How I’m going to last that long, I don’t know. It’s Monday morning, and the rumors had all weekend to spread. The video went viral in the first twenty-four hours. The guy, it turns out, works for Hollywood Chronicles.
Marcus clears his throat and says, “I’d like it if you’d reconsider.”
“I know,” I say, “but there’s just no way it’ll work out.”
I can tell from his expression that he isn't happy, but it’s for the best, and deep down, he knows it. Already, there’s a police cruiser positioned in the parking lot, a new sign on the store door that says ‘customers only’.
“This whole thing will die down, you know,” he says, waving toward the open office door. “They’ll get bored and go away.”
“I know, but still… it’s time.”
Time for me to figure out what the heck I want to do with the rest of my life, because this isn’t it. This was never the ‘something special’ my parents wanted for me, nor was it my dream.
“Fair enough,” Marcus says. “I’m disappointed, but I won’t pretend to be surprised. I knew we’d lose you someday. Just hoped I’d be retired by the time you came to your senses.”
“Tough break.”
“It is,” he says, waving me away, dismissing me—just like that. I slip out of the office and head to the back stockroom to get a jumpstart on work, pulling my phone out as I walk. So many notifications. So many missed calls. I clear them all and send Jonathan a text. Any way you can get Maddie to school this morning?
His answer comes quickly. Sure.
I stare at his response before adding: WITHOUT assaulting any reporters?
See, now we’re going to need to have a talk about these unrealistic expectations.
You’re totally right. What was I thinking, expecting you to be civilized?
I really don’t know. But don’t worry. I’ll get her to school… by any means necessary.
He adds a grinning devil and a water gun emoji to his message, so I send him back the rolling eyes one in response.
Time ticks by.
I work on inventory.
I hear people moving around the store after opening, but nobody bothers me. I know it’s coming, though. It’s only a matter of time.
Nine o’clock comes, I text Jonathan. Did you get her to school okay?
Define ‘okay’.
Nobody got punched and nobody cried.
Does the teacher’s aide count?
What the…?
You punched the teacher’s aide???
No, she cried. Asked for an autograph. Big fan of mine.
I send another rolling eye emoji before pocketing the phone. I try to focus on work after that, but I’m too distracted.
Ten o’clock comes, I text Jonathan again. Did she eat breakfast?
The teacher’s aide?
Maddie. Did she eat this morning?
Oh yeah, a bowl of Lucky Charms.
Satisfied, I go back to inventory, but it doesn’t last long.
Eleven o’clock comes, I send yet another text. She remembered to brush her teeth, right? Sometimes, she forgets.
No response.
Instead, the phone rings.
He’s calling me.
I answer it. “Hello?”
“Don’t you have something else you’re supposed to be doing instead of playing twenty questions with me this morning?”
Sighing, I perch myself on one of the crates. “Unlike you, I can multi-task.”
“She brushed her teeth,” he says. “Brushed her hair, too. And she wore some kind of one-piece thing. A jumper? Romper? Blue, maybe? Might’ve been black.”
“And she remembered her backpack?”
“Of course,” he says with a laugh. “Even put shoes on before we left the apartment.”
“Sorry, I know I’m asking a lot of questions, but ugh, I’ve always been around in the mornings. This is the first time I wasn’t there to fix her breakfast or tie her shoes.”
“She was fine,” he says. “When I woke her up, I told her you had to get to work early, so she got Daddy. And I’m pretty sure, when I dropped her off, she still had all her fingers and toes.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I should get some work done now. I’ll see you in a while.”
I hang up, getting back to work when there’s a knock on the door. It slowly opens, and Bethany appears, hesitating right outside. She says nothing at first. She stares at me like Marcus did. Staring, and staring, and staring…
“Did you need something?” I ask.
She shakes her head as the stifling silence from the office weasels its way in here. “I was just…”
“Just what?”
“Just… is it true? Like, seriously, he was at your apartment?”
“Yes.”
Her expression flickers with hurt. “You know Johnny Cunning? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I did tell you,” I say. “I even told you he said hello the other day.”
“We were joking around. Or I thought you were joking. You were serious?”
I shrug a shoulder as guilt settles in, because maybe I’m being unfair. “He really did say hello. He remembered you.”
Her eyes widen, face going pale. “Oh my god, really?”
“Really,” I say. “And I’m sorry that I let you think it was a joke, but honestly, would you ever have believed I actually knew him? I don’t think so.”
“But you could’ve, I don’t know, brought him around? Oh my god, Kennedy, I would’ve believed then!”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Look, it’s complicated. I’ve known him for a long time, since I was younger than you. I knew him before there even was a Johnny Cunning to speak of. What we have… it’s complicated.”
“Have you…? Oh my god, have you and Johnny, you know? Together?”
“Have we what?”
“You know… have you done it?”
I give her an incredulous look. “You know where babies come from, right?”
“I know, but like… oh my god. It’s true? She’s his daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god.”
“Bethany, I swear, if you say oh my god one more time.”
“Sorry! I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you have a baby with Johnny freaking Cunning! How is this real life?”
“Well, she’s not really a baby anymore. And like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“So you haven’t, you know, since he’s been around? The two of you haven’t… together?”
I say nothing, because really, I don’t want to answer that, but my silence is enough to give her what she wants.
She gasps, eyes somehow even wider as she lets out a squeal and yells, “You have!”
I cringe.
She squeals again, stepping into the stockroom. “No freaking way! You have to tell me everything. I need details!”
I can feel my face heating. “I don’t like to kiss and tell.”
“What? No! You have to! You can’t tell me you’re sleeping with Johnny Cunning and not give me more. Like, how is he? How big is it? What’s it look like? Describe it!”
I laugh at that. “I’m not describing it. And he’s, well… I don’t know. He’s not lacking, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh my god!”
I let that one slide.
“Just… wow,” she says. “This is blowing my mind. I’m not being pranked, am I? This is real, right?”
“Right.”
Pulling out my phone, I hesitate before opening FaceTime and dialing Jonathan’s number. I’ve never FaceTimed him, so I’m not sure if he’ll even answer, but after a moment he picks up, his face flashing on the screen in front of me.
All I see is skin—he’s not wearing a shirt. His hair is disheveled. He still hasn’t shaved. It only takes a second before I realize he’s in my bed.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I say right away. “Were you seriously sleeping?”