The apartment was musty and a little warm, since the AC had not been running, but it was clean.
“I gotta tell you again, Laura,” Phil said as he tossed his suitcase into his room. “Thank you for getting me that gig. I feel like the king of the world.”
“The king of the world?”
“Hell to the yeah,” he said, and then winced. “Jesus, I can’t believe I just said that. Anyway, because of that gig, my bank account is full and my credit card balances are not. I just got to fly private in a business jet. I have been hanging out with Jake Kingsley and Greg Oldfellow for the past two months. Most important, I really think that gig is going to help my career take off. I have credits on a Jake Kingsley and a Celia Valdez album. I have recommendations from them! No more singing in a goddamn restaurant for me. I’m going big time. I can feel it!”
“I think maybe you will,” she told him, happy for his enthusiasm. “And you’re very welcome. You did me proud, by the way. You sang your little gay ass off.”
“I did,” he said. “And speaking of my little gay ass, it needs some companionship of the non-heterosexual type. I’m gonna catch a little nap and then I’m going to the club. And I’m not coming back until I have put my dick somewhere that Jerry Falwell would not approve of.”
Laura gave him a nod. “That shouldn’t be very hard to do,” she said.
Phil disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Laura finished dragging her luggage into her own room and then looked at the suitcase blankly. She really did not feel like unpacking right now. She and Jake had been up late last night, doing naked things until well after midnight, and she had gotten up early and then spent the day traveling. She was tired. A nap actually sounded like a good idea. True, she would have to sleep alone for the first time in months, but that was something she was going to have to learn to deal with.
She turned to the bed, which was neatly made, just as she’d left it back when she’d come home in the hopes of going to Palm Springs with Dave. It was then that she noticed the envelope. It was leaning against one of her pillows and had her name written on the front. She knew immediately who it was from. She recognized the crappy handwriting, for one thing, but even if she had not, there was only one person it could have come from.
He was in my apartment! she thought, feeling a sense of violation and outrage. I told that asshole that we were through, and he came into my apartment while Phil and I were in Oregon!
Although, a part of her had to admit, Dave hadn’t really listened to what she had been saying when she’d called him up that fateful day—the day after she’d first slept with Jake—to tell him that they were through. He had been more concerned with the fact that she had called him at work—the only place she could get hold of him since he had never given her his home phone number (oh my God, how stupid I was then, a part of her cried now, as she thought about this).
The conversation had gone something like:
“Dave, I need to tell you something.”
“Jesus Christ, Laura, you called me at work! You know how that gets people talking!”
“Well, they’re not going to talk anymore. We’re through.”
“We’re through with what?”
“We’re through with us. I don’t want to see you anymore.”
“Laura, I don’t have time to deal with this right now. I’ve got two patients in the chair and a receptionist who is giving me dirty looks. The next time you’re home, we’ll sit down and talk about whatever has got a bee in your bonnet.”
“There’s no bee in my bonnet, Dave. We’re through. I’m seeing...”
“I can’t talk anymore. Let me know when you’re back!”
“Dave, I need to...”
“Gotta go. Bye, Laura.”
And then had come the click of a broken phone connection. And though she had tried calling back several times, she was always told that Dr. Dave was busy, or was not in the office, or was on his lunch break. There had been no closure of the relationship. He didn’t even know that she was now letting Jake into her precious fire. She really wanted him to know that!
She reached down and picked up the envelope. She opened the flap and pulled out a piece of lined paper. She read.
Laura,
I haven’t heard from you in a while and I really miss our fire sessions, if you know what I mean. You seemed a little emotional the last time we talked and I hope you’ve gotten over whatever that was about. Anyway, I can’t wait until you come home and we’re able to pick up where we left off. Call me at the office during a lunch hour when you get back. Tell Alisa that you’re Mrs. Carmello calling about a problem with her son, and I’ll know it’s you so we can talk. Waiting to get back into the fire,
Dr. D
“Asshole,” she spat, then looked at the time. It was 12:55. It was still lunch hour. She smiled and picked up the phone extension. She dialed the number from memory. It was picked up on the second ring.
“Pasadena Dental,” a bright voice chirped. She recognized it as Alisa, the primary receptionist.
“Hi, Alisa,” Laura told her. “This is Laura Best. Dave told me to call him and tell you that I’m Mrs. Carmello, calling about a problem with her son. Will you be a dear and tell him that?”
A long pause, and then, “Uh ... okay. I’ll tell him.”
There was a click and then the on-hold music started up. With a smile she realized it was the Muzak version of Already Gone, by the Eagles, a song on one of the albums that Jake had introduced to her during their challenge, one of the albums she had actually quite enjoyed after listening to it for a week. The Eagles certainly did a better job of it than the Muzak folks, but the theme of the tune was quite relevant.
The music cut off and Dave’s voice was suddenly on the line. It was not a happy voice. “Red?”
“Hello, Dave,” she said. “Nice of you to take my call.”
“Are you crazy?” he demanded. “Did you actually tell Alisa that you were Laura Best, and that you were supposed to say you were Mrs. Carmello?”
“Wasn’t that what your note said?” she asked sweetly.
“NO, you stupid twit! The whole idea was that you were not supposed to tell her who you were! Jesus Christ! Are you trying to let everyone know about the two of us? Don’t you know how much this could complicate my divorce later on?”
“There is only one thing I’m trying to do here, Dave,” she told him. “I’m trying to tell you, unequivocally, that you and I are through. We will not be seeing each other anymore. You are not to come to my apartment anymore. Please throw away the key you have and never come here again.”
A pause, and then, “Obviously you’re upset about something, Laura. I don’t really have time to analyze what it might be right now, but if you call me back tomorrow at lunch, or, better yet, if I come over tomorrow...”
“I am not upset about anything, Dave,” she told him. “In fact, I am deliriously happy right now. You see, I’m seeing Jake Kingsley. We’ve been together since the night before I called you the last time. We are in love with each other and you and I are through. I just wanted to make sure you know that and understand that.”
“You’re talking crazy, Laura,” Dave said. “But, like I said, I don’t have time to discuss this any further right now. I’ve got patients in the chair waiting for me. Tomorrow, we’ll...”
“Do not come over here,” Laura said. “Throw away my key, Dave. I mean that!”
“We’ll talk,” Dave said. “Gotta go. Bye.”
“Dave! Listen, you asshole! You need to understand...”
But Dave was no longer there. She was talking to an empty phone.