This Story Might Save Your Life(21)

“I figured,” he said.

“It’s not like that.” My heart raced. I pressed my cheek to his chest. “I’m with you. I’m all in with you.”

He rubbed my back and said no more.



* * *



BENNY AND LUNA became an item after our night at the Magic Castle. Within weeks we were all meeting for brunches in Los Feliz, bratwursts in Silver Lake, hikes in Runyon Canyon. Luna was whip-smart, emotionally stable, financially secure, and game for adventure. I liked her immensely.

“You seem good,” I said to Benny one evening as the two of us drank beers on the outdoor stairs between our apartments. It was one of the first crisp nights of fall after a brutal summer, and we’d just watched the sky change from gold to pink to purple to blue.

“I think I am.” He nodded. “How about you? Are you good?”

“I think I am.”

A car pulled into the driveway next door and honked, and a young woman ran outside to hop in the passenger seat. As they were backing out, I said, “Xander asked me to move in with him.”

“Oh.” Benny turned to me. “And what did you say?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” The question took me by surprise. One minute Xander was poaching eggs, the next he was handing me a key. He had a whole speech prepared. He wanted to make me breakfast every morning and fall asleep beside me every night. He wanted to dote on me. He’d used those actual words. Dote on. I told him I’d consider it.

“You’re in the middle of your lease,” Benny said.

When I knocked on Benny’s door an hour earlier, his curls were still wet from the shower. Now they were almost dry and twice the size. Staring at the ringlet dangling over his forehead, I said, “The landlord said I could break it.”

“So you’re seriously considering this.”

Logistically, it made sense. I was sleeping over at Xander’s place more often, and he was driving me around a lot. It would save time and money, and I enjoyed poached eggs. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

I could hear a but coming. “Go on.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“Yes it does.” I tugged on his shirtsleeve. “It matters so much.”

He looked out over our quiet street on the hill. It was near dark, and the jacarandas in the front yard quivered in the soft breeze. When Benny moved in, the entire road had been blanketed in their purple flowers.

“All that matters is you’re happy,” he said. “And that he treats you well.”

No one could argue he didn’t.

Benny gave me a half smile. “I’ll miss living downstairs from you.”

“I’ll miss doing jumping jacks and dropping heavy things to bug you.”

“I’ll miss knowing you’re not napping when you do that.”

“I’ll miss stealing your mail.”

“I’ll miss farting into the air vents.”

I laughed. “I’ll miss siccing all of my solicitors on you.”

“I’ll miss siphoning your electricity.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “I’ll miss this.”

He squeezed my knee and rubbed his thumb back and forth. “You know you can have this whenever you want.”

I wasn’t sure that was true anymore, but I didn’t call him on it.

I moved in with Xander a few weeks later. Benny threw me a going-away party, and we drank and danced and ate cupcakes, and at the end of the night Benny patted Xander’s back and said, “Take good care of her, will you?”

“Stop.” I smacked his arm. “I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

“You tell him,” Luna said.

Benny raised his hands in surrender. “You all know what I mean.”

I did. Which was why, when I was hugging Luna goodbye, I whispered into her ear, “Take good care of him too.”

She squeezed me extra tight. “I’ll do my best.”





Benny Abbott


Day One

Joy was spotted in Nordstrom at the Grove. In the Delta terminal at LAX. She and Xander were gambling in Vegas last night. Was that her in the Bakersfield Walmart? Did Xander change his hair? Can Joy swim? Because that might’ve been her on a boat in the Long Beach marina. She and Xander are in New York, Tennessee, Arizona, New Mexico, Algiers, Amsterdam, Sydney, and Mexico City.

“This might have been a bad idea,” I say, continuing to scroll. There are also condolences. People already assuming the worst. Praying. Sending vibes and juju and energy and good wishes. There are psychics doling out premonitions, and others who will only provide information for a fee. A few dozen fans have offered to start a search party.

With increasing horror, we watch the activity snowball. Joy is trending everywhere. Messages are coming in faster than I can read them. DMs, mentions, posts, tags. Our email is flooded.

After an hour of this, Mallory drops her phone onto the table with a thud. “It’s too much.”

Reluctantly, I agree. I thought it would help to have control over something, anything, but this does not feel like control. I fish out Keller’s card from my pocket and make the call on speakerphone.

“You did what?” Keller snaps when I explain.