Chapter 29 Justin
Justin
‘What the fuck do you mean she quit?’ No way did Jack just say those words.
This morning, I’d woken up an hour earlier than normal, took a long, hot shower and bounced downstairs, hoping to find Doc tucked in and asleep on the couch. Instead, I found a folded blanket, an empty couch and an apologetic Jack.
‘This doesn’t make any sense. Why the hell would she quit?’ None of this is his fault, but he’s the only one here and I want some goddamn answers.
‘I don’t have a lot of details.’ Jack shrugs and offers his version of a sympathetic smile. ‘Marcus apologizes for the lack of communication but wants to assure you that your safety is our top priority.’
‘Cut the shit.’ Quit. This can’t be happening. ‘Everyone else is more worried about my safety than me. I promise if I thought there was an actual threat, I’d take it more seriously.’
Jack rubs his hand across his military buzz cut. ‘I’ll be here a few extra hours today, and they’ll send a temporary replacement until we can pair you up with someone who’s low profile like Doc.’
I can’t believe she quit. My chest tightens. She left me, just like that. Like I don’t even matter. Like I’m just another job. But we’re more, right? I didn’t make this up in my head. I know that we’re more.
Is this about her diabetic shock? Or is this about the nightclub?
‘Sorry, man, but the temp guy is great. He’s a vet like me. Been on the job for close to a decade.’ He waits a moment, then pivots back to his station.
I storm out of the room, lie on my bed and wait for Zane. I have to talk to Doc, find out why she quit and convince her we can move past it. I grab my phone and call her. It goes straight to voicemail.
No … no, this can’t be. She just wasn’t feeling well, that’s all.
I’m not ready for this to be over. There are a million things I need to say.
Before she got sick, I was so close to telling her how I feel.
And now, that opportunity has been ripped away.
I pick up the phone again and tap her name. Voicemail. Again.
An hour later when Zane walks into my room, I’m staring at the same spot on the ceiling. ‘She quit.’
‘Doc?’ Zane frowns as they check their watch. They march to my closet and soon I hear clothes shuffling.
‘Yep,’ I say. ‘I called her, and she’s sending it to voicemail.’
Zane glances from the closet doorway. ‘No way. Really? Are you sure?’
I nod.
‘There’s no way she just quit, right?’ Their mouth twists. ‘Because of you and Conner’s fight? But … she came back the next day. Why quit now?’ Zane leans against the doorframe. ‘I’m sorry, Justin. I really liked her. I know you liked her a lot, too. Damn. What a kick in the balls.’
I scoot up and put my back against the headboard. ‘I fucked up.’
Zane stops scurrying in the closet and peeks their head out from the door. ‘What do you mean?’
Everything in me feels tight and hot. ‘When I saw Doc and Conner outside the club, she had it under control. He was on his knees, probably in terrible pain, but I charged in anyway. I just … I fucking saw red.’
Zane pulls a shirt off the hanger and tosses it at me. ‘Why?’
I can’t tell Zane why. Telling my friend makes everything real. And I hate real. ‘I … didn’t like him touching her.’ Jumping on Conner wasn’t out of some chivalrous sense of duty, and I damn well knew it. ‘I just … it sucks she quit.’
Zane stares at me for several long moments. ‘Why?’
The familiar uptick in their lip is a dead giveaway. Zane’s prodding, as usual, and making me dissect my feelings out loud. ‘You gonna make me say it?’
‘I think you’ll feel better if you do.’
I clear my throat. ‘Fine, all right. I liked her.’
A slow smile spreads. ‘You don’t fucking say.’
‘Am I that obvious?’
Zane flops down on the sitting bench at the end of the bed. ‘To me, yes. It’s not like I haven’t noticed your smile, or your side looks at her during meetings, or your insistence that she eats every single meal with us. I mean, how many times have you ever had staff sit at the table with us?’
I grab the shirt Zane threw at me and start buttoning. ‘I thought I was playing it cool.’ Right? When I’m around Doc, I force myself not to stare, joke around like a friend and withhold from touching her no matter how much I want to. ‘Do you think she knows?’
Zane shrugs. ‘Hard to say. She’s a perceptive one, but I don’t know her the way I know you.’
‘What do you think she thinks of me?’ My voice is more hesitant than normal. I grab my wallet from the dresser and stuff it in my back pocket, avoiding all eye contact.
Zane grabs my phone from the charger and puts their hand on my back to push me out of the room.
‘That, I don’t know. She’s a pro. It’s hard to read her.
I’ll say she’s more smiley than when she first started, if that’s any consolation.
’ They drop their hand. ‘But, we have to talk about this later. Right now, we’re late getting to the studio. ’
Fine. I’ll drop it for now.
But tonight, I’m taking matters into my own hands.
***
By the time I get home, I’ve checked the message I sent Doc a few hours ago no less than twenty times to see if she responded.
Justin: Quitting, just like that? Really?
And nope. Not a call, not a text, nothing. In my bed, I doomscroll until a message from Doc pops up. I swipe the phone open so fast I worry I accidentally deleted it.
Doc: Apologies. I made a severe lapse of judgment and inadvertently put you in harm’s way. You’re better off with my replacement. I appreciate the help you gave me yesterday.
Doc: It was nice meeting you.
Justin: It was nice fucking meeting me? Seriously?
I stare at the phone, disbelief and rage and everything terrible funneling through me like a tornado. A solid ten minutes pass before my phone buzzes again.
Doc: Wishing you the best of luck.
How impersonal and shitty can you get? ‘Wishing you the best of luck?’ Is she writing a graduation card?
After a fitful night’s sleep, I still can’t believe Doc’s text. I slap at my nightstand to grab my phone. Maybe overnight she’d apologized for being so stand-offish. Or to say she wasn’t actually quitting. Or to say she missed me after a day and wanted to meet up for coffee or something.
Nope. No new messages. Is she thinking about me at all?
She probably doesn’t think of me as much as I think of her, but is it too much to hope she thinks of me a little?
I need to sweat this out before I break down.
On the way to the gym, my gaze catches on the folded blanket and pillow on the couch from yesterday.
I approach the couch, check to make sure Jack isn’t watching, and pull the pillow to my nose, inhaling the remnants of her vanilla shampoo.
Footsteps approach. What the hell am I doing? I toss the pillow and move to the gym.
The weights burn my biceps, but each rep gives me a sliver of clarity. So she left. But, there’s no way this is the finale, the closing credits, the end. Our movie nights, workout sessions and joking around in the kitchen while I cook cannot just be … done.
I step onto the treadmill. Sweat drips down my spine, pools in my lower back, my muscles beg for mercy.
She left because of me. This is the universe, or karma, or whatever the fuck, giving me payback for leaving Mia all those years ago to go to school.
I pound my fist on the rail and increase the incline.
A ringing phone jolts me from my downward spiral.
I pause the treadmill, my burning lungs relieved by the reprieve. ‘Hey.’
Zane sounds like they’re at an outdoor café. ‘What’s up, buttercup?’ they say. ‘Quick update. Change of plans today. The photoshoot at five got moved to seven, so we had to shift the dinner with the Goldstein crew out to tomorrow.’
I grab a towel and wipe my face. ‘Fine.’
‘Confirming you still want me to schedule your physical for next month.’
‘Yep, fine.’
Zane takes another breath. ‘And the script supervisor emailed you yesterday. You got those, right?’
‘You saw my reply,’ I say, dragging my towel across my neck. ‘You even responded.’
Zane is uncharacteristically quiet. Nothing makes me more nervous than a quiet Zane. ‘Oh yeah,’ they say after a few pauses. ‘I forgot to mention that I ran into Rebecca Safranski last week – the costume designer who did your wardrobe for Body Beats. She said to say hi.’
I wrap my arm around my other arm to stretch. ‘Did you seriously call to tell me this stuff? Aren’t you coming over here in a few hours?’ God love Zane, but now is not the time for small talk. Now is the time for me to be pissed and broody and sweat out my frustrations.
‘Yeah …’ Zane’s voice drops.
‘Why are you calling me?’ Ugh, I sound like a dick. But can’t I just wallow in my misery alone until I have to put on a fake face for my job?
Zane pulls in a sharp breath. ‘Fine. I’m worried about you, okay? But you hate it when I say that. So, I’m asking you stupid questions to see when you’ll crack so I can gauge your irritation level against your usual baseline.’
‘I do not have a baseline,’ I snap.
‘Sounds like you’re at about a nine, then, huh?’ Zane says with a chuckle.
I stay silent.
‘Whoa. Okay, a ten. Good to know.’
I dig a water bottle from the fridge and flick the top into the garbage.
What am I supposed to say? That I can’t stop thinking about Doc and want her to come back?
That I thought there was something between us, but clearly there isn’t?
I’m not talking about this with Zane. Not today.
The rejection from Doc quitting stings enough.
I don’t need another slap from my friend confirming I was completely delusional these past few months.
‘Have you heard from Doc?’
‘Nope, except to confirm she quit, and wish me luck in my future.’ I still can’t get over those words.
‘Oh, that hurts,’ Zane says quietly. ‘I’m really sorry.’