"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.
Chapter 11
"I can't believe you
