NATALIE

“Why does your phone keep blowing up and you’re ignoring it?” Mary asks over dinner, curly hair wilder than normal.

“It’s on silent.” I turn it over despite the fact that I want to know when he calls. Hearing from Max is almost as good as talking to him.

“Why not just turn it off?”

Twirling spaghetti on my fork I shrug, “My boss might call.”

“But now you’ve turned it over,” she points out, tearing a piece of garlic bread from the loaf.

“What are you, the police? Stop with the interrogation.” Eyeing me she chews, until I realize how that sounded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snap at you like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t. But I forgive you.” She tosses a chunk of gooey bread at me.

With tense laughter I shake my head, picking it up and offering it to her. “Did you drop this?”

“I threw it at your head, actually.” Taking a sip of wine, Mary glances to my phone. In the dim restaurant lighting the glow is visible from my screen even turned upside down.

I stare at it as I chew on my noodles, then give in to curiosity. Max’s name shines from the screen again. It hurts my heart not answer, and I close my eyes a second as I set it back down.

“Okay, that’s it,” Mary snatches it from me.

“NO!” I reach over the table and spill my wine glass. Cabernet Franc slides everywhere and she and I jump out of the the booth to avoid getting splashed.

She holds the phone to her breast, dryly asking, “You want to tell me what the fuck is going on now?”

“Waiter!” Several employees come running as I meet the unavoidable gaze of my closest friend. To the staff I say, “I’m sorry. Guess I’m clumsier than I thought.”

They hurry to clean up, reassuring me it’s fine.

But I’m not fine.

Not at all.

As they disappear, promising to bring back another glass and more food, I cover my face with my hands and start to cry. Mary takes me by the shoulders and guides me to the restroom. “Okay, come on, this way. Let’s talk.”

She checks under the stalls and nods that we’re alone, snatching a tissue from its canister by the sink.

“Thank you,” I sniff, trying to catch my breath so I don’t go full on ugly-cry.

“Who is Max?”

“The director.”

She tilts her head. “The movie director who’s shooting in my apartment tomorrow?”

“Uh huh. And I was working with him on this. It’s his first Feature film.”

“I thought he was just a friend of yours. I didn’t know you were working on his project. What were you doing for him?”

Wiping my eyes I croak, “I was producing it!”

Mary’s eyebrows fly up. “Wait, you were a movie producer?” At my nod, she digs deeper, voice filled with edges. “What happened? Did he try something? Is he stalking you?”

“No, don’t get upset, it wasn’t like that. He’s amazing. Fucking gorgeous. Really smart. Funny. Stupid dad-humor sometimes but he makes me laugh, you know? And he’s so proud and passionate and self-sufficient and family driven.” Sniffing I push fresh tears back down into my heart. “Dammit, I didn’t want to miss this!”

“Honey, I’m confused. What is the issue here? Did you pull a Mary on this guy?” At my blank stare she reminds me, “When I went running right after Alan proposed to me!”

“No, I didn’t pull a Mary.” Sighing I walk to the mirror and see pure sadness reflected there. “He started filming last week. I was supposed to be there.” Covering my face with one hand I shake my head. “I didn’t show up.”

“Natalie!” Mary crosses to me and leans over the counter to make me look at her. “You shouldn’t be this sad this close to Christmas! What is really happening?”

“I can’t tell you!”

Her eyes go huge. “Are you pregnant?!”

“No!”

Unconvinced she stares at me. “You lying?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Why is it like pulling teeth getting this story from you?”

Wetting a tissue so I can do a better job cleaning my streaked mascara I throw her a look. “Maybe I have a good reason. Give me a little credit.”

“Girl, you just burst into tears when I tried to see who was calling, so forgive me for wondering if you’ve forgotten to take your medication!”

Throwing the wadded tissue in the trash I mutter, “We both know I’m not on meds.”

“Well, the Natalie I know has her life in order! So who are you?”

My jaw tightens because it’s a really good question.

“Are you in love? Because from the looks of it you are.”

“I might be.” Covering my face I start to cry again. She hugs me and coos into my ear until I’m finally able to talk again.

“Natalie, please let me help you.”

“I wish you could,” I whisper.

“You sound so scared, baby, why?”

Waving her to follow me we walk into the farthest stall. I lower my voice, heart racing. “I need to tell somebody but I’m afraid of putting you in danger.”

Her eyebrows fly up. “You talk to me right now or I will drive your ass to the police station!”

I stare at her and launch in, desperate. “My boss is a bad guy. I’ve gotten myself into trouble. It’s like the mafia in the movies. That bad! I caught someone tailing my car from The Dollhouse two nights ago. I saw that same car last night, outside of my apartment, that’s how I know it wasn’t my imagination.”

Horrified she whispers, “We have to call the police!”

“I’m scared to!” Grabbing her hands I ask, “If they know these people exist why do they keep letting them walk around? One of our bartenders told me that Max’s uncle went up against the gambler that my boss is partnered up with. If Justin Cocker didn’t bring that guy down then how can the police do it? Shouldn’t a Senator have more pull?”

“Retired Senator.”

“With a lot of friends!”

She thinks about it. “You can’t live like this.”

“He doesn’t want me connected to the Cockers so as long as I just let this film keep going without me then Max can have his dream and he won’t get hurt! I won’t get hurt. And I can forget about him. Time will pass and I’ll…still be in jail.” Covering my face I shake my head, trying to catch my breath.

“Your Max is Max Cocker?”

The bathroom door opens and a couple of women walk in having an easy conversation about how well the Falcons are doing. “I think he might take us to the Super Bowl again!”

Mary and I stare at each other. You can’t throw a rock in this city and not hit someone affected by Max’s family.

Pretending to sniff cocaine, my friend heads out of the stall, mumbling to give the women a show. “Mmm, that’s good stuff.”

I follow along, pretending to clean under my nose, no stranger to the irony of this considering what Max’s film is about. It works to distract the women about why we’d be in a stall together. And why I look like shit.

Appalled, they watch us leave. Mary heads for the booth and pulls her wallet out, motioning to our waiter with the universal hand-gesture for a check. She pays the tab and agrees to have everything wrapped up. “We’ll give this to someone who still has an appetite,” she mutters as we head to our cars. Outside, we dart glances around the lot to see if we’re being watched. She raises her eyebrows to silently ask if I see that car. I shake my head no.

Under her breath she says, “We need to talk to Alan.”

“No, we can’t bring him into this.”

“My husband loves you like a sister and there is no way he’d want to find out one day you’re face down in a river and he didn’t do something to help!

Stunned by the image I follow her to her car.

“You can get yours later. Maybe that scumbag will see your BMW stranded here and think you skipped town!”

My phone lights up in her hands. “I still have this?” Turning it over she shows me Max’s name. “This boy is not giving up easily!’

“He’s furious.”

“He’s a lot more than that, Natalie,” she knowingly says as the seat belts fold over us. “He’s hurt. When a man is hurt, he gets mad. But anger is a mask for pain every time.”