The Other Side of Someday (14 page)

“Back in the ‘30s, the Screen Writer’s Guild used to be right across the street from here,” Sebby explained as I sipped on what was the most delicious and smooth martini I had ever tasted. I didn’t care that it was only three in the afternoon. “It was a lot different back then. Under the studio execs’ watchful eyes, writers were recruited to pump out work after work. I’m sure you can imagine how that would hinder the creative process.”

I nodded.

“Many of them came here so they could write uninhibited. Just think about it, Baylee,” he said, his voice growing feverish. “You could be sitting where Julius and Philip Epstein sat when they wrote
Casablanca
! Can’t you just feel the energy of this place?”

I tore my eyes from his and took in my surroundings. The bar area was small, maybe a dozen or so stools at the counter. The remainder of the restaurant was filled with tables and booths, white tablecloths covering them. There was even a lunch counter on the other side of the bar, which seemed out of place yet fitting at the same time. Everything was dark with deep wood accents, and I could tell they probably hadn’t changed the décor in nearly a hundred years. It was dated, but in the best way. It wasn’t run-down or in need of repair. It was preserving a piece of Hollywood history. After visiting so many places I had only dreamed of, I was starting to get it. I could understand why Sebby would never want to leave LA. I didn’t want to, either.

“I can,” I admitted.

When we left the bar, it was nearly dark. Consumed by our conversation, I had lost track of time. Having spent the day getting to know the real Sebby, I began to feel a kindred closeness to him. We were both creative, and he was more supportive than any of my friends back home. He was determined to help me find my story, and I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude toward him for taking the time out of what I imagined was an incredibly busy schedule to show me around town.

After driving through Hollywood once more, he turned the car onto a fairly deserted side street and began navigating a curvy incline. I had no idea where we were or where we were going, but as I glanced over my shoulder at the lights of Hollywood twinkling below us, I didn’t care. The sun had gone down and the city was coming to life, energizing me.

He pulled his Camaro off to the side, grabbed his backpack from the trunk, and led me across the street toward a locked gate.

“Are you okay jumping the fence?” he asked.

I eyed him, then the fence, noticing the No Trespassing sign. “Umm… This sign says the park is closed from dusk until dawn.” While I’d had my share of adventures in the past, I never really strayed from the rules all that much…or ever.

“Come on.” He elbowed me. “Live a little. I promise. It’ll be worth it.”

Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I stared at the conviction on his face. As apprehensive as I was about getting caught, I couldn’t say no. “Fine.”

“I’ll go first and help you down once you get to the other side,” he offered, already scaling the seven-foot fence and dismounting with grace.

Shaking my head, I started to climb up the chain-link. “I have no idea why I let you talk me into this,” I muttered. He had made climbing the fence look so easy, but it certainly wasn’t. After a struggle, I finally flung my feet over the other side and slowly descended, already dreading having to do this again when it was time to leave. Unless, of course, we were caught and led out in handcuffs.

“Careful, Baylee,” Sebby cautioned as I continued my shaky descent. When I put my foot in one of the openings, it slipped, making me grip the chain-link, adrenaline pumping through my system.

“Whoa! I got you!”

A pair of hands grasped my hips, steadying me as I clung on for dear life, although the drop was only a few feet. I inhaled quickly, the feel of Sebby’s hands on me making the tiny hairs on my neck stand on end.

“Let go, Baylee,” he instructed, his voice soft and calm. “I got you.”

Nodding, I gradually released my hold on the chain-link and he carefully lowered me to the ground. His hands remained on my hips for a brief moment, both of us frozen at the contact. I was convinced we looked like a prom photo gone horribly wrong, both of us completely dumbfounded, my back to Sebby’s front, his hands glued to my hips. A shiver ran down my spine when he rubbed his thumb in a circular pattern. There was something about this moment — the darkness, the light wind in the air, the romance of the LA city lights twinkling below me — that made me want to turn around and feel Sebby’s lips on mine. I had to keep reminding myself that we were simply friends, that he was so incredibly off limits.

“This way,” he said, snapping out of whatever daze he was in. In an instant, his hands were no longer on me and he was walking away through a small parking lot. He grabbed his cell phone and lit the way, illuminating a cement path leading up to a bunch of steps.

I followed him in silence, holding onto the railing and trying not to trip over my own two feet as we made our way up what had to be at least fifty steps. Reaching the top, he helped me climb over the railing, then led me to a small grassy area.

“Wow,” I breathed in awe at the view before me. I could see everything. High on the hill across the freeway, the Hollywood sign was lit up, the town that was built on hopes and dreams bustling below. Skyscrapers in downtown LA were illuminated to the right. I could see planes preparing to land at LAX miles away. From this vantage point, I finally got a feel for how large LA really was. It was nothing like New York, where everything was congested in just a few compact miles. LA was sprawling, every section having a distinct character all its own.

As I was lost in awe, Sebby pulled a blanket out of his backpack and laid it on the grass. He gestured for me to sit next to him.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” he remarked as I lowered myself to the ground. I positioned my legs in front of me and leaned back on my hands, still soaking in my surroundings.

“It sure is.”

“Worth scaling that fence?”

I glanced at him. Even in the darkness, I could see a playful expression on his face.

“Definitely.”

He dug through his backpack once more and pulled out a bottle of red wine and a few plastic cups.

“You certainly came prepared, didn’t you?”

Opening the bottle, he shrugged. “I suppose. This kind of reminds me of my high school days. A bunch of us would always go to this one place back home. We called it ‘The Rock’. It was a rocky ledge high up on a hill. We’d bring some beer and just hang out, watching the lights of New York twinkle in the distance.”

“Do you see your family often?” I asked, taking a sip of the wine.

“Once in a while. Not as much as I’d like, though. When I’m on a project, it takes up a lot of my time. When I have a free weekend, I usually spend it with Mercedes in Manhattan.”

“Isn’t that close to where you grew up? Couldn’t you just hop on the train or take a cab to go see your family?”

“I could,” he agreed, “but something always comes up. It’s hard to get Mercedes out of the city, so I usually have to decide between her and my family, which is probably the reason my mom’s not a big fan of her.”

“Really?” I tried to mask the intrigue in my voice. The more he spoke of Mercedes, the more I was beginning to not like her, although I wasn’t sure whether that was because she sounded like a selfish person or because a part of me wanted Sebby for my own.

“Well, my mom would never come right out and say so, but you just know when your parents aren’t fond of something.”

“How does that make you feel?” I knew all too well what he was talking about. My uncle, pretty much the only parent I had left, certainly did not approve of my marriage to Will. He warned me we were too young, that I’d regret it later. As always, he turned out to be right.

“It’s hard to say. Sometimes, I wish Mom could see the side of Mercedes I fell in love with. Other times, I wish
I
could see the side of Mercedes I fell in love with.” He looked up as he toyed with his wine glass. My jaw dropped a bit at his candid response. I didn’t know if it was the fresh, yet smog-filled night air, the buzz of the city below us, or the liquor we had consumed during the day that forced this unfiltered response, but I didn’t care.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he corrected quickly. “There are times I see it, but I think being bi-coastal has been difficult for her. Maybe if I finally make more of an effort to move to New York, it will make things better. I mean, she’s beautiful, smart, charming. She’s any guy’s dream girl…”

“But is she yours?”

When his eyes met mine, I could see the struggle within.

“Sebby?”

A small smile crossed his face, as if recalling a fond memory. “I guess that’s the hardest part about the distance. Not being around the person, you forget why you put yourself through the pain of the separation. But all it takes is the memory of one amazing moment you shared for the reasons to come rushing back. Those moments, those small instances, make it worth it.”

“Well, I hope I can meet this Mercedes one day,” I said, not calling him out on the fact he didn’t answer my question.

“She can seem a little aloof at first, but once you get to know her, she’ll warm up to you. Everyone in New York is that way.”

I nodded, unable to shake the feeling that Sebby wasn’t completely happy, regardless of what he just told me.

“How did your mom die?” he suddenly asked, probably to change the topic.

I took a deep breath. “She had a rare form of brain cancer. The doctors gave her a slight chance of survival if she went for treatment, but she was pregnant with me. She had to choose between her life and mine.” I shrugged. “She chose me.”

“I’m sorry,” he offered in a sincere tone. “How do you—”

“Live with the fact that it’s my fault my mom died?” I interrupted. I had gotten the same question whenever I shared my mother’s story. Hell, there were moments I would look at my father and think he was wondering whether my being here was worth him losing his soul mate.

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Sebby assured me. “It’s not your fault. You don’t honestly believe it is, do you?”

“I don’t know.” I swirled my wine, focusing on the red liquid coating the side of the clear plastic. “When I was four, my dad remarried and Camille pretty much raised me. When they started having their own kids, I felt like I was intruding on their happy life. I became really close to my uncle Monty, my mom’s older brother. He was always my role model. He left the small town I grew up in and is now one of the most successful lawyers in North Carolina.”

“And your dad?”

“He died my junior year of high school. Heart attack. He owned a huge lumber company that transferred to me when I turned eighteen. That’s why I don’t work. I don’t have to. I’m the majority shareholder of the company, even though it’s run by the same people who have been managing it for as long as I can remember. They know what they’re doing. I don’t. At some point, I may sell my ownership in the company to someone who cares a little bit more about it, but it offers me security while I figure out what I want to do.”

“Which is?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” I winked and our eyes met once more. We were in our own little world up here. Nothing else mattered. Only us, enjoying our time as we sat in a comfortable silence. Breaking his gaze with me, Sebby stared off into the distance. He toyed with the grass in front of him and let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging. It was clear he was struggling with something.

“I like having you as a friend, Sebby.” I nudged him, bringing him back from wherever he went in his mind. I rearranged my body so there was more space between us.

“I like having you as a friend, Baylee,” he replied, changing his tone of voice to sound more assured.

“And there’s no way Dennis is gay,” I added, smirking.
 

“We’ll see about that,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

“You’re pretty confident in your assessment of a guy you’ve never met. Why is that?”

“It’s just a feeling I’m getting.”

“Are you rooting for my relationship to fail?”

“No!” he responded almost too quickly. “Of course not! I want you to be happy, Baylee, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up and then get hurt. That’s all.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “That’s very nice of you, but he’s not gay.”

“Care to wager on this?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I pulled my lip between my teeth, considering his offer. He had already suggested betting on whether a man and woman could truly just remain friends, one bet I was starting to believe he was losing. But this… I didn’t know why, but I was worried he was on to something.

“You don’t, do you? Deep down, you know there’s something off.”

“Maybe,” I conceded. “When we were talking before yoga class the other day, the only thing I could think of was there had to be something wrong with him. Why else would someone that absolutely beautiful find me attractive?”

“Because you are,” Sebby shot back in an instant. “If I weren’t—”

“Sebby,” I interjected, needing to stop him before he said something we would both regret. “There’s no need.”

“You’re beautiful, Baylee.” He turned his head from me, almost scared to look into my eyes as he said those words. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that a slight fluttering erupted in my stomach as his soft voice crooned his confession to me. “And what’s better is you have an amazing and caring soul. Never trust anyone who doesn’t love dogs… Well, that’s what my mom always told me,” he added, the mood between us becoming light once more.

“And how does Mercedes feel about dogs?” I asked.

He turned away, avoiding my eyes.

I had my answer.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I
T
LOOKS
LIKE
YOU
get to cross one more item off your list,” Sebby said as we exited the elevator and headed down the hallway toward our respective condos. It was nearly three in the morning. After leaving his picnic spot, he took me to an Italian restaurant in Hollywood named Miceli’s where all the waiters and waitresses sang. The talent was amazing. I was certain they were waiting to be discovered. Sebby’s goal was to inspire me, and he succeeded. It was impossible
not
to be inspired surrounded by creative and talented people all day long…Sebby included.