Serpentine Walls (23 page)

“Yeah, it’s a mishmash of emotions,” Pete started but was interrupted by Aidan.

“A mishmash! I like that.” He turned to Parker. “You’re brilliant at playing mishmashes.”

Pete stuck his tongue out at Aidan, who laughed and lounged farther back in his seat, the picture of ease.
And hotness
, Pete thought.

“Cease and desist,” Parker told Aidan with a smile.

“I think he’d be sad about his parents,” offered Brooke, who was playing the mother. She was a friend of Matthew’s and had a thoughtful way about her. “But he wouldn’t be surprised.”

“But happy, or—maybe ‘happy’ isn’t the right word. Proud. Proud of himself for telling the truth.” Parker wrote something on his script.

“As I read it,” Matthew said, sprawled in the seat next to Pete’s, “the entire thing is like a coming-of-age story. Each time Gregory faces down one of his dragons, he claims more of his power.”

There was a silence as the seven cast members seated around the table absorbed this.

“What he said,” Pete added, and everyone laughed.

“That’s very Jungian,” John commented from his seat in the corner, where he was taking notes for the production end of things.

“Huh?” Kyle’s handsome face wrinkled in confusion. He was playing the father. Pete wasn’t sure who had recruited him, but he seemed like an okay actor, if not all that bright.

“Don’t mind him,” Pete said to Kyle. “It means he likes it.”

“Okay.” Parker put down his pen. “I’ve got enough on the parents’ scene. On to the scene with the girlfriend.”

“I’m glad you didn’t make Sandy a bitch,” Halie said. Aidan knew her from the theater department, and her sweet blonde looks were perfect for the part. “The bitchy girlfriend of the closeted gay guy is such a cliché.”

“She’s not a bitch, but what’s going on with her that she was willing to take Gregory on face value for so long?” asked Aidan.

Brooke leaned forward. “Well, given her upbringing in the South and the whole fundie Christian culture, maybe Sandy couldn’t conceive of her boyfriend being anything other than straight.”

John piped up again. “The psychological term is denial.”

“Thank you, Dr. Jung,” Aidan said and laughed when John frowned at him.

“Pretty sure denial is a Freudian term, though,” Lee said. Pete had been glad when Lee had agreed to play the pastor. He, Pete, and Aidan all got along well in octet, and Lee was an excellent actor.

“But back to the scene.” Matthew stared at the rest of them with a mock-stern expression.

“Oh,
that
,” Aidan joked and resumed reading his script.

Despite his worry over Angie, Pete couldn’t stop smiling as he watched the conversation. It was the coolest thing to hear all of them pondering his script and fleshing out the characters. Cool but strange, because the characters weren’t his anymore.

“I have the best idea for Sandy’s costume,” said Elle, who sat on the floor, cross-legged on a cushion.

Pete directed his smile to her. She was Parker’s best friend and was playing the “archetypal dream figure,” which fit her ethereal looks and offbeat personality. She and Parker had also appointed themselves the costume directors and makeup artists for the production.

Before Elle could elaborate, however, Matthew said to Pete, “Hey, it’s been over an hour. How about we take a break now before we do the Sandy-Gregory scene?”

“Good idea.” Pete pushed back his chair. “Okay, all, let’s take a break so you can do important things like pee and check your phones. Be back in ten.”

Pete stood and stretched as the room emptied of everyone but Aidan, who appeared to be lingering so he could talk to him.

“Did you survive the holidays okay?” Aidan asked.

“Yeah, barely. How ’bout you?”

“The first part was so-so. But London was great.” A small smile escaped Aidan’s lips.

“London sounds—” Pete’s phone buzzed with a call from Brian, and Pete held up one finger to Aidan as he answered. “Brian? How is she? Okay. Thanks for being there. I should be home by six thirty or seven o’clock.” He hung up, muttering, “I really want to kill Professor R,” before remembering Aidan.

“So it was Rodney she was seeing.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Pete’s anger at Professor R surged back full force. “You’re not? I had no clue. What a fucked-up situation.”

“Yeah. But it happens more often than you’d think.” Aidan shrugged.

Pete couldn’t believe how casual Aidan was being. “I thought he was gay. He came on to me.”

“He swings both ways. All ways. Rodney’s—what can I say? He’s an original.”

“An
original
? The guy’s a fucking predator!” He was surprised to see Aidan flinch at the word.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m pretty sure all the sex is consensual.”

“
Consensual
?” Kyle and Brooke came back into the room, and Pete lowered his voice to a whisper. He knew he should let it go, but Aidan’s studied nonchalance was beginning to infuriate him. “He’s a professor! He’s hitting on his students!”

“I know. I was the one who told you, remember? I need to pee.”

Pete followed him out, still seething. “Some people might be able to deal with that, but Angie had a huge crush on him. I know it wasn’t casual to her. She has one date and thinks it’s happily ever after. And they’re sleeping together? Jesus.”

“It’s probably over by now. He never stays with anyone for long.” Aidan didn’t look at him as they strode down the hall.

“Yeah, it sounded pretty over from what I heard. You—” He stopped himself.

They had reached the restroom door, and Aidan paused. “What were you going to say?”

“Nothing. I’ll see you back in the room.” Pete had cut off saying,
You aren’t still mixed up with him, are you?
because he knew the answer. Aidan being in London over break had to mean Professor R.
Not my business
, he told himself, remembering John’s warning to stay out of it.

As if summoned, the restroom door opened and John emerged. He cut his eyes from Pete to Aidan and then held the door ajar for Aidan to enter.

“Dr. Jung,” Aidan said with a gracious nod before disappearing into the bathroom.

John let the door close. “Going my way?” he asked Pete, and Pete fell in step with him on the way back to the classroom.

“You were right,” he muttered to John. “Aidan’s bad news.”

“What’s up? He didn’t call you adorable today?”

Pete winced, regretting telling John about Aidan’s text. Aidan’s sporadic gestures didn’t mean anything. Why couldn’t he remember that? “No, he’s being fucking cavalier about Professor R and Angie.”

“Oh.”

“He sees no problem with it and—” They had reached the room. “I’ll tell you later. It pissed me off.”

“Okay, dude.”

A
FTER
the read-through, the whole group adjourned to Max’s for dinner. Pete got a text from Brian as they were walking there, saying he was leaving to go to a study group but that Angie had said to tell Pete she was “fine,” and he debated with himself whether or not to go right home. His rumbling stomach won the argument.

At the end of the meal, while they were waiting for Sadie to bring the bill, Matthew and Parker were already planning the next activity, which included karaoke and alcohol at their place. Max’s was hopping, and Sadie had to get around several groups of people to make it to their table. “Here you go, guys.” She slapped down the bill with a wink and moved on to the next table.

Pete checked his share and put down some money. “Thanks, everyone,” he said, getting up. “You guys rock.”

A sound of protest went up from the group, and Parker said, “You’re not leaving us? Aren’t you coming over to the blue house for karaoke?”

“Yeah, Pete.” Aidan pouted. “We need to do ‘Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone’ again.”

Pete tore his eyes from Aidan’s pouting lips. “I wish I could, but I have to get home. Hey, you guys were awesome today. I can’t wait to shoot this movie.”

Matthew stood up. “I’ll walk with you.” He turned to the group at the table. “See y’all at the blue house. Drinks on us.”

“Call me, Pete.”

Pete nodded at John, knowing he was referring to Angie. He and Matthew left the diner and walked along Rugby Road in silence. Pete was grateful for Matthew’s comforting presence. He was coming down from the exhilaration of the read-through and thinking ahead to the scene that awaited him at home with Angie, and he yawned, hit with a wave of exhaustion.

“Tired, huh?” Matthew asked. “How do you think it went today?”

“Really well. It’s pretty wild.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like, hearing people discuss my characters and how they interpret the story. I wasn’t sure how much I should be controlling or, you know, explaining. So I just let them go with what they were getting out of it.”

“I know what you mean. It’s a strange thing for a writer—it’s like losing control over your creation because now it’s in the hands of other people.”

“Um-hm. Although I’m the director too, so I’ll still have some control.”

“Oh, yeah. If the actors actually listen to you, that is.” Matthew winked at him.

“Dude, stop making me worry.”

“It’ll be fine. I got your back, homie.”

“Yo.” Pete couldn’t suppress his grin. “I still can’t believe I’m actually doing this!”

Matthew grinned back. “Believe it, son.”

They had reached Pete’s street corner, and they paused on the sidewalk.

“Thank you again, man.”

“Anytime. Hey, I hope Angie’s okay.”

Pete sighed. “Me too.”

Matthew opened his mouth to respond and then hesitated. Finally, he said in a low voice, “I think I know what’s going on, because I’ve been seeing it happen for years. Someone needs to report his ass and stop him once and for all.”

“So you know about Professor R.”

Matthew pressed his lips together in a grim line, then said, “Who doesn’t?”

“Did you and he ever…?”

“God, no. Never.” Matthew made a disgusted sound. “He preys on the innocent. I’m sorry Angie got caught up in his web.”

Pete clenched his jaw. “The guy’s a fucking menace. That he would do that to Angie, of all people.” He felt ill, thinking of how Angie had been at the beginning of the year, bubbly and excited, and how she was now, crying and heartbroken.

“I know.” Matthew’s eyes rested on him, full of kindness and concern. He put a hand on Pete’s shoulder, and they gazed at each other. “I wish….”

I wish you’d hold me. No, stop thinking that.
Pete cleared his throat, and that seemed to snap Matthew out of it. He dropped his hand and took a step back.

Pete shoved his own hands into his pockets. “Thanks again. I wish I could come karaoke with you, but I’ll be there in spirit, Tammi.” He was trying for jovial, but the atmosphere between them felt charged and slightly dangerous.

Matthew took another step back. “We’ll try to carry on without you, Marvin.” His smile fell far short of its usual brilliance. He added in a softer voice, “Let me know if I can do anything.”

“You already are.”

They exchanged one glance, stripped bare of pretense, and then Pete turned and started to hurry down the sidewalk as if the wolves were after him.

T
HE
apartment was dark. Pete shut the door quietly in case Angie was asleep and then rubbed his wind-chapped hands together. He went into the kitchen and started the burner under the teakettle. A sound came from the living room. Peering around the doorway, he was just able to make out a form on the couch.

“Angie?”

Silence.

“That you?” It couldn’t have been anyone else, unless Brian had stayed over instead of going to his study group. His heart sank when he heard a small sniffle, and he walked in, turning on a lamp.

Angie lay on the couch surrounded by a sea of crumpled tissues, a box of Kleenex on the floor. An empty Ben & Jerry’s ice cream container rested sideways on the coffee table, spoon sticking out. Her eyes were closed, her face red and swollen. He sat on the edge of the couch and touched her arm, struck with guilt for having gone out to dinner instead of coming straight home.

“Hi,” Angie said, voice small. She didn’t open her eyes.

After patting her arm for a moment, he got up. “Be right back.” He went to the bathroom, dampened a washcloth with cool water, and brought it out to her. “Here. Put this on your face.”

Angie sat up slowly, took the washcloth, and buried her face in it. She looked so defenseless, hunched over in her dorky flannel robe with the yellow duckies, that Pete wanted to murder Professor R. He stroked her hair, silently cursing, until a piercing whistle recalled him to the teakettle.

“Be right back,” he repeated as he stood up. “Don’t go anywhere.” He was rewarded with a small sound that approached a laugh.

When he emerged from the kitchen, two mugs of herbal tea in his hands, Angie had removed the washcloth from her face. She attempted a smile and accepted the mug he offered. Settling on the couch next to her, Pete watched as she blew on the tea and then sipped. Her silence was unnerving. Angie usually talked the way other people breathed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he finally asked.

She stared into her mug and sighed. “Not really. But it’s been hell not telling you anything. I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long.”

“So, you and Professor R…?” he prompted, after she lapsed into silence again.

“We were having a relationship.” Eyes filling with tears, she put down the mug and grabbed another Kleenex. “Damn it. I need to stop crying over that bastard.”

Pete wanted to cry himself at the way Angie had phrased it:
having a relationship
. No hookups for his girl Angie.

She blew her nose and sat back with an angry huff. “Feel free to say ‘I told you so.’”

“No, Ang,” he said, thinking of her angry defense of Professor R just a few months ago. “It’s not your fault. When did all of this happen?”

“Things got… physical in October. But he’d been paying attention to me since the beginning of school. He—it’s like he singled me out from the start. He was advising me on my independent study, but then we’d sit in his office and talk about everything. I thought—he seemed to—he started making me these amazing dinners at his place and said all these nice things, and I believed him.”