“I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me. Is that stupid enough for you?”
As the words tumble from my lips I feel all the anger and hurt once again, almost as if reminding myself how shitty it was. I quickly suppress the quiver in my throat and the heat in my eyes that could so easily turn into full-on, soap opera levels of crying.
“Shit,” Nate says, his discomfort about discussing this kind of thing showing in the uncertainty of his voice. “Is he still alive?”
I smile timidly.
“Yeah. I don’t know about his car though.” I let out a weak laugh.
“What happened?”
If my morning in the cell felt like a brief vacation away from it all, sitting here in Nate’s car as the sun shines down on us outside the police station, and telling him exactly what happened, brings it all back again. I can feel the stress in my muscles, tensing them up and setting me on edge. The millions of problems and annoyances that seem to make up my life now reforming themselves in my mind.
“My bad taste in men happened. Again. No…that’s not fair. It’s more complicated than that.”
“Kyle mentioned that you had a new boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend. Hank. He seemed cool. I met him at a studio party. He was working in the sound department. We’d been dating for a month or so. It wasn’t perfect – I mean, he was always complaining that I kept putting work before him. I should have seen it coming, I guess. Last night he left his phone at my place. I took it to work with me, and it rang. I was so overwhelmed I just answered it, not even realizing it wasn’t mine.”
“It was the other girl, right?”
I nod grimly, and see a look of tight, restrained anger on Nate’s face. The same kind of protective aggression Kyle wears constantly, but which Nate understands when to keep in check.
“After bitching at each other for a few minutes, we started talking. She was actually pretty cool. Turns out the asshole had been stringing both of us along. I got so pissed, I couldn’t think. I felt like I was burning up. I managed to get through the work day, and after we wrapped around midnight, I got in my car and left. I stopped at a bar near his house, thinking I’d have a drink and then go tell him off. But the next thing I knew I was hiding outside his apartment, scrawling everything I wanted to call him on his car in lipstick.”
A smile twitches at Nate’s lips. “They said you smashed in his headlights too. And pulled off the windshield wipers. And then you tried kicking in the bumper. At some point the car alarm went off, but you didn’t seem to notice.”
I sink my head into my hands.
“Fuck. See, I don’t even remember doing that. It was such a shit day. I’d just found out I didn’t get a job doing the costumes for this indie film about a single mom who’s a kingpin in the Russian mafia –I really wanted that gig. And then those bastards at Edison turned off the electricity at my apartment while I was at work because the bill’s past due and my roommate had to pay to get it turned back on and she’s ready to kill me over that. And then Hank. It’s like absolutely everything is fucked.”
I feel myself getting worked up again, but then Nate’s hand press itself against my shoulder comfortingly and my breathing instantly slows.
“Look, you’re obviously pushing yourself too hard. Stressing yourself out at work, where you’ve spent years steaming cop uniforms and they don’t pay you enough to even keep your lights on at home. And then your boyfriend – ex – cheating on you just tipped you over the edge. It sounds like you need a little time off, is all. Maybe evaluate where your life is at.”
I smile and look up at Nate.
“You’ve been talking to Kyle, right? You sound just like him.”
Nate looks forward through the windshield, avoiding my eyes. “Is he wrong?”
“Probably not. But it’s a little rich for my brother to be lecturing me about overworking. I don’t think he’s slept since last October. Besides, even though it drives me crazy sometimes, I love what I do.” It’s only half a lie – I do love what I do, I just don’t love the show where I’m doing it. If only I’d gotten that movie job.
Nate shrugs, finally turning the key in the ignition and driving us out into the L.A. traffic. I let my eyes lose focus as Nate revs the car, the store fronts and parking lots flying by in a blur. Soon I’ll be back at work, grinding my hopes and dreams into dust as I try to squeeze out a living long enough to get that big break that only seems to get further away.
“You wanna grab something to eat?” Nate asks. “It’s past lunch. And it sounds like you could use an Oreo milkshake.”
I grin, pleased for some reason that Nate still remembers my favorite treat. “Sure.”
In a few minutes we’re at a drive-thru, picking up our orders. Nate finds a spot, kills the engine, and we tear open the paper bags with child-like glee.