Stir Me (10 page)

"Fuck the pep talk. You were right. It's pointless. It's bullshit. I don't want to lie to you. Your life sucks right now, but it will get better. You can find your passion again. You'll meet someone. Some shallow asshole who loves
Guns, Germs, and Steel
."

"That sounds like a pep talk."

"Okay, it's a pep talk. And I swear, I'm not going to keep doing it. But I believe in you, Sam. You're going to be happy again one day. You just need a little help getting there."

"A little?"

"Everyone needs help sometimes."

She looks me straight in the eyes. "Yeah, everyone except for Luke Lawrence."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I call Alyssa as soon as I get back to the hotel. She's not going to be happy I'm staying with Samantha all weekend, but she has to understand.

She picks up after the first ring. "Hey." There's much joy in her voice. Like she's expecting good news.

"Hey yourself." I pull the curtains open to let some light into the dull room. I'm not going to be able to count on Alyssa's laugh filling it with warmth.

Not after I tell her about this weekend.

"Are you exhausted from saving the world?" she asks.

"I manage."

"Did you sleep last night?"

"Mhmm. Someone wore me out."

She gasps, a tiny gasp, and clears her throat. "Oh. Well, that's good. It's good to sleep." She's nervous, almost stuttering. She takes a deep breath. "What is it like spending the afternoon with your ex? That's a lot of baggage to deal with."

"Me, baggage? That's ridiculous. I've never even held a grudge."

She laughs. "Uh-huh."

"Not even once."

"Then what do you call your deep and abiding hatred of Ryan?" She says it so cockily, like she knows she's right, knows she's got me.

I'll be able to wipe the smug look off her face soon enough.

"That's nothing. A little hostility towards a coworker."

"And him being my ex-boyfriend has nothing to do with it?"

"Not a thing." I press the phone into my ear. "Him hurting you, that might have something to do with it."

"But it's not a grudge."

"Exactly."

She laughs like she thinks I'm ridiculous. "How is Samantha?"

It's still bright outside. It's barely late afternoon. The windows are flooding the room with light, bringing a bit of life to the drab, beige room. "Not as well as I would hope."

"Oh." The joy in Alyssa's voice is gone. She's trying to hide her disappointment, but it's clear as day.

"She's lonely."

Alyssa voice gets low. "I don't like the sound of that."

I turn away from the windows. "For a friend. Only a friend."

"Yeah, sure..." She sighs. "No. I trust you. I don't trust her, but I trust you."

I sink into the bed. It's too soft. A crappy piece of a crappy hotel. "How have you been managing with Laurie? She's been a little crazy on Twitter." She posts about the show every hour on the hour. Not that I'm really interested in how Laurie is. But Alyssa isn't going to respond to an obvious offense.

"She's been reading a lot of reviews."

"Have you?"

"Yeah."

I wait for her to say more, but she's quiet. The air is stale, immobile. It must be this quiet in her room. This motionless.

"How is that going?" I ask.

"It was an awful idea. And it was stupid. It's not like this is the first time I've been down this road. People always have their opinions. And even the people who like the show get things wrong, or have inane interpretations. I thought I learned my lesson on
Together
. Or
Mahogany.
Jesus. That one was brutal."

"It has almost ninety percent on Rotten Tomatoes."

"Yeah, ninety percent liked the movie. They didn't necessarily like my acting."

She takes a deep breath, no doubt waiting for my objection. I can't argue here. She sounds soft, like she's finally ready to talk. Like she finally needs me.

"Tell me about it," I say.

"Do you know how it feels for your stomach to do somersaults because you're so nervous you can barely keep reading the review? Cause you know it's due to mention your performance any second. And then you spend an hour poring over the two lines devoted to you. You analyze every single word. And you think about it for the rest of the night."

"Jesus. That sucks."

"I knew better, but Laurie was obsessing so much. I was curious."

"I should get you out of there," I say.

"I should have more self-control." She sighs.

I hear her shifting. Getting on her bed, probably. Getting comfortable.

It's almost like we're together. Both of us in bed, in our empty rooms, our attention only on the phone.

"If I was there, I could distract you," I say.

"Luke..."

I slide back on the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing... Just. I wish you had been here."

"I'll be back soon."

"I know, but I miss you. It feels so far away. I feel like I'm... I don't know. It sounds pathetic, but I feel like I'm unraveling. I forgot how hard all this is. The production is one thing. It's stressful, but I love it. I love being there in the scene, even if the director is a tyrant or one of the other actors is an asshole. But the rejections, and the reviews, and the meetings. Jesus, the meetings are miserable."

"Have you had any problems?"

"No one has been direct, but I get this sense from so many of these people. I can see the rejection in their eyes the second they introduce themselves. I see them looking at me thinking no, she's not the right kind of woman. And then... I read the comments on this review. And a lot of them were about me. About my body."

God, I should have been there to distract her. Alyssa needs me and I'm not there. What is wrong with me?

"Don't listen to those idiots. Your body is to die for."

She sighs. "I should have known better."

My head aches again. I need to be with Alyssa, to whisk her away from all this. I have to do whatever it takes to pry her away from all the awful thoughts in her head.

But there's not much I can do from here.

I press the phone into my ear. "It's understandable."

She sighs, lowering her voice to a whisper. "After I read the first one, I couldn't stop. It was just like the reviews. Then, before I knew it, I was sitting in front of the computer crying. I had to blast my music so Laurie wouldn't hear, so I wouldn't have to deal with her."

"When was this?"

"Earlier today."

I rub my temples. "Ally, why didn't you call me? You know you can call anytime."

"I know." There's accusation in her voice. Why should she call if I'm not going to be there?

"I would have come straight there."

"It would have taken you four hours with traffic."

"So I'd drive through four hours of traffic," I say.

She takes a deep breath. Like she's calming her nerves. "I don't need you running over here to rescue me every time I'm upset."

My heart sinks. "So you'd rather cry by yourself?"

"You can't shield me from the world. People are going to start threads about how I'm too fat to play a sexy character no matter how close you are to me."

"You're supposed to call me when you feel overwhelmed. That's our deal."

She's quiet for a moment, only breathing. "Okay. Fine. I'll call next time I'm overwhelmed."

"Promise."

"I promise." Her breath is strained. She shifts again. "Never mind. I want to talk, okay? Can I just talk?"

"Of course."

"It's not like I believe these people. They're just idiots on the Internet. I mean, I wish I had the self-control to ignore them. I swore off the Internet for my first three months out of treatment. It was boring, but it was also kind of peaceful." She takes a deep breath. "This would be easier if you were here."

"You'd just jump me."

She laughs. "True. But after the first three or four times, I'd need a break."

She sounds so warm. So sweet. So okay. I should be there. I could leave now, but I'd be stuck in traffic for hours. I'd arrive at ten p.m. and need to leave by four a.m. if I wanted to get back to Samantha's place before she started freaking out.

"When are you going to be back?" she asks.

I take a deep breath. There's no way to soften this blow. "Monday."

"Monday?" Her voice is squeaky.

"I'd rather leave tomorrow, but her parents are going out of town and she's afraid to be alone."

"Oh."

"I can come for the day tomorrow. I'll leave in a few hours. I'll spend all of Friday with you, and I'll drive back here for the weekend."

"I'd rather you come home with your hands clean of this." There's more confidence in her voice, but there's still an unease. An apprehension. "Wait. Her parents are out of town?"

"Yeah."

"And where will you be?"

"She asked me to stay at the house."

Alyssa raises her voice. "She asked you?"

"It's not like that. She wants company."

"Yeah, if you were visiting me, I'd want company too." She exhales. "You can afford to drop four hundred dollars on a hotel for the weekend. Hell, I've seen your bank statements. You can afford a lot more than that."

"Snoop."

"You leave them on the kitchen table on purpose."

There has to be some way I can explain this to Alyssa. Samantha and I are like brother and sister. It doesn't mean anything. "She just needs someone nearby. That's all."

"Yeah, someone disgustingly hot near her fucking bed."

"We don't feel like that anymore."

"You don't." Her voice is high. She's upset. "But she must feel something for you. You're helping her, and I'm sure she remembers how good it felt to fuck you. What if she begs you to comfort her physically?"

"She won't."

Alyssa practically squeaks. "How do you know?"

Because I know. Because Samantha rejected my advances several dozen times, because she'd rather sleep with my father, because she still chases me off before she pulls me in.

I keep my voice calm. "I know."

Alyssa says nothing, but I can hear her breath over the phone. It's strained.

"If I'm not there she might try something. I can't let that happen," I say.

Alyssa sighs, but still she says nothing.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Yeah. It's fine. But I should probably go." There's so much hurt in her voice.

"It's only this weekend," I say.

"Yeah, until the next time she does it."

"There isn't going to be a next time."

Alyssa sighs. She sounds miserable. Desperate. "I hope not."

"How about I come home Sunday night? You can stay at my place so we don't wake up Laurie."

"Maybe."

"Ally..."

She takes a deep breath. "Do you have to stay?"

I rack my brain for reasons to leave. I'd so much rather be with Alyssa, but I need to stay. I need to make sure Samantha is okay.

I run my fingers over the edge of the phone. "It will be over before you know it. We'll be back together. And we can do your food challenge next week."

"No, I think I'll do it on my own."

"Are you sure?"

She swallows. "Yeah. I don't want to wait anymore."

I bite my lip. There's no way I can talk her out of this. I can tell. But I can't let her do it all alone. "Why don't you call me during it? So at least I'll be on the phone."

A little cheer returns to her voice. "Okay."

"Name a time, even if it's three in the morning."

"In the afternoon. I'll call you. Okay?"

"Perfect."

It's not perfect, but I really hope it's enough.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I have no choice but to help Samantha.

She's in this situation because of me.

Everything she said about us is true. We met in law school. I pursued her, and hard, and I wouldn't let go once I had her.

I thought I was in love with her. Now, I'm not so sure. It was puppy love, admiration, something much less deep and true than what I have with Alyssa.

But back then it felt real. And I held on to it tightly, even after we graduated law school, even after she started to pull away.

I knew something was going on. I didn't know what it was, but I knew something was different. She stayed at work late. She spent weekends with girlfriends she hadn't seen in years. She made excuses about why she didn't want to have sex.

She was having an affair with my father. Edward Lawrence. He was her boss. Senior partner at the firm.

I got her the job, more or less.

I put her right in his path.

She spent the better part of a year having this affair, lying to me, getting more and more obvious.

And then one day she broke down in tears. She told me what was going on. Not to beg for forgiveness, but to explain why she was breaking up with me.

She was in love with him.

But, asshole that he was Edward rejected her. It wouldn't look right. She wasn't even mad at him for it. She understood completely. I guess they always had that in common, that obsession with how things look.

I know. I should have walked away. I should have wiped my hands clean of both of them and moved on with my life.

But I didn't.

Instead, I begged Samantha to take me back. To give me another chance. I promised I'd treat her better, love her more, give her everything he did.

But I didn't.

I was too hurt, too angry, and I ignored her. We went on like that for a few months, until Edward dropped dead. It was a heart attack. Over in the blink of an eye. No one got a chance to say goodbye.

Samantha was heartbroken.

I should have been there for her. I should have done something to help her. Gotten her into therapy at least. But I did nothing. I ignored her. I was too angry at him, at them, at the whole fucking world.