“I told you, it doesn’t matter now. All of it is too fucked up. I thought you were someone else. I don’t even know you.”
“You do know me. I’m the same person. I’m Jamie. Nobody cares who R. J. Lawson is. It’s just a name. You know the real me.”
“I thought I knew you.” I stopped at the elevator.
“I am so sorry. I know I should have told you before we . . .”
I turned around, crossed my arms, and yelled, “What? Fucked?”
Staring into my eyes, he moved toward me and touched his fingertips to my cheek. “Calm down, please.” He tilted his head and let his gaze drop to my mouth. “You know that’s not what we did.”
“Yes it is. You said it yourself.” I pulled his hand away. “Please go home. We had a fling. It’s over now. Go. Home.” I stepped into the elevator and held strong until the doors closed and then I collapsed against the wall in sobs.
I hit the button for the top-floor roof deck, but the elevator came to a stop on the fifth floor. Dylan and Ashley stepped in. I didn’t make eye contact with them.
“You going to the roof, Kate?” He bent slightly to look at my face.
I sniffled. “Just goin’ for a ride. The roof deck is all yours.”
“You know Ashley, right?”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
She seemed timid. “Same to you.”
When the elevator doors opened, Ashley stepped out but Dylan remained inside. “I’ll be right back, Ash. I’m gonna walk Kate to her apartment.”
Shaking my head frantically, I pushed against his back. “No, you guys go, I’m fine.”
I held the open-door button and urged him to exit the elevator. “Kate, you are not fine. I can see how upset you are. Was it Stephen? I’ll kick his ass.” He pushed my hand away from the button and then kissed the air in Ashley’s direction. “I’ll be back in two minutes, babe.” She smiled longingly at him as the doors closed completely.
When we reached the door of my apartment, he wrapped his skinny arms around me and tucked me into his chest. “Whatever it is you’re going through, I’m sorry.” I cried quietly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three pills: two yellow and one blue. “Here, you can have these.”
“What is it?”
“They’re benzos.”
“What’s that?”
“Those two are Ativan and that’s Xanax.” He pointed to the blue pill. “They’ll relax you and help you sleep. Just take one at a time.”
He dropped them into my hand. “Where do you get this stuff?”
“From my grandma’s stash.”
“That’s terrible, you being so young and . . . all of the drugs.”
“It’s cute that you’re worried about me. I actually haven’t done any drugs in the last couple of days. Ashley makes me want to be sober.” He smiled coyly. “She’s like a drug to me.”
“You’re sweet.” I pushed him toward the elevator. “Now go to the roof and make out with Ashley.”
“Okay, see ya. Call me if you need anything, or if you just want to hang out,” he said as he walked away.
I chased the blue pill with a large gulp of beer and the rest of the night was a blur.
Page 13
* * *
Enterprise Copy
A month went by before I started feeling normal again. I easily fell into the same old routine, except I was condemned to the Arts and Leisure section of the paper. I didn’t mind—at least Jerry hadn’t fired me. He understood that I had been duped by everyone at the winery. I got to see Will Ryan and his wife play in Chicago, and Jerry printed (without question) my very gleaming review of the concert. Beth ended up writing the rowback for the R.J. article. That’s when a newspaper tries to correct a story without indicating an error to begin with. She managed to imply that we were deceived, even though she didn’t say it outright. To our complete amazement, there was little response to my article or the rowback, so that was a relief. We realized that the whole thing was very dramatically blown out of proportion, thanks to my personal involvement with the subject. Still, Jerry and I agreed that it would be best for me to lay low until it all was completely forgotten. R. J. Lawson, whoever he was, fell easily off the radar once again, but the wine and winery didn’t stop getting praise. After my article ran, several Napa magazines featured full spreads of the Lawson winery and the gorgeous vineyard surrounding it. It continued to be recognized like it had been before, but R.J. the man was never mentioned in those articles. Jamie maintained his privacy after the rowback. I looked at each picture of the winery with a strange feeling, like I had never been there. My memories of that beautiful place had been tarnished.
I never went to another gay bar with Beth, but we made a pact to have dinner once a week. True to her words at the Dogfather, she finally started dating someone seriously, and for the first time I was actually producing more words than her on the weekends. I’d march into work every Monday and lean over her cubicle and say, “I busted out eight thousand words.”