Grace, I have looping today. I should be home by 3:00. Out to dinner?

Last night was…I have no words. Jack

There was a little arrow at the bottom, indicating I should turn it over.

There was one more line:

I'm leaving you with just a little schmaltz: schmaltz

I laughed through my tears.

Chapter Eighteen

That morning I spent putzing around. Jack was going to be looping, and I took the opportunity to get caught up on some of the stuff that I had let fall behind while we were in the cocoon.

I got caught up on the freelance project I was finishing. I could work on some smaller projects from New York, but with the salary I would be making, I could essentially stop freelancing.

I was going to be able to support myself as a working actor for the first time in my life, and I almost had to pinch myself to believe it.

I also started packing, deciding what I would send ahead to New York and what I would bring to my new house. Shit. There was still so much I had left to do and hardly any time to do it. I could feel myself beginning to panic a little.

I needed to drop the voiceover class I had just signed up for. I needed to switch my Martha Stewart subscription to New York. Crap, I didn't even know where I was living yet.

I needed to go shopping. I was out of deodorant and I needed some string cheese. And I had promised the Brit I would pick up some mother-flippin Chex Mix.

I needed…I needed…

Settle Grace…

I needed to do laundry. I grabbed the hamper and sat on the floor, making piles around me while I took some deep cleansing breaths. As I was sorting, I noticed that Jack had snuck some t-shirts into the hamper. Now I was doing his laundry? I smiled to myself, thinking of him silently throwing these shirts into my hamper, probably smirking as he did it, knowing that I would call him out on it later. He was so cute when he was smirking. I pressed each of the shirts to my face in turn, inhaling his sweet scent.

I looked around my room, where we had spent so much time over the last few days.

His guitar. An errant Melba toast. His jeans, thrown across the back of my chair. A Felicity DVD; he really was sweet to indulge my Ben Covington fetish. His stupid ball cap which, to his credit, he had not worn in my presence.

I picked up the ball cap. I stared at it, thinking of how cute he was when I took it off his head and messed up his big curls, smiling the entire time.

Why was the ball cap wet?

I was crying. Big, giant, elephant tears were pouring down my face foolishly, relentlessly. I was over the moon happy to be moving to New York, but I was so sad to leave him that it was messing with my head…bad. How was it possible that I was in so deep already?

The phone broke me out of my sad-sackery. It was Holly.

"Hey, asshead," I said, sniffing up the last of my tears.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, why?"

"You've got that donkey voice, that's why."

"Donkey voice?"

"Yeah, when you've been crying, you sound like Eeyore."

I laughed aloud; I loved her so.

"Come on, meet me for coffee," she said.

"Don't you have to work, Holly?"

"Eh, all the Scientologists are on vacation. It's been a slow week."

***

She watched me pull into the Starbucks lot, waving at me while I looked for a spot. While I was putting the top up, I saw two guys check me out and I smiled. I was still not used to attractive men checking me out. Once a fat girl, always a fat girl in your head. Although, I knew I was glowing lately. Must have been the round the clock orgasms I'd been receiving. They always did wonders for a girl's complexion.

I walked up to the table where Holly was sitting outside, and smiled when I saw she had already ordered for me.

"Hey, dillweed, nice of you to order for me," I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and sinking into the chair across from her.

"Yes, I thought you could use some caffeine. Are you enjoying the view? You've spent so much time horizontal lately, be careful now."

"Who says we were only horizontal?" My face lit up at the thought of him, vertical, horizontal, or otherwise.

"I see…whore," she whispered, laughing at me as I sipped my drink.

"Holly, I have to tell you, with the way it's been already, you better get some earplugs for when we finally do the deed…"

"What? Wait…he hasn't even fucked you yet?" she asked, or rather yelled, judging by the curious faces of everyone sitting outside at Starbucks. My face burned as brightly as my hair as I looked on apologetically.

"No. Jesus."

"How the hell is that possible? Furthermore, how the hell is that possible? All that screaming and moaning and groaning and grunting and thrashing about that you've subjected me to, not to mention the hole in the wall behind your headboard, and no—"

"…dick, I know. No actual dick, yet." I finished her sentence, hiding my face in my hands. Then I looked up with a curious expression. "There's a hole in the wall behind my headboard?" I smiled at the thought.

"Yes, I noticed there was drywall on the floor of my closet, so I went into your room and saw it. It's being patched next week. Although, now I have a newfound respect for young Mr. Hamilton. All that yelling with no actual penetration, no bang bang?" she cried, her eyes wide. "So, then when is this momentous occasion going to happen?" she asked, still in awe that I had yet to ride the lightening.

"I don't know. I wanted to wait…and now I'm leaving in less than a week…I…I don't know."

"Wanted to wait? Get on the stick woman. Literally. Get. On. That. Stick!" she yelled.

"Dammit, Holly, I know. It's not like I don't want to. I just wanted it to be special, OK!" I sank back into the chair, looking miserable.

"Who are you? Blossom? Grace, you have a twenty-four-year-old man in your bed every single night and you are not letting him into the sanctuary? A man, by the way, that women all over the country are lining up to fuck the brains out of?"

"Believe me, he'll be let into the sanctuary! And thanks for reminding me about all those other women. That's a great visual for me to have when I'm walking around Manhattan. Can we please talk about something else?" I begged her to change the subject.

"Yes. Why were you crying earlier?" she asked, switching topics quickly. I grimaced and took a long pull on my Iced Mocha.

"I don't know. It has just been a whirlwind the last week and there are many different things banging around in my head. I'm so jazzed about this show, and you know I've always wanted to live in New York, even temporarily. And my house, I'm leaving it right as I was going to get to move in!"

"And?" she pushed me.

"And I backed out of the showcase. I feel terrible about that."

"And?"

"And, I will miss you, of course…you're like my Dirty Martini Bitch," I said, my eyes flashing warmly to her.

"And?" She smiled gently.

"Oh, God, and I don't want to leave my Brit…I mean, I really don't want to," I sighed heavily, my hands coming up to my hair and running through it.

"And why would that be exactly…" she asked one last time. I was quiet, chewing on my lip. Then my face broke out into a huge grin.

"Because I haven't gotten the dick yet?" I asked brightly. She couldn't help but laugh as she let me off the hook.

"Look, whether you want to say it out loud or not, it's obvious, Grace. And it's obvious to anyone with eyeballs that he feels the same way."