Spin A Novel

CHAPTER 14

Visiting Rights





I wake up on Day Sixteen: Reconnecting with Family and Friends in a much better mood, but with every inch of my body aching. It literally feels like I’ve been stretched on a rack. No wonder this is how they used to torture people in the Middle Ages.

I sit on the floor and try some of the stretches Amy showed me, but they don’t seem to be working. In fact, all they do is remind me of the location of each of the muscles I used to bring my knees up and over the bar yesterday. Obviously, a few halfhearted sit-ups after my pathetic runs aren’t enough.

Speaking of which . . .

After the movie last night (The Lake House, which wasn’t half bad), Henry mentioned something about seeing me out on my run today. Typical guy, he didn’t actually ask me to go running with him, or tell me what time he’d be going so I could casually run into him. Of course not. He just said, “See you on your run tomorrow?” gave me his patented shoulder squeeze, and left.

After a few more stretches, I pull on my running stuff and check that the battery in my iTouch hasn’t run down. It’s fine, and I don’t have any emails from Bob, either. I guess he finally trusts me to let him know when I learn something important. That, or he’s too busy managing his other spies.

I slip my earphones in my ears, queue up today’s playlist (David Gray’s “Slow Motion” and Brett Dennen’s “The One Who Loves You the Most” for a ten-minute total), and head out.

Outside, the air still feels crisp and smells sweet. The blue sky is full of big, puffy white clouds that roll lazily toward the horizon.

I jog to the path, willing myself not to look for Henry. If he wanted to run with me, he only had to ask. Besides, I’ve got my tunes, so I’m all set.

I put my hands against a tree and stretch my legs away from it. Ugh! This is going to be agony.

Someone places a hand on my shoulder and I nearly jump out of my skin. I spin around, clutching the iTouch to my chest like I’m about to be mugged. It’s Henry, of course it is, but that doesn’t keep my heart from shuddering against my ribs.

He mouths something to me that I can’t hear, and I take the earphones out of my ears.

“What?”

“I said, sorry I scared you.”

“That’s all right. I’m kind of getting used to it.”

“Just what every guy likes to hear.”

“Doesn’t it add to your man-cred?”

“You really do remember everything, don’t you?”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

His eyes glint at me. “Not sure yet.”

OK, moving on.

“So . . . are you here to run or just to terrorize me?”

“Oh, obviously terrorize. In fact, this is my usual terrorist wardrobe.” He waves a hand to indicate his black running shirt and light gray running shorts.

“Smart-ass.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“You want to run with me?”

Why else would he be here, idiot?

“Sure.”

“I’m pretty slow.”

“I can handle it.”

We walk to the path. When we get there, I start running, trying to go a little faster than I normally do. Henry trots along easily next to me.

“How are you feeling today?” Henry asks.

“Everything hurts.”

“Yeah, Connor too. I still can’t believe he actually made it up that ladder.”

I smile, thinking back to Connor’s tentative climb up the ladder. His approach was similar to my own (one foot at a time, eyes closed). But while I didn’t even attempt to hide my utter terror, Connor tried to act completely blasé. He didn’t quite manage to pull it off. It’s hard to look as cool as a cucumber while you’re shaking like a leaf in sweatpants, even if they are P. Diddy’s brand.

“Yeah. That. Was. Funny.”

“Do you feel more trustworthy now?”

“Ha. Ha.”

“What’s on today’s menu? Astronaut training? Or just the usual therapy?”

“No. Therapy. Today.”

“Why not?”

“Visiting. Day.”

“Oh, cool. Are some of your friends coming to visit? Or your family?”

I shake my head, unable to even stutter out words anymore, and stop running. I place my hands on my knees, using them for support as I try to catch my breath.

Henry puts his hand on my back. “You OK?”

“I can’t talk . . . when I’m . . . running.”

“Sorry, I’m kind of chatty when I run.”

“I thought you were . . . the strong . . . silent type.”

“I guess running is my kryptonite.”

My breathing returns to normal and I straighten up. “Didn’t any of your girlfriends figure that out?”

“None of them liked to run.”

“Their loss . . .”

And what did you mean by that, Miss Henry-Is-Definitely-Off-Limits?

Not another word.

I look away from him. “Anyway, should we run?”

“Sure.”

We continue down the path. I decide to ask a question while I can still talk.

“So, what is your job, exactly?”

He glances sideways at me. “Are you trying to take advantage of me?”

“Never.”

“I’m Connor’s manager.”

“Amber said. You were. Personal assistant.”

“She would.”

“What does. ‘Manager’ mean?”

“I manage Connor’s career. You know, help him pick the movies he’s going to do, endorsements, what talk shows he goes on, that sort of thing . . .”

As we run, Henry babbles on (literally, he is babbling) about how he and Connor grew up together, and how his job is mostly making sure Connor doesn’t make stupid business decisions. Except for lately he’s also had to keep him away from the paparazzi because of all the drinking and drugs and—“I really shouldn’t talk about that, anyway . . . it’s kind of hard to explain”—he knows it sounds stupid, like he works for a rapper or something, but really, it’s just transitional, while he figures out what he really wants to do—when Connor asked him to come to rehab, that was almost the last straw, and it took a lot of wrangling and a huge donation to an outpatient drug program run by the Oasis before they agreed to let him in. He knows everyone thinks it’s weird that he’s here, but Connor said he needed him, and he couldn’t abandon him when he was finally trying to clean up his act, right?

His talking is strangely comforting and almost makes me forget I’m running. Almost. Until my entire body feels like it’s on fire and the monkey is back with a vengeance.

Please let us have run for at least ten minutes.

I stop and look at my watch. Twelve minutes, two seconds.

I pump my fist in joy. Yes, yes, yes! Ohmygod it hurts.

“You done?” Henry asks, breathing easily, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Oh yeah.”

“Cramp?”

I nod. “A bad one . . . do you mind if we head back to the lodge?”

He agrees, and we walk slowly while I rub my side.

“So, do you like what you do?”

“Sometimes. It’s fun hanging out with Connor, living the life. But . . . sometimes it’s weird that my best friend’s my boss. And sometimes I feel like I’m living his life.”

“So why do it?”

He shrugs. “I’d just finished grad school when he invited me out to LA. I wasn’t quite ready to jump into the real world, so I went.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Coming up on eight years now.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Yup.”

“What’d you go to grad school for?”

“English lit.”

“You a writer?”

“Nope, a teacher.”

“Really? That’s pretty far removed from manager of a huge Hollywood star.”

“Imagine the pay cut I’d be taking if I gave it all up.”

“Sounds like you’re addicted to him.”

He shoots me a look. “Excuse me?”

You know, Katie, just because everyone around you is being confronted with brutal truths about themselves 24/7 doesn’t mean Henry wants to be.

“Sorry. Forget it.”

He stops. “No, tell me. Why did you say that?”

I stare down at my shoes. They’re covered with mud. “Well, it’s just . . . the way you describe it sounds sort of like an addiction. Being stuck in a pattern you can’t get out of because it would mean making sacrifices. Your whole life becoming about it . . .” I look up at him miserably. “That’s what it’s like to be an addict.”

“I know what it’s like to be an addict,” he says quietly.

Shit.

“Forget I said anything, OK? I’ve spent too much time lately expelling every thought.”

He looks pensive. “No, you might be right. I am kind of addicted to the lifestyle. I have a great car and a big apartment, none of which I’d be able to afford if it wasn’t for Connor.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah, but it’s also easy.”

“Just because something’s easy doesn’t mean it’s bad for you. And at least being addicted to Connor gets you money and stuff. Most addicts can’t say that.”

He smiles. “And chicks. Don’t forget the chicks.”

“Right, how could I forget the chicks? You know, if you could invent a pill that got you money, stuff, and chicks, you’d be a gazillionaire.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

We start walking again. A whippoorwill trills above us, its repeating call the soundtrack of my childhood. My mind wanders briefly to my parents, not far from here as the crow flies. Would they come and visit me if they knew where I was and what I’m up to?

“So, are you really going to leave it all behind and become a teacher?”

He sighs. “I’m thinking about it. But I can’t quit until Connor gets better.”

“You’re a good friend, Henry.”

“Thanks. Anyway . . . you never said. Are any of your friends coming to visit today?”

I feel a pang of homesickness for Rory. Is she ever going to speak to me again?

“No, I don’t think so.”

“How come?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . . I’ve caused my friends enough trouble, I guess.”

“I bet your friends are really proud of you for coming here.”

“Maybe.”

“Trust me.”

I make a face. “Trust Day was yesterday.”

“So, what are you going to do with all your free time?”

“Hope someone put something readable in the library?”

He smiles. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Miracles can happen.”

“Well, if no miracle transpires, we could hang out . . . if you want.”

Did he just look nervous when he said that?

“I’d like that.”

We turn the last corner of the path and the lawn sprawls out before us. There are more cars in the parking lot than usual. New faces are milling around. A group of four people is walking toward us. Something about them seems vaguely familiar.

“Do you know those people?” Henry says. “They’re waving at you.”

I follow his gaze. No . . . it can’t be.

“Hey, lassie!” Greer bellows from across the lawn, her face a wide grin. “Who’s the hottie?”

Twenty minutes later, Rory and I are walking toward my room so I can take a shower.

When our group hug dissolved, Henry graciously offered to show Greer, Scott, and Joanne (!) to the common room while I freshened up. Rory asked to come with me and, of course, I agreed. On the way she explains that she ran into Joanne soon after I left, which is how she learned where I really was. I ask her how they knew where to find me.

“Scott figured it out from the phone number you gave Joanne.”

“Who knew he was so smart?”

“Yeah, he’s not a bad guy.”

I look at her curiously. Rory’s never approved of Scott, or Greer, for that matter. I wonder what it means that they’re all here together.

I open the door to my room, and Rory sits on Amy’s bed while I get my things together for the shower.

“It’s nice,” she says, glancing round. “Do you have a roommate?”

“I did. She left.”

“Oh. What was she like?”

“She was pretty great.”

“I’m glad.”

Rory stares nervously down at her sandals, her hands folded in the lap of her tan pencil skirt. It occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve seen Rory in casual clothes in a long time. It suits her. She even looks like she’s gained a few pounds, and her skin is a shade or two darker than the last time I saw her.

“You look good, Rory. Have you put on weight?”

She looks up. “I have.”

“That’s great.”

“Yes, well, your coming here was a bit of a wake-up call for me. In fact, I’m, um, going to see a therapist to discuss my, um, issues with food.”

I’m stunned. Besides our fight in her office, this is only the second conversation about her weight we’ve ever had. Not that I haven’t wanted to discuss it with her a thousand times, but since anything near the topic was always greeted with such stony silence, I’d learned it was better to leave it alone.

“I’m really proud of you, Ror.”

“Forget that. I’m the one who’s proud.”

“Please, don’t be.”

“I mean it, Kate. I’m so impressed that you acknowledged you had a problem and came here before it got totally out of control. And I feel really bad that I didn’t respond to your emails as soon as I found out where you were.”

“Forget it. I know you went out on a limb to get me that job. I’m really sorry I couldn’t take it.”

“What you’re doing is so much more important than some stupid job.”

Great. Just great. I thought I was going to get a lecture, a lecture I deserve, a lecture I can handle. What I can’t handle is the fierce, proud look on Rory’s face.

“Please don’t be impressed with me, Rory. I don’t deserve it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Crap, crap, crap. I’ve never been able to lie to Rory.

“Because I haven’t done anything to be proud of.”

“Don’t be silly.”

If we talk about this for one more second, I’m going to spill. And it won’t be pretty.

I pull her into a hug, finally putting something I’ve learned here to good use.“I’m sorry, Rory. All we do in here is talk about this kind of stuff, and I’m sick of it. I’d love to just have a normal day with you guys. Is that all right?”

Everything I’ve just said is true. So why do I feel like such a godawful liar?

Because you are one.

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

“OK, I understand.”

“Thanks, Ror. You’re the best.” I let her go. “Hey, you’re never going to believe who I ran into . . .”

After a shower, which erases the sweat from my body but not the guilt from my mind, Rory and I rejoin Greer, Joanne, and Scott in the common room. Henry is still with them, playing host. I thank him for keeping them company and apologize that I won’t be able to hang out with him.

“Don’t worry about it. Have fun with your friends.”

He leaves without giving me his standard shoulder squeeze. I wonder briefly if that means anything until my focus is shifted by Greer’s demands for food.

“We-must-be-on-time Joanne insisted we leave at an ungodly hour. I’m ravenous.”

“I didn’t want to get caught in traffic on the bridge,” Joanne says huffily.

“Actually, it was kind of cool,” Scott says. “I’ve never seen the city so quiet.”

“Didn’t you leave that girl’s apartment at six in the morning a few weeks ago?” Greer teases. “It must’ve been quiet then.”

“What girl?” I ask.

“She was no one. And I was still drunk, so I wasn’t noticing the peace and quiet.”

Rory’s eyes dart toward me. “I don’t think you should be talking about drunken evenings right now, do you?”

Scott looks chastened. “Shit. Sorry, Katie.”

“It’s OK. Besides, what do you think people here talk about all day long? I’ve heard it all.”

“I still don’t think it’s appropriate,” Rory says.

“I agree,” Joanne chips in.

Rory looks absolutely horrified that she and Joanne agree on something.

I start to laugh.

“What’s so funny, lass?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you guys. I’m really touched that you came.”

“Geez, are we going to hug again?”

“Shut up, Scott.”

“Can we eat now?”

After lunch, we go for a walk around the property, catching up and shooting the shit. The three of them are divided on whether I really need to be in rehab. Joanne, of course, falls into the “it should’ve happened a long time ago, but better late than never” camp, while Scott seems genuinely surprised.

“Were you just being proactive?” he asks, looking at me intently. “It’s cool if you were.”

Greer is pragmatic. “It’s good to take a break once in a while, give your body a chance to recover, yah?” I agree, but I feel odd around her, like I’ve got an itch I can’t quite reach.

Rory and I are mostly silent, but it’s not a bad silence. Each of them tells me in their own way that they’re proud of me. I skim over their pride and talk of other, trivial things, and the afternoon passes gently away.

When visiting hours are almost over, we head back toward the parking lot.

“That’s never Connor Parks,” Greer says.

I look toward the lodge. Connor and Henry are passing a football back and forth on the lawn.

“The one and only.”

Scott is excited. “That’s awesome! Do you think he’d mind giving me his autograph?”

Joanne rolls her eyes. “Don’t be such an idiot, Scott.”

“What’s the big deal? I’m sure people ask him all the time.”

Greer taps him on the shoulder. “Right. But not in rehab, yah?”

“OK, OK.”

We watch them make a few more passes.

“That Henry’s cute for a ginger,” Greer says. “You working on something there?”

“We’re just friends.”

“If you say so, lass.”

Amber comes out of the front door of the lodge and walks toward Henry and YJB. Her hair is in a loose ponytail, and she’s wearing a flowy cotton skirt.

Joanne reaches out and grabs my arm, her fingers digging in. “Is that . . . ? Ohmygod, I love her.”

“You do?”

“I’ve watched every episode of The Girl Next Door.”

“You have?”

“The girl next what’s it?” Greer asks.

“The Girl Next Door. Don’t you get television across the pond?”

“Yeah we get telly, you prat. We just don’t get shite telly.”

Joanne’s eyes widen in anger, while the corner of Greer’s mouth twitches. She knows who TGND is, of course she does, but she can’t help pulling Joanne’s leg.

“You’re such a bitch.”

Rory steps between them. “Let’s not ruin Kate’s visiting day.”

I smile at them all fondly. “Don’t worry, you’re not.”

“Goodness, lassie. Are you going to make us hug again?”

Yup.