Rumor Mill, page 7
“Don’t you want to talk about it?” I asked, feeling like the night’s events were slipping out of my control.
“Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about.” She started down the stairs, every footfall an angry stomp. “I never should have rented that apartment.”
“You couldn’t have known,” I reminded her.
“I would be better off staying above Corey’s garage,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard me.
“Teddy, please listen,” I implored. “Things aren’t as bad as they seem.”
“For you maybe!” she snapped, turning at the bottom of the stairs to glare up at me. “I don’t have a spare million lying around.”
“You’re giving Nikki too much credit,” I tried. “So you have to get up in front of a judge and tell your story. That doesn’t mean she’s going to win. She’s bluffing.”
“She’s doing a great job of it,” Teddy muttered, going straight for her purse and coat.
“Please stay,” I said softly.
“I want you to drive me home,” Teddy responded, stiffening even further.
“No,” I said bluntly. “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. You can take the guest room, and I’ll sleep upstairs, but I don’t—”
She cut me off with an angry snarl. It wasn’t something I was expecting, and it took the air out of the room. She dug around in her purse for her phone, and finding it, typed a few quick words into the keyboard.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Calling a rideshare,” she replied.
“Teddy—” I objected.
“Brad,” she responded icily, “I need to be alone.”
“I think that’s the wrong thing,” I argued.
“Well, I think it’s the only thing,” she said definitively.
I realized I had lost, and that there was nothing left to say. “I’ll drive you.”
“I already sent for a car,” she said.
“Cancel it,” I snapped.’
“It’s too late!” she shouted, as if the entire problem was with the rideshare, and not the wicked witch who was planning to boil both of us in oil.
“Calm down!” I managed.
She pointed a finger at me, her train wreck of a face bright red. “Don’t tell me to calm down.”
“I didn’t mean it like that...” I tried.
“I’m going to wait outside,” she said, reaching for the doorknob.
I was caught between a rock and a hard place. It was cold outside, and I didn’t want her standing out there for however long it took the car to come. I didn’t want her to leave, period, but it was out of my hands.
How the fuck did we get here so quickly? I wondered. Just a day ago we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and now we were at each other’s throats. It seemed like everything I said was the wrong thing and added another log to an already blazing fire.
I watched as she stormed out, feeling helpless, angry and frustrated all at the same time. I definitely wasn’t going to let her stand out there all alone. Grabbing my coat, I ignored my shoes and stepped out onto the porch to wait with her.
She glared at me, taking up a position on the steps. I sighed, moving to the other side of the porch. We stood in silence until the car pulled up. I watched her get in, hoping that she would change her mind. It didn’t seem like the right time to say anything. Even goodnight or call me when you get home were likely to cause another eruption.
As the rideshare drove off, leaving me alone in the cold, I felt the anger taking over. Ripping the door open, I stormed back into the kitchen and found the soup, now cold and congealed in its pot. Grabbing the handle, I threw the entire thing across the room, hitting the sink. Soup splashed up onto the counter before settling down in puddles. With nothing else to do, I went down to the gym to attack the punching bag. Who knew that love could be so painful?
Chapter 10
Theodora
I EXITED THE RIDE SHARE and went straight up to my room. Having neatly transferred all of my anger about the lawsuit to Brad, I felt awful. He didn’t deserve it. He was just trying to be nice. I felt like a passenger in an airplane that was about to go down. No amount of consoling was going to make any difference, and I was just lashing out at my boyfriend in our time of mutual need.
I sighed, going straight for the kitchen. There wasn’t a lot to work with there. I was hungry, but my stomach wasn’t exactly cast iron. I’d thrown up earlier that day and didn’t want a repeat performance. So I opted for a can of green beans in the cupboard. It would take the edge off and didn’t require any cooking.
There was half a pint of ice cream in the freezer, and I grabbed that too. With my exceedingly weird dinner, I sat down in front of the television to try to numb the pain. It didn’t work, and soon I was crying.
It took forever to get to sleep, and when I did, I had panic dreams about losing my home and going to jail. At some level I knew that it wasn’t a criminal trial and that a jail sentence was impossible. But no one had bothered to clue my subconscious into that particular reality. I was force-fed visions of myself in an orange jumpsuit, surrounded by burly looking women who wanted to kill me.
I woke up about two hours after I nodded off and wasn’t able to get back to sleep. Giving up the fight at about four in the morning, I walked over to the apartment complex’s gym. I figured if I wasn’t going to sleep, and I still had five hours before I had to be at work, I might as well do something constructive.
I got on the treadmill and found myself running a moment later. I kept pushing the speed button until I was going faster than I ever had before. There was no music, and I had forgotten to bring my ear buds. So I was just pounding out miles in complete silence.
It was a strange form of torture, but one I felt I deserved. The whole stupid thing was my fault. If I had just kept my mouth shut at the bar, Nikki would never have gotten it into her head to raid the office. If only I could go back in time and kick myself. I was doing a good enough job of that in the present moment, but it was too little too late.
I stayed at the gym for an hour until I was too exhausted to continue. Walking back to my apartment, it occurred to me that I might be able to sleep. I tumbled into bed, but no luck. The ceiling stared back at me, wondering what the hell I thought I was doing. After about half an hour, I got back up and put on the news.
There was something soothing about watching events that had nothing to do with me. There was a shooting at a mall and a house fire downtown. Five people found themselves homeless, and for once, I was glad it wasn’t me.
“Although I may join you soon,” I said out loud.
The television didn’t respond, and the newscasters began to discuss the weather. It would be beautiful that day, like it often was in California. If I was in a better mood, I might have enjoyed it.
I got dressed as if it was my last day on Earth. I lingered over my choice of earrings, as if by picking the right one I could somehow magically erase all the heartache I was going through. I thought about texting Brad. Once seven o’clock rolled around, I knew he was probably already in the office.
I was aware that my behavior at his home the previous night was out of line. I had been way too emotional and had given him hell for things that were outside of his control. It wasn’t fair of me. I didn’t know if I could face him. If he was angry with me, I wouldn’t blame him. I’d behaved like a child, and that didn’t bode well for our future life together.
Damn Nikki.
Damn me for playing along.
I finally selected the perfect outfit and shoes to match. Grabbing my purse and a light jacket, I headed out the door. The drive was a bit of much needed space to clear my head. I had a whole day in front of me, and it was only fair to Annie that I focus on her needs and the needs of her customers.
I swung by the coffee shop to pick up lattes for everyone. It was the least I could do, considering there was a more than fair chance I was going to snap at someone. I would try to rein it in, but my nerves were frayed. What I needed was a long vacation or a hit man. That last thought gave me some evil glee, and I pulled into the parking lot thinking about where I might find said hit man. Was that something you could look up on Craigslist?
Parking the car, I reached for the coffee and spilled some on my sleeve. Suddenly the outfit didn’t seem so perfect, and there was a huge warm spot that was going to turn into a stain. I caught myself before cursing out loud. Whatever happened, I had to remain composed.
Shaking it off, I walked into the gallery and set the cup carrier down in the staff room. Annie looked up from whatever she was doing at the desk. It looked like cataloging lists of some kind.
“Thank you,” she said, reaching for a cup.
I released my own from the cardboard foursquare and took a sip. At least something was going right that day. The coffee tasted perfect. Going to the cash register, I set the coffee on the counter, not considering what might happen.
I walked through the gallery like I always did, making sure that all the pictures were displayed properly. There was an artist there doing an installation. It was some kind of metal structure that fit over an old-fashioned garbage can. I stopped to chat, trying to lose myself in the exchange.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Found objects,” the artist answered. She wore big safety googles and had a blow torch in one hand.
“I’d love to know the theme,” I continued.
“It’s modern-day man. The garbage can is a metaphor for the future.” She only seemed so interested in talking, and for the life of me, I couldn’t see how a trash can was in any way related to the future.
I turned around and walked back to my station, checking the door for a third time to make sure it was open. Friday nights there were usually events, so I presumed that the sculptor was there in preparation for a new exhibit. It wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but that didn’t mean anything. Art was subjective, and there were probably plenty of people in the city with whom it would resonate.
Around noon, an older gentleman came up to me, asking for one of the more traditional oil paintings from the green room. It was smallish, but done by an artist of some repute, and thus, much more expensive than most of the paintings in the gallery.
I got excited, knowing that the sale was going to put us in the black for the rest of the week. It was just the thing to get me out of my funk, and I played up the salesperson angle. Chatting with the customer all the way through the building, I removed the painting from its spot. Walking back to the cash register, I set it on the counter—and that’s when all hell broke loose.
The coffee from that morning was still sitting off to one side. In my haste to provide good service, I knocked the frame against the cup and watched in horror as the beverage tipped toward the painting.
The travesty took about half a second, but it felt like the longest half second in my life. I watched the cup teeter and the lid slide to the left. I couldn’t even have been bothered to snap the lid back on correctly before leaving it out in the middle of the counter where anyone could bump into it. I was a horrible klutz who ruined everything just by touching it.
All of these self-flagellating thoughts were running through my head, providing a soundtrack to the disaster as it played out in real time. I reached for the coffee cup, but I wasn’t fast enough. Cold, thick, dark liquid splashed all over the painting, instantly ruining it.
I couldn’t breathe for a long moment. The customer was equally shocked and looked at me as if I was the devil himself. I found my voice, not thinking clearly enough to remove the paper cup from the canvas. It didn’t matter anyway. The damage had been done.
“I am so sorry,” I whispered.
He opened his mouth as if he was about to argue but shut it again. Without another word, he turned and walked away. In his defense, he hadn’t paid for it yet, and while he was probably looking forward to acquiring that piece of artwork, it was no skin off his back.
I, on the other hand, was in hot water.
I stared at the ruined masterpiece for a long time, debating. Maybe I could bury it in the backyard and no one would be the wiser. My fantasy about hiring a hit man to deal with Nikki morphed into hiring a cleaning crew to deal with the artwork. I was out of my element. I didn’t even know if the painting could be restored. All I knew was that I had just cost the gallery more than $200,000, and Annie was going to go through the roof.
I stood there, paralyzed, until the boss came out of the back room. She didn’t understand what was going on at first. The painting lay face up on the counter, and it wasn’t visible from behind me.
“Teddy, what?” she asked, sensing the icy chill in the air.
The mechanical sounds of the sculptor’s tools filled the void, metal against metal, like the soundtrack in hell. I stepped away, not trusting myself with words. I felt like Lady MacBeth, caught red-handed at the scene of the crime.
Annie looked at me curiously before finally laying eyes on my mistake. She rushed over to the counter, snatching the coffee cup away. There were tears in her eyes as she lifted the painting. Coffee dribbled down the front and off the sides, flecked with bits of paint.
I swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry.”
Annie whirled, her face telling me everything I needed to know. She was pissed. But to her credit, she was too much of a professional to raise her voice. I could see her struggle with her emotions, doing a much better job than I did.
“Teddy, go home,” she said softly.
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you,” Annie began, pointing a finger. “You have been off since about a week after you were hired.”
“I’m dealing with—” I began.
“I understand that you have a life outside the gallery,” she cut me off. “But when that life interferes with your work, we all pay the price.”
I licked my lips, feeling like a puppy who had peed on the bed. There was no way to defend myself, and no way I could pay for the painting either. It was clearly an accident, so I wasn’t worried about the money coming out of my paycheck. But I wasn’t sure there was going to be another paycheck. I would have to work for years before I recouped the sales value.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
“Go home,” she said again. “Take some time to collect yourself. Figure out whatever it is that’s bothering you. We’ll talk on Monday.”
I felt tears sting the sides of my eyes. It was all too much. I was trying to keep my head above water, but it wasn’t working. I was slipping slowly into the murky waters of failure inch by inch. First Nikki, then Brad, and now Annie were all disappointed in me. I was disappointed in myself. I was collecting more and more debt with no way of paying it off. At this rate, I would be more than two million in the hole, jobless and homeless by the end of the month. It was too much to deal with.
I managed to collect my purse and my jacket and stab my way out the door before the waterworks began. Sitting in my car, I paused to let the emotion out. It was nearly as painful to release the tears as it was to hold them in, but I had no other choice. Things were going downhill steeply, and I had no idea how to stop it.
Chapter 11
Brad
I STARED AT MY PHONE, waiting for those three ghostly dots that would tell me that Teddy was responding. They never came. I’d crafted the message over ten agonizing minutes, trying to affect the perfect mix of concern and respect.
Hey Teddy, just wondering how you’re doing, were the words I settled on. I hoped that they would provide an invitation to talk without seeming too pushy. I was worried about her. Sure, I had been angry the night before, but the more I considered everything that had happened, the more the anger dissipated. When I woke up on Friday, I was left with a cold dread. What if Teddy continued to beat herself up? There was no telling what lengths she might go to in search of a punishment she felt she deserved.
I paced my living room, trying to talk myself out of going to see her. She needed space; that much was clear. But I worried that she was going to hurt herself. Maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally. She wasn’t dealing with the lawsuit very well, and I didn’t want to leave her out there alone. It was torture to be so in love with her and unable to help in any way.
The anger resurfaced, but it was directed at her behavior, not Teddy herself. Then as soon as I tasted the frustration, I let it go. She needed a friend, not an adversary. I couldn’t help if I was dealing with my own emotions.
Hopefully a day’s worth of time off would suffice, and I could see her later that evening. In the meantime, I tried to focus on work. I had a busy day ahead of me. I had settled on a new assistant, and it was her first day on the job. That meant a lot of hand-holding and a certain amount of instruction before she was able to do things the way I wanted them done. On top of that, I had two meetings and a report to read.
Around lunchtime, I considered going to the gallery. Maybe I could surprise Teddy with a lunch date and help her forget her troubles for a moment. But something inside me warned me not to. She made it very clear that she needed space last night, and I didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing that would push her even further away. She would reach out when she was ready, I told myself.
But after three texts and no response, I was ready to try something new. We passed the part where I could pretend that she just hadn’t seen my messages. She knew my number and could call anytime. All she had to do was send me a single emoji, a nod in my direction that let me know we were still good. But she hadn’t done that. So since I wasn’t interested in playing the jilted lover, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I put the phone down and stopped trying to contact her. But I didn’t give up entirely. There had to be a way to crack the shell that she’d erected overnight. If she wouldn’t listen to me, maybe there was someone else a little bit closer who could shed some light on the subject.
