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Bree smiled. “Settle down, Toby. Nobody’s getting married to anybody yet.”
The looks Mike and Toby exchanged suggested they had other ideas about that.
Lucy wouldn’t spoil their happiness with her own misery. She promised to come over the next afternoon and waved good-bye.
She continued to nourish her anger, but after a few days of furious, solitary walks and lengthy bike rides that still didn’t wear her out enough to sleep, she knew she had to do something else. Finally she opened the laptop Panda had left behind and got back to work. At first she couldn’t concentrate, but gradually she found the distraction she needed.
Maybe it was the pain from her breakup with Panda, but she found herself thinking more and more about the earlier pain she’d endured from spending the first fourteen years of her life with a biological mother who was a professional party girl.
“Luc
y, I’m going out tonight. The door’s locked.”
“I’m scared. Stay here.”
“Don’t be a baby. You’re a big girl now.”
But she hadn’t been a big girl—she’d been eight—and over the next few years, she’d become the only responsible person in their dismal household.
“Lucy, damn it! Where’s that money I hid in the back of my drawer?”
“I used it to pay the damn rent! Do you want us to get kicked out again?”
She’d always believed her sense of responsibility had begun after Sandy had died, when she’d had to take care of Tracy on her own, but now she understood it had begun long before that.
She wrote until her muscles cramped, but she couldn’t write forever, and as soon as she stopped, heartache overwhelmed her. That was when she tightened her cloak of anger. With it firmly in place, she could keep breathing.
PANDA HAD BEEN LOOKING FORWARD to his new job managing security for a big-budget action film shooting in Chicago, but two days after he started, he got the flu. Instead of staying in bed where he belonged, he worked through the fever and chills only to end up with pneumonia. He worked through that, too, because going to bed with nothing to think about except Lucy Jorik wasn’t an option.
Be the best at what you’re good at … A great motto right up to the day he’d met her.
“You’re an ass,” Temple told him during one of her too-frequent phone calls. “You had a chance at happiness, and you ran from it. Now you’re trying to self-destruct.”
“Just because you think you’ve gotten your life together doesn’t mean everybody wants to,” he retorted, glad she couldn’t see how gaunt he looked, how tense he was.
He had more job offers than he could handle, so he hired two former cops to work for him. He sent one on an assignment in Dallas, the other to babysit a teen actor in L.A.
Temple called again. He dug into his pocket for a tissue to blow his nose and jumped in before she could harangue him about Lucy. “How’s filming the new season going?”
“Other than having the producers constantly screaming at Kristi and me,” she said, “it’s going great.”
“The two of you put them over a barrel. You’re lucky they didn’t have time to replace you or you’d both be looking for new jobs.”
“They’d have been sorry,” Temple retorted. “Audiences were getting bored with the old show, and they’re going to love this new approach. It’s got heart. Kristi still has to wear her red bikini, but she has a lot more screen time, and she’s using it brilliantly.” He heard her crunch into something. An apple? A piece of celery? The cookie she allowed herself each day? “I’ve made the workouts so much more fun,” she said. “And I actually cried today! Real tears. That’s going to be ratings gold.”
“I have a lump in my throat just thinking about it.” His drawl turned into a cough he quickly muffled.
“No, really,” she said. “This contestant—her name’s Abby—she was abused horribly as a child. It just … got to me. They all have stories. I don’t know why I didn’t take the time to listen more closely before.”
He knew why. Paying attention to other people’s fears and insecurities might have forced her to examine her own, and she hadn’t been ready to do that.
She went on, mouth full. “Usually after a couple of weeks filming, I’m hoarse from screaming at people, but listen to me.”
“I’m doing my best not to.” He took a slug of water to suppress another coughing fit.
“I thought Lucy was crazy when she talked about her ‘Good Enough’ approach to exercise, but she hit on something. I’m working on a long-term exercise program that’s more realistic. And … Get this … We have a great hidden-camera segment where we teach the audience how to read food labels by staging these phony fights in supermarket aisles.”
“That’ll get you an Emmy for sure.”
