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“What does that a-hole want?”
Was he calling because of the interview? Maybe to say how sorry he was for what I was going through? That didn’t sound like Benjamin Potter. I opened the text to read it. He always sent texts in all caps, so they sounded as if he was shouting. I’d once thought of it as cute.
HEY. HOPE YOU’RE DOING WELL. JUST A HEADS-UP BEFORE IT REACHES THE PRESS. CARISSA AND I GOT MARRIED TODAY. ELOPED. VERY ROMANTIC AND ALL THAT. WISHING YOU ALL THE BEST. HAPPY HOLIDAYS. BE WELL.
I read it out loud to Celeste.
“What a total scumbag,” she said. “‘Be well.’ I cannot stand that douche. Thank God you didn’t marry him.”
I waited to see if the hurt that had brought me to my knees would wash over me as it once had. Nothing. Not a warm feeling exactly, but not excruciating pain. Like Celeste, I was glad I hadn’t married him. The damage he’d done to my life was bad enough.
He’d promised neverto leave me. Not like my mother, he’d said one night as he held me in his arms. He was the only one I’d ever told the story of what had really happened to my family. I’d been afraid to open myself up in that way, but then he’d proved to be supportive and comforting, reassuring me that my secret was safe with him. “You belong with me now. No one can hurt you again.”
Famous last words.
They’d caught him on camera in bed with his latest starlet costar, Carissa Mills, and published the images for all the world to see. Including me. I hadn’t even had the privilege of privateabandonment. Instead, I had to learn about his infidelities the same way as everyone else.
“This makes him look like such a jerk,” Celeste said. “Everyone knows he cheated on you with her. Once a cheater, always a cheater. I hate this for you.”
“It’s all right,” I said to my friend. “I’m over him. I just need a break from all of this. A little escape will clear my mind.”
“There’s one bit of good news,” Celeste said. “The comments about this morning are almost all in support of you.”
I didn’t care at the moment. All I wanted was to escape from my cage in the human zoo called Hollywood.
2
ATTICUS
One morning a few days before Thanksgiving, after a fitful night’s sleep, I downed the last of my espresso and rose to make another, eager to finish reading theWall Street Journal. However, it was not to be. Scout, my sweet black-and-white fur-ball of a dog, raced out of the kitchen and into the mudroom and returned with a leash in her mouth. She sat on her haunches looking up at me with pleading eyes, her tail swishing hopefully.
“You don’t need your leash, girl,” I said. “Remember? We’re in Montana now.”
Scout tilted her head, blinking, the ends of the leash hanging from each side of her mouth.
“I know, you don’t get it yet. We live in the country now.”
My dog had grown up in the city of San Francisco and was accustomed to wearing a leash when we’d gone out for our daily visit to the dog park. Here, I let her run free on my family’s ranch. If we were going into town, she had to wear the leash, but here the world was hers to sniff.
I glanced out the window, squinting against the glare of sun and snow. I’d rather not go out, but Scout would never acceptthat as an answer. She needed to do her business. Plus, the little fool loved to roll around in the snow. Like a kid who had grown up in the tropics, she seemed to find the novelty of snow too much to resist.Maybe by next year she’ll have grown accustomed to it, I thought, as I pulled my wool gloves out of the dryer and stuffed them into my jacket pockets. They’d gotten soaked last night when I’d walked home from my parents’ house under the falling snow.
Scout dropped her leash and barked, as if I’d forgotten her needs.
“Yeah, all right,” I muttered more to myself than her. “Hold on.”
She pressed her nose against the door and pushed.
I donned my down jacket, zipping it up to my chin, and shoved my feet into boots. The second I opened the door, Scout looked up at me, checking to make sure it was all right to outside. “Go on, now,” I said gently. “You’re okay.”
She barked and then tore out of the mudroom as though the devil chased her. Soon, she was rolling around in the deep snow until her fur was more white than black.
I followed, sucking in a deep breath as the wall of cold air hit my face and hands. Since I’d moved back to Montana from California, I’d discovered my blood had thinned. No longer impervious to the cold as I’d been as a boy, I found myself chilled more often than not.
I’d shoveled the back walk yesterday morning, but the snowfall overnight had covered it, leaving only a dip to indicate the fruits of my labor. I pulled gloves from my jacket pocket and slipped them over my already numb hands. My cheeks stung from the cold.
You need to find a woman to warm you up.That was Mama’s advice. Which was usually sound, but in this case I had to question the wisdom of such an obvious statement. If I could have created a woman simply because I wanted one, I would havedone so. However, the laws of science made it impossible to create a human. Computer apps, yes. Women, no.
A woman who loved me for my nerdy self and not my money? Even harder.
