38. Ben
38
Ben
L uckily, the media fallout from my breakup with Willa is short-lived when another entertainment scandal takes center stage. A well-known, married actress got caught screwing her personal assistant in the alley outside a bar. Then her husband, also an actor, filed for divorce and every major news outlet ran story after story about the sordid affair.
As actors, we work hard to stay in the spotlight and stay relevant, but I’m relieved that I'm not front-page news anymore. The press has moved on, allowing me some freedom to venture out without as much fanfare. There’s still a lot of fanfare, but not as much as there was a month or two ago.
After some personal reflection, things have become clearer to me. While I accept that I’ll never have true anonymity again, I am going to work harder to preserve what privacy I have left. I need to find that delicate balance between creative fulfillment and financial success, while also maintaining the freedom to live a relatively normal existence. If I had made that commitment to myself earlier, I might still have Carlisle.
Valentine’s Day was last week, and my moping hit an all-time high. I'm eager to shake this lovelorn melancholia, so when Trevor hits me up to meet him for a drink, I readily accept. Trevor suggested that we go to a dive bar that he frequents. I’m praying that most customers will keep to themselves and not bother me. Because a night out with my boys sounds like just what the doctor ordered.
As soon as I walk in, I instantly like the ambiance of the place. It reminds me of an old college dive bar in Austin that I used to sneak into when I was in high school. Cheap beer, loud country music, pool tables, and nothing in the way of décor besides outdated wood paneling and neon beer signs. The lights are low, and for the first time in months, my spirits are high.
Trevor, ensconced on a stool at the far end of the scarred wooden bar, waves at me when I walk into the place. I slide onto the stool next to his. “Cool place.”
“As a Texas boy, I thought you might appreciate it.” He sees me twice a week for our personal training sessions, but tonight he scrutinizes me. “You shaved. Finally.”
I chuckle. Jo wasn’t the only friend who told me to ditch the beard. “It was time.”
“You look like you’re feeling better. I’m glad, man.”
“Me too. Remind me never to fall in love again. It’s not worth the pain.”
After ordering a round of Miller Lights, we shoot the shit and wait for Jordan to join us. The condensation forming on the beer bottle makes it easy to peel off the label and I fiddle with it while we talk. When a hand smacks me on the back, I know Jordan has arrived.
“What up, man? Good to see you back in the land of the living.” Without waiting for a reply, he leans down, sticking his head between mine and Trevor’s, and hisses, “Don’t look now, but I think you’ve been spotted, Ben. Some chick is staring daggers at you. If looks could kill, you’d be dead, my friend. Jesus, it’s giving me the creeps.” He throws in a dramatic shiver for good measure. “She must not have liked your last movies or something.”
Without any semblance of subtlety, Trevor whirls around on his stool.
“Damn, Trevor. Be cool,” Jordan grumbles. “She’s sitting in that back corner booth. Red shirt.”
I squint at Trevor. He shrugs. “Don’t recognize her, but she certainly recognizes you. For once in his life, Jordan wasn’t exaggerating. She’s glaring at you.”
Curiosity gets the better of me, so I surreptitiously glance over my shoulder. When I spot the girl who they’re talking about, my breath lodges in my chest. Instantly, I feel like someone just poured a pitcher of ice water down my back. My good mood vanishes as every one of my millions of nerve endings stands at attention.
“Shit, it’s Harper, Carlisle’s roommate,” I confirm with a frown. “I do not want to deal with her tonight.”
“Seriously? In a city as big as LA, how do we end up at the same bar?” Trevor mutters incredulously.
“Dude, is Carlisle with her?” Jordan asks. “I didn’t notice her when I walked in, but she could be here too.”
I shake my head. I didn’t see her in the booth with Harper either. I just hope Carlisle isn’t on her way to meet Harper. “Let’s leave. We could hit up that new bar next to The Polo Club,” I suggest.
“No. You know what, man? Her roommate did you dirty, not the other way around. We’re staying and we’re gonna have some fun. That's your best revenge, bro.” Jordan raises his hand to signal the bartender, who scurries over to take our order. “A round of tequila shots. And keep ‘em coming. ”
The bartender places three shot glasses on the bar top in front of us and fills them to the brim with tequila. We each grab one, and Jordan yells, “Bros before hoes!” as we shoot them down.
Agreeing with Jordan’s revenge logic, I commit to getting drunk and having fun. I’m an actor, after all. I can pretend to be happy.
After one beer and three shots taken in quick succession on an empty stomach, I’m laughing and enjoying catching up with Trevor and Jordan. While we vacationed together over Christmas in the Bahamas and I see Trevor at our gym sessions, I haven’t socialized with them over the past month. January, with all the new year’s resolutions, is always Trevor’s busiest time as a personal trainer, and Jordan started working on a new movie that has him stuck on set most days. And I’ve spent much of my time brooding at home alone.
When a pretty brunette approaches me and asks for a selfie, I don’t turn her away. It’ll be fun to flirt. My flirting skills are a little rusty, but the alcohol flowing through my veins helps me shake off the dust.
Also, knowing that Harper will tell Carlisle about the flirtation is an added incentive.
“At your service, darling.” Trevor grins as he rolls his eyes when my southern twang comes out.
“Oh my gosh, I knew it was you! You were so good in Captain Commander ! I watched it, like, four times in the theater!”
As I listen to her speak, I appraise her features. She’s an attractive woman. Shoulder-length, mahogany hair with large brown eyes, and a pert nose over large, smiling lips. But as I mentally log and compare each of her features against Carlisle’s, this woman comes up lacking.
Pushing down my frustration that the memory of Carlisle still taunts me, I turn on my charm. “Thank you. It’s fans like you that keep me working. Can I buy you a drink to show my appreciation? ”
She squeals excitedly. “Sure, thanks. I’m Abby, by the way.” She bites her lower lip and trails her fingers down my arm.
“It’s nice to meet you, Abby,” I reply, grabbing a hold of her hand and bringing it to my lips for a whisper of a kiss. “Tequila shots okay or would you prefer something else?”
“Tequila sounds great,” she giggles, resting her hand on my shoulder as she stands behind me. I make eye contact with the bartender and hold up four fingers.
Shrugging Abby's hand off, I stand from my stool. “Where are my manners? Please take my seat.” Gesturing to my friends, I introduce her to Trevor and Jordan.
After we take our shots, I excuse myself to hit the john. All these drinks and I have to piss like a racehorse.
As I’m exiting the men’s restroom, I’m accosted by an irate Harper. Lurking in the shadows, she pounces before the bathroom door even has time to swing shut.
Wagging her finger in my face, she screeches, “You are the biggest, most narcissistic asshole on the planet, Ben Sutton. The rest of America may love you, but I know what a truly despicable coward you are!”
“What the hell, Harper? You need to back off,” I reply angrily, taking a step backwards. She’s ruining my good mood. Again.
“That’s it?” Like an apex predator stalking its prey, she advances on me until she has me cornered against a wall. “You aren’t even going to make an excuse for your sorry behavior? You really are an asshole.”
“Yeah, you already mentioned that.” Huffing, I add, “I'm not going to put up with your shit.”
As I begin to push past her, Harper moves in for the kill, her face so close to mine that I can feel a fine spray of saliva hit me as she hisses at me. “Carlisle is so much better than you. You never deserved her, and she sure as shit never deserved how you treated her. ”
Harper's anger ignites my own. “So much better than me?” My voice is incredulous. “She didn’t even have the decency to dump me herself, so how the hell do you get off acting like she’s blameless when she’s the one who broke my heart? Fuck this and fuck her.”
Pushing past Harper, I storm down the darkened hallway towards the bar, making my escape. I’m not in the mood to stay here any longer. I nod tersely to my friends and utter a lame excuse about something coming up and needing to leave. Trevor’s eyes dart toward the bathroom hallway where Harper stands watching me as I rush out of the bar.
My boots make crunching noises as I stride across the gravel parking lot. I hear Harper call out for me to wait. Without turning around, I increase my pace and fish my car keys out of the front pocket of my jeans to remote start my car. I have no desire to speak with her again, but she grabs ahold of my elbow as I open my door.
Shaking her off, I mutter, my jaws clenched, “What, Harper? What more do you want from me?”
“What did you mean?” The earlier accusatory tone of her voice is replaced with a conciliatory one, which throws me for a loop. I stand still. “What did you mean when you said that Carlisle dumped you and broke your heart?”
I turn slowly to meet her eyes. Slumping against the side of my Range Rover, the fight inside me fades, and I release a heavy sigh. I don’t want to rehash the hurt, but Harper isn’t going to let this go until I do.
“Just what I said. Carlisle told me that she needed space. I tried not to think the worst when she didn’t answer my calls, but then I had to hear from my publicist that according to Carlisle, we broke up. My fucking publicist!” Frustrated, I run my fingers through my hair and exhale loudly. “Carlisle didn’t even try to talk to me or tell me that she wanted to call it quits. When I contacted her, she wouldn’t hear me out. She has no idea what really went down in Japan.”
“Ben, that’s not what happened!” Harper’s facial expressions become more animated, and the words are flying out of her mouth at an alarming rate. “Becky, that’s your publicist, right?” As I nod, she continues, “Right after the Tokyo incident, Becky told Carlisle that she needed to back off, that your relationship with Carlisle was detrimental to your career, and that you wanted to break it off with her, not the other way around. Becky told Carlisle that you’d give her a call when you got back in town if you wanted to see her.” She shrugs. “But you never contacted her.”
“Are you serious?” My mind is racing as I try to make it make sense.
“Deadly. Carlisle didn’t break up with you. She’s been a heartbroken, mopey mess ever since.”
“But I did contact her, Harper! I called. And I texted. Repeatedly. If she didn’t want to end our relationship, then why didn’t she ever respond? Why didn’t she pick up the damn phone?”
Harper squints her eyes, confusion clouding them. “She…” Shaking her head, Harper continues slowly, “She never got any calls or texts from you, Ben. Believe me, she spent a month waiting for your call.”
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open my text messages. Scrolling down my list of texts until I find Carlisle’s name, I open our text history and show Harper all of the texts I’ve sent Carlisle since that night in Tokyo. “See? I texted her, but she never replied.”
Harper reads through them quickly before handing me back my phone. “I don’t understand, Ben. Carlisle would never ignore you like that. She was really hurting, but she wanted to talk to you, even if it was just to get closure and say goodbye.”
I pace back and forth as I wrap my head around what Harper is telling me. “Let me get this straight. So, Becky broke up with Carlisle, supposedly for me, and then Becky did the same thing to me? Why would Becky do that?” Reconciling the truth with my experiences over the past two months is a tough pill to swallow. “All of this could have been avoided had Carlisle just talked to me. Which again leads me to ask, if she was so heartbroken, then why she didn’t answer any of my texts or calls?”
“Don’t blame Carlisle for this,” Harper snaps. “I already told you that Carlisle never received any of those texts. Now hush and let me think.” After a minute, Harper yelps excitedly, holding out her hand palm up. “Hold on. Let me see your phone again.”
When I slide it into her hand, Harper taps on Carlisle’s name to pull up the contact info that I have saved for her. “Oh my god, Ben! That’s not Carlisle’s phone number. That’s not even a Mississippi area code. You’ve been calling and texting someone else. At some point, someone changed Carlisle’s number in your phone.”
“What the fuck?” Stunned, I meet Harper’s eyes. “Who would do that? And why?”
“I don’t know," Harper’s eyes grow wide, "but let’s deal with the who and why later.” She clasps her hands to her chest and shrieks, “Because… oh my god, you and Carlisle! You still have a chance to work things out! You still want to be with her, right?”
“Of course, I do. I fucking love her, Harper. But what do I even say to her? What do I do to make this up to her?”
I won’t admit it to Harper, but I’m filled with trepidation. I don’t know if I possess the courage to hope for a second chance with Carlisle. I’ve started to heal. What once were open wounds, have scabbed over, leaving scars. Do I dare risk reinjuring myself if Carlisle decides it’s not worth it? If she decides that I’m not worth it .
I pull on my lip. “I don’t know if we can come back from this, Harper. I mean, at this point, we’ve been apart longer than we were together.”
“Ben, I have never thought of you as a coward.”
I choke out a laugh. “Really? Because you literally called me a coward, like, five minutes ago.”
“But that was when I thought you had your minion break up with your girlfriend for you.” Exasperated, she throws up her hands in the air. “Come on! You’ve got to try.” She puts her hands on her hips and cocks one eyebrow. “If this was a movie script, you wouldn’t let the main character just walk away because he was too chickenshit scared to go after the woman he loves.”
Raising my head to the sky, I close my eyes and muster my fortitude. I take a deep breath and slowly count to ten. Opening my eyes, I level my gaze at Harper and nod once. “Okay, let’s do this. Hop in.”
Harper shakes her head. “Nice try, Hollywood. I saw how many rounds of shots y’all were taking. I’ll drive.”
Relenting, I hustle to the passenger side door.
Now that I’ve made up my mind to try my best to win Carlisle back, I can’t wait to do it. I can’t wait to see her, to talk to her, to hold her, to kiss her, to dream of a future with her.
Please God, let this work.
But my meditative state is interrupted when Harper starts hemming and hawing from the driver’s seat. “Oh, crap,” she mutters, giving me a side-eye. “One thing I should tell you…”
“Spit it out, Harper.” My command comes out sternly because my nerves are shot. I’m desperately hanging onto my sanity by a very thin thread, which is liable to break at any moment.
“She’s on a date.”
The thread snaps .
“What?!” I screech. Turning in my seat, I glare at Harper as jealousy rears its ugly head. “How serious is it?”
“Not serious! It’s her first date with some guy who she met on Bumble.”
I rub my forehead. “Jesus Christ, she’s already on dating apps?”
Grimacing, Harper shrugs. “That’s my fault. I made her a profile because you know the old saying: the best way to get over someone is to—"
“Don’t even fucking finish that sentence, Harper,” I warn as I grapple with my composure.
“Sorry, sorry! She’s been so sad and depressed since everything went down between y’all. I thought meeting other guys would help her move on and pull her out of this funk.”
“Stop talking and drive faster, Harper."