Let's Stay Together (13 page)

30

T
he stench visibly rising into the warming basement air, the remnants of Lake Holland finally flowing into the drain, and the snake sullenly steaming in a corner, Patrick pondered his response while letting four service calls go to his voice mail.

He sent his message and waited less than a minute.

Anywhere but here,
Patrick thought.
Especially here.

He sent the message. Thirty seconds later, he read:

Patrick sighed.
I wish I could continue this! I want to know what she took off! She was only wearing two items, so if she took off her shirt . . .

Patrick wearily packed his laptop, hoisted his tool bag, and headed out into the cold while listening to Mrs. Moczydlowska’s four messages about icy drafts, rats in the walls, a burned-out lightbulb, and one creaking floorboard.

I’ve got to “fix” Mrs. Moczydlowska’s problems and hurry home,
he thought.
I don’t want Lauren to melt.

And I certainly want to be there when her
last
piece of clothing hits the floor.

31

L
auren watched her in-box for several minutes, and when nothing but more junk mail appeared, she buried herself under her covers.

Her phone buzzed.

She looked at the caller ID.
Todd again, wasting his time.
She opened her phone and said, “I’m not interested, Todd.”

“I haven’t even told you what I have for you,” Todd said.

“I’m not interested.”

“I have several projects you might be interested in,” Todd said.

“I’m not interested,” Lauren said.

“Will you at least listen?” Todd asked. “I’ve been making calls like crazy on your behalf.”

Lauren sighed. “All right. Go ahead.”

“The first is a TNT sitcom called—”

“No,” Lauren interrupted.

“Let me finish,” Todd said. “It’s an ensemble sitcom that takes place in Atlanta, and it’s called—”

“No.”

“Is it Atlanta or the fact that it’s an ensemble cast?” Todd asked.

“Neither,” Lauren said. “I’m not interested.”

“Well, then there’s a musical slated to open in Chicago this spring—”

“My stage days are over,” Lauren interrupted, “and you know I don’t sing.”

“It’s mainly a speaking part,” Todd said.

“No,” Lauren said. “Next.”

“All right,” Todd said. “I’ve just been on the phone with Pixar, and they need someone to do the voice of a rabbit.”

“A rabbit,” Lauren said.

“Right,” Todd said. “I can tell you’re interested.”

I’m not.
“What kind of rabbit?” Lauren asked.

“Well, it’s not like Jessica Rabbit or Bugs Bunny, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Todd said. “It’s more of a scared rabbit kind of character.”

“Gee, thanks,” Lauren said. “The answer is no. I don’t do voices.”
I only want to hear Patrick’s voice. We need to get on the phone soon.

“But the money is huge!” Todd shouted. “And you’ll be done in a week, so you can go back to feeling sorry for yourself.”

Is that what I’m doing?
“I’m recharging myself, Todd,” Lauren said. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.”
Anymore. And I can thank Patrick for that.
“Have you heard back from
SNL?
”

“No, I haven’t, but—”

“Good-bye, Todd.”

She turned her phone off completely, then placed it on her nightstand. Safely in her cocoon of covers, she hugged her pillow and closed her eyes.

Please come home, Patrick. I need you.
She hugged her pillow.
Patrick isn’t this soft. I am already growing tired of this pillow, and I am suddenly tired of e-mails. They aren’t immediate enough. If I had Patrick’s phone number, I’d be talking his cute ears off all day.

She smiled.

32

T
he daily drama with Mrs. Moczydlowska finished, Patrick trotted to his apartment, started a load of laundry, took a long hot shower, shaved, and put on clean clothes.

He immediately felt foolish.

He grimaced.

He booted up his laptop, and as soon as he signed on, a series of instant messages flashed up on the screen a few seconds apart.

Patrick’s fingertips began to sweat.

Patrick typed “No e-mail this time?” and quickly deleted it.
Talk to her!

Patrick took a deep breath and started to type.