Part 13 (1/2)
”Why are you smiling?” he asks.
”It must be a pretty good act,” I say. ”This...fantasy I have of myself.”
”Why do you say that?”
”Because you bought into it,” I say.
”I never thought you'd actually fall for her.”
”Why did you think that?”
”Because Blair told me how cold you could be.”
Can you drive?” Julian asks as the elevator heads down to the garage. ”Or do you want me to?”
”No, I can drive,” I say. ”Are you sure you want to do this?”
”Yeah, I'm sure,” Julian says. ”Let's just get this over with.”
”Let him have her,” I whisper.
”We're leaving tonight,” he says.
”Where are you going?”
”I'm not telling you.”
Driving along Sunset I keep checking the rearview mirror and Julian sits in the pa.s.senger seat texting someone, probably Rain, and I keep turning on the radio and then turning it off but he doesn't notice, and then we're crossing Highland and the Eurythmics song fades into a voice from the radio talking about the aftershocks from an earthquake earlier, something that I slept through, and I have to roll down all the windows and pull the car over three times in order to steady myself because I keep hearing sirens all around us and my eyes are fixed on the rearview mirror because two black Escalades are following us and the last time I pull over, in front of the Cinerama Dome, Julian finally asks, ”What's wrong? Why do you keep stopping?” and where Sunset Boulevard and Hollywood intersect I smile at him coolly as if this is all going to be okay, because in the condo I felt like I was sinking into a rage but now, turning onto Hillhurst, I'm feeling better.
Outside a building past Franklin that's surrounded by eucalyptus trees Julian gets out of the BMW, and starts walking toward the entrance just as I receive a text that says don't get out of the car don't get out of the car, and when Julian realizes I'm still sitting in the driver's seat he turns around and our eyes lock. A black Escalade pulls up behind the BMW and flashes its headlights over us. Julian leans into the opened pa.s.senger window.
”Aren't you coming in?” Julian asks, and then he's squinting at the headlights through the back winds.h.i.+eld before they go dark and then he looks at me and I'm just staring blankly at him.
Behind Julian three young Mexican guys are climbing out of the car into the circle of light from a lamppost.
Julian notices them, only mildly annoyed, and then turns back to me.
”Clay?”
”Go f.u.c.k yourself.”
The moment I say this Julian grabs the door I've already locked and for one moment he leans far enough into the car so that he's close enough to touch my face, but the men pull him back and then he disappears so quickly it's as if he was never here at all.
On Fountain my phone rings and I pull over somewhere after pa.s.sing Highland. When I answer the phone I notice that my seat is soaked with urine and it's a call from a blocked number, but I know who it is.
”Did anybody see you bring him here?” Rip asks.
”Rip-”
”No one saw you, right?” Rip asks. ”No one saw you bring him here, right?”
”Where am I, Rip?”
The silence is a grin. The silence seals something.
”Good. You can go now.”
Rain falls into my arms screaming.
”You drove him there,” she screams. ”You drove him there?”
I push her against a wall and kick the door closed with my foot.
”Why do you hate me so much?” she screams.
”Rain, sshhh, it's okay-”
”What are you doing?” she screams before I m.u.f.fle her face with my hand.
And then I push her to the floor and pull off her jeans.
You missed so many hints about me,” I whisper to her as she lies drugged in the bedroom.
”I didn't...miss them,” she says, her face bruising, her lips wet with tequila.
”It's what this place has done to you,” I whisper, brus.h.i.+ng her hair off her forehead. ”It's okay...I understand...”
”This place didn't do anything to me.” She covers her face with her hands, a useless gesture.
She starts crying again, and this time she can't stop.
”Are you going to be sick again, baby?” I hold a damp washcloth against her tan skin as she slips in and out of consciousness. I watch as her hand slowly b.a.l.l.s into a fist. I grab her wrist before she can strike me. I push it back down until it relaxes. ”Don't hit me again,” I say. ”It won't matter because I'll just hit you right back,” I say. ”Do you want that?” I ask.
She shuts her eyes tightly and shakes her head back and forth, tears pouring down her face.
”You tried to hurt me,” I say, stroking her face.
”You did that to yourself,” she moans.
”I want to be with you,” I'm saying.
”That's never going to happen,” she says, turning her face away from me.
”Please stop crying.”
”That was never going to be part of it.”
”Why not?” I ask. I press two fingers on both sides of her mouth and force her lips into a smile.
”Because you're just the writer.”