I don’t know what possesses me to answer the phone when he calls. And no, it’s not McCarthy. Hannah is delusional—he doesn’t want me at all.
“Hi, Brock…”
Maybe I just want the familiarity of my old ex. Yes, he’s an asshole, but better the asshole you know andtrust, right?
“You need to pick up when I call you.”
“I am not your girlfriend. I don’t have to do anything.” I lean over to hiss into the phone. “You pretended to be dead to prank me.”
“I had to! My video views were tanking, and now look at me,” Brock crows. “That was my best-performing skit ever! I’m in talks with a production company.”
“Great. Good for you. All your dreams come true. Not sure why you’re blowing up my phone.”
“You have to be a part of it.”
An incredulous laugh escapes my mouth. “I’m busy. I have a real job and a relationship.” My stomach churns.
“You owe me!” Brock screams into the phone.
I fight to keep from getting sucked back into that same emotional headspace where I would do anything and everything to just try to make him calm, to keep him happy.
Brock can’t hurt me,I remind myself.
“You left me. You ruined my company, and you left me,” Brock rages.
“You can’t expect someone to do free labor indefinitely,” I argue.
“You’re lucky I let you work for me. Shoot, I have to do all of it anyway, going behind you, cleaning up your mistakes.”
A few years ago, I would be falling all over myself to tell him I messed up but would do better.
Not my circus anymore.
“You weren’t paying me; I was working eighteen-hour days for nothing, so what did you expect?”
“I know, Jenna. I’m sorry.” That whining tone. Ugh.
“I need you, Jenna; I can’t do this without you. You know that you’re the brains of the operation.”
The whiplash is exhausting.
“Come back, Jenna. I love you. You need me. I know you’re failing at your job; I know your boyfriend wants to dump you.”
He’s just playing on your insecurities,I try to remind myself.
But the verbal blows land.
“I thought you cared about me. I always thought you were a maternal woman, that you liked to care for people. You did all those things because you loved me, you said. You wanted to help me achieve my dreams. You said you wanted what’s best for me. Did you lie? Was our whole relationship a lie? Were you just using me?” His tone is accusatory.
“Youwere usingme.”
Hannah is coming over to my desk.
“I was taking care of you; I gave you everything you wanted.”
“No you didn’t—” I clamp my mouth shut. “I’m not arguing with you anymore.”
“Come back to L.A.” He’s begging now. “We were good together.”
