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Iopen it an inch and peek out.Ireally need to ask my landlord to install a peephole for those times whenI’mhiding out from the media.Right, because that’s something that happens in a totally normal life.
“You’vegot to be freaking kidding me.”
“Hey,Selena.”
JacksonfreakingWatersis grinning down at me.Helooks exactly the same as he did onTheEddieParsonsShowa couple of days ago.Tall, handsome, black t-shirt, blue jeans.Hehas more facial hair now than he did in the elevator, like he hasn’t shaved since.Thesides of his hair are shaved shorter than the top.He’sstill the hottest manI’veever seen in real life.Andthat makes me even angrier at him.It’snot right that the man who ruins your life isthishot.
“Whatare you doing here?”Stealinga glance past him,Isee cameras flashing on the sidewalk on the other side of the little fence dividing my tiny front yard from the street.Hedid this to me.Heturned my life into some kind of freak show.
“Areyou going to invite me in?”
“Really, wasn’t going to.”Itdoesn’t matter that he’s a movie star.Itdoesn’t matter that he’s more handsome than any single human man has any right to be.Theonly thing that matters is thatJacksonWatersruined my life.Hemade me the butt of every single dumb late-night talk show host’s jokes.Hemade it so there’s a line of photographers on the sidewalk outside my apartment in an old converted house inEchoPark.
“Don’tyou want to know whyI’mhere?”
“Istopped caring what you have to say when you told the entire world thatIpeed in your water bottlein front of youon nationalTV.”
Hehas the absolute audacity to flash me a sheepish smile. “So, you heard about that, huh?”
“Theentire world heard about that!”
“I…I’msorry about that.Didyou get the flowersIsent?”
Inod towards the compost bin along the fence.Afew crushed and browning white roses and pink lilies are haphazardly sticking out.
“Didn’tbuy you the right kind of flowers,Iguess.”
“Somethinglike that.”
Ilove flowers.Lilies, in particular.They’remy favorite.Itpained me to shove the beautiful bouquet into the trash.ButIcouldn’t have any reminders ofJacksonWatersor #Pee-gate or #elevatorgirl in my house.
“Selena, canIcome in?Please?Ineed to talk to you.”
“Seemslike you did more than enough talking onTheEddieParsonsShow.”
“Itold youI’msorry about that.Ieven sent you flowers.AndI’mhere right now, so let me make it up to you.”
“Hasanyone ever told you that saying you’re sorry doesn’t actually fix anything?”
Helooks surprised.Noone probably has ever told him that saying he’s sorry doesn’t just magically fix everything.Becausehe’s probably never heard the wordnoin his entire life.
“I’msorry for all of this.AndIhave a way to make this better,Ipromise… if you’ll let me in soIcan tell you about it.”Jacksonglances back over his shoulder at the clicking cameras. “OrIcould go talk to them?Wewere in that elevator for a long time.I’msureIcould think of a few more things to tell them about you.”
chapterten
selena
Myjaw drops. “Youwouldn’t.”
Heshrugs.
“Somuch for what happens in the elevator stays in the elevator.”Turningon my heel,Ileave the door open a few inches so he can follow me inside.Imight let him come in, butIwill be damned ifIinvitethis man into my home.Inever invited him into my elevator.Inever invited him into my life.AndIdefinitely never invited him to talk about me on nationalTV.Ijust want all of this—andJacksonWaters—to go away.
Whateverhe plans on saying to me,Ihave a feeling thatI’mnot going to like it.Ishould sit down.Andhave several drinks.Maybehe’s planning on writing a book about his harrowing hours trapped in an elevator with a monstrousnormiewith a pee fetish?Ormaybe he’s going to direct and star in a new horror movie about a man trapped in an elevator with his worst nightmare?
Makingextra effort to stomp my bare feet every single step along the old parquet hallway towards the kitchen at the back of my apartment,Idon’t care if he’s following me or not.Ihope he’s not.Ihope the earth opened up and swallowed him whole.ThisisL.A.Itcould happen.
Unfortunately, after some brief scuffing sounds,Ihear soft footsteps following behind me.Atleast he’s polite enough to take his boots off.No, no.Hedoes not get credit for that.Hedoes not get credit for anything.Iwill not think a single nice thought about the man who made me a walking punchline.
