Saved by the Celebutante (28 page)

THIRTY-FOUR

I fall asleep almost immediately afterwards. I am deliciously spent from a day of doing good, and then doing (tee-hee) bad. I roll over, letting Matt spoon me as I drift off.

At some point, I am aware of knocking at the camper door, but my hazy brain can’t work out if it’s part of a dream or not. I rationalize that it’s probably just Oli, although I do wonder why he would be knocking on his own van. And then I remember that Matt locked the door earlier, so it all makes sense.

I feel Matt get up to sort it out.

Soon after, there’s the sensation of body weight back on the mattress, so I relax back into a blissful sleep.

The next morning, I wake up feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. As I roll over, I see Oli’s head, but not Matt’s. For a second, I’m annoyed. The least he could do was hang around until I woke up. Then it occurs to me that he might have just gone to the bathroom like I did yesterday. Or maybe he’s taking some more sunrise shots.

Then I feel guilty, thinking about how much I have hogged this very kind guy’s time for half the festival. If he needs a few hours alone after being stuck with me the entire previous day, I shouldn’t complain.

I go outside and do a few stretches, leaving Oli to enjoy the whole bed on his own. I really should be feeling bad for him, not Matt, seeing as he’s has had to share with me despite not getting anything out of the situation.

At least now that I’m leaving, they can enjoy the rest of the festival the way they originally intended. And then maybe, just maybe, Matt will call me when he gets home.

I look out at the expanse of desert behind me and see black clouds moving quickly in our direction. I can already smell the rain.

The towing company woman comes to tell me that the bus is in fact going back to Reno again this morning, but it will be leaving an hour later than yesterday due to an administrative issue. I promise her I will make it this time.

That’s good. I have two hours left.

Just as I step back inside the camper, the first raindrops start pelting down on the roof. This isn’t your usual San Francisco drizzle – this is proper torrential desert rain. I quietly potter around so as not to disturb Oli and finish packing my stuff. I then repack it while I wait for Matt to come back. I’m not good at just waiting around.

Oli wakes up an hour later. He peers out the window and whistles. “That’s quite a rain storm out there.”

“I think I already know what you’re going to say, but you don’t happen to know where Matt is, do you?”

“Sorry, princess. I was pretty wasted last night. I’m actually surprised I found my way back here and ended up in bed.”

“What do people do here if it rains?”

“The same as usual, I guess. I mean, I’m going to head off to a workshop soon. It’s undercover, so it doesn’t matter what the weather’s like.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Oli looks at me seriously for a second. “I know my brother likes you and he’s a good guy. He wouldn’t do anything to deliberately hurt you.”

“That’s good to know.” I just hope it’s true.

After changing his shorts and putting on a hoodie, Oli gives me a quick hug. “Take care, princess. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Thanks, Oli. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

“My pleasure.”

He pulls his hood over his head and ventures out into the wild weather. I wonder if I really will ever see him again.

Matt still isn’t back ten minutes before I’m due to leave. I am now standing under the awning next to the camper with my suitcase and cooler beside me. I used up all my water yesterday, so Oli said I could leave the empty container in the camper and he would dispose of it for me when he got home.

I’ll just wait a tiny bit longer.

Okay. I really have to go now. It’s only five minutes until the bus leaves.

I start to get angry. What the hell is wrong with Matt? Ditching someone the morning after sleeping with them is the height of rudeness, not to mention immaturity. I was going to leave this morning anyway. Was I so bad that he couldn’t even hang around long enough to fake it?

I cart my suitcase and cooler through the downpour. The bus is waiting when I get there, thank God. I’m about to climb on board when the driver stops me.

“Sorry, darlin’, we’re not going anywhere. A message just came through on the radio saying the road is flooded, so we’ll have to wait until the rain subsides.”

I look at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

“How long will that be?”

“I dunno. Maybe check back in an hour? We almost definitely won’t be going before then.”

“Should I leave my stuff?”

“It’s up to you.”

“All right. I’ll leave it here and come back in an hour.”

“Fine with me.”

He opens up a newspaper and lays it out over the steering wheel to read.

I am still dripping, and the rain is cold, so I run back to the camper. If Matt is there, I’m going to kill him.

He’s not there.

I’m still going to kill him.

I grab a towel from the cupboard and sit back out under the awning, watching the rain. It’s so heavy that I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me. The desert truly is an extreme environment. I am very much looking forward to a warm shower once this is all over.

After a while, the wind picks up, blowing the rain sideways. I can no longer sit outside without getting wetter and freezing to death, so I migrate back into the camper, and lie down on the bed.

Where the fuck is Matt? What is he thinking? I knew I shouldn’t have slept with him.

I wish I had brought a book to read. Or some music to listen to. I don’t have anything to distract me. I guess I could try meditating. I sit up, cross my legs and close my eyes.

After a few calming breaths, I enter a state not unlike the one I experienced with Arcadia the other day, only this time it’s even more vivid.

I’m back in my childhood, sitting on the front step of our porch and excitedly waiting for my dad to get home from work. When he finally does, he absentmindedly ruffles my hair and heads on in without saying anything.

The memory fades and another surfaces. I’m in the third grade trying to catch the attention of Alex, a cute blond boy I really like. He pretends he can’t see me and continues to talk to his friends. This morphs into a scene of me in high school where I discover my current boyfriend Jesse kissing my best friend Tahlia behind the restrooms after class.

More and more memories flash past, all blurring into each other, but the pattern is obvious: I have spent my whole life trying to get the attention of men who are not interested in me.

Dean from college makes an appearance, followed by Carl, who I dated twice and then who told me he was moving away – but then I saw him a few weeks later at the supermarket and he claimed his plans fell through. Although, for some reason he didn’t seem interested in a future catch-up.

The last flash is Corey. I see how we met. And now that I know the truth, I can see the little signs telling me that we were never meant to be together forever. I see the love, but not the passion or romance. I see the way we were constantly interacting on a superficial level, our careers and social circle keeping us from spending quality time together.

I had never realized it until now, but I did see signs of who he truly was. The dance parties where he got just a little too close to one of our male friends, or the way he seemed to act with the girls in such a way that I was never jealous, even with the super-hot ones. Because THEY all seemed to know on some level that he wasn’t interested in them that way. And not just because he was married.

I open my eyes. I think the desert is trying to tell me something. Stop chasing the wrong guys.

I look over and see my paper nurse’s hat from yesterday. I unfold it, grab a pen and scrawl down all the things I’m feeling. Thanks to Matt’s disappearing act, I’m thinking he isn’t someone I should be wasting any more energy on either.

I finish off my note, stick it somewhere he’ll see it when he gets back and then leave the camper, once and for all.

The bus is now empty and closed up. My suitcase and cooler are on the ground under the security guard’s office awning, and the security guard is sitting inside drinking a coffee.

“What’s happening with the bus?” I ask.

“Nothing. The flooding is getting worse. We’ve just had word that no one should attempt to leave at least until tomorrow. And that’s only if the rain lets up in the next couple of hours.”

I almost fall in a heap on the ground.

“Seriously?”

“Afraid so.”

“So what do I now?”

“I don’t know. Go enjoy the festival?”

I snatch up my suitcase and cooler and stomp off. “Easier said than done.”

I stumble through the increasingly muddy grounds, the rain lashing my skin. I can barely see where I’m going.

But I know where I’m headed.

I just hope he doesn’t think I’m a weirdo stalker.

THIRTY-FIVE

I knock on the door, staring straight ahead. I’m not even nervous, which shows how much my anger at the whole situation is affecting my brain.

The door opens. A young woman peers down at me.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, is Peter available?” My resolve starts to fade. What am I doing?

“Sorry, who are you?”

“Oh. Chrissie. Lambert.

She turns her head and calls back into the trailer. “Peter? Do you want to talk to a Chrissie Lambert?”

There’s shuffling for a moment and then Peter appears.

“Jesus. You look like a drowned rat. Why are you still here? I thought you were leaving on Saturday.”

“I was going to, but I had a few issues.”

“You want to come in?”

“Would that be okay?”

“Sure.” He steps aside so I can enter. I leave my suitcase and cooler out under the awning.

The interior of Peter Carson’s bus is jaw dropping. I always expected it to be impressive, but this is like being in a five-star hotel. There are marble counters and solid oak cupboards everywhere, and a massive flat screen television is embedded in the far wall. The carpet is a plush deep pile, making me feel guilty about dripping all over it. I quickly step back onto the entry mat.

I don’t say anything for a full minute as I look around in awe. Peter grabs a towel from a nearby shelf and tosses it to me before retrieving two cans of beer from a full-sized fridge.

“You want a drink?” he asks, holding one up.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

Well, this is surreal. Who ever thought I’d be hanging out with Peter Carson in his mega-bus?

He sits down at the dining table – which could comfortably seat eight people – and encourages me to join him.

“What’s up?”

“My van got towed, I missed the bus yesterday and today I’m flooded in.”

“So you haven’t spoken to Gia yet?”

“No.”

“You want to use my phone?”

My mouth falls open. “But I didn’t think there was any coverage out here.”

“There is if you have a satellite phone. I just don’t tell the studio, otherwise they’d be calling me day and night with stupid questions they can figure out for themselves.”

“You’d let me call out on it?”

“I offered, didn’t I?”

“Is it expensive?”

“Not as much as you’d expect.”

“Okay. Wow. Yes! Thank you!”

“It’s right behind you.”

I turn around and see something that looks like a cell phone from the late nineties mounted in a cradle on the wall.

I pick it up and call Gia’s number. Finally! Something is going my way.

Except the phone doesn’t ring. It goes straight to a message saying that Gia’s voicemail is full.

Of course it is. I should never expect anything to be easy.

Peter casually sips his beer and reads something on an iPad in front of him.

“I can’t get through,” I say, disappointed.

Peter shrugs. “Oh well. Is there anyone else you want to call?”

“I guess I could phone my sister and ask her to pass on a message.”

“If you think that would work, go for it.”

I call Penny’s number. Please pick up. Please pick up.

“Hello?”

“Penny!”

“Chrissie? Is that you?”

“Yes!”

“Where are you?”

“At Earth & Fire!”

“Still? Why?”

“Long story. But listen, I’ll be leaving tomorrow, hopefully. In the meantime, can you contact Gia for me and let her know I found Peter Carson and everything’s back on track with the audition? I think her number is written on a post-it on your kitchen counter somewhere.”

“Sure. But Chrissie, are you all right? I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’m fine. I can’t talk now, though. I’ll fill you in when I’m back in civilization.”

“As long as you’re okay.”

“I am.”

“Then take care, and I’ll see you soon.”

“You will.” I hang up.

“All good?” Peter asks without looking up.

“Yes. Thank you so much. I owe you big time.”

“Forget it. So what now?”

“Um, honestly, I don’t know. I would leave if I could, but I guess I have to wait until the flooding stops.”

Peter glances out the window.

“That could take a while.”

“You really think so?”

“I’ve seen it like this before and because the land is so flat, the water has nowhere to go.”

“What’s the worst case scenario?”

“Well, I remember back maybe ten years ago, it was similar to this and people were stuck out here for an extra three days. And I mean three days after the rain stopped.”

I shudder. It’s funny how only last night I would have given anything to stay for the whole week, but now I’d consider trading a body part to go home.

“Of course, if this weather keeps up, I won’t be able to film anything else, so I’ll probably just head back to LA,” he muses. “I’ve got a million other things I could be doing right now. If I need to, I’ll call a friend I know who owns a helicopter.”

“Oh. Right.” I have no idea why he’s telling me this. Is he trying to make me jealous?

“I could ask him to take an additional passenger if necessary,” he adds.

Does he mean me?

“I’m talking about you, Chrissie. You know, I’m starting to wonder if you have any self-worth at all. Be a bit more assertive, okay?”

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything else.

“Now, do you have somewhere to sleep tonight? I noticed your stuff outside.”

I shake my head.

“Then you’re staying here. There’s a spare bunk in the crew’s quarters. Go and introduce yourself. Just stay out of my room upstairs.”

“Wow! Thank you! Peter, you’re a lifesaver.”

He waves a dismissive hand in my direction and then disappears up a spiral staircase at the back.

I sit there, dazed. Did that really just happen? Is it possible I really could be going home tomorrow?

I suppose only time will tell.

***

I spend the rest of the day hanging out with Peter’s crew.  They consist of three men and two women, and they are all obviously feeling the effects of being stuck inside. After a couple of hours, two of the guys wander out to attend a workshop. The others sit around playing cards or sleeping. I try to minimize my presence. I’m not really in the mood to be social anyway.

I hope Matt is having a crappy time. I hope he’s stuck out in the rain and getting all muddy. And I hope he feels guilty when he gets back to his camper and sees my note.

From now on, I’m over men. Maybe not forever, but at least for a while. They’re too much trouble and I clearly have terrible taste. Sure, I had a lovely few days with Matt, and yes, the sex was pretty damn good, but I can’t help feel that it’s all tainted now.

When I get back to San Francisco, I’m going to put all my energy into my job and get my life back on track. Corey has moved on. It looks like Matt has too.

Now it’s my turn.