Chapter 22 #2
Rebecca, though, needed this in a way that I didn’t. And I didn’t have anything useful to say to her in that regard, so I was quiet as I worked in the kitchen and brought the meal over to the table, where she’d been staring at her phone.
“Hey,” I said softly, and she glanced up at me. “Can I do anything?”
She wiped her eyes and shook her head. “Fuck, sorry. This job didn’t come with any promises, but I still set my hopes on it.
And, for some reason in this world that keeps proving me wrong, I also set my hopes on shitty men facing actual consequences.
And also nothing has actually happened. I’m crying about bad possibilities. ”
I leaned over to kiss the top of her head, wishing I could fix everything for her, for Stephanie, for me, for everyone. “Please don’t apologize for having emotions. It’s been a rough day.”
“I’ve felt guilty this entire time,” she said as I sat down across from her. “Getting to develop a new show out of town, this is a dream job. And because of circumstances, I have to keep that to myself. I’d look like such an asshole to enjoy it too much.”
“I hope you are enjoying it though,” I said. “Even just privately. Because you’re so good at your job and we’re all really lucky to have you.”
“You’re hardly objective,” Rebecca said, and glanced down at her plate before smiling up at me. “God, you take good care of me. I’ve eaten much better during Hometown than anything else I’ve ever done.”
“What would you be having in New York?” I asked. “The night before tech starts?”
“Don’t make me tell you.” She cut off a piece of chicken breast with her fork and speared a roasted tomato before popping it all into her mouth. “I want to have sex later and I’m afraid I’ll finally say the thing that turns you off forever.”
“I don’t think that thing exists,” I said.
“OK, right now I would probably be standing in my kitchen eating peanut butter from the jar over the sink,” she said. “And then I’d panic that I hadn’t eaten anything green in days, so I’d run downstairs to the nearest deli and buy the worst premade salad you can imagine.”
“Hmmm,” I said, and she cracked up.
“I told you.”
I nudged her foot with mine under the table. “I could listen to you talk about food all night. This is my favorite Grub Street Food Diary ever.”
“I didn’t even tell you about dessert,” she said with a laugh. “One Pop-Tart.”
“Ooh, brown sugar?” I asked.
“Strawberry frosted.” She watched me for a long moment, the tension easing from her face. “OK. I’m rallying. I know we don’t talk about work but I’ll just say that we’re going to put on the best fucking show we can. It’s all that’s in our control.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Did the mere thought of a strawberry Pop-Tart revive you?”
“Something like that,” she said, going back to eating.
So I did, too. After dinner we took Rosie out for a walk, and then cleaned up the kitchen before heading to my bedroom.
I pinned Rebecca against the closed door so I could unbutton her shirt and jeans, but her serious expression stopped me in my tracks.
“What’s up?” I asked. “Besides the abuse of power in the arts.”
“No, I’m …” She leaned over and kissed me, all force and heat.
“I’m so grateful for you, Gardner. I’m so glad I’m not toasting a Pop-Tart right now, or refreshing my inbox, or writing email drafts to my agent that I’d delete in the morning anyway.
Thank you for dinner and letting me hold Rosie’s leash on the walk and”—she laughed—“for the patently thirsty way you look at me. I always love it but I really needed it tonight.”
I knew that I should say something in return, but I didn’t know what that would be without saying it all, that I was in love with someone who’d be gone in a matter of weeks, and if I didn’t stay right here in this very moment as far as we were concerned, I’d fall apart.
Also, I liked this moment a lot. It wasn’t a bad place to stay.
So I pinned her back even harder, slipped my hand into her jeans, made her beg for it. When she came a few minutes later, my fingers curved inside of her, her thigh hooked around my hip, I knew that was better than any conversation we could have had.
She undressed me and pushed me into bed, kissing me, everywhere, in an agonizingly slow pattern while I throbbed for her.
Rebecca laughed as I turned my head to moan into my shoulder, and I realized she’d gotten me to beg for her for once, which turned me on somehow even more, so much so that I couldn’t bear it, slipped my hand between my legs and exhaled as I touched myself.
“You’re so bossy,” Rebecca said with a laugh. “After what you put me through, you couldn’t even wait for me.”
“No, I couldn’t, you’re ridiculous,” I said, gasping as she laid her hand on top of mine and took over the speed, the pressure.
“What do you mean, ridiculous?” she asked, holding eye contact with me as our hands moved together, long hard strokes that pushed me up against release, almost there.
“How hot you are,” I said, arching my back and letting her take over all the way. “You feel like a mirage. You feel like I made you up. Oh my god, I’m so close.”
“Come on, Gardner,” she murmured.
Her words put me over the edge, and I cried out as my body quaked with aftershocks. Almost immediately, before I’d even caught my breath, Rebecca lay back next to me, took my hand, pressed it to her hot, pulsing center.
“Finish me?” Her breath grew more and more ragged. “Watching you—”
We kissed as I touched her, a steady rhythm until I felt her breath hitch and her hips buck.
Afterward I knew that it was late and we should go to sleep but instead Rebecca buried her face between my legs until I cried out so loudly I didn’t recognize my own voice.
When we finally curled up together, Rosie testing out another new spot—this time Rebecca’s pillow—it was harder to stay tightly wrapped in this moment, like when reality bled into an early morning dream.
So I leaned back hard against Rebecca and reminded myself that at least for now, she was still there.
Erica was waiting for me when I walked into the Jaffe lobby the next morning, but I didn’t have a moment to dwell on her disappointed face because at the exact same moment, the Vindicators guys walked in.
The space was immediately a swarm of publicists, social media directors, and security guards, but navigating this scene was a lot like riding a bicycle.
I had no trouble weaving my way through to greet the guys.
With three older brothers, it couldn’t have felt more comfortable for me as the lone girl of the group—though the guys were nothing like my actual brothers.
“So, a world premiere,” said Mal Westbrook, who’d had a solid TV and film career before getting cast in Vindicators as the Cavalier, the kind of career where people still took him seriously as an actor no matter how many times he showed up onscreen in his Cavalier costume. “Pretty impressive.”
“I don’t think I could do it,” AJ Streeter said, shaking his head.
The role of Flex Jackson in Vindicators had been his big break; he’d only had a couple of small TV roles beforehand but his people had clearly gotten him into the right room and he’d done all the right things.
His fame level had blown up almost literally overnight.
“But I know you’re classically trained and shit. ”
“Hey, Tess,” Raúl Ramirez greeted me, giving me a big hug.
Erica always dismissively referred to him as mom bait because something about his or his character Doctor Virtue’s energy made boomer and Gen X women swoon, but on set we had the most in common, passing books back and forth and exchanging stories about our rescue dogs—though Raúl’s was a regal shepherd mix and not a wheezy baby goblin. “When does the show open?”
“Previews in a week,” I said. “Which feels nuts. We start tech today.”
“I’m in town,” he said, “so I think I have opening night on my calendar.”
“Check this out,” AJ said, leaning in, and I took a step back when I realized the guys were all comparing watches.
AJ had been the first one to get into watch bro culture, but it had spread.
While we were on location shooting Vindicators 2, they’d scooped up discount watches at the small-town shop nearby where we also bought snacks and the occasional fountain Diet Coke, and dubbed themselves the Timex Bros.
The press loved hearing tidbits about the Timex Bros, from their latest watches to their group chat.
Of course, no one asked me to be a Timex Bro, even though I would have happily strapped on a cute stainless-steel timepiece too. Women so rarely got to be bros.
Erica swooped in as the People team pushed in, smiling as if she was a nice person who actually liked me.
It wasn’t difficult, though, to get genuinely hyped up for the announcement.
There was a palpable thrum of excitement in the room, and once the video began, I fell into a role I’d been playing for years.
I was great at being the girl, the little sister, the cute one in a sea of rugged masculinity and steely looks.
When People was done, we—as suggested by me to Erica and, unbelievably, actually fulfilled—filmed a few short pieces of content for a nonchalant Verne, to promote Hometown.
Around this time I fished my phone out of my pocket and texted Kathleen, who’d been prewarned about this publicity situation and was therefore ready, hair- and makeup-wise, for enough selfies and short videos with the guys shouting Hi, Leigh, your mom’s the best to firmly entrench her standing as coolest parent ever.