My Once and Future Love (43 page)

I’d been relearning the print process and the
next step was going digital. The world had leapt on technology
since I was a freshman in college and I was determined to catch
up.

Jacob’s second album was a smash hit and
rumor had it he was writing another. Critics buzzed about what
could be inspiring him so quickly. He was everywhere to promote the
album, but every time they asked him about the rumor he was back in
the studio, he dodged the question with some enigmatic answer.

I was curious, too. It wasn’t like him to
keep secrets. He’d always been so out there in public. Maybe he
found a new muse, the girl Marty mentioned. After everything, I
could finally wish him happiness.

****

They were on tour again for the second album.
This time, Jacob was being a good boy, only leaving the hotel if he
wanted to eat out, and that was usually with the lads. Between
buying a new house in a quieter neighborhood and being a recluse
for months, the paparazzi had backed off and he was more likely to
be photographed on the street by a fan. He was still A-list, so
they didn’t
ignore
him, but he could finally breathe.

Up in those various suites he lived in, he
wrote lyrics and letters—postcards for Beth and longer missives to
his mother, who he was calling more often, too. His therapist
thought he’d be more accountable to himself if he was in more
frequent contact with his mother, and the logic held…it was easier
to screw up in the past when she wouldn’t know about it for weeks,
if ever. The relief in her voice added to his guilt and regret.

“Miss you, too, Mum. I promise if I don’t see
you sooner that we’ll be in London again next European tour.”

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate that. Will you
try to take holiday this Christmas?”

“Yes, Mum, if I can.”

“Fair enough. If you speak to Elizabeth
before I do, please give her my love?”

“Mother…”

“Have a good set, darling. Goodbye.” She hung
up.

He put his cell in his pocket and prepared to
go to the venue. Mothers…she was biased toward Beth, of course, but
he didn’t want to get his hopes up. It was enough Beth was writing
notes back to him, a beginning to renewing their friendship, and
long-distance they didn’t fight. He finally had a chance to get her
to like him again, to clear away that look of disappointment in her
eyes.

Yes, he was very careful with his words
now.

Personal Attention
was a commercial
album; the corresponding tour was the same. The set was designed
for maximum fun and audience participation. The opening act was a
promising bar band Bob found and made the deal for. No more
over-ambitious starlets looking to ride their coattails. Jacob
remembered that feeling of being so grateful for his first big shot
and this group of guys had been the right choice, a bunch of
hard-workers with little ego.

His phone buzzed with a text:

Bookworm01: Break a leg tonight.

Beth. Smiling, he typed “thank you” and
pressed Send. She must be moderating the fan club forum
tonight.

“Uh-oh, he’s got that look again.”

“Shut up, Bob.”

“Ohh, the Beth look,” Mikey said.

“Jake’s in looooooove,” Aaron crooned. Jacob
swung, pretending to hit Aaron in the head.

“Shut your gobs, wankers. She’s my
friend
. Next time she can text you good luck,” he said,
pointing at Bob.

“She didn’t really say ‘good luck’, did she?”
Dylan asked.

They rolled her eyes. For being so
level-headed, the man was crazy superstitious. “No, she wrote
‘break a leg’. You’re such a wimp.”

“Places!” the stage manager called.

Now the attention was on Dylan, the boys were
giving him shit. They passed Jacob onto the dark stage to take up
their instruments.

Here we go
…

****

Three months into picking up a camera again,
I finally felt ready to have my portfolio critiqued by someone
in-the-know. Mom had several showings at a small gallery in L.A.
once upon a time, so I hoped the owner would remember the name and
let me make a presentation. Fingers shaking, I dialed the number,
and waited.

Fast-forward two days, and my appointment was
in an hour.

I chose a nice blouse and conservative skirt,
clipping the sides of my newly-chocolate-brown hair off my
face.

“Sweetheart, you look fine. Stop fussing,”
Dad said, standing in the bathroom doorway.

I glared at him in the mirror. “I’m not
fussing. I just want to look professional.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders and
kissed my temple. “Your pictures are beautiful and they’re going to
love you. You’ve grown up just as pretty and talented as your
mother.”

“Daddy…” I blinked rapidly, willing the tears
away before they messed up my mascara.

“I know. I shouldn’t get sentimental before
your big meeting. Want me to leave?”

“Yes, please! Go play golf or something.”

He gave my shoulders another squeeze,
laughing, and left the room. I faced my reflection, drew my
shoulders back, and took in a deep breath.

“I can do this.”

My timing was perfect. The gallery was having
a slow season, so the owner picked some of my prints for the next
open house. “I want five of your best in these sizes in a week,”
Mr. Ballard said, scribbling on a pad. He tore the sheet off and
handed it to me. “Be here two hours prior to the event to set up,
Miss Lawson.”

I clapped my jaw shut and hurried out before
he changed his mind. I couldn’t believe it went so easily.

My luck shone again when I discovered I had
the front wall, right where anyone could see my photos through the
window. The open house had a modest turnout, but my prints sold—all
of them.

“Mr. Ballard, who was the buyer?”

“I can’t disclose that, dear. The buyer
wishes to remain anonymous. Just be glad we moved them. Can you
have more for me next week?”

“I-I guess.”

“Good. Run along now.”

Dad was waiting in the den when I walked in
the door.

“So, how did it go? I wish you’d let me come,
Elizabeth.”

I set down my purse and keys in a daze. “Hmm?
Oh, they sold…”

“That’s wonderful. Which ones?”

“All of them,” I said. “Someone bought the
whole set.”

“That’s amazing! I am so proud of you. See, I
told you. You had nothing to worry about. Want to go out for ice
cream to celebrate?” The sight of my normally reserved father
beaming down at me and practically bouncing on his toes finally
broke through my haze.

I smiled back. “Well, if you’re buying…”

Chapter Eleven

Tiny showings led to bigger ones. I’d chosen
to showcase the buildings in Los Angeles and its surrounds in
interesting ways for my public work. Wanting a job, though, I
remembered a business card tucked in my files and called
Nathan.

“Talk to me.”

“Nathan? It’s Beth Lawson. I--”

“Hey, Liz! Why has it been so long since you
called me? You got the get-well flowers, yes?”

“You know how it is, and I did. I sent a
thank-you note.”

“My secretary must have buried it. So what’s
up?”

“I’ve picked up my camera again and was
wondering if you have any contacts. I’m not looking for a major
shoot or anything--”

“Your e-mail still the same?”

“Yeah.”

“If you want to work for a little
architecture magazine, you’re in luck.”

“Thank you, Nathan.”

“Any time. Don’t be a stranger.”

Within hours, I sent my résumé in to the mag.
Though cashing out my benefits when I resigned left me with a nice
sum in the bank on top of my savings, money never lasted forever,
and I didn’t know how to not work.

I walked into an office building downtown and
checked the directory for the correct floor to meet with the photo
editor. After getting directions from a secretary, I knocked on the
office door.

“Enter!”

A woman stood from behind the desk as I
walked in. Long red curls framed her face and though she was much
shorter than me, her figure made mine look like a boy’s.

“You’re my ten o’clock?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I shook her hand.

She grinned. “Relax, honey. First thing you
gotta know about working with me is I don’t stand on protocol and
crap. Think of me as your best ally. You want to keep your job and
I want photos that keep our readers coming back. What’s your
name?”

“Elizabeth Lawson. I have a copy of my resume
if you--”

“Just hand over your portfolio and we’ll take
it from there.” She took the album from me and sat at her desk
again. I took the chair and waited.

This was the strangest interview I’d ever
had.

She flipped pages, eyes scanning the images.
“Got a digital camera?”

“Yes, just recently.”

“I’ll take the shots off the memory card
after each assignment. Any problem with travel?”

“No…”

She lifted her head and closed the book.
“Then welcome to the team, Beth.”

“Thank you, Ms.--”

“Celeste. Or ‘Boss’. That works for me, too.”
She winked. “Fill out this employee packet and come back tomorrow
for your first assignment.”

And that was the start of our friendship.

We were the same age, but Celeste had been at
the magazine working her way up since she was twenty, and took me
under her wing. She was my exact opposite, bold and bubbly and
totally fearless.

For the first time when I traveled, I got to
see the city I was in. Shadowing Jacob, it had been
hurry-hurry-hurry, and we were out of a place just as fast as we’d
come into it. The pay wasn’t near what I’d been making before, but
that was okay. I had a job making art.

Keeping in touch with Jacob was hard with
both of us traveling. Our postcards constantly crossed in the mail.
We were sounding like friends again, though, so maybe communicating
over distance was letting us heal the damage. I wasn’t ready to
talk to him live, yet, but I sent an occasional text message or
e-mail. Electronic communication was more likely to get to him than
snail mail while he moved around so much.

The job was more fun than I expected and so
lacking in stress I thought I might be doing it wrong. As long as I
made my deadlines, I set my own hours and dressed how I liked, and
except when an assignment took me out of California I was home for
dinner with Dad every night. Our relationship was better than it
ever had been before.

My body had passed my high school weight for
the first time, too, and it was strange to not feel tired all the
time. When we visited Andrew this summer, he said he finally saw a
sister he didn’t need to worry about and I wondered how he put up
with me all these years. What must I have looked like to people
around me? Only allowing myself to heal let me see the dark,
self-centered hole I’d dug into, and I was embarrassed. He laughed
when I asked him to kick me in the head if I get that way again,
then promised he would!

Now, we were in September and the SoCal sun
was making its last attempt to boil us before summer faded into
fall. Cooler weather was expected soon and I’d be grateful for it.
Since the car Jacob gave me was in his name, though I paid for the
insurance and stuff, I had to wait for him to get the check then
send the payout to me, so I was in Dad’s old car again and the AC
lacked.

****

March to September was a long time without
Beth, something he hadn’t experienced since he hired her. Back
when, they never fought on the phone, so he tried a similar
approach with notes and e-mails. They hadn’t talked this friendly
in years, so it seemed to be working. He only hoped she would see
the progress he’d made when they finally met again.

The tour for album number two was an even
bigger smash than the last time they traveled the US, and was twice
as long, divided in two legs. Then, they’d head overseas in
November after a little time off. If Beth would see him again, he
hoped to take that time in L.A.

The second album,
Personal Attention
,
was a more shallow effort. He thought he was writing fun lyrics at
the time, and they were, but man…the thing came off very
commercial, and lacking heart. The rumor about him laying down new
melody demos was close to the truth—since cracking his soul open,
he’d been writing every chance he got, but they weren’t for another
album. They were for Beth, if she’d come hear him sing.

****

I missed watching him sing. He was an
excellent entertainer, but he lived the music. Inside his songs was
his true self and the stage seemed the most natural environment for
him. When he pulled out his guitar and sang the first song he’d
ever written, I fell for real. The lyrics weren’t that good, in
hindsight, but it was that he
meant
them that tugged at my
teenage heart. I encouraged him to keep writing from then on.

So, when I came home to find two concert
tickets for his L.A. appearance in the mailbox, I had to be there.
It’d been six months since I saw him.

It was the only reason to go to a little
extra effort to look good tonight. Uh-huh. Nothing to do with the
fact I’d dated exactly
zero
guys since becoming mobile
again. Not a bit about falling for the sweetness in his letters. If
you believed that, I had some ocean front property in Arizona to
sell you, too.

He sent front row tickets and backstage
passes. I was taking my editor and current best friend, who was a
huge fan. Come to think of it, Celeste and Jacob would probably hit
it off. I tried to remember if he liked redheads.

She came over to do the girly thing and get
ready for the concert together. Since I didn’t get a chance to do
the girly thing in high school, I didn’t mind so much. I sat with
hot rollers in my hair while she applied my eye shadow.