“I hope you’re right,” I say simply.
“Of course I’m right. When have you known me to be wrong?” she retorts, throwing my words back at me.
“Oh God!” I say, rolling my eyes even though she can’t see it. She giggles, which tells me she knows exactly what I just did.
********
Arriving as Laura Drake is always easier than departing as Laura Drake. Granted, I might take a little more care with my identity than what is necessary, but keeping Samantha Jansen and all her secrets out of the public eye is of utmost importance to me. It’s with this in mind that I battle Sunday airport traffic so I can fly in a day early. I hit the First Class lounge as soon as I arrive in Portland.
I spread my makeup bag on the vanity in front of the mirror and I begin applying eye shadow. I put a dark green on my lid and line my lower lashes with the gray, giving them a smoky look that I think perpetuates the image of Laura Drake, an image that is nothing like that of the fresh-faced, unremarkable Samantha Jansen.
A little blush and some crimson on my lips and I’m ready to don Laura’s smart-yet-sexy suit. Several minutes later, I stand once more in front of the mirror, pushing strands of dark red hair under the stocking that goes on before my wig. Once the silky black hair is in place, non-prescription glasses finish me off.
There is nothing left of Samantha Jansen looking back at me. It’s as though she ceases to exist entirely when Laura Drake is on stage.
Stuffing all remnants of Sam on top of Laura’s cosmetics, I close the zipper then throw the bag over my shoulder. I’m ready to face Portland now.
As promised, Ari is waiting for me at the baggage claim area, my garment bag and small suitcase at his feet. His pale blue eyes light up when he sees me. He’s always loved seeing me in full Laura gear.
When I reach him, he tries to take the bag from my shoulder. “No, I’ve got it. You’ve got your hands full,” I observe, nodding at the two luggage pieces he claimed for me.
He shrugs and picks up my garment bag and suitcase. “So,” he begins. “Tell me what’s going on with you. I smell man all over this funk you’re in.”
“I’m not in a funk. Besides, you smell man all over everything.”
He grins at me. “I wish.”
I grin as we make our way to the cab waiting along the curb. Once inside, he continues as if there hadn’t been a pause. “Well?”
I sigh. I probably shouldn’t say anything, and I certainly don’t owe Ari an explanation, but for some reason I want to talk about it.
“I met a guy.”
Ari’s eyes light up and he turns in his seat to face me. “I want details. What’s he look like, is he a good kisser, and will he be a good father to your children?”
“God, slow down! You’re as bad as Chris.”
“Okay then let’s start with the most important first. Is he a good kisser?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“As a matter of fact he is.”
“That’s a good sign. And where did you meet this diamond in the rough?”
“Do you remember the last guy to ask a question at the—”
Ari doesn’t even give me time to finish. He gasps and slaps my arm. “NO! Not that delicious hunk in blue jeans and boots?”
I should’ve known Ari would remember someone who looks like Alec.
“That’s the one.”
“Girl! I should’ve known that, when you finally found someone, it would be a stud like that.”
I ignore that statement for what it is—assumption that my private life is like the life I write about. It’s the same thing most people think.
And they couldn’t be any more wrong.
“Well, it’s pretty complicated.”
“So that’s where the mood swings come from.”
“I don’t have mood swings.”
“Sure. And I don’t have a thing for great pecs.”
Again, I ignore him. “Anyway…”
“So he knows who you are then?”
“No!” The single word is propelled from my mouth with all the anxiety a disaster such as that inspires. “No, he doesn’t.”
“So, he only knows you as Laura?”
“Actually, he only knows me as Samantha. He doesn’t know it’s me he met last week.”
“Oh,” he says deadpan. The single word is flat and ominous, like a death knell. And I don’t like the sound of it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ari’s eyes widen innocently. “What’s what supposed to mean? I didn’t say anything.”
“That ‘oh’ was definitely something.”
Ari shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
“It is. I just…”
“You just what?”
“I worry about you. You know that.”
“But why are you worried? Ten seconds ago you were all ‘give me details’.”
“Yeah, but that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I realized you didn’t tell him.”
“Why does that matter?”
“I just can’t imagine any relationship going very far when you’re keeping huge secrets right from the beginning.”
I feel my lips thin in anger. I want to snap back with a snide comment, but I can’t. There’s nothing to say. Ari’s right. And that’s what makes me angry.
********
I’m lying in bed when the phone rings. It’s still early by Oregon time, but my body still thinks it’s in South Carolina. That’s another reason I came in early—to give myself a day to adjust.
My heart stutters, as has become my usual reaction since meeting Alec. Until I see that it’s Chris calling. Then it shrivels just a little.
It’s ridiculous that I should be so upset about not hearing from Alec since Friday. I should be grateful that he’s taking me out of a difficult situation, one I might not have been able to extricate myself from, no matter how self-destructive it was.
Yet I can’t be thankful. Not when I’m feeling so hurt and disappointed and deflated.
I think it’s the erratic ups and downs that are really getting to me. When Alec is around, he’s “on.” But when he’s not, it’s like he just disappears altogether. Radio silence. Like we never met. Like I don’t exist.
“I thought I left you back in the south?” I say in lieu of a more traditional greeting.