The Last Thing (14 page)

“What are you doing in Calistoga?” the other girl asked.

“We’re filming a movie near here,” Chloe answered. She hooked
her arm with mine. I couldn’t do anything but smile even though I wanted
to pull out of her reach. A reaction like that would stir up the tabloids even
more. I prayed these girls wouldn’t post these photos all over
twitter. After a few more minutes of small chatter with some fans, we
grabbed our tacos and climbed back in the limo.

“You were really enjoying that,” I told Chloe. She only shrugged,
but I could tell that she loved the adoration. It was a rush that much was for
sure. The appreciation was nice, but she didn’t understand how much of her
privacy she’d be giving up.

  For the rest of the ride home, Chloe ignored me
and texted on her phone. It was nice to have some quiet time. When we made it
back to LA, I went straight to my apartment. It was a small loft right near
Venice Beach. I’d been looking into buying my own place for almost a year now,
but still hadn’t found the perfect home yet. That reminded me; I needed to call
my real estate agent.  With a baby on the way, I needed to get settled
in somewhere and quickly. If everything worked out, I would have Quinn by my
side in no time.

 I set my bag by the front door and went straight up to my
bed. All I wanted was to lie down and get some sleep. My phone
vibrated against my leg, so I pulled it out. I hoped it would be Quinn,
but my face fell at the screen. 

Lena.

 She had a minor reoccurring role on
Timelines
.
We had hooked up a few times here and there, but we mainly partied together. It
had been nothing but hot sex and drunken nights.

Lena: Want to go out tonight?

Me: No, just got back from Norcal. Sleepy. Rain Check?

Lena: Can I come over?

I sighed. She wanted sex, and it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not
if I was going to make this thing whole one-woman thing work with Quinn.

Me: Sorry, I’m seeing someone now.

Lena: So?

Me:  So, I am trying hard not to mess it up.

Lena: Good luck with that. Call me when you eventually
realize how much fun you are missing.

I had at least three other girls that I would have to contact
to break off our no strings attached agreement, but for now I would just ignore
them. There was only one girl on my mind.  Picking up my phone one last
time, I typed out a quick message.

I miss you already.
  I waited patiently for an answer. 

Quinn

I despised shopping.

Maybe I should rephrase that. I positively, absolutely, and completely
hated shopping with Ginger.

 You have to understand, that was something I thought I would
never say about my favorite past time, but Ginger took shopping very,
very
seriously.

After a doctor’s appointment for my three-month check-up,
Ginger insisted on dragging me to West Hollywood to start a registry. We strolled
through the ritzy boutique while looking at overly priced baby cribs. Ginger
had already picked out a bazillion items for the baby. Unrealistically
expensive items that cost more than a month’s salary. I didn’t think I was far
enough along to start buying baby items.

“Oh, look at this test. It’s supposed to tell you the baby’s
gender!” Ginger held a small box up to my face and squealed. I rolled my eyes
and pushed the box away from my face.

“If you don’t calm down, you’ll take my eye out.”

“Don’t be a pooper. This is so exciting. I can’t wait to get
pregnant and have babies.”

“Do us all a favor and get married first,” I mumbled.

“Believe me, I’m working on it.”

Not with Barrett, I hope.

I examined the box in her hands.

“I don’t think these things really work.”

“Well, we are getting one. I don’t think I can wait any
longer to find out the sex.”

“You know, you’re more excited about this baby than I am,” I
mentioned while looking through a few racks of tiny baby sleepers. It wasn’t
that I hated being pregnant, but raising a baby alone frightened the hell out
of me.

“You aren’t excited?” she asked with an innocent tone.

“I’m single.”

“You have Chase. He seems to wanna help.”

She threw a few baby items in my hand and walked past me to
grab a few more items. I followed behind her trying to catch up.

“So?” It was annoying that she just assumed everything would
be okay. Did she not think things out anymore or was her life too charmed now?

“I’ve been waiting months, Quinn. You gotta get over this
fear you have.”

I bit my bottom lip. What was she talking about? I didn’t
have any fears.  I was doing better.

“And before you say anything,” she continued. “You have a
fear that you ruin people. I admit, I wasn’t a Chase fan at first, but he’s
changing. He won’t leave you. Not like Bash did. You deserve to have a happy ending.
You would have never found that with Bash. I hate to speak ill of the dead, but
Bash was all kinds of screwed up and you would have never been able to save
him. Chase, though… Chase doesn’t need saving. Chase can save you.”

Smiling up at my cousin, I suddenly wanted to hug her. If it
weren’t for the piles of baby crap I had in my arms, that is. Was it true?

“That was deep,” I told her.

She gave me a haughty smirk and shrugged. “I try.”

A rocking horse distracted her while I went up to the front
desk and sat all of the baby items down.

“When are you due?” a haughty employee with a fake British
accent asked.

“February.”

“How exciting. Can I interest you in one of our handmade baby
cribs? ” She pointed to a few wooden sleigh cribs that lined the side of the
store. Each bed had intricately carved details with all the bells and whistles.

 Yeah, fuckin right! In my dreams!

I gave the woman a fake smile and went to find Ginger. She
stood in front of a large painting of a pond with turtles and frogs. Typical
baby décor, of course. She leaned in and whispered to me.

“You could paint something so much better than this.”

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Doesn’t mean I will.  I threw away all of my paints months
ago.” There had been a time when I loved creating; now my mind was vacant. The
night I almost drowned, a part of me had died as well. My inspiration had
vanished.

“Please? You could make something for the baby’s room.”

“No way and even if I wanted to, I just can’t.”

She gave the painting one last longing sigh.

“Damn. I guess I’ll have to buy it then.”

We finished the rest of our shopping. Ginger had bought
enough stuff to decorate a nursery, which she insisted the baby would have at
her house even if I didn’t live there. No matter how hard I tried, I kept
thinking about what she’d said to me. It was clawing at me from the back of my
mind. Sure, Bash had always been the one who needed my help. It was how we’d
met. I could still recall that day in Jr. High. He’d sat in the library trying
to study. It was so cute the way his brow furrowed, and he scrunched up his
lips when he tried to concentrate.  It had taken me a few minutes to gather the
courage to walk up to him, but I was glad I did. We bonded every day after
school by studying together.

By late high school, we’d started dating.  We had one of
those intense, obsessive loves. Things were tough for Bash because of his
parents and football. Looking back, I didn’t understand the pain Bash had been
in. There was so much he hadn’t told or shown me. For the life of me, I couldn’t
understand why he’d never let me in. I could have helped. Then the night he
died, I’d been the one to blame. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t get him to let
me in. Trust me. Whatever had happened, I should have done more.

“Earth to Quinn,” Ginger said, snapping her fingers in front
of my face.

“Yeah?”

“You’re leaving me again. Snap out of that daze and help me
bring all these baby things to the car.”

Taking a deep breath, I calmed my nerves.
One, two,
three….
 I counted as my psychiatrist had taught me. Sure enough, it calmed
the anxiety. I wasn’t supposed to think about that night. It was a rule of
mine. It was how I survived.

The second we stepped outside, a huge swarm of people
surrounded us.  Men and women, all strangers, and all with cameras in their
hands. The paparazzi.

“Shit,” Ginger mumbled. She reached down to put on a pair of
sunglasses. Doing the same, we both walked along the sidewalk with our bags.
We’d been out together many times, but we’d never run into the paparazzi
before. I clutched my bags closer to my body and tried to stare straight ahead
as we walked through the crowd. There were only about ten of them, but having
them huddled around us brought back feelings of anxiety.

“Who’s your friend?” one of the men yelled out, even though
he was less than a foot away.

 I took a step closer to Ginger. We were so close to the car;
I could hold out a little bit longer. Even though we ignored them, they still
hounded us.

“Is that baby stuff inside of the bag? Are you pregnant,
Ginger?” asked a woman. Ginger quickly moved the bags in front of her so they couldn’t
peer inside.  What was wrong with these people? They apparently had no respect
for other people’s privacy. It was then that the questions started to escalate.

“Is Barrett the father?”

“Will this affect
Timelines
?”

The questions kept coming as if they expected us to start
answering.

“Ignore them and keep walking,” Ginger said.

One of the cameras startled me, causing me to almost lose my
balance and slam into one of the paparazzo.

“Get off!”  He pushed against me, and I lost my footing.

 Before I could react, I fell to the ground. I dropped the
bags and instinctively put my hands out to catch myself. I cried out as a
shooting pain shot up through my wrist.

“What is wrong with you?” Ginger pointed a finger at the man
who pushed me. She bent down to help me up, but not before flipping him the
bird.

“Back the hell up!” she screamed.  All I could hear was the
beating of my own heart. Somehow, Ginger managed to help me to the SUV.

She started the engine up promptly and slammed her foot down
on the gas. We left the crowd behind us, eating our dust.

“Some of them are following us,” Ginger said, looking in her
rearview mirror.

“Is that even legal?”

“Right now the laws are pretty shitty. I don’t know how they
knew where we were. They normally leave me alone, but since Barrett and I got
back together they’ve taken a very unhealthy interest in me.”

She didn’t have to apologize. It was part of her lifestyle
now. I knew that.  The anxiety had been surprisingly easy to handle. Maybe
because I wasn’t the object of their attention. I rubbed at my wrist and moved
it around a bit.

“Are you okay? Maybe we should take you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine.” I shook my head. “Just a few scrapes.”

“Some of them are real assholes.”

“Don’t worry about me!  I think some rumors about you are
about to start.”

“That’s okay. My publicist will love it.” She grinned brightly
behind her large shades. “Besides, I’m not pregnant so there’s no harm.”

The rest of the drive home was pretty uneventful. She’d taken
the paparazzi attention with a grain of salt where as I was still shaken up by
the attention. To try and calm my nerves, Ginger suggested I watch her drink
wine while I ate popcorn. We snuggled on the couch to watch pay per view.

She picked out a random movie; the story line was pretty
standard. Boy meets girl, boy and girl have a falling out, boy and girl make up
and live happily ever after. You know, the stuff that never happens in real
life.

We spent the entire time making fun of the characters.

“I was supposed to have this role,” Ginger complained when it
was over.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. The director decided that my looks weren’t vixeny
enough.” She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and tried to give me an
overzealous duck face.

My face almost burst from holding in a laugh.

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah and the movie was a box office hit.” She sighed and
emptied the rest of the wine into her glass.

“There will be other movies.”

“Maybe, but at least I have
Timelines.”

“Yes,” I held my glass of water up to toast. “To
Timelines
.” 
Our glasses chimed in melody as we clinked them together.

“Do dish on all the dirty about you and Chase.” Ginger scooted
closer with a curious gleam in her eyes.