Falling into Forever (Falling into You) (9 page)

“My guess is that you probably did not find that.”

“Thanks, smartass. By the way, when did you decide to open your own comedy troupe? The Hallie Caldwell I know doesn’t make jokes. She’s taken a vow of solemnity.”

My foot is still tapping out
pop songs in the back of the cab, despite the forthcoming lecture. I can’t help it. Sometimes, sex just really is that good.

“You’re killing my thought train here, Caldwell. Let me tell you what I did find. You can probably imagine my surprise when I used my friend Google to search out all traces of your past. Somewhere, in the depths of the Internet, someone posted a snapshot of a young, idealistic Hallie Caldwell looking up at a young and idealistic Christopher Jensen. But that’s not the crazy part. The crazy part is that she’s looking at him like he is the only person who ever existed, and he’s looking right back at her with the same expression in his own eyes. So, then I told myself, “Eva, this is crazy. Maybe Hallie was a model. Maybe that’s your little dirty secret. Maybe it was a posed picture.’ But then I kept digging. And I found another one. And then another. Jesus, Hallie, you were with him. With Chris Jensen. You were together. You were maybe even in love with him?”

I am so not answering that.

“I did tell you that I didn’t want to do the deal, Eva.”

“I thought you didn’t want to do any deal! I thought you wanted to pretend that you were still
the guidance counselor at Two Rivers High, and that your life was still exactly the same as it was two years ago.”

“I did say that there were some other reasons that FFG wasn’t a good choice, Eva, or don’t you remember?”

“Clearly!” She’s indignant, and I can practically see her rolling her eyes. “I wasn’t aware that you and Chris Jensen had history.”

“It was a long time ago. I didn’t even think I would have to see him. After everything I’ve been through in the past year…”

It’s a dirty trick, bringing up Ben
, but I’m desperately trying to hold onto the memory of Chris looking at me like no time at all had passed, like we really were kids again, in love and happy and teasing and fighting and making love all morning and day and night. My buzz is drifting away, and I can’t come back down to earth. Not yet.

“I know what you’re been through, Hals. I do.” Her voice is understanding, but there’s an undertone there, one that clearly lets me know that there’s no way she’s letting me get away with my bullshit. “I went through it, too. I loved Ben. Hell, everyone loved Ben. But you and I both know that this has nothing to do with that. Christ, you and Chris Jensen. You should have told me. I need to know if you’re contemplating suicide or fuckacide.”

I could try to give her a snappy retort about needing to deal with my grief. But then Eva would just come back at me with an equally snappy retort about how it was time to stop using my grief to get out of telling her things.

I laugh instead,
and the sound of my long, loose peals of laughter surprises even me. It also causes the driver to snap his head around to stare. I can’t blame him. It certainly sounds like the laughter of a madwoman.

“Hallie?”
Eva’s voice is cautious.

She definitely thinks I’ve lost my mind. She may be right.

I manage to stop laughing. “No, I’m okay.”

She takes in a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Hals, I didn’t
mean to accuse you…”

“Yes, you did.
I was laughing at the fuckacide comment and not losing my mind totally. I promise, if I decide to enter a never-ending descent into total madness, I’ll let you know first. I wouldn’t want the crazy to come out on any nationally televised talk shows.”

“
Oh, Caldwell, tell me you didn’t commit fuckacide with Chris Jensen. Please, lord, just tell me this one thing and I promise I’ll never tease your ass again. I’ll never yell at you for keeping things from me.”

I can hear her holding her breath.

“So what if I did?”

“Hallie.
I was joking about that getting back into the saddle comment. And the Chris Jensen comment. I didn’t mean for you to…I hope this is a joke. Please.”

“I don’t think you were joking
when you said it yesterday. And I’m certainly not. Joking, that is.”

“
You didn’t. No.”

“Yeah
, I did. It’s done. And the seriously wacky thing is that I think I’m okay with it. Honestly. Come on, Eva. You’re the one who told me to go out and find myself a one-night stand. What were your exact words? ‘Hallie Viola Caldwell Ellison Caldwell, what you really need to do is to go down to Chelsea and find yourself an artist/playboy/model child and fuck his brains out.’ And in a matter of speaking, that’s what I did. So, I think I should actually blame this on you.”

“
I never thought you’d actually take me up on it! Not Miss Wallows-Around all day.”

I laugh again, wishing I could reach through the phone to punch her arm.
For the past year, everyone else had been whispering, soothing, touching, talking, their voices and faces and movements so careful that I had become fairly certain that I was surrounded by a field of landmines and broken glass. Everyone but Eva, who’s had faith this whole time that somehow I would return to myself.

“I have not been wallowing.
” So, that isn’t true. “Not for the last three months or so.” Still not totally true.

“Mmmm hmmm. Tell that to someone who’s buying.” Her voice lowers again, and
her next words are careful. “Hallie? Are you really okay?”

I think about it. I honestly have no
idea of whether I’m okay or not.

“I don’t know. I feel better than I did this morning,
and better this morning than I did yesterday, so I think that counts for something. Right?”

She starts to speak, but I hear the hesitation in her voice, and she asks a question instead
. “Where are you right now?”

“On a cab on t
he way to Sam’s.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Good.
Maybe he can talk some sense into you. But you need to know that we have to talk about this and about what it means for the movie. It definitely means something, but whether that’s keeping you away from Chris Jensen or throwing you directly in his path, I don’t know.”

“
I don’t want to see him again.”

I don’t.
I don’t want to see his electric green eyes or the way that he touches the top of his left ear when he’s nervous, or the way he rubs his fist against his eyes to keep the morning light away, or…

“Okay, Hallie
. Okay. We still need to talk about the best way to make that happen.”

“Fine.
We’ll talk soon, but I need to head home in the morning, so maybe you can come up to the cabin for a few days. I can try to explain it all to you.”

“That’s going to take a whole lot of explaining. You and Chris freaking Jensen? How did I not know about this? It’s my job to know things like this. As your agent and as your friend.” She sounds like a petulant child.

“I don’t think it makes for a very good story, but I’ll do my best. I owe you that.”

“You most certainly do owe me that.” She makes a little grunt. “We’re supposed to have a round of meetings with some of the production people next week in Chicago. FFG is trying to get a crew in place to start scouting some locations, and they want it done yesterday. I need to be at those meetings to make sure they don’t try to butcher your work, but maybe I can come up at the end of the week to spend some time at the cabin? You should probably come to Chicago, too.”

“
I’ll let you know if I can.” I pause. “I’m sorry for not telling you, Eva.”

“
You should be. You know, this stuff, these pictures of you and Chris Jensen, they could be an issue, Hals. Fair warning. If I found them in an hour-long internet hunt, that means someone else could, too. I’m frankly surprised they haven’t been found already, with the media storm after Ben’s…”

She pauses.

“You can say it, Eva. Ben’s death.”

She draws in a breath, sharply, because she knows that
I haven’t said that word, or so many other words, death or dead or widow or explosion or accident or tragedy, in over a year.

“Okay. I just don’t think it can stay hidden forever. Someone who knew you, who knew Chris, will talk. Someone will make the connection.”

“I consider myself warned.”

I can’t think about that right now. I can’t think about what it would mean for anyone else to discover another one of my long-held secrets, to come marching into my life again with cameras and microphones to ask me about the young Chris Jensen.

It won’t happen. I’ve gotten good at denial, so I push the thought of the possibility to the furthest reaches of my mind.

“
Take care of yourself, Caldwell. Love you bunches.”

“You too, Eva. See you soon.”

Click.

The
rest of the cab ride is mercifully short, and when we arrive at Sam’s building, I hand some money to the driver and quickly get out of the cab. He speeds off, as if hysterical laughter and possible madness were a contagious disease. I seem to have that effect on people. At least recently.

I glance up
at the opulent building, and an overwhelming wave of déjà vu passes through me. I haven’t been here in years.

The momentary high is starting to wear off and the total embarrassment is starting to seep in.

What the hell am I going to tell Sam?

CHRIS

After I allow myself a good fifteen minutes of laying in the sheets and breathing in the still-lingering scent of her, I consider the possibilities.

I could go to Sam’s
apartment right now, but the paparazzi would follow, and I can’t imagine that Hallie would appreciate that.

I could call the private investigator
that FFG uses.

Not yet.

Then, it hits me. It hadn’t made sense the week before, when Marcus called me to scream that optioning the
Rage
series was career suicide.

“You’ll ruin your career, Jensen, the career I’ve carefully made for you despite all of the dumbass moves you’ve made in your life. It’s trash. Who wants to read about some asshole who takes a journey through post-apocalyptic America with his dog, his best friend, and some zombie-vampire hybrid things?”

“The millions of people who read the books?”

“It’ll never transfer to the screen.”

“The millions of people who fucking loved that book and that dog would beg to differ, Marcus.”

“I’m not doing it. Use Jeff as your agent, if you want. You know he’ll never be able to get half the deal that
I would have gotten, but that’s not the point. I am out. And you better hear me on my next point, because it’s important. If you choose to do this, you have to realize that this is going to cause a serious fucking problem between the two of us. So, you better ask yourself whether this movie is worth it, Jensen. Whether it’s worth throwing away almost ten years of a partnership. Whether it’s worth losing your agent and your best friend.”

I did think about it. But my desire, my need for the
Rage
series was too powerful. The last movie I produced had been a box-office hit, but it was trash. I was on the verge of becoming Alan, someone who made movies that were nothing but explosions and bombs and aliens/zombies/vampires/spies. Of course,
Rage
and its sequels had those elements, too, which was why we could spend a hundred million or so on each of the movies, but the screenplay had something different, an element of truth, of reality, that my last films had lacked. It was my chance at redemption, my chance to create something that would do more than make money.

It had gone on like that for a week, back and forth between us, until he and I had finally exchanged a series of words that had seemed to destroy everything.

“I’m out, Chris. I’m tired of corralling you, of treating you like some fragile object that I’m afraid to break. You know I love you, man, but this is the last straw. I’m done. End of the line. Go it on your own. You’ve always done that anyway, haven’t you? You’ve known what’s best, and I’m just here to help you make a quick buck.”

“I think I helped you make a quick buck, too, unless you’
ve totally forgotten about one whole aspect of our little relationship: the fact that I’m the talent, and you’re nothing but an agent. You need me.”

Marcus took a deep breath, and his next words were a whisper. I heard each one, as if my photographic memory had suddenly transferred into one that audio records voices.

“That makes this easier. You’ve turned into a world-class prick, Jensen. World-class. And I can say that with absolute certainty, because I work in Hollywood, where there are a higher percentage of pricks per capita than anywhere else in the world. It’s impressive, really. Sayonara.”

Those words stung hard.
We haven’t spoken since.