Chapter 10
HONEY
Everything’s wet. The sand is mushy, the dirt paths are mud, and a huge tree has fallen, blocking Monster and my path to the Lake Rosie beach.
Monster takes a running leap over it, and I consider it, before realizing that it’s been a while since I’ve leaped and if something goes wrong, I don’t want to have to seek out medical care.
It would dip into my cash, and I have no real form of identification or health insurance under my fake name.
The Lake Rosie beach is quiet and unoccupied except for a man with a metal detector searching for treasure.
He waves and yells out, “That was some storm. Washed up a lot of debris. Watch your step.” He puts his headphones back on and moves far enough down the beach that I can call Cat and not worry about anyone hearing what I’m saying.
I let Monster off the leash. “Stay close, big boy.”
Cat answers on the second call, third ring. “Please tell me you aren’t on the eastern coast where that monstrous storm hit?”
“I’m not.”
She’s silent. Probably figuring out how to get me to really tell her where I am. “Well, wherever you are, stay safe, Honeycake.”
Monster plops a big pile of gunky wet weeds at my feet, looking up at me with his big, brown eyes, hoping I’ll love the offering he’s brought me.
I try to let Monster be as much of a dog as he wishes.
I let him sniff and bite at the wind and play in the waves, but the things he brings to me can be incredibly disgusting.
“I’m sorry, but you can’t honestly believe you’d think I’d enjoy that.” I pull the frisbee out of my satchel and toss it, and he shoots off.
“Is that your furry friend?” Cat says on the other end.
“Yes. I’d introduce you, but he has no interest in other women.”
“You’re so cute, I can’t blame him. He probably spends all day just mooning over you.”
“He does. Hey, do you remember when I went to that overnight horse camp when I was fifteen?”
“Of course. It was a huge family upheaval.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’d been talking about horses for years, begging Mom to let you ride.
Dad said he’d leave Mom if she didn’t let you go, but Mom was sure you were going to break something and ruin your chances of becoming a prima ballerina.
She said she’d buy you as many horses as you wanted once you became prima ballerina.
” Her voice is hard. “She was so freaking manipulative.”
Monster plops the sandy, spittle-covered frisbee at my feet, and we walk to the water. I rinse it and throw it into the waves, and Monster sprints and leaps for it.
“I swear Monster just did a pas de chat.”
He plops the frisbee in the water. I splash over to it and fling it into the waves again. “I didn’t know Dad told Mom that.”
Cat blows a long breath out. “Me and my big mouth. Sorry, Honeycake. I thought you might have put two and two together at some point between then and now. That’s the only reason Mom let you go.”
“But Dad left anyway.” By the time I got back from camp—a short three weeks—every single thing that was Dad’s had disappeared from the house. As if he had never existed. No photos, his office furniture gone and his office painted a soft lavender color.
“I don’t understand. Did he leave or did Mom kick him out because I broke my jaw?”
“He left. Because Mom was a hardass.” She pauses. “Why were you thinking of that summer?”
“Until I broke my jaw, that horse camp was the best three weeks of my very limited adolescent life.”
“Yeah, that’s not saying much. You never got to experience adolescence in its true sex, drugs, and rock and roll glory because you went to that militant ballet school and trained all day.”
“I liked my ballet school. I loved dancing, and I loved living with the other girls—instead of Mom. I’m glad I was sheltered, even if I was na?ve.
” I plop down on the wet, packed sand, deciding not to care about getting my butt wet.
“My instructors saw potential in me. Not prima ballerina potential, but they saw me for what I could do and what I couldn’t do.
They pushed me to do things I didn’t know I could do, and they also helped me see my limits…
which helped me deal with Mom’s pressure. ”
A door slams shut on the other end of the line. “Sorry. I had to kick the door closed with my foot. My hands are full. I brought iced matchas for Trina, Riva, and Grace.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Are you eating enough? I’m worried you don’t have enough money.”
I think about all the times she’d call me up when I was on tour with my ballet company, and she’d ask if she should transfer cash into my account.
Or send me a check. Years ago, before Zelle and Venmo.
Or later, when Cain was sending his first manuscript out to agents, and I was pregnant then at home with Trudi, she’d send cards with checks or cash in them.
I had stopped dancing, thinking it was just a temporary break until Trudi was old enough.
But I loved being at home with Trudi so much that when Cain’s first book sold and did so well, I never went back to dancing.
It's not a choice I regret now, since I had so few years with Trudi.
“Honey?” Cat says. “Are you there still, or am I just talking to your dog?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you able to look at anything on social media?”
“I only have this flip phone and no computer. I’m doing what they suggested and staying away from looking at anything. Why? Did anything show up about the car accident?”
“No. Trey’s PR gal—what’s her name—must have squelched everything.”
“Deb Cleary.”
“Does she do all his social media?”
“Yes.”
“She’s been posting pictures of you and Trey. Together. He’s back on set, and it looks like you’re there with him.” She pauses. “You’re not, are you?”
“No!”
She exhales, long and low. “I didn’t really think you were, but…”
“I get it. I’ve done some stupid things in the last couple years.”
“You’re no more stupid than anyone else.”
“Thanks so much.”
“If we’re going to be honest, I out-stupided you one thousand times over.”
“Be nice to yourself. Maybe just three quarters of that.”
“I recognized one of the photos, Honey. It was that one you sent me of Trey and you on Cannery Row. From last year. Trey must be feeding her old photos, so it looks like the two of you are hanging out doing stuff between set times. Like you’re still together! It’s really weird. He’s such a psycho.”
I press my fingers into my temples and try to take deep breaths. “You probably shouldn’t be looking either. It doesn’t matter.”
“I can’t not look.” She blows out another puff of air. “I want everyone to know that it’s bullshit.”
“Leave it alone, Cat. He’ll do anything and everything to make sure nothing tarnishes his name.
Please. Leave it alone. I don’t care. I just have to outlast all this.
Eventually, he’ll run out of photos or find someone else or…
” I wrap my arms around my chest as another flashback hits me, a hard punch, knocking the breath out of me.
Trey, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his eyes on mine for way too long while we careen around a sharp curve.
“Option two, Honey, we drive off the road and we go over one of these beautiful scenic cliffs together. Because if I can’t be with you, we’re both dying. ”
“I’ve got to go,” Cat says, while I try to breathe through the flashback.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
I try to concentrate on the jangle of keys on the other side of the phone.
The soft thump of Cat putting something down on her desk.
“My first class starts in five minutes. I’ve got to do some deep breathing.
Maybe take a Valium, so I appear to be grounded and mentally stable.
” A pause. “I’m just kidding. Sort of. Love you. Find good things today.”
“You too,” I tell her, pushing the words out. “Wait! What was the name of that horse ranch?”
“Ummm… I don’t know. Lucky Corral or Lucky Four-Leaf Clover or something. It’s not a ranch anymore.”
“Okay. Thanks, Cat. Love you.”
On the way back to the cottage, the sun slowly breaks through the clouds.
Instead of dwelling on Trey, I let my mind turn to John Fox.
I want to see him again. Today. Just see him.
That’s all. Even if it’s a glimpse. Just enough to get me through the now—a small, good thing—like a square of chocolate or a bath or reading a good book just to move me forward.
I don’t regret last night. And I definitely don’t regret that kiss. The only thing I regret is that I didn’t kiss him properly.
“Come on, big guy. You’re lagging.” I pull two treats from my treat bag and hold them up. “You want one or two?”
He catches up at the sound of me fumbling with the treat bag. “Both? Okay.”
He sits on his haunches and cocks his head. I grimace at his muddy paws and belly. “Evidently, we’re both going to need another shower.”
We take the same path back to the cottage. A golf cart’s parked on the other side of the downed tree. Danni, tool belt strung across her waist and a ball cap shading her delicate features, is snapping photos of the tree. She smiles and waves when she sees Monster and me.
I met Danni briefly when she knocked on my door a day after I moved in.
She brought me a beautiful fruit and veggie basket from the farmer’s market and gave me her direct cell number “in case I should need anything.” Under any other circumstance, I would want to be her best friend, and I would have “needed something” earlier, just to invite her over for coffee and chat.
She seems kind and level-headed. I like her, and I don’t want to lie to her face.
I’ve tried to stay clear of her, so that I don’t have to force myself to be guarded and standoffish.
Which, ironically, may be exactly what I’ve been coming across as.