Chapter 28 1964
It’s almost four in the morning when I say to Theo, “I need to get some sleep. I have a grumpy boss.”
He laughs. “I promise he won’t be grumpy tomorrow.”
My hand slides reluctantly out of his. We’re walking to the door when he says, “Can I take you out tomorrow? There’s a new band playing at Ciro’s. We could check them out.”
I take three steps away from him.
Orphan. Rock star.
Poor. Rich.
Nobody. Celebrity.
Never been in the world. Man of the world.
“Aria?” He looks panicked. “Did I misjudge this? I’m sorry…”
“It’s just…” My voice is small like me. “We’re so different. And going out…” It’d been fine when we were talking about nights that I thought might be spent here. But outside…
“We don’t have to go to Ciro’s. We’ll eat at Chasen’s. Music’s my thing. Food,” he teases, “is yours.”
I take two more steps away from the man who’s lived so much he’s had two wives and two Vegas weddings, has played to crowds in London and Paris.
The man who can take the elevator down to the garage and drive out of here knowing whether to turn left or right, knowing where he wants the roads to take him.
“Maybe you haven’t quite understood this. Besides that night on your bike, I haven’t really been past Schwab’s all that much.” I exhale. Stare at the wall above his head. It sounds crazy. I say it as quietly as I can. “I mean…I’ve never gone farther than Schwab’s.”
Silence elongates. I imagine what Theo’s thinking: How did I end up in a room with this sequestered child?
But he asks, “Would you like to go past Schwab’s?”
I nod.
“We’ll walk along the Strip as far as you want. Buy a hot dog.”
I meet his eyes. “That’s the kind of thing you’d do with a kid.”
“I don’t think you’re a child.”
My fingernails creep up to my mouth, the old habit too hard to resist. “I have no experience with going on a date. In a movie, after the date comes the conflict, the big dramatic moment. Right now I feel like I’m the conflict. The human who’s never lived.”
“Well…” Theo comes a little bit nearer. “My expertise is only in drunk Vegas weddings. Maybe we figure this out together.”
I go into the garden, despite it being nighttime. From the gardener’s shed I take out a spade, dig a hole, and tuck the body of my little dead bird into the soil.
Then I sit beside its grave and cry.
I was so happy twenty minutes ago. Just like I was happy the day I sat in a library in front of a table set out for a party. Happiness is dangerous.
Suddenly the shadows look like things I’ve ignored. The builders didn’t play the prank on Pilot. If it was one of the wasted actors, why didn’t they hang around to laugh over the drunken dog?
Screams. Laughs. Fire. A dead bird too.
All of it is happening to me. As if somebody’s trying to drive me away.
And in the dirt by my feet there’s a red headscarf. Like the one the fortune-teller wore at the party. The fortune-teller who’d sounded just like Calliope.
Who’d said Flitter would marry Theo and that I was a fool with a one-sided dream.
God. What’s going on? Calliope’s overly medicated and disoriented, but she’d never do any of the other stuff.
But nor did I ever think she’d pretend to be a fortune-teller who made me feel like my future was hopeless.
I bend down to pick up the scarf. And that’s where Bob finds me, face tearstained, knees streaked with dirt, shovel in my hand.
Matty, who’s with him, says, “Aria?” like he isn’t certain it’s me.
I wipe my face, brush the dirt off my knees.
“Dear girl,” Bob croons, hands in the air the way you talk to a person who’s just pointed a gun at you. “Perhaps you should go lie down.”
“You don’t look so good,” Matty agrees.
“Can I help you back up to the turret?” Bob asks, tone solicitous.
Matty frowns. “Turret?”
Oh, Bob is so good at making the woman look like the crazy one.
Until Bob saw me the other night, nobody except the Winchesters, Flitter, and Calliope knew I spent most of my time in the turret. Some people will think that making a home for yourself in a place they believe is haunted is a little mad.
I put the shovel down.
For seven years I’ve been so invisible that Bob has left me alone. But these last two months I’ve started to take on form and shape. I’m less ghost, more woman. And tomorrow, I’m going to step outside the Chateau Marmont and go farther than I’ve ever been. I’ll be out in the open. Visible.
And Theo Winchester will be at my side.
I cannot let Bob ruin this too.
Something flutters in the corner of my eye, like the Marmont is beckoning, trying to catch my attention. It’s up high, the curtain over the door that leads onto the balcony Toni Ashenhurst jumped from. And that’s when I remember.
There’s one lock I haven’t tried with the key my aunt gave me.
I do something I’ve never done before. I touch Bob. I pat his arm. Then I say to Matty, “Maybe you should help Bob to go lie down. Seems like even after all these years, he’s still haunted by what happened in that turret.”
Then I walk away.
I am not going to let Bob win.