Love at 11

Chapter Nine



I threw the drug pamphlet in the fire. What was done was done and worrying about it wouldn’t sober me up any sooner. Best to just sit tight and try to get through the evening best I could.

Jamie went to his bike and grabbed a beach towel. He spread it over the ground and we sat, as if partaking in an odd kind of drug picnic. We’d chosen a spot close to the bonfire and contented ourselves with watching the strange dance rituals of the raver kids with avid fascination.

They twirled and twirled like whirling dervishes, caught up in the power of the dance. I could see for the first time why tribes and witches used dancing in ceremonies. The power of the body’s movement was almost a spell in itself.

Personally, I had no interest in dancing. And as the Ecstasy kicked in, heating my body with a pleasant fire of its own, I actually felt increasingly lazy and content to sit there in that spot, next to Jamie, all night. My mind wandered as I stared into the fire, assessing all my problems—family, work, etc.—and deeming them all inconsequential. None of it mattered. And in the end, I realized, my life was wonderful. I had so much. I’d been blessed. There were thousands of poor, starving people out there, and here I was obsessing about my pain-in-the-ass family and job that, while it could be annoying as all hell, also kept me well above the poverty level.

Truly, everything would be fine.

Gentle hands gripped my shoulder and I turned from my fire gazing. Jamie smiled and began to massage my back.

“Does that feel good?” he asked. His face was flushed and his pupils dilated. Evidently the drug had kicked in for him, too.

“Mmm, yes,” I moaned in pleasure. A thousand different tingling feelings echoed through my every nerve at his touch. But it wasn’t sexual this time. Just a warm and fuzzy feeling. He was just trying to keep me relaxed and not panicked until the drug wore off. Nice of him, really. I squirmed closer so I was leaning against his chest. Cozy. Comfortable. Warm. What a nice guy. A really, really nice guy.

“Good,” he said, continuing to knead my back. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried about you for a minute there.”

“I appreciate that. But I’m fine, really. In fact, I can’t remember a time I’ve felt so relaxed.”

“It’s been a while for me, too. I mean, I’ve been so stressed out. With the moving, switching jobs, planning a wedding …”

Ugh. He had to bring that up, didn’t he? Major buzz-kill. But we were friends, I reminded myself. Friends should be able to talk about anything with each other. And I liked the fact he felt comfortable doing so. “How’s the wedding planning going?” I, Maddy Madison, friend extraordinaire, asked.

He groaned. “I try to stay out of it as much as possible. When I first proposed, all I had in mind was a simple ceremony—maybe on the beach at sunset with a few friends. She’s made it into the social event of the season.” His hands traveled to my hair, dragging his fingers down my scalp, which made for more tingling feelings. I loved head massages, especially in my skin’s hypersensitive state.

“Well, I’m sure it will be very nice.”

“What it’ll be is a chance for Jennifer to show off to all of her stuck-up Hollywood friends. In fact, I bet she wouldn’t even notice if I didn’t show up.”

Hmm. Interesting. “You sound bitter.”

“Maybe I am, a little.”

Ecstasy hit different people in different ways, I realized. While I was content to simply sit back and soak everything in, Jamie’s drug experience was prompting him to open up. To talk. Which was fine with me. I didn’t mind hearing about trouble in Jamie and Jen paradise.

“When I first met Jen, she and I were as close as a couple could be. She wanted to pursue an acting career, and I completely supported her. But now that she’s landed a few roles, got invited to a few key Hollywood parties, she wants more. It’s like an addiction to fame. She doesn’t want to go out for a quiet meal. She wants to ‘see and be seen.’ She doesn’t want to drive up the coast to watch the sunset. She wants to go dancing at the Viper Room.”

I yelped as his fingers caught a snarl.

“Sorry,” he said, patting my head. “It just gets me so angry. Sometimes I don’t even know why she’s marrying me. I’m not even her type.”

“No?” I turned to face him. He looked so sad. Like a lost boy. I wanted to comfort him. To hold him close and tell him everything was going to be okay. I tried to tell myself those urges were coming from my drug-enhanced state, but I knew better.

“Not at all. I’ve told you before that I don’t buy into the whole Hollywood scene. I don’t like going to parties. I don’t care which celebrity was spotted at which restaurant, and I don’t care about going there once they were to see if they return.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “And now that I’ve had to shelve my film-making career, I’m not even someone she wants to show off to her friends. At least at one time I was quote ‘cool.’ Someone she was proud of.”

I fought back an overwhelming sadness as I contemplated his situation. Man, this Ecstasy was making me way too emotional—pity stabbing at my heart. I felt so bad for him. Here he was, the most wonderful guy I’d ever met and he was stuck with a woman who completely didn’t appreciate him. Didn’t worship him as he deserved.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until he reached over and brushed away a lone tear from my cheek with his thumb. The gesture was gentle. Sweet. Made me want to act completely irrational and fall into his arms. Before I could act on such an impulse, he continued.

“We got into a huge fight when I took this job in San Diego,” he said. “She told me I was a loser. That I was giving up my dream.” He grabbed a rock off the ground and threw it into the fire. “But you know what? It’s her dream, not mine. I’m still doing what I want to do. I’m still a photographer. Sure, local TV news isn’t as glamorous as Hollywood …”

“Understatement alert!” I said with a chuckle.

“… but it’s a steady paycheck. And I like San Diego, too. It’s non-pretentious. Peaceful. You could raise a child here.” He snorted. “Not that she probably wants children anymore. Pregnancy might force her to eat once in a while.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking this,” I interjected, the drug making me brave. “But why are you marrying her? You sound like you’d rather face a firing squad.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes, I’m honestly not sure. But I can’t call it off now. Everything’s been paid for. Deposits can’t be returned. Her dad’s spent a fortune. How can I just walk away?”

“Jamie, once you’re married it’s going to be a lot worse.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Can’t you talk to her? Figure out what’s going on? Maybe go to counseling?”

He sighed. “No. Yes. I don’t know.” He leaned back against a boulder. “I don’t know why I even told you all that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We’re friends, remember?”

“Friends.” He smiled, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from my eyes. “It’s so hard to be your friend, Maddy.”

My heart caught in my throat. What had he just said? He groaned and leaned back on his rock. “Sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t say things like that. It’s not fair.”

“It’s okay,” I replied, hardly able to breathe. “I mean, we have to be honest with each other, right?”

“Honest?” Jamie raked a hand through his hair. “You want honest? How about the fact that you’ve been driving me absolutely crazy these past few weeks.”

“Crazy?” I repeated slowly. “Like in a bad way or a good way?”

“Maddy, you haven’t left my mind for two seconds since the morning we slept together. You’re like a sickness I can’t seem to shake. And in some ways, I’m not sure I want to. You make me laugh. You give me encouragement when it comes to my writing. You’re supportive and sweet and beautiful and I’m crazy about you and I feel f*cking horrible about it. Especially when I’m talking to Jen. I mean, I hate the idea that I’ve betrayed her. Once with my body and over and over again in my mind. She deserves better than me.” He slammed his fist against his knee. “God, this is such a nightmare. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“I-I had no idea,” I whispered, my insides doing flip-flops ‘til I felt like I was going to puke and it had nothing to do with drugs. I couldn’t believe it. All this time I had tried to keep things friendly and not fall in love, never knowing he’d been struggling with the same thoughts and feelings as I.

He looked over at me. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, his eyes beautiful and sad. “I told you it would be better to keep my mouth shut.” He sighed. “It’s just … well, I sit here and look at you and all I want to do is kiss you. To make love to you. To possess you in every way possible. But I can’t. I can’t do any of it.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head to the sky. “If only I’d met you three years earlier. Or something.”

I reached over and placed a hand on his knee, wanting to comfort him but having no idea what to say. My own thoughts whirled like dervishes in my head. I knew if I leaned over and pressed my lips against his, he wouldn’t be able to resist. But at the same time, he’d hate himself for giving in. And I didn’t want that.

He flinched at my touch and abruptly scrambled to his feet. “I’ve got to go take a walk,” he muttered.

“Jamie, wait!”

“I’ll be back. Stay here.”

Helpless, I watched him step away from the fire and wander out into the wild, barren desert. I wanted to run after him, but what would I do when I got there? One thing would lead to another and we’d end up making the same mistake we made on our first night together. And we couldn’t do that. It wasn’t fair to Jennifer. And it wasn’t fair to us either.

So I curled up on the towel, pulling my feet into a fetal position, allowing the tears to stream down my cheeks. It was one thing to fall for someone alone. But to know they felt the same, yet refused to act on it, was something else entirely.

Was I deluding myself to think he’d break up with Jen and give me a chance? Or was there a possibility—even a slight one—that he would? And was that what I really wanted in the end—for him to ditch the woman he’d promised his life to and start shacking up with me instead? Or was I being totally and utterly selfish?



*



“Maddy, wake up!”

I groggily attempted to open one eye, but the glaring sunshine seemed capable of burning out my vision, so I closed it again. Ugh. I felt like utter crap. My head pounded. My mouth tasted like cotton wool. My joints were sore and a sharp rock dug into my back. Ugh.

“Maddy. We have to get back to San Diego.” Hands shook my shoulders, and I groaned.

“Five more minutes, Mom.”

“Not Mom. Jamie.”

That did it. I opened my eyes. Scrambled to a seated position. Jamie sat beside me, looking rumpled and sexy, though more than a bit drained. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to flatten it. I probably looked like Medusa. And there was no bathroom here to hide in.

I took stock of my surroundings. Several raver kids lay sacked out in various positions by the fire pit, the flames long extinguished. Others were still dancing, believe it or not. And a DJ manned the booth, still spinning his techno tunes. I admired their endurance. How much Ecstasy did one have to take to stay dancing from dusk until dawn?

The night before seemed almost like a dream. I remembered everything—no alcoholic blackout this time—but it all seemed unreal. Wavy. Suspect. Did Jamie really tell me he was crazy about me?

It did, however, make things rather awkward. We couldn’t just say good-bye this time. We had to drive back two hours. Two hours on a bike, pressed against him.

“Morning,” Jamie said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Don’t remember.” I stood up and stretched my arms above my head, trying to gain some sense of bodily well-being. Why was I so sore? I didn’t even dance. I noticed the sun, barely peeking over the horizon. “What time is it?”

Jamie glanced at his watch. “Just after six.”

I screwed up my face. “I could have slept a few extra hours.”

Jamie grabbed the towel and started folding it up. “We’ve got a two-hour ride back to San Diego. That’ll get us in by eight. I’m assuming you don’t want to go to work without a shower?”

I looked down at my body. I was nasty. Dusty, dirty, and truth be told, a bit rank.

“A shower would probably be in order.” I laughed, noticing Jamie didn’t laugh with me. Or meet my eyes. Uh-oh.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said dismissively. “Got a headache is all.”

No, that wasn’t all. He had a case of the regrets. It was clearly written on his face. He wished he hadn’t spent the night with me. Wished he hadn’t spilled all his secrets. About him and Jen’s relationship. About how he was crazy about me. He was biting his tongue to be patient, but trying to get the hell away from the scene as soon as possible. Typical guy reaction.

And I, on the other hand, was still goofy in love. Which I guess was a typical girl reaction. Go figure.

I decided against badgering him to tell me what was on his mind. In my hung over, vulnerable mental state I really couldn’t deal with any more rejection. Better to let it sit. Get a ride home. Call in sick to work and stew about the whole thing from the comfort of my couch. Maybe I’d even order pizza. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning.

“I’m ready when you are,” I said.

He nodded and started walking toward the road where he’d parked his bike. I followed behind, not quite able to keep up with his speedy pace. Wow, he really was in a hurry to get the hell out of Dodge.

When I caught up, I found him frantically looking up and down the desert road, sheer panic written on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, scrunching up my eyes in confusion.

Then it hit me. I, too, looked up and down the road, panicked.

Oh shit.

“Jamie, where’s your motorcycle?”



CALLA VERDA STOLEN PROPERTY REPORT



NAME: Jamie Hayes DATE: 4/15

OFFICER: Bradley

AREA OF INCIDENCE: About two miles from Calla Verda, Route 8

PROPERTY STOLEN: Triumph Rocket Motorcycle



INFORMATION: Owner of said property, Mr. Hayes, claims he and his work colleague Ms. Madison were on assignment undercover at a local rave. (Please note they have no Press Pass to back up this story and only a funny-looking home video camera, which they claim they use for “undercover work.” They are also disgustingly dirty with mud in their hair. As if News 9 would hire people like that!) They ended up spending the night at said Rave even after shooting was finished. (For a reason they are unclear on.) They woke the next morning and learned that above mentioned property was nowhere to be seen. They claim they walked two miles back to Calla Verda to report the incident.



SIGNATURE: R. J. Bradley, Detective