chapter 15
"I swear I won't be gone long," Jack said. He was playing with his collar in the mirror, toying obsessively with it, as if he believed he could make himself look better than he already did. Wrong, Jack.
"It looks just fine." I was lying on the bed in my robe, the top intentionally left wide open so he could enjoy the view. I kept noticing his eyes dropping down as we talked and it made me giggle.
He was heading out to meet briefly with some industry people, a necessarily evil.
Signing forms, as he had called it. I hadn't wanted to ask him if he was finalizing a deal. I didn't want to think about that right now at all. Last night had been so breathtakingly perfect. Stacy Levons and then mind-blowing sex.
And after he got back, we were going out with Stacy again! Part of me wanted to get a picture with her to post on Facebook—you know, showing off my "rare celebrity encounter." But I was starting to heed Jack's advice and realize that it wasn't such a big deal. She was great and ultra-talented, but she was just another person. Honestly, with their history together, I'd always have front row access, it seemed.
Plus, she gave me her email address. Way too cool.
He had invited me to come along, but really, I just wanted to sit out on the patio and watch the drunk people stumble around by the pool. If he wasn't going to be long, I had no problem with waiting, quietly sitting with my thoughts.
"Effie, don't worry about anything. This has to do with my back catalog. One label bought out another and now I'm getting the full rights back. Nobody owns me but me."
"And me," I said jokingly.
"Right. But this is awesome," he said. "Giving up those rights is what cost me a lot at the beginning."
"So now you're gonna get to have two jets?" I waggled my eyebrows at him.
He gave me a smile, one that would have won over any person looking at him, male or female. "It's more like artistic progress than anything else. Reclaiming what's truly yours."
"I thought you didn't like that material."
"It's not my favorite, sure. But it's also even worse when it's making selfish a*sholes more money than it's making you."
"I see." I nodded mechanically.
"I won't be long, I promise. I'll text you on my way back." He leaned down and gave me a deep kiss, one that only served to distract me as his hand carried out its grand scheme and crept into my robe, cupped my exposed breast.
"Hey!" I broke away and smiled. "You're such a pig."
"For good luck," he said.
"As if you need that."
"Oh, and if you want a drink or some room service or something—" He tossed a wad of bills near me on the bed.
"Wow, I feel so classy. You fondle me, throw money on the bed, and then leave."
He grinned again, and then escaped toward the door, tackily saluting me as he left. "Goodbye, my dear."
I gave him one final look before he left, a slow-motion crawl from top to bottom, admiring just how adorable he was. Although Jack constantly insisted that I was perfect, I couldn't help but feel the same way about him in return.
Here we were in a place I had wanted to visit most of my life, sharing moments of luxury on a whim. I would have had to plan something like this for months in advance, putting money aside and losing sleep over the fact that I could be saving that money instead of blowing it on an extravagant trip.
Nope. Come with me with on a quick weekend trip, he had said. And here we were. It was a weekend trip and it was quick.
I waved and then the door opened and closed, the hallway taking my man from me. I looked at the cash on the bed, sliding it around with my fingers. Five hundred dollars, just like that. I grabbed the room service menu and then realized why he had given me so much.
"Jesus," I said aloud.
If Jack hadn't left the money, grabbing a snack in the room would have maxed out my credit card immediately. And if I had gotten a drink on top of that, my savings would be wiped out too. Debt collectors would have been waiting for me as we departed from the hotel.
After perusing the extensive menu for far too long, I eventually settled on the salmon with asparagus and a vodka tonic. I gave a huge tip—God, it felt wild to give away money like that, no joke—and enjoyed my gourmet "snack" by myself.
I slowly downed the drink, realizing that the premium price I had paid for it was barely worth it. Still, I was eating and drinking well whilst wearing a robe in my room. It was a little thing to celebrate, no doubt.
I walked out to the patio and stared up at the clear blue sky, sucking the warm, fresh air into my lungs. Even though pollution was bad around these parts, I sensed none of it in that moment. Or maybe I just didn't care.
Intense curiosity struck me at once. I was thinking about Stacy again, thinking about her relationship with Jack. I had seen all of her movies but one, and obviously, we barely knew each other. Jack was spoiling me, making me feel like an absolute princess, dominating me physically and mentally every second we were together in the most loving, considerate sort of way.
What made it so bad was that the only creative thing I knew about him was that he had released an album called Feedback and at least one person loved it. I felt selfish and self-absorbed all of the sudden. It wasn't a miserable feeling, no. Instead, it was one that was making me want to act, one that made me want to go exploring.
I left my drink on the patio table and ran back into the room, digging frantically in my suitcase. For some reason, I remembered having a pair of ear buds in the hidden inside pocket, ear buds that had come with my phone and that I hadn't ever used. Why I would have put them into my suitcase, I didn't know.
"Yes!" They were there, still wrapped in plastic. I ripped it off and tossed it into the trash, unwinding the earphones and grabbing my phone from the table.
Seconds later, I was back out on the patio looking over the pool area. It was Saturday after all, so there was a good crowd to be found. I realized I wasn't that interested in listening to their commotion. I wanted to dig deeper into Jack Teller.
I opened Spotify on my phone and typed in Jack's name. The list that came up sprawled for pages.
Holy shit, I thought.
After telling it to shuffle, I sat back and listened to whatever came up.
He had an incredible voice, something I wasn't expecting after he claimed he was better at writing for other people. When someone that talented and confident says they're bad at something, you usually take their word for it. I shouldn't have listened to him.
I won't lie—I didn't like every song that came up. Just because I was dating the guy that wrote them didn't mean that I would pretend to be the biggest fan ever. Jack would have appreciated that, I was certain of it. I also wasn't listening to full albums, so I didn't totally grasp where the songs fit in artistically.
This was just a crash-course in Jack Teller while he was dealing with business.
The more I listened, the more I realized just how talented Jack was. There seemed to be every style imaginable in that playlist, and on top of that, collaborations he had done with internationally popular artists showed up as well.
I started laughing loudly as I realized that a song that had played constantly on the radio during my shifts at the college bookstore had actually been written by the guy I was now dating. It had played so much that it almost drove me mad. I couldn't blame Jack for that, but maybe I would pick on him for it someday.
It was as if I had known this man too well prior to ever meeting him.
I kept jumping back and forth between Spotify and Wikipedia, gobbling up every bit of information I could. When I heard a song from Once show up, I thought my playlist had gotten off course.
Nope. He actually had written one of the songs in the show and hadn’t told me! I had sat there and watched that whole play, not realizing that he had contributed to it.
I buried my head in my hands, my cheeks burning red with shame. I knew that Jack was successful, but he hadn't pushed it on me at all. Hadn't begged me to listen to material. Hadn't bragged that I was probably familiar with his work. His rants about the music industry never included his gigantic contribution to it over only a half-decade. He mentioned that people made a lot more money than he did off of his own work, but I just thought that was part of his whole the system is broken rant.
After realizing I hadn't even made a dent in the list of available material, I yanked the ear buds out my ears and set them by my nearly empty drink.
Don't let it get to you.
Jack was a complex guy. He had his reasons, I knew. I couldn't beat myself up over this. He said someday he'd show me stuff, that we'd have a listening party. He had broken down to me over the tragedy in his life, opened up that part of himself and given me a full view inside.
Wasn't the point of being in a relationship to give all of yourself to the other person? The good and the bad? Nothing but the real? I was vaguely reminded of prototypical wedding vows.
Maybe he was hiding from his work because it reminded him too much of his past. Maybe he just didn't care about introducing it to me. I would have kept thinking about the matter, but Jack popped back into the room. I abruptly closed Spotify, not wanting him to know what I had been doing. I didn't understand my desire for secrecy.
"Still in your robe, I see." He strolled toward me on the patio, glancing at the spilled contents of my bag on the floor, but not actually saying anything further.
"Hi, Jack," I said excitedly. "H-how was the meeting?"
"Better than usual. I will admit some aspects of the business are easier to deal with out here than in NYC."
"I see." I turned my head back toward the sky as Jack joined me on the patio. He leaned down and kissed me, straightening out my robe after he noticed that one of my breasts was exposed. "Oh, thanks," I said after he rose again.
"No problem. Wouldn't want you to be humiliated."
"You're so good at talking to women," I retorted.
His phone buzzed and gave it a cursory glance before putting it back in his pocket. "Do you still want to go to that party with Stacy?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I admitted.
"Okay. Well, we're going to have to get moving then. Let's take a quick shower."
"That sounds just fine."
Jack stripped out of his business clothes before we walked into the bathroom, scattering them on the bed with little to no rhyme or reason. When he got to his boxers, he was already rock hard—and I wanted him really f*cking bad.
By the time we were inside the shower, he was already inside of me.
***
"See, it's not so bad," Stacy said politely. "I know you hate these dumb things, Jack, but this place is pretty cool."
We were at one of those Beverly Hills mansions, the kind that they shot reality TV shows at. I was pretty confident that I had actually seen this specific place on some show I watched in the past. It felt like I could remember some overly drunk, washed-up star accidentally falling into the gorgeous pool.
That sort of thing just got the ratings, I guess.
"Yes, it's not that bad," Jack said sheepishly. "You're right, okay? Let it go."
Stacy gave him a smile that ought to have been on the cover of a magazine. "Did you guys try that dip over there? It's like jalapeno-cheddar or something. Really good."
Jack and I both shook our heads and eyed the table that she was referring to. "I want another drink, actually," I said.
"Me too." Stacy smiled and motioned for me to follow her. Right as she did that, some guy tapped Jack on the shoulder and started talking excitedly. He was probably someone I should have recognized, but I wasn't going to get too caught up in it. I hated to leave him stranded like that, but then again, my Hollywood hero was pulling me toward more alcohol.
The best sort of distraction.
She grabbed us a couple more glasses of champagne and toasted me after I had a matching glass in my hand. "How do you like this stuff?" she asked, her question vague and nebulous.
"The wine?" I asked, staring back at her. As usual, she looked incredible, beyond beautiful, if that was a real thing. I still found it almost impossible to believe that Jack thought I was prettier than her.
But that's what he said...
"No, no. This. Hollywood. California. Whatever. It's got to be a little weird for you."
"I suppose it is," I said. "I'm glad to be experiencing it."
"Oh shit, there's George Clooney," Stacy said, pointing over toward the corner. It was, in fact, George Clooney. "He's really nice."
"Whoa. No kidding." He looked incredible in person.
"Do you want to meet him? C'mon." She took my arm and pulled.
"No, no, no," I contested. "I can't meet him." I suddenly got really self-conscious after realizing that fighting her would only draw more attention to little old me. So I went.
"George!" she said boisterously, cutting off the conversation that he was already engaged in. "How are you?"
"Oh, Stacy! What a pleasure!" They hugged, the whole moment a bit overwhelming for me.
"George, I want you to meet my sister, Effie. She's visiting this weekend."
"I didn't know you had a sister. Hi, Effie," he said, taking my hand and kissing it.
"Hi, G-g-george," I said, stumbling at first. "I really like your movies. You were a great Batman for sure. Better than Christian Bale."
He started laughing and it immediately put me at ease. "Well, thanks. You don't have to say that. You're the first person that ever enjoyed Batman and Robin, I swear."
I started giggling as well, realizing that his observation was probably right since most people considered the movie a bomb.
Stacy talked to him for a few minutes about some movie project they were both working on, so I just let them do their thing. I noticed Tim Robbins in the crowd as well, but I wasn't about to approach him by myself.
What was this party for, anyway?
I felt someone grab my arm and then a hand crawled along my shoulder. "Hey, beautiful." It was Jack. "Oh, hi, George," he said casually after noticing who Stacy and I were talking to. What the f*ck? Hi, George?
George eagerly greeted him and they shook hands as if they were old friends. After a few additional moments of conversation—Jack quickly realized how overwhelmed I was by the situation—he steered Stacy and I back into our little clique.
And by that point, she and I were both pretty drunk. We all hung out and laughed for a while, enjoying the Hollywood atmosphere and the nice weather. A guy walked up to Stacy and started talking.
"Oh, Dan! Awesome to see you." They hugged each other as Jack and I stood on the sidelines. "Dan, this is Jack and Effie. I hope you can figure out which one is which."
"God, the Jack Teller," Dan said, his face as bright as a neon light in the dark. He looked to be around Jack's age, a little shorter, not as good looking. He had jet-black hair that matched his navy blue button-up dress shirt. Presumably, he was good at his job, whatever it job was.
"Yeah, that's me. How do you know Stacy?" Jack asked inquisitively, deflecting attention away from himself.
"We went to high school together. Now I work for MCI out here after moving from NYC. Goddammit, Jack, you just won't give us an answer, will you? Lexy Brown's gonna be the next big thing, and I know you f*ckin' know it."
I gulped, suddenly feeling my heart drop from my chest. I had to look at the ground to verify that it hadn't actually departed from my body and landed on the ground with a splat.
Dan just said MC-f*cking-I. The assumed sleaze just got sleazier.
Oh, shit. Was this actually happening? Of all of the random people we could run into at a Hollywood party, it happens to be a representative of MCI. Well, George Clooney, too.
By the time I looked up at Jack, Stacy was already speaking, her lowered inhibitions like deadly machine gun fire. "Effie works for MCI in New York like you used to!"
It was a conversational addition intended to be harmless, a common ground between Dan and me. The sort of thing that contributed to a smoother, more languid discussion. The holy grail for the socially awkward person struggling to make small talk.
And then I felt like I was in one of those medieval torture devices, my limbs being stretched until the bones popped right out of their sockets.
Ouch!
At that moment, I wanted to be in space. Floating around, doing nothing. Not responsible for anything serious or meaningful. Just enjoying zero gravity and the fact that I was as far away from this as I could humanly get. If I could wander away to another planet or galaxy, that would be fine too.
Snap out of it.
"Kind of," I blurted out impetuously. "Accounting stuff. Temp position. Nothing important. I, uh, barely know anyone." I rattled off my points as if I was reading a grocery list. I swiftly realized that by saying anything at all, I was narrowing my escape routes, whittling them away until I was only left with crippling honesty—the truth.
"So what the hell are you doing out here with Jack? Did Sam tell you to—" Dan let out a reprehensible laugh. Reprehensible was the only way I could describe it. "You know what I mean."
Jack's arm around my back suddenly felt like a scarlet letter, as if my flesh had been branded with a mark that said, You just f*cked up. Kiss everything you know and love goodbye. I needed his shelter in that moment as much as I needed to just escape it, to salvage the battered body of my career.
Stacy was still grinning, pleasantly oblivious to the internal turmoil I was coping with. I looked at my Hollywood role model with reproach, the alcohol only fueling my emotional fire. Dammit, what made any sense anymore? Hating my hero? Although the ride with Jack had been a wild one thus far, I couldn't have ever predicted this addition to life's very big scrapbook.
I didn't have any excuses or stories I could summon to protect me. Time had stopped while I wallowed in obvious embarrassment. Well, at least I thought it was obvious.
This moment was literally my career versus Jack—I couldn't see it any other way. It was the fight of the century. The bullet had already hit, so I just couldn't dodge it anymore.
"That's pretty f*cking rude," Jack said coldly, rising to my defense. "Are you suggesting that she is some kind of 'paid entertainment' from the label? If you really want to f*ck up the deal, that's a great way to start."
Dan's body's language immediately screamed, his shoulders tightening up, his arms crossing against his chest like a bouncer. "Whoa, dude, chill out. I was just playing. I don't care what the hell you two are doing."
Something finally clicked in Stacy because she looked distraught. Jack butted in again before she could say anything else.
"It didn't sound like you were playing," Jack said, "and you were being f*cking rude to Effie here."
For some reason, it actually appeared to be helping. Jack was delivering a verbal beating, one that seemed to be knocking Dan's ideas right out of circulation. Jack wasn't lying or making up stories to cover our asses, just defending me from undue, inappropriate attention.
Stacy stood there, ruminating. "God, will you two calm down, please?"
I didn't know whose side she was actually taking. She seemed to be trapped between the two men, her long-term friend and her former boyfriend. But just because Dan was her old friend didn't mean she would take his side over the man she actually dated.
"Yeah, Jack. Just relax, man." Dan was trying to be diplomatic, but from my perspective, he couldn't be redeemed, not now. Not ever. It was too obvious that he was only trying to be nice because his job required it of him.
"Well, I think we need to be going. It was so nice meeting you, Dan," Jack said promptly. "It's a real shame we never met prior to this magic moment."
"Jack, seriously, man. It was just a joke. MCI loves you. I don't know shit about the girl you're with."
"I'm sure." Jack punctuated his sentence with a nod. "I'll let them know that their shitty A&R guy who ran into me at a party convinced me to take Lexy Brown elsewhere. You'll be real popular around the offices."
Whoa. This had heated up fast. Dan looked like he wanted to punch Jack, but obviously realized that Jack had something he wanted. Well, that his company wanted. A successful transaction would obviously benefit him as well. Jack had the upper hand and he had successfully changed the path of things.
Dan's eyes gave me one more look, a look that felt creepy and scummy and everything else that was a synonym for uncomfortable or uncalled for. "I'm gonna go, Stacy. Have fun with your friends." He turned and disappeared into the crowd before we could say anything else.
Stacy immediately turned to Jack. "What the hell was that all about?"
"Can we sit down, please?" I asked, feeling lightheaded and weak. I pointed toward the chairs by the pool that was essentially just a nice decoration since no one was swimming. It was an area clear of drama and semi-private.
After sitting down in a semi-circle together, Jack began explaining what had happened.
"F*ck." Stacy stared down at the sunlight reflecting in the pool. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to say anything."
I instantly defended her, my mind cooled down from before. "You couldn't have known. It's just... messy. I try not to bring it up."
"God, of all the people we could have run into, it had to be him."
"I hate to say it, Stace, but he's kind of an a*shole."
She shrugged. "Yeah. He's close to my family, though, so there isn't much I can do about it." She ran her hand through her hair, pulling the loose strands from her face. "Did you mean what you were saying back there?"
Yeah, I really wanted to know that as well...
He laughed. "I was just talking out of my ass. Trying to scare him." His glorious green eyes met mine. "Effie, don't sweat it, please. I don't want this to ruin your first visit to Hollywood." Jack's fingers lightly stroked the nape of my neck, the sensation instantly calming, as irrational as calm felt.
"Yeah, all right," I said weakly. I looked over at Stacy, trying to gauge her response to all of this. Her face was neutral, her features accentuated by the light of the sun. No matter what Jack said, I'd never stop believing Stacy was far prettier than me. I mean, when she walked down red carpets, the flash bulbs sounded like machine gun fire.
I realized that I had successfully suppressed the recent tension with Sam, the divorce stuff, the dying company drama, and that was what made this all worse. "I want to talk to you about it all later, though."
"On the plane ride back tomorrow, okay? Let's just try to have fun while we're here." He gave me the most optimistic look I'd ever seen. I could barely explain why it looked optimistic, but that didn't matter. I felt it.
"Effie, I'm so sorry. I hope everything turns out all right." Stacy obviously felt horrible about what had happened, and I knew what that felt like. I had done the exact sort of thing before and actually lost a friend over it.
I paused, allowing the words to digest slowly. I glanced around at the world I was in, the strange universe I was currently a part of. Seth Rogen popped up in the background, and that only made everything weirder. To my right, Jack, my rich, handsome, protective boyfriend. To my left, his ex, my favorite actor, an inspiring woman in my life. Combined, they had more talent that the rest of Hollywood combined—at least in my eyes.
Making decisions wasn't easy right now, not when I was here. I couldn't worry about this, not now. I couldn't chastise Stacy because she just didn't know. On top of that, she had been drunk, same as me, just trying to have a good time at this petty, superficial event.
"Okay," Jack said, piping in, "we're all going to go out to dinner and then we're going to go to the club at the hotel. It's going to be mindless fun. God knows we all need it."
"I have to be on a plane to Chicago early tomorrow morning, though," Stacy said.
"You can sleep on the plane, can't you?" I asked, trying to encourage her participation. I wanted to wipe the tension away, to start anew with her after the incident.
She looked at me and smiled, a response that would have been blog-entry-worthy had I not already known her. "Okay, I'll go out for a little bit at least. You convinced me."
"Okay. Can we get the hell out of here now?" Jack asked.
"Sure. I'll say a couple of goodbyes and then we'll go." She walked off into the crowd.
Jack stood up with me and put his arm around my back, leading me around the house toward the front. I didn't need to think hard about any of this. Normally, this sort of arrangement—guy and girl hanging out with guy's ex girlfriend—would have been problematic. Look at what happened with Timothy and me...
But no, Stacy was not your run-of-the-mill ex-girlfriend. She was the ex-girlfriend worth hanging out with, the ex worth knowing, without a doubt.
And the thing with Dan would probably turn out just fine. I didn't need to be so paranoid. Tomorrow, Jack would assuage me with his knowledge and sensibility, his ability to simplify and act. I would voice my concerns and everything would be okay by the time we arrived in NYC.
All of this was making me reconsider my goals, however. I didn't know what I wanted them to be anymore—Dan being an a*shole record label employee definitely didn't help my perception of the business—but I had time to think about that later.
Couldn't I just find another job if I lost the one at MCI? It was a huge city, so there had to be plenty of jobs available. Yet, the more I tried to convince myself it would be okay, the more overwhelming that prospect seemed.
Relax, Effie.
By the time Stacy met us up front, the limo had already arrived.