chapter 10
Jack texted me about an hour later to inform me that he was going to be pulling an all-nighter and that we'd just have to talk tomorrow. A part of me was secretly happy that I wouldn't hear his voice, wouldn't have it as an overwhelming influence in my endless stream of deep thoughts. I had no thoughts of jealousy, no worries regarding him and Lexy.
Honestly, I didn't know whose side I belonged on. Everybody had pluses and minuses, upsides and downsides. I didn't want to lose my job and I didn't want to lose Jack. I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to cope with Sam's aggressiveness or if it would get worse and just push me over the edge. Allowing that to happen would almost be more of a passive approach, and inaction sure sounded nice.
I was feeling so malleable, so susceptible to influence it almost made me sick.
Sam had been so nice leading up to this deal, and if I tried to see this from his perspective, I needed to cut him some slack. If what he said about his wife was true, I could see why he'd get stressed out about these sorts of things, especially if the label was counting on him to pull the strings and secure the deal. He was carrying an enormous amount of weight on his shoulders, and he couldn't do anything about it until Jack acted.
I knew my mom and dad would be disappointed if I lost this job, not that their opinion dictated much in my life anymore. Still, it had been my dad that had urged me to come here, urged me to try and make my own way in this gigantic, fast-moving city that I really knew so little about.
Things were racing so fast with Jack, so blazingly quick that it genuinely seemed like a blur. I was feeling things toward him that I hadn't felt after years with Timothy. It was like a separation of the men from the boys (I think people still say that), black and white, night and day. Jack was something special, no doubt. Did special translate to reliable, though? That wasn't clear.
If reliability meant money, then Jack was definitely reliable. That was a really simple definition, however. If reliability meant straightforward and predictable, Jack definitely wasn't reliable.
If I lost the job, I was stranded here. If I couldn't find a job quickly, I'd be begging my parents for money, worried that I was going to get Jesse and me booted out of the apartment. I'd probably still have Jack—well, unless I broke it off for whatever reason—but I would hate to ask him for any help. In fact, I probably wouldn't even be able to do it. My lips would go numb and I'd be unable to speak the words.
Digging myself into my own hole was just going to require my own efforts to get out of it. The idea of a quick fix like Jack's money just felt cheap, but I wasn't entirely sure why.
The more I thought about it, the more I believed that I was just moving too fast with Jack and needed to slow down by a couple of notches and re-analyze the situation.
I didn't want to end things with him—no way—but I did want to wait out the storm of this record label decision. I couldn't help but think of it as a hurricane approaching the shore, one that would bring all sorts of devastation with it—well, if he didn't sign with MCI.
Without the situation at work, I knew I never would have slowed down. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing, right?
Infatuation. Obsession. These words came to mind when I thought about Jack and myself. I was feeling so much, and although every f*cking beautiful feeling was probably entirely true, there was still that distinct possibility that it was just something that would pass. In a couple months, he'd get bored and start sleeping around and I'd be nothing, a disposable girl that was used up and ready to spend some time breaking down in a landfill.
Why the hell are you being so ridiculous, Effie? Jack had been nothing but sensitive and honest with me, inviting me along when he shared his deepest, darkest secrets. The way he touched me, the way he talked to me. The way I had begged him to forgo the condom and then panicked. Something like magic went on between us, something that made me feel safe and protected from everything, even if I wasn't. Was that feeling worth something?
Ignorance is bliss, right?
I continued to dig, continued to follow the light as if I were trapped in a cave underground. A job was a job. I did the work and was compensated for it. If I didn't f*ck it up, it would still be around in a month or two, maybe even in years. It was dependable right now.
So was Jack, but I needed to test myself, needed to test just how necessary this all was. I did value my job, unfortunately, so I had to put that first, at least until I sorted some of this out. It hadn't even been two weeks and I was basically head-over-heels for this guy. We had been spending so much time together that it was a huge letdown just to have a night off tonight. That was embarrassing for some reason.
Jack was internationally famous and in demand. It's not like we wouldn't spend nights apart now and then...
Maybe I was a little masochistic, but I just needed to breathe, to push Jack one step away from me so I could get a better look at the whole picture. It felt kind of like pushing a square peg into a round hole, but sensible for some strange reason. He might flee and that would mean the end of a potentially life-long beautiful thing.
God, I was being so overdramatic and overly serious. Or maybe I wasn't. I couldn't decide—and that was scary as hell.
Take a break. It was all I had. Let it rest until the deal is done and then see what happens. I would tell Jack tomorrow.
I fell asleep more terrified than I ever had been in my life.
***
Sam was cool-headed the next morning. He actually apologized for being so harsh the previous day, blaming it on his futile attempt to kick caffeine cold turkey. Today, he was holding a cup of coffee and everyone around him couldn't have been happier about it.
And he noticed the flowers in the trash. I guess my symbolic efforts had been successful. "Did you even figure out who those were from?" he asked solemnly after bringing them up.
"Nope. The mystery died with those beautiful flowers. I'm not concerned anymore. I don't have time for that in my life right now."
He let out a laugh that was distinctly Sam. "God, that's so weird. I wish somebody would anonymously send me stuff."
Honestly, he seemed to be quite pleased that I was treating the matter as closed. "You just wait," I said.
Sam joked around with me all morning, quite possibly more than he ever had before. Everything was something to be made fun of, whether it was a person, or a process, or something other than those two things.
"You're on fire, Sam," I said before I left for lunch. "Did you get good news today or something?" I guess it was actually possible that Jack had already wrapped it up last night—but it seemed unlikely. If that was the case, it sure would make my day a lot easier.
"Nothing. That guy is pissing me off. He won't return my calls. I'm trying not to worry about it."
"Yeah, that's for the best," I said, knowing that I really didn't know anything.
I headed to a coffee shop and just got a spinach and feta croissant. I ate and sipped coffee as I prepared to call Jack. I wanted to get this part over with as quickly as possible, like ripping off a band-aid instead of coping with the agony of a slow, hair-tugging removal.
The call initiated, I sat in silence, my stomach doing back flips. Why was I so worried? I just wanted some space until the deal was over. It would be better for both of us because obviously he wasn't working out the hard details while we were in bed together. Oh God, I wanted that really badly...
Jack picked up after several rings, his voice far more gruff than it usually was. "Hi, Effie," he said immediately.
"Jack, what's up?" I asked as a primer.
"I literally just got out of the studio like an hour ago. I'm totally f*cking exhausted."
"What the hell happened?" I was still concerned even though I felt like I was pointing a loaded gun directly at his beautiful face.
"We had limited studio time and things just went over. This place is great, but it's always overbooked. I'm sorry I wasn't around for lunch. Shit, I need a nap." His sentences were coming out in short, random bursts.
Well, my plan had been thwarted before I could even give it a good shot. "That's rough."
"Do you want to do dinner or something? I'll call you after I wake up."
"Maybe," I said. "I've got some stuff to take care of." I was only sort of lying.
"Oh yeah? Anything cool?" he asked.
"Jesse's girlfriend was going to stop by and watch a movie. I don't even know what movie, but she's pretty cool." Now I was actually lying and it made me feel awful. "She wants to meet you."
"Okay, no big deal. And that would be fine. We can go on a double date or something."
I laughed. "They can't afford the places we go."
"It'll be my treat," he said predictably. It was predictably in the best possible way, however. Nothing to actually complain about. "But I'm barely awake, so I'll catch you later, okay? Have a good day, Effie."
"You too, Jack." The call ended unsuccessfully. The good news? I still had almost an entire rich, buttery croissant left.
The day passed slowly, but that was nothing new. Time never moved at regular speed—and it especially didn't move faster when something questionable lurked at the end of the day. I just wanted to say it and be done with it, to cope with the consequences associated with my decision.
Jack's return call came right before I arrived home, so I stood out front of the apartment building to deliver the potentially fatal blow.
"How was your nap?"
"It was fine. I had the worst dreams though. I was running from something I couldn't see, but it wouldn't stop chasing me. I'm not even sure how I knew it was chasing me. I could feel it, I guess."
"So you were glad to wake up?" I asked.
"Something like that. I'm hungry. Do you want to meet somewhere?" Here we go...
"Jack," I said in my lead in, "I'm worried about all of this. I'm paranoid about my job and Sam and all that."
"It's okay, Effie," he said. "Just relax." His voice was reassuring even though I was trying to distance myself from his wonderful clutches. "Lexy just keeps getting more offers. It's tough. I've never gotten so much attention for a new artist before." He obviously wasn't aware of where I was headed with the conversation.
"I think we should slow down a bit," I said. I was biting my lip as I spoke. "I think we should take a break, at least until the deal is over." I tasted blood. The evening had cooled off significantly from the day, but I felt like I was in an oven. Stress.
He fell silent. My heart started pounding like a locomotive. "Jack?"
"Effie, you know I can't—" He trailed off. "You know it'll be okay."
"Sam is super stressed out. He was talking about his divorce and everything else."
"Sam? Divorced?" he asked suddenly. I didn't pay much attention to it.
I gulped. "I like this so much," I confessed. "I don't want to mess it up. But I want my job, too. I don't like lying to Sam about it."
"Tell him to shut his damn mouth then! You have nothing to do with the deal."
"I've tried, Jack! He won't leave me alone. I feel like somehow he knows." It made me miserable that I was doing this based on hunches alone. But what other options did I have when my boss kept interrogating me every time he felt like it? I couldn't just run away.
Jack started to talk, but then cut himself off. I waited, fully aware that the next move was all his.
"Please, Effie. Why do this now? I can't just rush this process. I mean, you probably have some idea of how much shit goes on behind the scenes in this business." There was an ice-cold desperation in his voice, a sound that was both controlled and chaotic. He was struggling to keep himself together. "Did I do something, Effie? Is it about my ex? What I said the other day? Did I come on too strong?"
"No, no—"
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I told you, I never told anyone that before. I never should have made you—"
"Jack, please. It's fine. I care about you. I needed to hear that." I was being totally honest. "It's nothing you did, I swear. Just my own stupid issues. You have to believe me."
A spell of awkward silence overtook us both. "I can't rush this," he said again, more to himself than to me. I could tell he was having one hell of an internal battle, his pure creative desires versus us. Who would win?
"I understand. You don't need to justify it. I need some time to think."
"Effie, I don't want any games. Please. I meant everything I said. I want you."
God, I wanted to say it back so badly. Just hearing the weakness in his voice brought me back to last Saturday and how he had saved me from Timothy's clutches and broken down in the aftermath. It was so open and exposed, so undeniably human. I wanted that in a man, and Jack was forcing me to realize it.
But I needed to stick to my plan, mostly for my own good. I needed to re-assemble my sanity into something that was functional again, something useable. Maybe I wouldn't be able to take it. Or maybe I would. Maybe it would be months before I saw him again...
That thought definitely scared me. No, no, no...
"No games, I promise. Everything is as I said it is. No hidden motives, nothing. And no gifts this time, please. That already worked once, and I don't know if I could handle the surprise again."
He laughed; a good sign, given the intensity of the situation. "Okay, I won't do it."
"Keep in touch," I said. It sounded pathetic, but it still felt necessary. "And don't just sign with the label because of this. That would upset me even more, if you sacrificed what you care so much about."
"Sure. Effie, everything will be all right, okay?" I wasn't sure why he was re-assuring me after I had initiated all of this. I would have expected the reverse. I never knew with him sometimes...
"Yeah, Jack. It will." I spoke with unknown, bizarre certainty that crept up from some unfamiliar part of me.
We hung up simultaneously, neither of us knowing the next time we'd see the other. Was that really a good thing?
I didn't know, but I wanted to. Desperately. I wanted to know how the story ended.
It wasn't that I wanted to predict every step of the way. Predictability was safe, but overrated. Jack had been an accident, a beautiful accident—a big part of why things had been so good.
Our introduction was silly, contrived, yet memorable. Our first "date" was a roller coaster ride, a poignant, dirty little thing that spit me out, messy haired, at the end of the tunnel feeling used and manipulated, feelings that were a product of my own irrational urge to be better than that.
Who was I to judge that kind of moment? Was it really below me to go with the flow and feel good?
Yeah, the girl showed up, but so what? My gut reaction had been both inappropriate and appropriate. And yeah, I believed Jack. The woman did seem a little crazy, even if I only knew her for seconds. And their past didn't matter—that's why it was the past and not the present.
Why did I want to deny myself that experience, my body's primal response to his touch? Why was it so easy to chastise the girl that goes home with the guy she just met at the bar? Sometimes, you just know, right?
I wasn't advocating full on promiscuity, but why was it so "wrong" to move fast, to fully accept the repercussions of your decisions and (responsibly!) enjoy each moment to the fullest? It was more like a defense mechanism than anything else. That was clear to me the more I analyzed the feeling.
And defense had nothing to do with going after what you wanted. If you really feel something, why should you sit still and just wait for things to happen, especially when you could make them happen yourself?
Everyone has probably had that experience where they said hi to someone and then were on the brink of best friends an hour later. Shit, I kind of felt that way about Jack—and the fact that I did made me all the more uncomfortable with my self-imposed break and its potential repercussions.
"Effie, what the hell are you doing out here by yourself?"
My mind immediately assumed it was Jack, even though the voice didn't match at all. It was Jesse.
I laughed. "God, you scared me!"
"You're on the rough streets of Astoria. Be careful."
"Do you have any wine left?" I asked.
"As a matter of fact, I do. Rough day?"
I thought the somber look on my face probably gave it away. "Do you really need to ask that?"
"No, I don't. Come on."
We headed inside, where wine awaited.