I stay there, crouched alongside a dumpster until my ears go numb from the cold.
Then, I lace my boots up. Slowly. Carefully. I think about calling Katie, but that’s not the person I end up dialing.
“Hello, darling,” Ollie says.
He’s far more awake and far less surprised than I would have expected for this kind of call at this point in the day. It’s barely seven.
“Tired of Gabe already?” he asks.
“Something like that,” I say.
“Hmm,” he says. “Shall I come get you?”
“Please,” I say.
I have to step out from beyond the dumpster to give him directions. I wait on the sidewalk, chilled and stupid, half expecting to see Gabe appear from around the corner. When Ollie arrives, it’s in a very nice car that smells brand-new. Cooper is quiet, just beginning to wake up as we turn away from Main Street.
I’m certain this place is magical when it’s snowing.
I have that feeling of not belonging. What it was like in New York. What it’s been like in L.A.
I’m wondering if I just don’t feel at home in myself anymore.
Ollie takes me to a diner at the other end of town and doesn’t say anything until we’ve both ordered and have cups of tea set in front of us.
“I think you should give him another chance,” Ollie says.
“You don’t even know what he’s done,” I say.
“Don’t I?” he asks.
He glances at his phone under the table. Half paying attention to me.
I clear my throat. He smiles and puts his phone facedown on the table.
“Sorry. Continue,” he says with a benevolent wave of his hand.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say.
I’m a terrible liar.
“I assume this is about the pictures,” he says.
“You’ve seen them?”
He nods. “Not your best angle, but not bad. Your hair looks good.”
I glare at him. He sips his tea.
“Then you know what it looks like,” I say.
“That Gabe is smitten with you?” he asks. “Yes, but I didn’t need paparazzi pictures to tell me that.”
Despite all that’s happened I blush.
“He’s a movie star,” I say as if that explains everything.
“Eh,” Ollie says. “Is he, though?” He stretches, wingspan extending beyond the diner booth. “I’m a movie star. Gabe is, well, Gabe is a recovering movie star. And a friend. And business partner.”
“Ollie,” I say. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I know that being a movie star doesn’t insulate a person from having feelings just like everyone else,” he says. “We are capable of feeling things. Like friendship. And love.”
I ignore him.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I say.
“And Gabe did?” he asks.
“It’s not the same,” I say.
“No,” he says. “But I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”
I put my head on the table. I’m so tired.
“He’s been paying attention,” Ollie says. “To you. To your career.”
“Then he knows how people see me,” I say, my words muffled behind my hair.
“Yes,” Ollie says, and lets out a dramatic sigh. “The cost of fame.”
“Not worth it.”
But even as I say it, I don’t know if that’s true.
It feels different than it did ten years ago. I feel different.
“Perhaps not,” Ollie says. “But I do like having the jet.”
“At least you got a jet out of it,” I say. “I just have a reputation. ‘Will write in exchange for sexual favors.’？”
There’s a long pause.
“Did you really think that Gabe got Dan Mitchell fired because he was jealous of Dan’s youth and vitality?” Ollie asks.
I lift my head. He raises an eyebrow.
“The bloody fool came back from that interview bragging about you,” Ollie says.
My stomach does the same sickening twist that it did when Dan had generously offered me the enormous privilege of sucking his dick.
“Oh,” I say.
I hate that even though I know—I know—that I didn’t do a damn thing to deserve that grotesque overture, I still feel a twinge of guilt. Of embarrassment.
I’d never told anyone, but I wasn’t really surprised that Dan had. I just hadn’t thought he would have said something to Gabe.
Business has begun to pick up in the diner and the door jingles behind me, bringing with it a whoosh of cold air that hits the back of my neck and makes me shiver.