Nowhere but Here

  “You got it, Jer.” They both left my cubicle just as Annabel, the young research assistant, came in.

  “I guess you won’t be needing any of this. Congrats on the article,” she said as she plopped a stack of research on my desk.

  “Thanks. Sorry you did all of that for nothing.”

  “Yeah, this guy’s info was seriously buried. It took me forever just to find a picture of him. Someone must be a little paranoid.”

  “He probably invented some super amazing computer gadget to protect his identity. I really am very sorry.”

  “No worries, Kate. I like the angle you took on the piece, and if we ever want to run another article on him, we have a couple weeks’ worth of research here.”

  “Thanks.”

  After she left, I glanced down at the stack. My intention was to slide it entirely into the trash, but something caught my eye. It was an obituary from the Saturday before. The headline read: R. J. LAWSON SR., FATHER OF FAMED TECHNOLOGY INVENTOR, PASSES AWAY AT 68.

  I skimmed past the section on Sr.’s contributions to the world of aviation engineering to his relationship with R.J. It said he was survived by his only son, Ryan James Lawson Jr., an extremely private technology inventor and philanthropist. Just over a week after his father’s death, I was libeling him in a worldwide publication. I moved the article aside. The next piece of information was a spreadsheet of the organizations R.J. had donated to. It was in order from the largest donations to the smallest. At the top of the list, under his own foundation, was the American Diabetes Association, and underneath that was the GLIDE homeless shelter.

  My stomach began turning, but it completely dropped through the floor when I moved the spreadsheet to reveal a picture glued to a piece of paper. At the top, Annabel had written, R.J.’s graduation from MIT. Pictured here with his mother, Deborah.

  Underneath the picture there were more notes.

  It’s public record that R.J. was adopted as an infant. His adoptive mother, pictured here, was killed in a car accident four years ago. After reuniting with his biological parents, they tried to extort money from him. Both were given jail time. He has a biological sister in Boston, and even though he went to college and spends some free time there, he does not have a relationship with her. She testified in her parents’ favor at the short, unpublicized extortion trial.

  I looked at the picture in disbelief. It was the same picture I had seen on Jamie’s nightstand in the barn. Suddenly, I remembered the picture I had seen before going to the winery, the one of R.J. as a young boy at the science fair. That boy at the science fair and the young man at his college graduation were clearly the same person. Jamie. Even now, I had a hard time seeing them in the man I had spent several intimate days with. Jamie couldn’t be a computer genius—he didn’t fit the stereotype. And I had seen R.J. with my own eyes in an interview . . .

  I stood up on shaky legs and pushed my chair away. It can’t be. The room started spinning.

  Beth spotted me over the partition. “You okay?” I nodded and then sunk to my knees on the floor. I tore open my suitcase and began rummaging through all of the notes and papers I had shoved in there from my room at the winery. I looked at the sheet where I had taken notes from R.J.’s e-mail to me. When I thought back to what Jamie had told me about his life, it matched or somehow fit into the outline R.J. had given me.

  Giant puzzle pieces floating above my head started moving into place.

  Jamie: Ryan James.

  MIT: College on the East Coast.

  Building schools in Africa: Tribal tattoos. I’ve traveled a lot.

  Hands-on approach: I clean this pool, I can swim in it anytime I want.

  Me: Is this R.J.’s boat? Jamie: It’s my boat.

  Me: What’s your last name? Jamie: No more talking.

  Tears began falling onto the papers in my hand. I looked down at the smudge I’d created in Jamie’s handwriting. It was a note—one I hadn’t seen. The morning I had left, the maids had cleaned before I packed. They had gathered all of my paperwork into a pile, and this note, the note that could have changed everything, got lost in the mix somehow.

  Katy, my angel,

  I had to go to Portland. My father had a heart attack, and they don’t know if he’s going to make it through the night. Please don’t leave. If I can’t get back by tomorrow, I’ll send a car and get you a flight up here. Please, please don’t leave. I have something really important to tell you, besides the fact that I am completely in love with you.

  —J

  I sobbed loudly. Beth was hovering over me within seconds. “What’s wrong?”

  “J . . . Jamie is . . .”

  “What, Kate?”

  “Jamie is R.J.” I finally got it out.

  “You mean the guy, the one you fell for?”

  “Yes,” I groaned.

  “Well, then, who was the R.J. you met?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure?” I nodded. “So if Jamie is R.J., then the article . . .”

  “Oh my god, I thought he destroyed me, but I’ve destroyed him. He’s not that man.” I pointed to the article pinned to the cubicle partition. “He’s a good man with a big heart.” I sniffled. “He’s brilliant and he works so hard. How could I have not put it together?” I held the note up. “And on top of everything else, he’s in love with me!”

  “Shit, Kate. Why did he lie to you?” I swallowed back the lump taking over my throat. I stood and looked up at Jerry’s office, which sat perched above the bull pen. Jerry was standing at the large glass window, talking on the phone and staring down at me. He pointed to the receiver at his ear and mouthed, Lawson. He’s here. I flew toward the bathroom. Beth followed. She held my hair while I puked the entire contents of my stomach into the toilet.

  “You should go home. I’ll talk to Jerry.”

  “Thank you,” was all I could get out. I went back to my cubicle and grabbed my coat but left my suitcase and paperwork, except for the note. When I glanced up at Jerry’s office, I could see that Beth was already there, talking with a sober look on her face.

  I darted out of the bull pen and chose to use the service elevator, hoping to avoid Jamie, or R.J., or whoever he was. I beelined through the lobby, pushed both glass doors open forcefully, and headed out onto the street. I stopped within a few feet of the entrance when I spotted him. He was leaning against a concrete wall, looking down at his feet. He was wearing a black suit with a white dress shirt. The top buttons were undone and his hair was slicked back.

  His eyes were sad and shadowed with dark circles. I stuffed the note into my pocket and began to rush past him with my head down, hoping he wouldn’t see me.

  He stood up to block me. “Wait,” was all he said.

  I squared my shoulders and put my hand on my hip. “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “I flew straight here after my father’s funeral.” His voice cracked at the last second.

  “I’m sorry, Jamie . . . R.J. . . . whoever you are.” I had sympathy for him, for his loss and for the stupid article, but I was so hurt by his lies and the problems they’d caused. I turned to walk away. He grabbed my shoulders and turned me back toward him.

  “Everyone I know calls me Jamie. And I’m sorry, too, Kate.” He tried to pull me closer.

  I pounded my fists against his chest. “You’re a liar.” I started to cry. “You lied to me while I was naked in your arms. And the article . . . you made me a fraud, and you ruined my career.” I tried to pull away but he held me. “Why did you approve it?”

  “I didn’t. If I didn’t respond within forty-eight hours, he had a right to print it. It was in the contract.” He stepped away and looked down at his feet. “I was busy mourning the only family I had left.”

  Wiping the tears from my face, I stood up straight and regained my composure. “I am truly sorry
for your loss. I’m sorry for this whole big mess. I wish I had never gone out there. I wish I had never met you.”

  “How can you say that?” He gripped the outside of my arms and stared down at me with a desperate pleading in his eyes. “Do you really mean that?”

  “If you hadn’t lied to me, I wouldn’t have written a fucked-up fake article about you.” I yanked my arms out of his grip. “Who the hell was that guy I interviewed?”

  “His name is Bradley Reis. He’s a friend of Susan’s—or was, I should say. She thought he would fit the part.”

  “Fit the part?” I shook my head.

  “I know, it seems so stupid now. I didn’t want to give up my privacy. I wanted to be able to walk around the winery and just be myself, just be Jamie. I was afraid if I met with a reporter, everyone would know who I was and hound me.”

  “That’s not what would have happened.”

  “I panicked. Susan said all we had to do was write down information about the winery and Bradley would just try to avoid all the personal questions. I never liked him and shouldn’t have trusted him.” Jamie was staring at his shoes. “I don’t think he expected you to be so persistent. I think he thought he could charm you.” He looked up and smiled timidly.

  “Your little plan backfired, didn’t it? Now you’ve ruined your reputation and my career.”

  “Jerry said Beth could write a rowback.”

  “That’s great for you. Your name will be cleared, but I’ll still be out of a job.”

  “I’ll do whatever I need to do to make this right.” His eyes watered a bit and then he swallowed. In a low voice, he said, “Why did you leave?”

  “I didn’t see the note until today, but everything happens for a reason, doesn’t it?”

  I turned to walk away but he followed. “Katy, I know you don’t believe that.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I said without turning back. He grabbed my arm and swung me around. I gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Stop this now! This is crazy,” he growled. He searched my eyes, still holding my arm tightly. “Just stop and give me a fucking chance.”

  “You’re hurting me.” He let go instantly. “I barely know you. It was four days. Four days I wish I could get back,” I said in a calm, even tone.

  He straightened up and squared his shoulders. “You’re a liar.”

  “You’re the fucking liar.”

  “I don’t care about the article. They don’t need to correct it. You can call me a liar, an asshole, whatever you want, but I know that four days meant something to you. I don’t care about my reputation or the money. Nothing!”

  “What do you care about, Jamie? Making wine, singing karaoke, lying about who you are?” I continued walking quickly ahead of him.

  “I care about you.” His tone wasn’t soft; it was matter-of-fact, the way a person sounds when they’re telling an absolute truth.

  I turned on my heel and grabbed the lapels of his jacket. “Listen to me, Jamie. Do nothing. We are not meant to be. I live here and you live there. You are some insanely rich genius, and I don’t even own a car. I probably don’t have a job, either.” It was the first time I had seen him clean-shaven. I leaned up on my toes and kissed him softly then whispered, “You fucked with me. You fucked with us. And now we can never be.”

  He stared down at me, looking somber. “Just tell me one thing.”

  “What?” I seethed.

  “Am I the only one you think about?” Tears filled my eyes again. I put my head down quickly and turned to walk toward the L station. He didn’t move but instead shouted, “I won’t give up. The poets are right!”

  I got on the wrong train, so it took me an extra half hour to get home. When I entered my building, Jamie was sitting at the base of the stairs. He had ditched his suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He looked the part of the CEO millionaire for once, except for maybe the tattoos and his tanned skin.

  “Go home, Jamie.”

  He got up and followed me toward the elevator. “Kate, please. Let’s go get a coffee and talk about this.”

  “No.” I continued walking past him.

  “I thought I scared you off with the note. I thought maybe it was too soon for you, and then when I read the article I realized how upset you were.”

  “I told you, it doesn’t matter now. All of it is too fucked up. I thought you were someone else. I don’t even know you.”

  “You do know me. I’m the same person. I’m Jamie. Nobody cares who R. J. Lawson is. It’s just a name. You know the real me.”

  “I thought I knew you.” I stopped at the elevator.

  “I am so sorry. I know I should have told you before we . . .”

  I turned around, crossed my arms, and yelled, “What? Fucked?”

  Staring into my eyes, he moved toward me and touched his fingertips to my cheek. “Calm down, please.” He tilted his head and let his gaze drop to my mouth. “You know that’s not what we did.”

  “Yes it is. You said it yourself.” I pulled his hand away. “Please go home. We had a fling. It’s over now. Go. Home.” I stepped into the elevator and held strong until the doors closed and then I collapsed against the wall in sobs.

  I hit the button for the top-floor roof deck, but the elevator came to a stop on the fifth floor. Dylan and Ashley stepped in. I didn’t make eye contact with them.

  “You going to the roof, Kate?” He bent slightly to look at my face.

  I sniffled. “Just goin’ for a ride. The roof deck is all yours.”

  “You know Ashley, right?”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said.

  She seemed timid. “Same to you.”

  When the elevator doors opened, Ashley stepped out but Dylan remained inside. “I’ll be right back, Ash. I’m gonna walk Kate to her apartment.”

  Shaking my head frantically, I pushed against his back. “No, you guys go, I’m fine.”

  I held the open-door button and urged him to exit the elevator. “Kate, you are not fine. I can see how upset you are. Was it Stephen? I’ll kick his ass.” He pushed my hand away from the button and then kissed the air in Ashley’s direction. “I’ll be back in two minutes, babe.” She smiled longingly at him as the doors closed completely.

  When we reached the door of my apartment, he wrapped his skinny arms around me and tucked me into his chest. “Whatever it is you’re going through, I’m sorry.” I cried quietly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out three pills: two yellow and one blue. “Here, you can have these.”

  “What is it?”

  “They’re benzos.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Those two are Ativan and that’s Xanax.” He pointed to the blue pill. “They’ll relax you and help you sleep. Just take one at a time.”

  He dropped them into my hand. “Where do you get this stuff?”

  “From my grandma’s stash.”

  “That’s terrible, you being so young and . . . all of the drugs.”

  “It’s cute that you’re worried about me. I actually haven’t done any drugs in the last couple of days. Ashley makes me want to be sober.” He smiled coyly. “She’s like a drug to me.”

  “You’re sweet.” I pushed him toward the elevator. “Now go to the roof and make out with Ashley.”

  “Okay, see ya. Call me if you need anything, or if you just want to hang out,” he said as he walked away.

  I chased the blue pill with a large gulp of beer and the rest of the night was a blur.

  Page 13

  * * *

  Enterprise Copy

  A month went by before I started feeling normal again. I easily fell into the same old routine, except I was condemned to the Arts and Leisure section of the paper. I didn’t mind—at least Jerry hadn’t fired me. He understood that I had been duped b
y everyone at the winery. I got to see Will Ryan and his wife play in Chicago, and Jerry printed (without question) my very gleaming review of the concert. Beth ended up writing the rowback for the R.J. article. That’s when a newspaper tries to correct a story without indicating an error to begin with. She managed to imply that we were deceived, even though she didn’t say it outright. To our complete amazement, there was little response to my article or the rowback, so that was a relief. We realized that the whole thing was very dramatically blown out of proportion, thanks to my personal involvement with the subject. Still, Jerry and I agreed that it would be best for me to lay low until it all was completely forgotten. R. J. Lawson, whoever he was, fell easily off the radar once again, but the wine and winery didn’t stop getting praise. After my article ran, several Napa magazines featured full spreads of the Lawson winery and the gorgeous vineyard surrounding it. It continued to be recognized like it had been before, but R.J. the man was never mentioned in those articles. Jamie maintained his privacy after the rowback. I looked at each picture of the winery with a strange feeling, like I had never been there. My memories of that beautiful place had been tarnished.

  I never went to another gay bar with Beth, but we made a pact to have dinner once a week. True to her words at the Dogfather, she finally started dating someone seriously, and for the first time I was actually producing more words than her on the weekends. I’d march into work every Monday and lean over her cubicle and say, “I busted out eight thousand words.”

  She would always chuckle. “Yeah, but I got laid.”

  “That’s overrated,” I would say. Lying, of course.

  It was hard not to be happy for Beth and Jerry and Dylan, who had all managed to find their people, so I devoted myself to positively supporting all of their relationships. I added another houseplant to my apartment, along with a betta fish that I named Anchovy. Just getting a fish equaled more commitment than Rose had made in her whole life. I figured I was easily on my way to twenty cats. I wondered about Rose’s dream all the time. I still had it, but it would always end before she’d open her eyes. The terrifying and touching moments in the dream were gone, but the sadness remained.