Chapter 31
thirty-one
. . .
Gavin
Rachel stalked up the stairs ahead of me. She’d insisted I hand over my keys after Jordana left, and she’d locked up the theater with quick, jerky motions.
On the second floor, she motioned me into her office and shoved the door closed.
I zipped my sweatshirt to the top, wondering if I was doing the right thing here. Jordana still had my flannel shirt. I hoped it was giving her some comfort.
Rachel’s office was more of a mess than ever. The bookshelves overflowed, dotted with twice as many colored sticky notes, and her desk was crowded with coffee cups and a half-eaten sandwich.
She planted her hands on her desk. “Sit down.”
I stayed standing. “Rach, let’s talk as colleagues. As friends.”
“You hit a student! What were you thinking? Are you so desperate to get into Jorie Green’s pants that you’ll give her co-star a broken nose? I told you to stay away from her! Instead, you fuck this girl, on my set!”
“It was a moment. It got out of hand.”
“If word gets out, you know who takes the fall? Me. I’m the youngest full-time faculty member in this department. I’m already bending over backward to prove myself. I brought you in to work on this show.” Rachel dropped into her swivel chair and cradled her head. “Gavin, you can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
She let her hands fall and stared up at me. “You can’t keep breaking people’s hearts.”
“Jordana’s?” I asked, startled.
“No! Is that girl all you can think of? I’m talking about me — what your actions are doing to me. I’m talking about Shelby.”
I took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Rachel’s desk.
“Shelby and I broke each other’s hearts,” I said quietly. “We never should have gotten married.”
“But you did, and you blame me.”
Until now, a part of me had blamed Rachel. But that was small. Petty. Jordana had opened my eyes to bigger feelings.
“I don’t blame you,” I said.
Rachel blinked. “All right. But you have a pattern. With Shelby, with the women before her — with Jorie. You do this, Gavin! This is a thing that you do.”
“What, exactly, do I do?”
“You make women think they need you. You swoop in to save them and become their whole world.”
I gripped the arms of the chair. “That’s not fair.”
“Shelby told me everything. What you did in the bedroom…things I didn’t need to hear…”
“She shouldn’t have.”
“She went crazy for you, and she didn’t know how to handle that. You were so fucking much, Gavin. You came into her life—”
“Because you pushed me there,” I growled. So much for bigger feelings.
“It was you. You want to be depended on. You have to be the knight in shining armor, the magic fucking cock who does it all. I warned you repeatedly away from Jorie and you went in and spun her head around anyway. You sold yourself as a savior, and she looked at you with worship in her eyes! That is not a relationship!”
This was exactly what I’d hoped to avoid: Rachel’s anger flaring mine like a match.
“Then what is?” I snapped. “Tell me, Rachel. You know how everyone should conduct their lives. What…is…a…relationship?”
“Not that,” she muttered. “She’s an escape for you.”
“Isn’t this all an escape? For you?” I flung out my arm at her cluttered desk, the production photos on the walls. “It’s easy to direct other people, isn’t? Easier than dealing with yourself. How long has it been since your last relationship ended?”
She gave me a face-melting glare that would have silenced anyone else. “You know how long.”
I took a deep breath, trying to bring myself under control. “I’ll take full responsibility for what happened onstage. Just let Jordana back in the show. Write her the recommendation she deserves. She’s worked so hard. If you cut her out now, it hurts you both.” My voice went husky. “Please, Rach.”
“Are you begging me?”
“Yes.”
She stared off to the side, her face clouding over. “Why the hell did you have to break Corey Young’s nose? With his level of talent—”
My temper flamed up. “Do you think I give a fuck about his talent? He threatened Jordana. Intimidated her. Tried to sabotage her. I had a bad feeling about that little shit from the start. You should have, too, but you were blinded by that talent everyone loves so much. I warned him, but he came at me anyway. So I talked to him in the only language he understands.”
Rachel’s jaw dropped. “Corey…threatened her? I suspected there might be something between them, but it wasn’t my business. Jorie never told me anything was wrong.”
“She was afraid.”
“I just want to put on a good show. I need everything to hold together for one more day.” Her head slumped into her hands. “Things were fine before you came to Hawthorne, Gavin.”
“No. They weren’t. They only looked like they were fine.” I looked hard at Rachel, willing her to meet my gaze, but she only stared, unseeing, at the mess on her desk. “Will you sacrifice your students to put on a good show?”
She flinched. “Please, just go. I need you to leave.”
In the quad, dead leaves crunched under my boots. A fluorescent lamp flickered above a bulletin board tattered from the recent rain. The stiff wind flattened my sweatshirt against my chest.
You make women think they need you.
I’d arrived at Hawthorne, met a damsel in distress, and swooped in. This was my fault.
Students roved over the lawn, sporting flower crowns and fairy wings for the Fall Leaf Festival. A tipsy girl lurched close to me, and I put out a hand to steady her.
“Awww, thanks,” she hiccupped. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”
I couldn’t answer.
“Don’t mind her,” her friend said, steering her away.
I pulled out my phone. No word from Jordana. I didn’t know where to begin.
Are you okay? I texted.
Her answer came within seconds:
Leave me alone
My gut sucked in like I’d been punched.
I dropped onto a bench, its seat cold and unyielding. My head tipped back until I stared at the sky. The stars mocked me with their brilliance, an endless ocean of sparkling salt.
My book was dead in the water. I couldn’t publish intimate pictures of Jordana if we parted like this.
Time passed. People passed. No one bothered me.
When my body was stiff and chilled, I paced Hawthorne’s campus. Thoughts swirled: plans to pack up, move out. There would be a penalty for breaking the lease on my apartment, but the cost of staying here was far worse. I’d done enough damage already.
I was repeating myself, passing the same brick buildings. Turning up my collar, I headed into town. I’d kept the cardboard boxes; it shouldn’t take long to pack up my belongings. The quicker the better, so I didn’t linger in my own failure.
But as I passed the lighted windows of Uncle Charlie’s diner, my gut twisted. How could I take off like this? I was running, being a coward. Maybe I should try to go to Jordana’s apartment, at least say goodbye. But she didn’t want to see me.
“’Scuse me!” someone yelled behind me.
I kept walking.
“Kevin! Hey!”
I crossed the street, ignoring them.
A hand tapped my shoulder in the middle of the crosswalk, and I turned.
“What?” I snapped.
“Are you Kevin?” A red-haired guy leaned toward me, eyes slightly unfocused. His black sweatshirt made his pale skin ghostly in the lamplight.
“Kevin?”
“Not Kevin. Something like Kevin. The lighting guy from New York.”
“Gavin.”
“Gavin! Yeah, that’s it. You know how when you’re looking for something, or someone, but then you’re not, and you kind of clear your mind, that’s when you find it? Or them. I mean—”
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“I’m Dominic!” He made a sweeping bow. “Your predecessor.”
Shit. The guy I replaced, whom Rachel fired.
“Look, friend.” I rolled my shoulders back, aching from the cold. “I’m not here to take anything away from you. I won’t be working on any more shows at Hawthorne. Guaranteed. So don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried about me.” He shook his head. “I’m worried about Blanche. You know, from the play?”
“You’re worried about a fictional character?”
“Nah, nah. The girl who plays her. Met her in Len’s liquor store and she dragged me up to her place.
I left because…” He straightened at my chilly stare.
“Nothing happened,” he added quickly. “I don’t think she wanted anything to happen.
It’s just, I saw you walking around, and I thought…
well, she said you sent her away. It’s none of my business, but—”
“I sent her away?”
“That’s what she said.”
“Where is she now?”
“Her apartment.”
I was already striding down the sidewalk. “Thanks,” I yelled over my shoulder, breaking into a run.
“She was pretty torn up,” Dominic called behind me. “At least check on her, see if she’s okay, y’know? She had a lot to drink.”
I sprinted up the streets that were becoming familiar, until I reached Jordana’s building. There was no response to the buzzer, or my phone call to her.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’d been roaming around Hawthorne feeling sorry for myself, while she’d been drinking alone.
I pounded on the front door. Nothing.
Finally, a guy biked up the front path while texting, barely looking up. He unlocked the front door and I followed him in.
Jordana lived in apartment 3B. The mailboxes told me so. All the sex we’d had, the talks by night, the intimate moments, and I’d never been to her place. It made sense, because of the shoot. But now it felt painfully uneven.
I took the stairs two at a time and knocked on her door.
Silence.
When I tried the door, it was unlocked. A chill ran up my spine.
Making my way into darkness, I flicked on the light to see a cozy living room with cheerful throw pillows and blankets on the sofa. It led to a kitchen with photos on the fridge and a stack of tea boxes on the counter.
Both rooms were empty.
In the hall, the bathroom door stood ajar. I turned on the light — also empty.
Opposite the bathroom were two bedrooms. One had an open door showing a patchwork quilt and pink twinkle lights. Eden’s room, I guessed.
The other door was closed. I knocked. “Jordana?”
No answer.
I tried the doorknob. It turned in my hand.