27. GOSSIP

CHAPTER 27

GOSSIP

M?NESKIN, TOM MORELLO

I’m having trouble getting into character for the first time in my career. The worst part? It’s a character I’ve been playing for five years. I know this character inside and out, and yet, I can’t find his voice because I can’t stop dwelling on Ren. I’m not picturing her naked or what she does to me. I’ve imagined that a million times over and it never held me back. Instead, I keep picturing her in Cassie’s place. The paparazzi breaking her down, the stress of my lifestyle being too much for her. All the nightmarish images of the last time I saw Cassie flood my mind and in every single one, it’s Ren’s face in place of Cassie’s. I blink those away and a new wave crashes into me. The fights, the crying, all the horrible things keep coming back.

Work, home, anywhere I am, those memories have me tense and lashing out. I’m supposed to support her right now. Instead, I’m acting like a fucking dick.

I excuse myself from the table read and step outside, pulling up my therapist’s number. It rings. It rings again. I swear under my breath when it rings the third time.

“Morning Chase. How are you doing?”

“Fucking bad, man. You got time?”

“Absolutely. Do you want me to come to you or?”

“Nah, I’m gonna get myself out of this read and come to you. Be there in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll be ready. Hopefully.”

I need the stability and structure of his office right now, so I’m glad he has time and doesn’t need to do this by phone. I talk to the PA and the director, promising I’ll be back tomorrow and that I’m having an off day. They pull in my stunt guy to read my lines for me; he’ll crush it. He’s a badass like that. Like I’m supposed to be.

I’m numb as I make the blur of a drive to Dr. Clay’s office. I’ve made so much progress over the last few months, this feels like a side swipe from a semi truck. I hoped this relationship could help me get through some of this pent up shit, but I also understand it’s a relationship, not a crutch or a fix-all. Ren has been more than understanding, and the release I’m getting from the sex and the role play? Downright therapeutic.

I could handle this better if the gossip magazines were all I had to worry about. But I found another envelope on my windshield after catching some paparazzi loitering outside my house. That sent me all the way back to square one.

“So, what happened?” he asks as I walk in, heading straight for the couch. “Where’s Pongo?”

“He’s at home. The crew scheduled explosives testing today, so I didn’t want him getting spooked.” I flop down onto the couch so hard I worry it will break, and when it doesn’t, I cover my face and let my breathing take over until I can tell him more. He’s a patient man, which comes with the job. But I’m sure minutes turning into money as they tick by helps.

Fuck, I never think of Theo like that.

I uncover my eyes, finding him looming over me with a look that says he understands.

“I’m fucking up so bad.”

“You looked like you were both handling it brilliantly at the event. I saw the pictures.”

“The event? Yeah. Fuck that thing, that’s a whole different therapy session. One where I vent and fucking break things.”

“It’s one way to complete the cycle. So, what are you here to talk about?”

I pull my phone out and slide it across the table as he takes his seat again and flips through the photos. “That’s her front lawn. Look at those fucking parasites. The rest are of the school or taken by the professional dickheads in the middle of the fray. They had the fucking audacity to send me these! Told me I could pay for them if I wanted. It’s like they’re taunting me at this point.” I run my hand through my hair, wishing I had a hair tie with me. “Nothing in these qualifies as print worthy! They’re just harassing us for shits and giggles.”

“They want to get under your skin because a celebrity meltdown nets them serious money for them. If the mundane sets you off, imagine how you’re going to react when they catch her sunbathing in the backyard. You’ve already done this dance.”

“I hoped we had more time before they dug up her identity. That’s partially my fault. She’s a teacher, not a ninja. That comes with too many variables: students, parents, and other teachers. Any of them can tip off a pap, or take a few pictures themselves and sell them. Hell, I met her at the school and the paps were there that night, too.”

“We always think there will be more time, Chase. More time to plan, more time to say I love you, more time to hold someone close. We also like to think people are trustworthy, but you learned from experience they’re not. We can plan everything down to the finest detail, and it doesn’t matter. Sometimes, it just fucking rains.”

I laugh. It’s his favorite damn phrase.

“I said that to Ren not long ago after her ex came after her. You make it sound more poetic than I did.” When it rains here, the whole town goes under water in no time. I guess his metaphor has more meaning than I thought. He’s right, though. Again. I knew it would be fast.

“I keep thinking of Cassie, picturing her there in all that…blood.” I swallow hard. My stomach churns, so I drink down the glass of water on the table. “But it’s not her face, it’s not her body. It’s Ren. I’m even having nightmares about it. I can’t sleep.”

“How is Ren handling things?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, Cassie had a fucking breakdown and I never even saw it. I’m a fucking idiot who can’t see shit when it’s right in front of my face. I mean, do I even know Ren? Would I notice a shift in her? Would I ignore it like I did Cassie?”

“Chase, we’re going to get through this, but we have to do it in steps. You did see Cassie’s issues, so did other people, including her own therapist. You did everything you could for her, but you aren’t to blame for that. You also have to stop comparing the two. Ren and Cassie are different people.”

I stand up and pace. Rage builds and I’m not sure where it’s coming from, it just needs to get out. “FUCK! How the fuck am I not to blame for her slitting her fucking wrists in my house? My girlfriend fucking killed herself because of me and my fucking baggage. Which part of that am I not blaming myself for? Huh? I can’t even go in the fucking room anymore, Doc.” I fall back onto the couch, running out of steam, and I mumble, “I sealed it shut so no one could.”

“No amount of nails or glue will help you control the world around you, Chase. People make their own decisions. They choose how to live their lives and face their demons, not you. You can sympathize and understand their demons. You can stand at their side as they battle them. But each of us has to battle their own demons.” He sets his notebook aside and takes off his glasses. “Chase, let’s start smaller. Tell me about what’s going on with Ren.”

I rub my face and groan. “I had her come stay at my place. She calls me when she gets to the school, when she leaves, at lunch. She’s doing everything I ask, but I’m losing my temper, forgetting lines at work, and being a general fuck up. I’m so damn lost.”

“There’s where we need to start. Think about what you’ve told me. You’ve described Ren as an intelligent, capable woman who hasn’t shown signs of mental distress, and yet you’re trying to control her life. You’re giving her rules and putting her on a leash, but from what you’ve said before, she’s the one who wants you on the leash.” I nod and he continues. “Why are you controlling her?”

“I’m not! I want to keep her safe.”

“Noble, but it will backfire on you. She’s independent and you’re trying to force her to be something she’s not used to. She needed to take back control of her life after what she lived through. You’re taking her away from her life outside of you and forcing her into yours. Does that worry you?”

“It’s not… I’m not…”

“Go ahead. Saying it out loud helps.”

“I’m trying to protect her! She’ll get hurt if I don’t do this.”

“Who will hurt her, Chase?”

“I don’t know! I could have stopped Cassie. If I’d been home, if I’d have answered her call that morning.”

“You don’t know why she called you, though.”

I’ve never stopped thinking about it. It’s hard enough finding the woman you love in a pool of her own blood, but living with the realization you missed the last opportunity to hear her voice? I may never let go of that. I’m forever haunted by this idea of saving her just by answering her call. That’s why I get annoyed when people let my calls ring. It’s why Dr. Clay never picks up right away when I call him.

“No,” I admit. I have my theories, and they range depending on my mood. Some days, in my mind, she called to tell me she loved me. Other days, I’m sure she called to say she hated me and what I’d done to her life. Theo likes to remind me it’s possible she called to tell me to pick up eggs on the way home, something mundane instead of dramatic.

“Ren has a life, doesn’t she? Family, friends, responsibilities? She’ll need her freedom back.”

“She goes to work! Her sister comes over, too. ”

“Given her past, what she’s been through, she’s likely allowing you to do this because she understands what you’re going through. You’re doing this for you, not her, and she’s picked up on that. But soon, she’ll see you as controlling, and how do you think that’s going to work out?”

I can still picture it. The night I took Cassie’s keys and locked them in my safe when she wasn’t looking. I told her I hadn’t seen them and promised her we’d find them soon or replace them. I wanted to protect her, and I ended up becoming her fucking jailor. I don’t want that for Ren. Hell, I don’t think I could do that with Ren if I wanted to. She’d smack the ever loving shit out of me and walk home in a rage.

“I’m fucking it all up. I don’t want her to be a prisoner, but I want to keep those fucking assholes away from her.” I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands so hard, I’m sure I’ll give myself a migraine. “It’s all my fault. I wanted this so bad, and now that I have Ren, I’m so fucking desperate to keep her safe.”

“Some sociologists think safety exists only as a social construct. That believing something or someone is safe ignores the potential harm, therefore becoming the harm itself.”

“Fuck. So, I’m fucking everything up, like I said.”

“Try a different angle. Who keeps you safe?”

“I don’t need—” I stop, realizing what he’s actually asking me to do. He wants me to think about how to answer, not answer off the cuff. “I’m in the same danger she is, so why am I not locking myself up in the house?”

“You’re in more danger, technically. Cyn sent over the notes and pictures you keep getting. After Mills found the microphone in your house? Chase, you have an increasingly aggressive, delusional stalker, and you’re worried about pictures they sell online?”

He’s right, my priorities are way off. I can’t lock Ren away in a tower. I’m not that monster. I’ve struggled to get past that, and I need to accept Ren would fight before she ends up like Cassie. Bringing her to my house solves one problem and ignores a hundred more.

“What do I do?”

“Again, start small. Are you giving Ren the space she needs?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to. There’s been a few times that I interrupted her a little, but I backed off.” He stares at me, accusations in his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I get in her way a lot.”

“How about designating a space that’s only hers? You’re not allowed to bother her when she’s in there.” I argue, but he holds up a hand. “It doesn’t need a door, but you will need to adhere to the boundaries she sets. Where do you work when you’re at home?”

“The loft. Sometimes the garage. I work out and do my lines.”

“And where does she work?”

“The dining room table,” I groan. “Shit, okay. I get it.”

The more I talk to Theo, the more I’m letting go of the death grip I had on the idea that Ren would follow the same path as Cassie. She doesn’t have the same history, the same jaded perception of the world. She’s different, even in how she treats me, so why am I not treating her differently?

The crushing weight lifts off my chest as that realization sets in. It’s not the perfect solution that I wanted, but it’s what I needed in order to help myself get through this again. Because it won’t be again , this will be different, even if the villains stay the same.

“Thanks, Doc,” I say as I rise from the chair as our session ends. “I needed this. I needed that kick in the ass.”

“I’m always here to kick you in the ass when you’re down, Chase.” He picks up his glasses, wiping them on a cloth from his pocket. “So, circling back?”

“Mills hit a brick wall on the name we found. She avoided all the security cameras on the set, and no one has footage of her from the convention a few years back.” I wring my hands as I talk, feeling the stress come back. “I block her numbers, but she still calls.”

“Take that seriously and trust Mills. He’s worked on a couple of stalker cases for other celebrities. It’s a cry for help, and I don’t like the way it’s escalating. Have you told Ren about it?”

“Some.”

“Time to tell her everything. For both the stalker and Cassie. Now keep moving forward and stop being the warden.”

As we’re walking out, something on his desk catches my eye. I recognize the CD cover art from Dani’s band. “Interesting music choice.”

“Oh, yeah, I got that at a local Battle of the Bands a friend conned me into judging.”

“Yeah?” He’s hiding something. That’s the fun part of therapy. He’s getting to know me, but I’m also learning about him along the way. “Well, I’m close with the lead singer if you want to get it autographed or something.”

“Came autographed, but thanks. They were pretty good.” I could swear he’s blushing.

On the drive home, I’m feeling better. I consider going back to the studio to get some work done, but I need to take the rest of the day to get my head straight. I owe it to Ren and myself to fix this. Sometimes I’m excellent at picking up a concept, understanding it, and tossing it right out the window a few minutes later to slide back into old, comfortable habits.

As I maneuver the streets of Culver City, I work on a plan to help make this stick. I’m going to keep to new things today as much as I can to stop myself from drifting off into the past. I’ve even thought up a new recipe she’ll love. But I change my mind because that’s not enough. Theo tells me to start small, but that might be too small. I’ll ask her to leave the prison, go out to dinner. Look at some new walls for a few hours together at least. Maybe even tell her why I’ve been such a prick and open another window into who I am.