It hits me after I leave the kitchen to get ready for Flora DuSchene's arrival, and now I'm left more confused and exasperated than ever. And yes, I grudgingly admit to myself, a little euphoric, too.
Moments ago, Jared stood in the kitchen in broad daylight, casually pulled me into his arms and gave me a kiss.
Having to come up with something on the spot for singing a song that I shouldn't know probably delayed the reaction to this very unexpected and out-of-character gesture from him. Or maybe it didn't hit me in the moment because it felt...natural. For both of us.
I shake my head as I start the shower, wondering if I'll ever figure Jared out. More than anything in the world I want to understand this enigmatic, multi-dimensional man. I want to know what makes him all that he is. A powerful persona, a man who, with his low, slightly raspy but steady voice, his piercing and unblinking gaze, or with just his presence has command of everything and everyone around him. And yet, below the surface I've glimpsed the vulnerability that he struggles so hard to contain and control. I've seen Jared without that mask; in Oak Creek Canyon, and, on a very few occasions so far, here in L.A.
As I undress, I think about the tears he shed when Katia left his hospital room. I remember last night and the way his voice caught as he spoke about his need to separate caring for someone and sex. It's as if this is a reality that causes conflict and immense pain in his soul. Why does he feel this way? What happened that led him to that belief?
I step under the luxuriously hot spray and allow it to soak my hair before reaching for the bottle of fragrant shower gel. It's scented with freesia and jasmine, a wonderful-smelling combination. I wonder as I have since arriving at Jared's house who picked it out for me. Whoever it was, they were spot-on with the choice.
Shannon might know why Jared's the way he is; he probably does know. But asking him is out of the question. He already cautioned me about getting too emotionally involved with his younger brother, advice I failed to heed. He'd know immediately that I've fallen for Jared, after assuring him I wouldn't.
Constance, then. Jared's mother seems to understand Jared very well. But...asking his own mother to share very intimate and personal things about her son with me, an outsider? No.
I scrub my body, rinse, and start on my hair. Squeezing excess water from it, I sigh, knowing the only way I'll get answers is from Jared himself. And it's up to him whether or not those answers are truthful, complete ones, and not the cryptic half-answers he's prone to giving.
My hair isn't even dry yet when Jared calls out over the intercom that Flora and Magda have arrived. I glance quickly at the clock; it's not even eleven. I quickly tie the damp mess back and hurry to the front of the house. Shelby has gone to Tyrell's, and they're spending the day swimming in Jared's pool. She's also informed me that Jimmy's barbecuing later on so she won't be accompanying me with Flora for lunch. Since Jimmy and Ty aren't by any definition vegan or even vegetarian, I envy her.
I slow at the entrance to the front living room as I hear voices from the foyer, and then they appear. Jared, who in the last week has gotten very adept with his crutches, nimbly hops down the three steps into the living room, followed by Magda in his customary outfit of black button-down shirt and gray pants. Next to him is Flora DuSchene. Her Native American heritage is evident in her olive skin, straight black, shoulder-length hair, her high cheekbones and her wide-spaced dark eyes. She's dressed expensively casual, with designer jeans hugging her slender curves and a boat-necked yellow tee that looks very good with her coloring. A brown and gold bag is slung over her shoulder.
All three of them look...not upset, exactly, but...tense. There's an charged undercurrent in the air that's palpable. Like something's wrong.
"It's so weird to see you like this," Flora tells Jared, and I immediately recognize the Northern Minnesota accent that Southern California hasn't erased. "Are you doing okay? Isn't it making you crazy?"
"If I didn't have Lanie, it would've by now, yeah." His eyes drift to me, standing uncertainly in the doorway. There's none of the usual lighthearted banter in his voice, and his eyes are dark and troubled. "And here she is. The woman who along with her little girl I owe my life to, who've kept me sane. Plus Lanie gives the best back massage I've ever had in my life. Lanie, this is Flora DuSchene. Flora, meet Lanie McCarty."
"Hi," I say somewhat shyly. I step down into the living room, feeling small and grubby in the presence of this beautiful, well-put-together woman, and I'm still wondering what's wrong. Something definitely is, and the way the three of them are looking at me, whatever's wrong has to do with me.
"Lanie. Oh, my God. It really is you. I recognize you from the photos all over the place." Flora looks me up and down, glances from Jared to Magda and back to me again.
"What?" I whisper, feeling faint as a cold spot forms and grows in the pit of my stomach. "What do you mean? What photos all over the place?"
"Everyone in Soudan is talking about the two of you, and your ex after what happened," Flora explains. "Thank God you're okay and that he never found you."
The cold spot grows bigger. "What's going on?"
Flora glances at Jared and Magda again and her eyes when they meet mine are sympathetic. "McCarty Camp—" she stops and bites her bottom lip, hugging her arms around herself.
I feel the cold dread snake through my body. "What about McCarty Camp?"
The sympathy in Flora's eyes deepens. "The feds were tipped off that there was a big meth operation going on there. They were going to raid the place, but before they could, people think Todd either got wind of it or maybe he did it out of revenge on you for taking Shelby from him, I'm not sure but—"
"What happened to my camp?" I breathe. My voice, like the rest of me, is frozen.
Flora grimaces. "It's gone. Burned down. Everything. The house, the cabins, the boats, every single building was leveled, and most of the woods caught fire, too. As remote as you are, it took awhile for the fire department to get there. By the time they did..." she shakes her head. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, Lanie."
There's screaming in my head, but I can't speak. I'm numb. I can't feel anything right now. Not horror, not anger, not grief. There's one emotion churning like acid inside me I can define, though, and that's guilt.
I shouldn't be surprised. I've known for a long time that Todd is more than capable of hitting me where it hurts most, and this time he scored a bullseye. But the worst part is that I failed my father. He trusted me with McCarty Camp enough to leave it to me in his will. Within a year of his death it became the epicenter of a drug ring. I left it, and Todd destroyed it.
"Lanie?" Jared moves to my side and slips an arm around me. "Are you okay?"
No. No, I'm not okay. The one place on earth where I felt like just being me is good enough, all of my father's love and hard work, all of the countless precious memories, everything I've held dear to me, is gone. And Shelby...God, how can I tell Shelby that her own father did something this horrible?
"I...I'm okay," I murmur, lifting my chin and swallowing the primal scream in my throat. "Are...are the authorities looking for Todd?"
Flora nods. "Yes. And for you and Shelby."
I let out a sharp laugh. "For kidnapping my own kid and leaving the state, I suppose."
Jared's arm around me tightens, and Flora shakes her head. "No. They want to build a case against Todd, and believe you hold key information that'll help." She glances at Jared. "Also, with him on the run, no one knows where he is or what he might do. Under normal circumstances I can't imagine how he'd find you here, but Jared's a public figure, everything he does and everyone he does it with is news, so..." she trails off, but the implication is as clear as if she shouts it.
I steal a glance at Jared. He stares back at me. "No. Don't even go there, Lanie," he murmurs. "I can see what you're thinking, plain as day."
Magda clears his throat. "Jared, I feel under the circumstances, it would be wise to beef up your security detail. Jimmy can't be everywhere at once."
"Oh, God," I murmur, rubbing my eyes. "Wouldn't it be wiser, not to mention safer for Jared if Shelby and I just—"
"No!" the word rings out sharply, making me jump. I turn and stare at Jared. He lets his arm drop from my shoulder and his hands grip his crutches tightly. His voice softens as he continues, "Lanie, I told you when I asked you to come to L.A. that you're safe here, that I can keep you safe. And I will." He looks at Magda. "Yeah. Do it. I want you to round up a team of security. Get with Jimmy, coordinate the details, and let me know what you come up with. I want this done right now."
"You got it." Magda nods and hurries out the front door. I watch his form pass before the windows as he heads toward Jimmy's house in the back of the compound.
"I'm so sorry," Flora says again. She approaches me, her eyes solemn. "This isn't the way I'd hoped to meet you, but when I found out exactly who you were I knew I needed to see you as soon as I got back. Magda's right, you know. From what I heard on my visit home, your ex-husband really is out of his mind."
I cast my eyes to the worn tile floor. "He was bad enough after he got out of the army. Paranoid, angry, suspicious of everyone and everything, and sometimes he got violent. But that was nothing compared to when he got on meth. He went completely crazy then."
"It's an epidemic there," Flora sighs. "Even little tiny Soudan has a meth problem. Now heroin's moving in, too."
My knees feel weak and I move to a nearby chair where I sit with my head in my hands. This is the one thing I've feared since the night I went to Todd's trailer, gun in hand, ready to battle to the death for my daughter. We got away that night and for all the nights since, making it all the way to Los Angeles and into Jared's home. But how much longer do we have? And I've pulled other people, innocent people, into this mess.
"Lanie?" Jared's voice is gentle, as is his touch as he strokes my hair. I lower my hands and look up at him. "I know you're shaken up right now, but I think you should still go have lunch with Flora. Nothing's going to happen in the next few hours and you've been cooped up in here with me. You need to get out and chill a little bit. Go see the city. Have some fun."
"Fun." the word comes out harsher than I intended, and I draw a ragged breath. "I'm not sure I can eat anything. And this place is gigantic. I'd hardly call being here 'cooped up'."
Jared gives me a half-smile. "Yeah, well, I want you to go enjoy yourself for a change. You've earned it. You need it." He looks over at Flora and gives her an almost imperceptible nod. "I'll be in the studio with the guys, and I'll see you when you get back. I look forward to it." He bends then, balanced precariously on one foot and his crutches, and kisses my cheek before leaving the room.
I watch him go, and then turn to Flora. "Would you like to meet Shelby?" I ask.
"I was just going to ask if I could," Flora agrees. "Where is she? In the tower?"
"She's in the pool, swimming with Jimmy's son, Tyrell." I get to my feet. "I still don't feel much like lunch, but I think Jared's right. I might as well get out and enjoy a little bit of L.A. while I still can without worrying about being recognized."
Flora shoots me a look of amusement as we step outside. "Oh, honey," she says, "after today you might not have to worry too much about that at all."
***
Yes! We're having lunch at a restaurant that serves actual meat! My appetite roars back as we're seated in a booth, menus placed in front of us. My mouth waters as I study the offerings and decide on a French Dip with roasted peppers and cheese. "Make that extra cheese," I add.
"Excellent choice. I'll have the same," Flora tells the waiter as we hand him our menus back. When he's gone, Flora grins across the table at me. "Not adapting too well to the vegan life, eh?"
"Honestly? Not really," I admit. "I was raised on wild game, for Christ's sake. Venison, grouse, duck, pheasant, along with the usual beef, chicken, and pork. The McCarty's are a long line of carnivores."
"Oh, I hear ya. And you can hardly be an Arrowhead girl without loving some beer-battered Walleye you caught yourself, eh?" Flora says. "I remember the big fish fries we had in the summer. Good stuff, that."
I smile back, flashing on a series of memories much the same as Flora's probably are, having been raised in similar environments. One memory stands out; that of my dad and I fishing in the canoe he and I made by hand when I was about twelve or thirteen. Hours spent hollowing out that big Norway Pine log, patiently carving the bow and stern to perfect symmetry, sanding it by hand, taking it out on short rides around the bay of the lake, catching crappies and sunfish...and then the smile fades, replaced with a deep, sharp pain as I remember. That canoe, like everything else I've loved my whole life, is gone. My dad, my home that's always been so much a part of my soul, our belongings, treasured photographs and mementos of those happy formative years, all ashes now.
The pain must be apparent in my face because Flora leans over and murmurs softly, "Listen, Lanie. I know it doesn't help much, but what's important right now is that you got away from him. You and your daughter are going to be fine. I've known Jared for a few years now, and he's a good guy. Kind of a mess sometimes, kind of a prima donna other times, but he's a very good guy. A lot better than most in this town. A whole lot better than the other actors and musicians I've had for clients, I'll tell you that much. I love him to pieces, and Magda's fiercely loyal to him."
"He is a wonderful man. I'm glad he's got good people like Magda around him," I agree.
"Yeah, I am, too. Though I might be a bit biased where Magda's concerned. So... tell me what happened in Arizona, how you found him. What I've heard is amazing. God, he really did almost die out there, didn't he?"
I tell Flora the story, our sandwiches arriving somewhere in the middle of it. We eat and I continue talking, Flora hanging on every word. Finally, I ask her, "So, how long have you been in L.A.?"
"About ten years now," she answers, dunking a piece of bun in her cup of au jus. "At first I was scared to death, like, how can some nobody native girl from the Minnesota northwoods make her mark out here?" she shakes her head. "It took awhile, but I got a few small jobs for TV commercials, basically as an assistant to an assistant to an assistant, you know? Worked fast food jobs to supplement my income, but it was still really tough making ends meet. Lots of hungry days back then. I always kept my bags packed, knowing in the back of my mind that I could always go home.
"But God, I didn't want to, Lanie. I really wanted to make it out here, I loved my work. There was nothing back in Minnesota for me career-wise, and so I sucked it up, kept eating ramen noodles, working my ass off, and making connections everywhere I could. And then as they say, one thing led to another. My work got noticed, I got bigger jobs, and finally I unpacked my bags."
"The work you did on that tower for Shelby, and my bedroom, is incredible," I praise her. "Shelby's over the moon about it, as you could tell when you met her."
Flora's smile broadens. "It was my pleasure. I don't think I ever enjoyed a project as much as that one. Jared gave me complete free reign and I just went with what felt right. I'm glad Shelby loves it as much as I loved designing it." She sits back and sips her water. "And you like your bedroom too?"
"Oh, my God, yes. It's so peaceful, so calm and serene. Jared thinks so, too. He says every morning when he wakes up he feels—" I stop, horrified. "I—I mean—" oh, shit. Oh. Shit. Flora's eyebrows are up, her eyes are wide, and my foot is firmly entrenched in my mouth. And there's no graceful way out of this one.
"Well, well, well," Flora's smile is huge. "I didn't know how to ask, and really, I didn't have to, did I?"
My hand shakes a little as I pick up my water glass and drink to hide my discomfiture. "Ask what?"
"Oh, there's a teensy chance I'm reading it all wrong so you know what, I will just say it, Minnesota girl to Minnesota girl. Are you in love with Jared?"
I squirm in my seat. "I—you...really shouldn't ask me that."
"But I just did ask you that. You don't have to answer, and by that I mean you really don't have to answer because I can see it with my own eyes."
I sigh, giving up. "Great. It's that obvious, huh?" I'm more than mortified...if Flora can see into me that easily after knowing me a whole what—hour? Then it might as well be written in neon across my forehead.
"Hey. You're not the only one with their heart on their sleeve," Flora pauses while the waiter stops and tops off our ice water. When he's gone, she leans forward again, a conspiratorial grin on her face. "I've known him long enough, seen him with other people and by that I mean women. Now, I've never been much of a gambler, but if I was, I'd bet my next three design projects that Jared is in love with you."
"No, he's not." I toy with the stem on my water glass, turning it in my fingers. "He cares about me and about Shelby especially, yes." I look up at Flora. "Don't judge by quick appearances. He's grateful to us, and we're good friends. But that's not love."
"No, he's different with you. I could see it instantly. I know I've only seen you together for a few minutes, but it's not only me, Lanie. Magda thinks so, too." She peers intently at me. "Now, I couldn't be happier, because Jared needs a woman like you in his life, a down-to-earth girl who won't take him for everything she can, a woman who loves him for himself and not because he's famous and can boost her career. Magda wouldn't say anything to him because, well, Jared's his boss and it wouldn't be appropriate. But I'm his friend, and I've told him countless times that he deserves better than what he's allowed himself."
"He's a complicated guy," I murmur. "It's hard to know what he's thinking sometimes. But he's not in love with me, Flora. That much I know."
"What makes you say that?" Flora wants to know.
I pick up a french fry and nibble on it, not meeting her eyes. "We sleep together, but we're not...sleeping together, if you know what I mean. He's made it clear we aren't going to, and it has nothing to do with his broken leg." I pause, knowing I'm saying more than I should. "But he'll sleep with other women. He said so. Point blank."
Flora sighs. "Yeah, Jared's got a pretty voracious appetite. His reputation is legendary. But that's just it, Lanie. That's proof right there that you're special to him."
"Special?" I counter. "How does that make me special?"
Flora digs into her bag and produces her phone. "Okay, fine. Proof. You want proof?" She wakes the screen, taps it a few times, and then exclaims, "Ah, yes! This one's perfect! It's from early this morning. Here you go." She hands me the phone.
I take the phone and look at it. Displayed is a photo of Jared in my bed, hair messy, eyes heavy-lidded, with a small, almost self-conscious smile. The caption on it reads, True healing starts from the inside.
"Where'd you get this?" I ask, handing the phone back to her. "Did he send it to you?"
"Nope, it's on his Insta."
"Insta?" I look at her blankly.
"Instagram." At my uncomprehending stare, Flora cocks her head. "Wait. You don't know what Instagram is? Snapchat? Twitter? Facebook, for crying out loud?"
"No. Well, I've heard of Facebook and Twitter, but—"
"Oh, my God. Social media, honey. It's how Jared...how everyone...communicates with the world!" She stares at me like I've got two heads. "I cannot believe in 2017 I've met someone who's never used social media. You really have been off the grid."
"I know," I mumble. "But I've never had any interest in computers or these newfangled cell phones, never saw the need for it. Todd used the internet to communicate with other militia and prepper groups, but he never allowed me or Shelby access to it."
"Well, this photo of Jared has gone out to about nine and a half million people. Along with a bunch more pics and videos. He's been snapping and tweeting since he got out of the hospital, keeping The Echelon up to date on his progress, and with every photo or status update he's always hinting around stuff like this. Like there's something...or someone...who's been there for him, someone who means the world to him."
"Wait...did you say The Echelon?"
Flora's eyebrows shoot up. "The fans of Jared and 30 Seconds to Mars are called The Echelon. You didn't know that, either?"
I shake my head. I know they have a song called Echelon, but... "See, this all proves my point. He hasn't told me any of this."
"What do you think this caption means, then?" Flora gestures with the phone. "True healing starts from the inside."
"I think you're reading too much into it," I say and concentrate on my sandwich. But for some reason, it's not sitting as well as I'd thought. Perhaps all these days of veganism have changed my taste buds or something, but the meat is too rich, too...too meaty. I set the sandwich down half-eaten and focus on the rest of my fries, instead.
"If you don't want any more, I'll take the rest of that home to Wilson. He's our Cocker Spaniel," Flora offers. I gladly hand over my plate to her and she requests a carry-out box from a passing waiter. "Just as well you didn't stuff yourself, anyway," she continues as she places her credit card in the black folder containing the bill. She hands it to the waiter when he comes back to the table with the carry-out box. "We've still got lots of things to do."
"We do?" I ask. "Like what?"
"You'll see," Flora says with a little smile.
***
"Oh, my God," I breathe, staring at myself in the mirror almost three hours later. In the reflection a total stranger moves her mouth as I add, "I don't even recognize myself."
Flora slings an arm over my shoulders. "You're beautiful, Lanie. Not that you weren't before, I mean...any idiot could see that you're naturally beautiful...but wow. A cut, a splash of color, new clothes, makeup, and voila, Lanie McCarty goes from beautiful to a total knockout." She glances at the stylist hovering in the background, then leans over a little, whispering, "Jared's going to shit himself, and I mean that in the best possible way."
I continue gazing at my reflection, trying to wrap my head around the fact that the woman gazing back is me.
The changes aren't huge, not if I look at them one at a time. My hair, which fell well below my waist before, has been cut—a good eight inches is gone off the back, and the dreads are gone, too. I feel a little sadness at that and tell myself it isn't because Jared's always liked to play with them when we lay in bed at night. But they were growing out and in terrible condition.
A cut, highlights and lowlights added to give the plain ash blonde a multi-dimensional depth, and styled very simply with a few curls here and there, nothing extravagant. I find I like it a lot, even though it's certainly not the way I'm used to wearing it.
Then there's the makeup.. I haven't worn makeup in years. Not since college, and only sporadically then. It feels weird, like there's a slippery mask on my face, even though Flora insists that the makeup artist used a light hand. It sure doesn't look or feel like it.
On top of the salon and the clothes, there was the spa treatment. Oh, my God, women actually put themselves through this willingly? My legs were coated in wax which was then ripped off along with scads of hair. Ditto my underarms. My eyebrows, too. Gritting my teeth, I went along with each of these, but I absolutely balked at the Brazilian wax once I found out what it was. Oh, hell, no. No, no, and never.
"Women do it all the time," Flora encouraged when I flatly refused. "Yeah, it's not the most enjoyable thing that your girl bits have ever experienced, but you do get used to it. Sometimes beauty is pain. Seriously. Come on, Lanie, do it this one time, just so you can say you did."
Yeah. Well, I can now say I've had a Brazilian wax. I can also say I'll never have another. I have a high pain threshold but my God! I can't believe women do this stuff to themselves on purpose.
And finally, the clothes. As soon as I looked around and realized we were on the famed Rodeo Drive I protested, but Flora wasn't hearing of it. And so we went shopping in some of the stores I'd heard so much about. I felt a little like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, entering these upscale, elegant stores knowing I have no business in them. But Flora was adamant, and I reluctantly tried on a few things, all the while hoping to spot a clearance rack somewhere full of jeans and t-shirts. Of course there weren't any.
Fortunately, Flora agreed that the bulk of my purchases should be practical, casual attire, and I willingly bought jeans and t-shirts, though the prices were enough to make me a little nauseous. But there were a few things she insisted I need "because every woman needs them." Like a little black dress. Like heels. Like lingerie. The fact that I've made it this long without any of them falls on deaf ears.
"That black cocktail dress is divine," Flora gushes now. She hurries to the pile of bags on the sofa in the salon and returns with the dress. "Look at this." She holds it up in front of me. "Lanie, you're totally stunning. And those heels you got to go with this dress? Oh, my God, yes. Sexy as hell."
No, the price tag on the dress is stunning. And the heels Flora found to go with the dress? Sexy? I'll wobble around like a newborn calf in those things. I can't believe I let Flora talk me into buying this stuff.
Well, I reflect as we leave the salon and haul my things to Flora's car, I didn't buy any of it. Jared did and I'm going to strangle him when I get home. If he knows me at all, he should know that I'm not a girly-girl. I'm not stunning, I'm certainly not sexy, and I don't have a clue how to be even if I want to—even if Jared wants me to. New clothes and hairstyle or not, I'm just me, and I don't know how to be anyone else. And I don't want to be anyone else.