CHAPTER 44
EMILY
I sat down with my tea and took out my phone. I considered texting Darlene and telling her what happened, but she’d be either mad or worried. Simon wouldn’t want to talk about anything serious, and I didn’t want to avoid the topic either.
“Emily?”
I looked up from my phone. It was Peter of the crowbarred nose. He held a big cup of something in either hand. He’d changed his glasses to the rimless kind and kept his facial hair in a nice scruff. I remembered his crooked smile and his long neck. His affable sense of humor and general inoffensiveness.
I’d been looking for that in a guy, because it was the exact opposite of what I’d just run away from. Those traits made him a perfect victim too.
“Hey, Peter. How are you?”
He shrugged. “Good!”
A girl about my height with a pink pixie cut and a nose ring sidled up to him, looping her hand in his elbow. She had a One Eyed Jack tattooed on her neck and more tattoos peeking from under her sleeves.
“Hey. I’m Roxie.”
“I’m Emily.” I held out my hand, and we shook.
“The Emily?” An eyelid lowered a notch.
What had he said? Was she going to punch me in the face or just make rude comments?
“Yes.” Peter handed her the coffee in his right hand. I felt as if I’d walked into the room in the middle of a conversation about me. “And it wasn’t her fault. So—”
“Did you get rid of that creep yet?” Roxie asked.
I sighed. “Yes, but he’s tenacious.”
“Bummer. Nice bag.” She indicated my La Perla bag and winked. I didn’t know where she was coming from or what she wanted, but I was exhausted already. “I hear you’re a dancer?”
“Choreogr—”
“Me too!” Now I knew what she wanted. Hollywood was a magnet for entertainers of all stripes, and though struggling actors and musicians were most commonly encountered, dancers came to make it too.
“You ever start singing again?” Peter asked. Had he even known about that? Hadn’t I been too bruised to tell him I loved to sing? Maybe not. Maybe at the first sign of comfort it had burst out of me.
“No.” I waved and uttered a nervous laugh. I was ashamed. He’d gotten his nose broken, tried to stay with me in spite of it, and when I stopped returning his calls, he’d moved on. My feet had remained stuck in wet cement, and every month that went by, it got harder to move. “I’m glad . . .” I stopped, reworded. He didn’t need to know I was happy he moved on. “Your nose healed perfectly.”
“I tell that story all the time.”
“That’s how he got the job at Paramount.” Roxie gleamed. “Charmed them all with his busted nose story.”
My phone dinged and vibrated on the table.
“Excuse me.” I picked it up. Darlene. “I have to take this.”
“Nice seeing you.” Peter took Roxie’s hand and she swung it, waved to me, and whirled out as if Fairfax Avenue were a suburb of heaven.
“Are you all right?” she asked before I’d uttered a syllable of greeting.
“I’m fine. I was going to tell you, but . . .”
“But you were afraid I’d go crazy?” I couldn’t hear anything in the background on her side. She wasn’t out, but she couldn’t be in or there would be music playing.
“Something like that. I called Carter. He’s picking me up.”
“How do you think I found out, dork?” She didn’t sound angry or worried for a change. “You’re in good hands.”
“What about you?”
“I’m in good hands too. I sent Bart to your house. If there’s nothing left in the fridge, you can send him the grocery bill.”
The La Perla bag was at my feet. I’d been worried Vince would catch me and see it. I was afraid he’d know I was going to wear lingerie for another man and it would make him mad.
“I’m tired of living like this.”
“I know, sister.”
“Sometimes I think I should just rip all the cameras off the house. Let him come. Just deal with it.”
“No, no . . .”
“I’m not living. Not really.”
“No, you’re not. But you gotta hang tight.”
There was no parking in front of the coffee shop, so when I saw the black Audi pull to a stop in the red zone, I gathered my things.
“Carter’s here.”
“Call me tomorrow.”
I was about to hang up but stopped.
“Darlene?”
“Yeah?”
Putting my back against the door, I burst into the noise and hum of Fairfax at night.
“Thank you for everything.”
“Get out of here, crazy.” She hung up.
Phin got out of the passenger side.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hi.” He opened the back door with a wave, looking sullen.
“Phin!” Carter leaned across the center console. “What do you do when a lady gets in the car?”
“I don’t know, Dad! Why don’t you do it?”
Despite the protest, Phin stood by the front door and offered me his hand like a gentleman. I took it, trying to make his job easier. I slid into the front, and Phin closed the door behind me.
He got into the back, exuding palpable hormonal rage.
Carter pulled away from the curb.
“The reason I didn’t do it—” Carter started, but Phin interrupted.
“It’s fine.”
Phin’s “fine” was anything but.
“Is because I didn’t want to get out into traffic. And you need practice. It needs to be a habit.”
“Whatever.”
Carter glanced at his son in the rearview, then at me.
“Sorry,” Phin grumbled in my direction.
“Can I tell you guys something? Since you’re not going to talk to each other?”
“Sure.” Phin kept his hands in his lap and his eyes out the window. Carter nodded.
“My parents were ‘enlightened.’ They’re both lawyers. Busy lawyers and really ambitious people. They thought really hard about parenting before they did it. They read books about how to do it right. I had organic food until I left the house. I don’t think I had a toxin in my body. I had all the best developmental toys. They didn’t buy me any pink clothes or princess stuff until I begged, because they didn’t want to perpetuate the myth of weak femininity.”
I checked Phin to see if he was paying attention, and he was. Carter was driving and typically impossible to read.
“But otherwise, I ran the show. I decided what I wanted to eat. I decided when I wanted to go to bed. They didn’t want to impose their will on me or make me do anything that was even a little unpleasant. Everything I did was perfect and special. And if you think they’re weird, it wasn’t just them. It was everyone in my school and all my friends.”
“Yeah,” Phin objected. “That’s how it is for everyone but me.”
“Kid . . .” Carter started to speak, but I squeezed his thigh hard.
“Except Darlene,” I said. “She had strict parents. She wasn’t in my school, but I became her friend because when I stayed at her house, it was like I could breathe. They had rules, and I knew what I had to do to get it right. Really right. Not fake right. Not like . . . everything you do is special and precious. I had to work at it. My parents complained about Darlene’s parents all the time, but I craved their approval.”
I turned fully to Phin, because if I was going to butt my ass in, I was going to completely butt in.
“My point is, everything in my life since then is me looking for order and sense and discipline. I’ve made a lot of bad choices because of it. And I love my parents, but I wish they were more like your dad. I bet a lot of bad stuff wouldn’t have happened if I’d had internal discipline and went out looking for freedom in life. But it was the opposite.”
I sat straight and folded my hands around my bag.
“I’m sorry. That was probably out of line. I don’t know you guys that well, but that was my experience, and I’m sticking to it.”
Carter turned north on Olympic in silence. I had no idea if I’d done more damage than good. Parenting was so personal, and I had zero experience with it.
Carter reached for my hand and squeezed it right before he pulled into his driveway.
I didn’t realize I thought I’d upset him until the moment I realized I hadn’t, and my relief was as surprising as it was welcome.