shrouding the stars for a brief moment.
“She wanted to know where you plan to spend Thanksgiving.” There’s a touch of concern in Jerrie’s voice and a lighter scratches to life on her end.
“That’s none of her business anymore.” The freezing wind numbs my fingers, and I stand, tucking my icy hand under my armpit to warm it.
“Where are you spending Thanksgiving?” Jerrie coughs as she takes a drag of her own cigarette.
“I’m spending it here.” I sigh, as if it should be obvious. “We have a few days off while they move locations.” I lean forward and peer over the ledge, watching red ashes disappear into darkness.
“Are you going to be okay by yourself?”
“I’ve been just fine on my own for years, haven’t I?”
“No, not really.” Her voice is chastising and I roll my eyes again.
“I’ve been sober for 332 days. I think I can handle one more Thanksgiving on my own.” The thought of launching my cell into the cold black night puts a smile on my face, but I stop my itchy fingers by trading my warm armpit hand for the frozen cigarette hand, which has reached hypothermia cold.
“We just can’t afford any mistakes, Carly. You know that, right?” I want this call to end, or at least get off the topic of my epic fail of a life.
“Sure.” It’s patronizing and overly hostile, but I’m sick of my failures being thrown in my face.
“You only get so many strikes. All these rehab stints and whispered overdoses? Even the loyalist fans will eventually quit caring if you don’t give them something to love.”
Love? Ha! What does anyone really know about love? Deciding this call has gone on long enough, I make swishing sounds with my mouth and rub my finger over the little hole that captures sound.
“Jerrie? I’m sorry, Jerrie, I’m losing you.” I stab the end button and stare at it as the screen fades to black. With more force than is needed, I flick my cigarette over the cement wall—a cherry-red dot in a black abyss—watching it fall until the cold wind snuffs it out. I rub my hands over my face and pull at my cheeks in a frustrated way.
When I turn around he’s standing there.
All rugged and outdoorsy in a full-length arctic trekking parka and boots. He’s shrouded by darkness, but I know it’s him. Even his shadow has an ego.
“What the hell are you doing?” It’s not often that the world shocks me enough to steal the contemptuous frown from my face. At this moment, however, I’m as blank as a board. My mind runs in circles trying to remember what I said and what he might have heard.
“I didn’t want to interrupt.” He steps from the darkness. A yellow glow from the emergency light spills over his face. Instinctively, I step back. “I just needed to make a call.” He waves his phone to show me he has a reason for being here other than eavesdropping. “Only place I can find any bloody reception.” A smile curls his lips, but his eyes are still in shadow and I can’t tell if he’s laughing at me or commiserating with me. Contempt settles my shoulders, and a frown pulls my features back into place.
“What did you hear?” I narrow my eyes into a baleful, razor-sharp gaze. He backs away.
“Hey, no worries.” His hands come up to his shoulders like I’ve got a gun on him in a dark alley. One gloveless hand grips his phone, the other fists and releases, encouraging circulation in the cold. “I didn’t hear anything.” He lowers his hands and scrolls through his phone. His voice is ridiculously soothing, and submissive, reminding me of our last encounter on set. The memory softens me.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” I roll my eyes and suck air through my teeth. “Everyone knows how fucked up my life is.” I turn sideways to move past him in the narrow space between the heating units and the ledge. He moves with me, flattening against the wall to let me pass.
“Right.” He is totally consumed by his phone, no longer paying attention to me. For
“She wanted to know where you plan to spend Thanksgiving.” There’s a touch of concern in Jerrie’s voice and a lighter scratches to life on her end.
“That’s none of her business anymore.” The freezing wind numbs my fingers, and I stand, tucking my icy hand under my armpit to warm it.
“Where are you spending Thanksgiving?” Jerrie coughs as she takes a drag of her own cigarette.
“I’m spending it here.” I sigh, as if it should be obvious. “We have a few days off while they move locations.” I lean forward and peer over the ledge, watching red ashes disappear into darkness.
“Are you going to be okay by yourself?”
“I’ve been just fine on my own for years, haven’t I?”
“No, not really.” Her voice is chastising and I roll my eyes again.
“I’ve been sober for 332 days. I think I can handle one more Thanksgiving on my own.” The thought of launching my cell into the cold black night puts a smile on my face, but I stop my itchy fingers by trading my warm armpit hand for the frozen cigarette hand, which has reached hypothermia cold.
“We just can’t afford any mistakes, Carly. You know that, right?” I want this call to end, or at least get off the topic of my epic fail of a life.
“Sure.” It’s patronizing and overly hostile, but I’m sick of my failures being thrown in my face.
“You only get so many strikes. All these rehab stints and whispered overdoses? Even the loyalist fans will eventually quit caring if you don’t give them something to love.”
Love? Ha! What does anyone really know about love? Deciding this call has gone on long enough, I make swishing sounds with my mouth and rub my finger over the little hole that captures sound.
“Jerrie? I’m sorry, Jerrie, I’m losing you.” I stab the end button and stare at it as the screen fades to black. With more force than is needed, I flick my cigarette over the cement wall—a cherry-red dot in a black abyss—watching it fall until the cold wind snuffs it out. I rub my hands over my face and pull at my cheeks in a frustrated way.
When I turn around he’s standing there.
All rugged and outdoorsy in a full-length arctic trekking parka and boots. He’s shrouded by darkness, but I know it’s him. Even his shadow has an ego.
“What the hell are you doing?” It’s not often that the world shocks me enough to steal the contemptuous frown from my face. At this moment, however, I’m as blank as a board. My mind runs in circles trying to remember what I said and what he might have heard.
“I didn’t want to interrupt.” He steps from the darkness. A yellow glow from the emergency light spills over his face. Instinctively, I step back. “I just needed to make a call.” He waves his phone to show me he has a reason for being here other than eavesdropping. “Only place I can find any bloody reception.” A smile curls his lips, but his eyes are still in shadow and I can’t tell if he’s laughing at me or commiserating with me. Contempt settles my shoulders, and a frown pulls my features back into place.
“What did you hear?” I narrow my eyes into a baleful, razor-sharp gaze. He backs away.
“Hey, no worries.” His hands come up to his shoulders like I’ve got a gun on him in a dark alley. One gloveless hand grips his phone, the other fists and releases, encouraging circulation in the cold. “I didn’t hear anything.” He lowers his hands and scrolls through his phone. His voice is ridiculously soothing, and submissive, reminding me of our last encounter on set. The memory softens me.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” I roll my eyes and suck air through my teeth. “Everyone knows how fucked up my life is.” I turn sideways to move past him in the narrow space between the heating units and the ledge. He moves with me, flattening against the wall to let me pass.
“Right.” He is totally consumed by his phone, no longer paying attention to me. For
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