthatpistolevenafterWilburhintedatwhatheplannedtodowithit—henowuseshisplatformtoadvocateforstrongergunlawseverychancehegets.
It’snottheoreticalforhim,hesays.It’spersonal.
Also,everyyearonmybirthday,hesendsmeabirdhouse.
DoesitfreakmeoutthatheknowswhereIlive?
Absolutely.
Butnotthatmuchmorethaneverythingelse.
ThemottoforWilbur’scompanyis,afterall:“Makethebirdhouseyouwishtoseeintheworld.”
Heseemstohavefoundahealingvocationforhimself.Andtobemakingaprettygoodliving.Andhe’sdefinitelybecomeafolk-artheroofthebirdhousecommunity.
Hesaysgettinglostindarknessforcedhimtolookforthelight.
HealsomentionsJackStapletonashis“biggestfanandbestfriend”prettyfrequently.
Whichisfine.Jackhasn’tseenWilburoncesincethenightheshotme—butit’sfine.
JackhasactuallyfeaturedacoupleofWilbur’sbirdhousesonhisInstagram.AndIfollowhisTikTok.Asfansofbothbirdhousesandpeoplewhocourageouslychangetheirthinking,we’reverygladhe’sdoingwell.
Intheory.
Fromadistance.
Thequestionofthehour,ofcourseis:DidLaceyevercomebacktoWilbur?
Shedidnot.
Shefiledfordivorce.
But,asluckwouldhaveit,onthedayhegotservedthepapers,Wilburdecidedtoeatanentiresheetcakeasamethodofself-care,andwhenhecalledtheorderintothebakeryandaskedtopersonalizeitwithYOURLOSS,LACEY!KISSMYASS,thecakedecoratorthoughtitwassofunnythatsheslippedherphonenumberintothecakeboxwithanotethatread:“You’rehilarious.Callme!Love,Charlotte.”
Ayearlater,onValentine’sDay,WilburandCharlotteeloped.
SoIsentthemacopyofCharlotte’sWebasaweddinggift.
DIDJACKWINDupmakingthesequeltoTheDestroyers?
Hedid.
Turnsoutit’shardertogiveupbeingaworld-famousmoviestarthanyou’dthink.
Especiallywhenyoudon’thateyourselflikecrazyeverydayanymore.
ThoughhealsomadeaOneMovieaYearrule.
InthefiveyearssincefilmingDestroyerII:TheRedemption,he’smadefivemovies.Aspaceadventure,apoliticalthriller,awarmoviewhereeverybody—evenJack—getseatenbysharks(Iwillneverwatchthatone),arom-com(you’rewelcome),andawestern.
Hedidhisownstuntsforthewestern.
Butnobodybelievesit.
Itseemstobejusttherightwork-lifebalance.Alittlefilming,alittlepromoting,andalotofwalkingthebanksoftheBrazoslookingforfossils.AndIdoasimilarthing,too,now—oneassignmentayear.Andwetimethemjustrightsowe’regoneatthesametime.
Wegooffonourseparateadventures,andwedoourwork.AndthenwegohometoTexas.
IfGlennhasanassignmentforme,andIhesitate,Jack’llgestureathisownribcageandsay,“Don’tforgetyourgills.”
Butthetruthis,IthinkaboutescapealotlessthanIusedto.
BecauseJackdidmovebacktohisparents’ranch,andhedidbuildaplaceafewpasturesaway—justattheperfectspotontheVenndiagrambetween“tooclose”and“toofar.”
HeandHankandDocdidwindupbuildingDrew’sboat—andnamingit“Sally,”afterDrew’sfavoritechildhoodhamster.Oneofthesedays,they’regoingtosailitdowntheTexascoast.Justassoonastheylearnhowtosail.
Jackalsoturnedtheoxbowlakeintoanaturepreserve.TheDrewStapletonTexas-in-the-WildBrazosRiverBottomNaturePreserve&WildlifeCenter.ButeverybodyjustcallsitDrew’sPlaceforshort.Theyclearedhikingandmountainbikingtrails.Theysetupclassesonbutterflygardening,birding,andwaterwayconservation.Theystartedsummercampstoteachkidshowtofish,andbuildfires,andlookafternature.
Sothat—asDocsays—keepshimoutoftrouble.
JackstilldoessomethinggoodeverysingledayinhonorofDrew.Whetherit’sweedingthegardenforhismom,ordonatingalibrarybuildingtoaschool,orsurprisingagroupofICUnursesbyshowinguptoserenadetheminasnug-fittingT-shirt,Jack—faithfully,devotedly,anddaily—workstohonorthememoryofhislittlebrotherandtojustifyhisownremainingtimeonthisearth.
Andhemarksiteverytimebysaying,quietlytohimself:“Thisisforyou,Drew.Missyou,buddy.”
That’senough,itturnsout.
That’senoughtogoon.
WHOWONTHEcompetitionfortheLondonjob?
Robbydid.GlennwasnotbluffingwhenhetoldmetowaitforthecopsorkissLondongoodbye.
Nosurprisethere.
SoRobbygottheLondonjobandleftthecountry.
Finewithme.AndTaylor,too.
ItbuggedKellythatIdidn’tgetit,though.“Yousavedaperson’slifethatnight!”sheinsistedonenightovermargaritas.“WhyshouldRobbygettowin?”
ButIguessitdependsonhowyoudefinewinning.
Imean,RobbyhastospendtherestofhislifebeingRobby
That’slosingbydefinition.
DidIreallygoonassignmenttoKoreaandleaveJackbehindinTexasassoonasmysickleavewasup?
Ofcourse.Ihadajobtodo.
ButdidJackfollowmethereafewweekslater,showingupunannouncedoutsidemyhotelinasofter-than-velvetcashmerescarfforonemagical,snowynightinSeoul?
Officially?Absolutelynot.Iwasworking.
Moreimportantly,didJackfinallygivemeatakerforthatValentine’svacationtoToledo?
Hedid.Thoughheboughtmynonrefundablebargainticketsfrommeandwesomehowwounduponaprivateplane.Andhemademelethimpickthehotel.
Alltosay,wewent—butdon’taskmewhatwethoughtofthebotanicalgardens.Ortheartmuseum.Ortheirworld-famouschilidogs.
Wedidn’tgetoutmuch.
AmIsayingwespenttheentireweekinafancyhotelroomwithoutleavingevenonce?
I’llleavethattoyourimagination.
Let’sjustsaythatToledoisnowmyfavoritecityofalltime.
THOUGHISHOULDmentionthatJackandIaren’tdatinganymore.Youcan’tdateaguylikeJackforever.
NotwithConnieStapletonafteryoutwenty-foursevento“hurryupandgetmarried”and“makesomegrandkids”beforeher“corpseisintheflowergarden.”
Shecontinuedremindingusofherpossibleimminentdeathlong—long—aftershewasfullyrecoveredineverypossibleway.
Unrepentantly.
“I’veearnedit,”shesaid.“Nowgetbusy.”
Tothisday,Connieswearsthatdeath—thethreatofit,thepromiseofit,theloomingguaranteeofit,evenifyou’rewell—hasitsupsides.
Ithelpsyouremembertobealive,ifnothingelse.
Ithelpsyoustopwastingtime.
JACKANDIgotmarriedattheranch,ofcourse.
Ihadabouquetoffresh-cuthoneysuckleandbougainvillea.Jack’sboutonnierehadaspeckledfeatherhe’dfoundbytheriver.Wemadebeadedsafetypinsandgavethemoutaskeepsakes.AndwegotClipperthehorsetoofficiate.
Justkidding.
WegotGlenntoofficiate.Turnsout,hewasalsoajusticeofthepeace.Whoknew?
Bythen,hewasonWifeNumberFour,sohedeclaredthatprettymuchmadehimanexpert.Andnobodydaredtoargue.
Wekepttheguestlistprettysmall.Mostlyfamily.Andahandfulofworld-famousmoviestars.Ofcourse.ButonlytheonesJackactuallyliked.
KennedyMonroe,forexample,didnotmakethecut.
Butguesswhodid?
MerylStreep.
Shecouldn’tmakeit,butshesentusasetofFrenchsteakknives—whichwouldhenceforthbeknownas“MerylStreep’ssteakknives”eventoourfuturekids.Asin,“Babe,canyougrabmeoneofMerylStreep’ssteakknivesfromthedrawer?”Or,“DonottrytoprythatopenwithoneofMerylStreep’ssteakknives!”Or,“Howdidafour-year-oldmanagetobendoneofMerylStreep’ssteakknivessobadlywecan’tbenditback?”
Soshereallywoundupquiteaguestofhonor.
AnddidIletTaylorbeabridesmaid,evenaftershebegged?
Um.Notexactly.
Ididletherpassoutprograms,though
AndKelly?Long-sufferingKelly?WhohadtriedsohardforsolongtofindaplaceonTeamJackbutnevercaughtabreakfromanybody?
WesatherinbetweenRyanReynoldsandRyanGosling—andwesatDoghouseacrossfromthemandlethimburnwithjealousyallnight.Thensheaccidentallyspilledajarofmoonshineononeofthem—Icanneverrememberwhich—andshewounduphavingtohelphimtakeoffthatslim-fitdressshirtandchangeintooneofJack’sspares.
Sointheendshehadaprettyokaytime.
Sometimesenthusiasmisitsownreward.
WHAT’SITLIKEtobewithJackStapleton,youwanttoknow?
Iimagineit’slikebeingwithanykindhearted,comicallygoodlooking,world-famousguywholaughsallthetime.
It’sprettygreat.
IsJack’shandsomenessstillexhausting?
Absolutely.
Poorguy.Hereallycan’thelpit.
Andit’stemperedbyreality.WhenhegoesforarunandleaveshissweatyT-shirtinaclumponthebathroomfloor.Whenhisglassesgetbentandhedoesn’tnotice.Whenhesneezesintohisshirtandthentakesabowlikehe’stheworld’sbiggestgenius.Whenhelaughssohardatdinnerthathespitswateralloverthetable.Whenhetriestothrowanexpiredtubofyogurtacrossthekitchenintothetrashcanforathree-pointer,missescompletely,andthendartsoutthedoorbeforeyoucanmakehimcleanitup.
Imean,he’snotperfect.
Butyoudon’thavetobeperfecttobelovable.
Onethingthat’schangedisthatIknowforsureIcanreadhimnow.IknowtheactingJackfromtherealJackataglance.Iknowhisfakelaughfromhisgenuinelaugh.Iknowhisirritatedsmilefromhisdelightedsmile.Iknowhisactualpassionatekissesfromhispretendpassionatekisses.
Anotherthingthat’schangedisthatIcanreadmyselfnow.
Andby“read,”Imean:appreciate.
Imean,sure,weshouldalljustknowourowninherentworth,andseeourownparticularbeauty,androotforourselveswhereverwego.
Butdoesanybodyreallydothat?
Itdoesn’thurttohavealittlehelp,right?
Itdoesn’thurttospendyourlifewithpeoplewhoseewhat’sgreataboutyou—inawaythatyoumaybeneverwouldhaveonyourown.
Thepeoplewelovehelpteachuswhoweare.
Thebestversionsofwhoweare,ifwe’relucky.
ThatturnsouttobemyfavoritethingaboutJackStapleton.It’snotthehandsomeness.OrthewayhewearsthoseLevi’s.It’snotthemoney,orthephilanthropy,either.Andit’scertainlynotthefame.
Thefame’salittlebitofapain,actually.
ThebestthingaboutJackStapletonisaparticularabilityhehas—andnowIknowhegotitstraightfromhismom—toseethebestinpeople.
Whoeveryouare,andwhateveryouhavetooffer,heseesit.
Heseesit,andheadmiresit,andthenhecallsyourattentiontoit.Hemirrorsbacktoyouaversionofyourselfthat’sinfusedwithadmiration.Aversionthatisabsolutely,always,undeniably…lovable.
Alltosay:PeanutsPalmerwillneverfoolmeagain.
RememberwhenIcalledthaton-screenkissJackhadwithher“myfavoritekissofalltime”?
Yeah.JackStapletontookthatasapersonalchallenge.
Apersonalchallengethathewon.
Well…tobefair:Webothdid.Acknowledgments
IT’SALWAYSHARDtowriteacknowledgments.Ijustwanttothankeveryonewho’severread,loved,recommended,reviewed,orpostedaboutmybooks.Becauseeverylittlebutterfly-wingflapofloveforanovelhelpsitfinditsreaders:thefolkswhowillloveit,andfeelchangedbyit,andhelpotherpeoplefindit,too.Writersabsolutelycannotwritebookswithoutreaderswhowanttoreadthem.I’msobeyondgratefultogettospendmylifeobsessingover,gettinglostin,andwritingstories.So…toreaders,andbookstagrammers,andbloggers,andpodcasters,andallthebeautifulotherauthorsoutthereliftingeachotherup…thankyou.AndaspecialthankstonovelistsJodiPicoultandChristinaLaurenforlettingJackStapletonstarinfictionalmoviesoftheirreal-lifebooks.
Thisbookinvolvedafairbitofresearch,especiallyintowhattheworldofactingisreallylike,andI’mbeyondgratefultothebelovedactressesSharonLawrenceandPattiMurinforgraciouslytakingtimetotalkwithmeaboutfame,theactingcraft,andlifeintheentertainmentworld.Isoappreciatetheirtime,insights,andhonesty.IalsolearnedalotfromJustineBateman’scompellingbook,Fame,andI’mgratefultoteacherDavidNathanforsharingsomeinsightsfromhisAlmostFamouscoursewithme.Twoverydetailedbooksaboutlifeintheworldofexecutiveprotectionwerehelpfulformyresearch:FindingWorkasaCloseProtectionSpecialistbyRobinBarratt,andExecutiveProtectionSpecialistHandbookbyJerryGlazebrookandNickNicholson,Ph.D.MuchofwhatHannahtellsJackabouthisprotectiondetailistakenfromthosesources.IalsotrulyenjoyedtakingadeepdiveintotheYouTubechannelofexecutiveprotectionspecialistByronRodgers—arichandengagingresourcefornotonlythedetailsofthatcareerbutalsothepsychologyofit.HisinterviewwithlegendaryagentJacquieDaviswasparticularlyinspiringandhelpful.I’dalsoliketothankDr.NatalieColocciformedicalconsulting,aswellasmydearfriendSueSim.
Booksneverhappen—orfindtheirwayouttotheworld—withoutprofoundencouragementandsupport,andIowesomuchtothefolkswhokeepcheeringmeonandsupportingmywriting.Myeditor,JenniferEnderlin,andmyagent,HelenBreitwieser,aretwoofmyfavoritepeopleandreallymakeitpossibleforme,everyday,tokeepbringingmyA-game.I’mbeyondgratefulforthefantasticpeopleIgettoworkwithatSt.Martin’sPress:SallyRichardson,OlgaGrlic,KatieBassel,EricaMartirano,BrantJaneway,LisaSenz,SallieLotz,ChristinaLopez,AnneMarieTallberg,ElizabethCatalano,SaraLaCotti,KejanaAyala,ErikPlatt,TomThompson,RivkaHoller,EmilyDyer,KatyRobitzki,MattDeMazza,SamanthaEdelson,MeaghanLeahy,LaurenGermano,andmanyothers.Ialsoneedtothankwriter/directorVickyWightforbeingmyheroandadaptingnotone,buttwoofmybooksintogorgeousHollywoodmovies—including,mostrecently,HappinessforBeginners—andforintroducingmeinreallifetotheveryinspiringactualmoviestarJoshDuhamel.MuchgratitudealsotoLucyStilleLiteraryforherrepresentation.
Bighugsandmanythanksasalwaystomyfamily:mysisters,ShelleyandLizzie,andtheirfamilies;mydad,BillPannill,andhiswife;andmytwoastoundinglyfantastickids,AnnaandThomas.Andthedreamteam:mylegendarymom,DeborahDetering,andmyequallylegendaryhusband,GordonCenter,whoare,intheirdifferentways,absolutefountainsofsupport,encouragement,tolerance,andinspiration.Ifthere’sonethingIknowinthislife,it’sthatIluckedoutlikecrazy.Author’sNote
THISISMYpandemicbook.
Istartedthisstoryinthesummerof2020andfinisheditinthespringof2021.
It’sastoryIwrotewhenmyreallife,likemostpeople’s,wasfullofworry,andstress,anduncertainty,andfear,andisolation.Ialwaystrytofindabalancebetweendarknessandlightinmystories.Forthisbook?Thebalancewasasmuchlightaspossible
Iremembertalkingwithmyeditor,Jen,aboutthebigplotelementsofthestoryveryearlyon.Iwasn’tlikingthecareerI’dgiventooneofmymaincharacters,Jack.Thejobhehadbackthenwassodull,Icouldn’tevenfocuswhenItriedtoresearchit.SoJensaid,“Whycan’thebeamoviestar?”Andmyfirstresponsewas,“Isn’tthattoofun?”
Wetalkedaboutitawhileanddecided:There’snosuchthingastoofun
Especiallynotthatyear.
Alltosay,writingthisbookgotmethrough2020.
ItwasthethingIheldonto,thethingIlookedforwardto,andthethingthathelpedmemakemyownsunshineduringsomeverygraytimes.
Itcouldeasilyhavebeenathousandpageslong.Ilovedbeingwithmymaincharacterssomuch,Iwould’vehappilyaddedsceneaftersceneofthemteasingeachother,accidentallysnuggling,andgivingeachotherpiggybackrides.
Thesettingofthisstoryismyownbelovedgrandparents’Texascattleranch.TheStapletons’houseismygrandparents’place—aramblingfarmhousewithabrightkitchen,screendoorsthatslapclosed,andthesmellofleatherandhoneysuckleeverywhere.Mygrandparentsarebothgonenow.Thehouseisstillthere,butwerentitout,andIhaven’tbeeninsideinyears.Butwritingthisbookletmegobackandvisit,atleastinmyhead.ItletmetraveltoaplaceIloved,thatIcanstillseeeveryinchof—anditwassuchabittersweetjoytobethere.
Itreallyleftmethinkingaboutwhatstoriesarefor.
Becausewritingthisbookwasmorethanjustfun.Itwaslikeatonicformywearysoul.
There’saquoteIloveaboutwritingbyDwightV.Swain:“Astoryissomethingyoudotoareader.”I’msogratefulforwhatthisparticularstorydidtome.ItnourishedmeinprofoundwaysthatI’mnotevensureIcould’veaskedfor.
Ialwayswantmystoriestobeaboutlove,andlight,andmakingsenseofhardtimes,andgettingbackupafterlifehasknockedusdown.Ialwayswantthemtomakeusall(meincluded)laughandswoon…andgiveussomethingwisetoholdonto.
That’sneverbeenmoretruethanwithTheBodyguard.Ithoughtaboutitsooftenduring2020:Howmuchlaughtermatters.Howmuchhopematters.Howmuchjoymatters.
Howtherightstoryatjusttherighttimecanliftyouupinwaysthatfeellikearescue.
That’sallwriterscanreallyeverhopetodoforreaders:inventstoriesfullofallthemagicwe’relongingforourselves.IhopeyourtimeontheranchwithTheBodyguarddidallthesoul-nourishingthingsforyouthatitabsolutelydidforme.
KatherineCenterALSOBYKATHERINECENTER
WhatYouWishFor
ThingsYouSaveinaFire
HowtoWalkAway
HappinessforBeginners
TheLostHusband
GetLucky
EveryoneIsBeautiful
TheBrightSideofDisasterAbouttheAuthor
KATHERINECENTERistheNewYorkTimesbestsellingauthoroflaugh-and-crynovelsaboutloveandfamily,includingHowtoWalkAway,ThingsYouSaveinaFire,andHappinessforBeginners.ThemovieadaptationofhernovelTheLostHusbandhit#1onNetflix,andherbookshavemademanybest-oflists.She’sbeencomparedtobothJaneAustenandNoraEphron.TheDallasMorningNewscallsherstories“satisfyinginthemostsoul-nourishingway,”andBookPagecallsher“thereigningqueenofcomfortreads.”KatherinelivesinHoustonwithherhusbandandtwokids.Visitherwebsite—andjoinhermailinglist—atkatherinecenter.com,orsignupforemailupdateshere
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Foremailupdatesontheauthor,clickhereContents
TitlePage
CopyrightNotice
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Author’sNote
AlsobyKatherineCenter
AbouttheAuthor
CopyrightThisisaworkoffiction.Allofthecharacters,organizations,andeventsportrayedinthisnovelareeitherproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.
FirstpublishedintheUnitedStatesbySt.Martin’sPress,animprintofSt.Martin’sPublishingGroup
THEBODYGUARD.Copyright?2022byKatherineCenter.Allrightsreserved.Forinformation,addressSt.Martin’sPublishingGroup,120Broadway,NewYork,NY10271.
www.stmartins.com
CoverdesignbyOlgaGrlic
CoverillustrationbyKatieSmith
TheLibraryofCongresshascatalogedtheprinteditionasfollows:
Names:Center,Katherine,author.
Title:Bodyguard/KatherineCenter.
Description:FirstEdition:|NewYork:St.Martin’sPress,2022.
Identifiers:LCCN2022005286|ISBN9781250219398(hardcover)|ISBN9781250219404(ebook)
Subjects:LCGFT:Novels.
Classification:LCCPS3603.E67B632022|DDC813/.6—dc23
LCrecordavailableathttps://lccn.loc.gov/2022005286
eISBN9781250219404
Ourebooksmaybepurchasedinbulkforpromotional,educational,orbusinessuse.PleasecontacttheMacmillanCorporateandPremiumSalesDepartmentat1-800-221-7945,extension5442,orbyemailatMacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com
FirstEdition:2022
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