Jade: Uneasy Lies the Head

I climbed to my feet, staring at the wild-haired, bald-domed hippie before me. The rain stung my eyes, or maybe it was the tears. But somehow amidst the noise and darkness and flashes of light, I felt a tingle deep in my chest. I was lighter. Just a little, as if I'd been burdened with the weight of a dozen boulders and one of them simply rolled off. My instincts took over and I fell against Sikowitz, pulling him into what had to have been the first hug I'd ever given him. I sobbed into his shoulder.

"Um…well…I'm sorry, miss," he said over my cries. "For a minute you looked like an old student of mine, but…she doesn't ever touch people unless she's going to hurt them."

"Shut up, you crazy hippie," I mumbled into his shoulder. His muscles relaxed and his arms surrounded me.

"That's the Jade I know."

We stood there in the pouring rain for I don't know how long. When my eyes finally dried up—figuratively, at least—and the last sob shook my shoulders, I gently released him and stepped back. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes were wide. I hadn't seen that look very often outside of Tori, so it took me a second to place it: concern. He was worried about me. I hadn't seen him in the better part of a decade and yet, he cared. He cared.

Suddenly I was back in that stuffy acting class at Hollywood Arts, my friends all around me, Sikowitz up front giving us advice or talking to us about something we'd all forget in half an hour. The weight of responsibility and adulthood lifted and for just those few moments, I remembered what it was like when there was hope for a bright future, when I didn't have to worry about deadlines and bills and interviews and my career and reputation and when I could just be myself with my friends. And Tori.

All that happened in the space of about five seconds.

"Jade, what are you doing out here? Don't you know they're calling for rain later?"

"Calling for…are you…?"

The man's face was as sincere as could be. It was exactly the sort of thing I'd expect him to say. It was just right. Just perfect. Just like it would have been a decade before. I did the only thing I could do.

I laughed.

Chrysler, I laughed so hard.

They're calling for rain later, he says…

Sikowitz seemed concerned at first. After all, seconds prior I had been bawling my eyes out on his shoulder. But after a few moments, his familiar, deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. A few more and he was laughing hysterically right along with me.

We must have looked like crazy people, laughing so hard at nothing as the torrential downpour soaked us to our bones.

In between his hearty chortles, Sikowitz caught his breath. "You know what's really funny?"

I shook my head, my wet hair flapping back and forth like limp pasta. "What?"

"I don't know why we're laughing."

That made me laugh harder. "You said they were calling for rain later."

"They are."

"Look around us, you nut! It's been pouring for half an hour!"

Sikowitz's quick eyes looked up. He took himself in, then took me in, then smacked his forehead. "Good Gandhi, you're right! Come on, my trailer's just over there. Quick, before my hair gets wet."

I followed my old, nutty teacher across the beach through rain so vicious I could barely even see. I felt water running under every bit of my clothes. My socks and shoes would take weeks to dry out. Hell, my ass might, too.

Oddly enough, I couldn't have been happier.

I was expecting something old, run-down, with carpet from the 70s and those brown-paneled walls that every grandparent still had in the house they built with their bare hands. Something like Mel Gibson's trailer from Lethal Weapon maybe, or the cabin from The Evil Dead.

Instead, I found a fairly modern, very swank RV home, the kind you see on those social media accounts of people who live in one and drive all over the country, bucking the system and living their best lives and all that.

"Damn, Sikowitz," I said as I slipped out of my soaked shoes. "Hollywood Arts must have thrown you one hell of a retirement party." I balanced against his front door and peeled my socks off next. My toes were already starting to wrinkle from being so waterlogged, though my purple and black pedicure remained firmly intact. It better, I paid enough for it.

Sikowitz too began peeling off his outer layers, which for him consisted of sandals and a tie-dyed overshirt. Blissfully, he stopped there.

"Oh, this isn't from the school," he said, hurrying past me. He disappeared down a narrow hallway for a moment, then emerged with a stack of towels. "No, I invested some of my savings into the Nature's Finest Foods corporation. They were a startup about eight years ago, but now they're the world's largest producer of–"

"Coconut milk."

Sikowitz clapped his hands together suddenly, and I nearly dropped the towel. "Bingo! You've heard of them?"

"Tori buys their sugar-free vanilla coconut milk to use in her coffee, so yeah, a little bit."

His grin was ear-to-ear. "Ah! Well, then I humbly thank you for your investment in my livelihood," he said, bowing dramatically and extending his arms out. "Because that stock has paid off like a six-legged racehorse on steroids."

"You bought this awesome RV with money you earned owning shares of a food company?"

"And I've got plenty of shares left."

I chuckled. "You could probably keep them afloat with just how much of their milk you buy."

Sikowitz drew himself up and made a strange face. "Are you kidding me? Their stuff is terrible. Tastes like…well, like tushy."

Tushy? Really?

"This isn't some crappy Dingo Channel sitcom. You can say it tastes like ass."

"Codswallop!" he proclaimed. "I've never sworn in front of my students, and I never will. Anyway, I only drink the good stuff."

Sikowitz danced into his kitchen and threw open the door to a surprisingly large pantry filled to the brim with coconuts.

"Of course."

"Care for one?"

"I really wouldn't. But if you've got some gin, I'd love some."

He shrugged and pulled a coconut out. "Gin goes great with coconut milk, you know."

"I'll take your word for that."

Sikowitz motioned for me to join him at his small kitchen table. He put down a towel for me to sit on and did the same for himself. A few seconds later, he slid me a glass of gin over ice, poured a bit into the narrow opening of his coconut, then sat.

"So you never did answer me," he said without his customary bluster. "What were you doing out there?"

I shifted in my seat and threw back the gin. The burn was welcome. "Just out for a jog."

"I see. So all of the stuff all over your eyes when I ran into you, that was…"

"Rainwater," I said quickly.

He wasn't buying it. He didn't push, but he wasn't buying it. "Fair enough," he said. "How's Tori?"

I drank again. I guess none of this was going to be easy after all. Everything about my life was a mess, so no matter what he asked about I'd have to contend with it.

"Great. She got a record deal with NuSound. She's in New York right now working on it."

This made him immeasurably happy. "It's about time she gets her voice out there," he said. "Why aren't you out there with her? Working on a movie?"

"I've got a better question," I said, desperate to change direction. "What the hell happened to Hollywood Arts? How long has it been shut down?"

Sikowitz took a long sip of his coconut milk. "You didn't know about that? It's a fairly recent thing. Well…it shut down and they sold the property in 2021. Took about two years for the new buildings to go up, which is impressive. Within a few years after you all left, things changed there. And not in a good way. I always taught you that art was about taking risks. Baring your soul. Saying something daring, getting people to think about things without beating them over the head with it—"

"And modern Hollywood is the opposite of that."

"Bingo. The students became unteachable. The standards for admission were lowered for three years straight. When we rejected people, their parents came after us with threats of lawsuits and calling everyone on-staff an -ist or a -phobe or worse. Helen left and they hired some stuffy legal specialist who changed all of our policies based on what was politically correct. We weren't allowed to do certain plays anymore if they contained 'problematic' characters or story themes. Or they'd hack the scripts to bits or rewrite them to change genders, races."

"Okay, I get it," I said. My shoulders were tight. My first was balled up. I dug my nails into my hands. "That makes me fucking sick." I realized what I'd said and shot Sikowitz an apologetic look. "Sorry."

"You're right. It makes me sick too. How can people who made heartbreaking movies about the Second World War and the Holocaust and all those terrible tragedies not recognize fascism? Do they think that just because the values they're pushing—inclusion, diversity—are inherently good that they can just take control of everything and force everyone to think like they do?"

There was just no escaping these things. I sighed. "I don't know. Doing the wrong thing for the right reason doesn't feel justified to me. I mean when I wrote my first feature—"

"Your thinly veiled life story disguised as a romance?"

I had to laugh. He wasn't wrong. "Yes. It was a lesbian love story. The girl gets the girl in the end. Didn't rip off anyone or reboot anything."

"It was very good. I was very proud of you when I saw that."

"I remember the card you sent."

"The card?" He seemed confused, but the light bulb came on after a second. "Oh! The card! I thought I'd lost it! I wondered for years where I'd put that."

An awkward silence grew between us.

"They came after me, Sikowitz."

I don't know why I said it. I didn't want to talk about it. I'd spent the entire day dealing with it. Running from it. Fighting with it.

"I know," he said gently. "And it's bullshit."

He was an odd duck but he knew how to make me smile. "I thought you didn't swear in front of your students."

"Students, no." His eyes lit up warmly. "A colleague? Absolutely." His gaze wandered just past me, to some point unseen out the window. "Look at that. The rain let up."

I joined him at the window. The rain was gone for now, but even darker clouds loomed over the Pacific. "It's just a break in the front," I said, pointing toward the darker line of clouds. "There's more on the way."

"Haven't I taught you anything?" he asked. "Sometimes a break is all you need. Come on."

The sun was lower in the sky; it was obvious despite the cloud cover that hid its precise location. Still, I got a better look at the little cove surrounding Sikowtiz's RV. He had a fire ring dug into the sand underneath a wood-and-tarp canopy between his home and shore. It was close enough that it must have made for a spectacular view during high tide.

Surrounding the ring were a variety of wooden chairs and stumps. The ring itself sat underneath a heavy wooden cover, which he motioned for me to help him take off. Underneath was a ring made from large, curved red bricks that seemed very sturdy.

"Perfect," he said. "Do me a favor and grab some wood from under the tarp over there. Three or four good-sized logs should do."

I considered for a moment using the break in the storm to drive home, but it felt like a wasted opportunity. Besides, I didn't relish the idea of going back to an empty house. I grabbed an armful of dry wood and dumped it next to the ring.

"Perfect." He thrust a handful of twigs at me. "Put those in the middle and build up the rest of the wood around it."

I eyed the kindling curiously. "And why exactly am I the one doing all this?"

"Do you remember in the original Karate Kid, how Mr. Miyagi had Daniel-San do all these seemingly meaningless chores around his place, but in reality, he was training him in the ways of Miyagi-do karate, which enabled him to find inner peace and overcome his demons?"

Leave it to Sikowitz to tie it all into an 80s movie.

"Yeah, I remember."

Sikowitz nodded. "Good. This is just like that, only without the secret training that leads to inner peace and overcoming demons."

He pushed by me, heading back inside the RV. "And what are you going to do while I'm doing all the work out here?"

He turned and smiled. "Finding the hot dogs. Unless of course, you'd prefer to grill a–"

"No coconuts."

"Good. More for me."

He disappeared and I set about the task of arranging the wood. I had no real clue what I was doing. The last fire ring I'd been part of was nearly ten years prior, the night before we began shooting on The Scissoring 2. In fact, we'd done a fire ring every single night for the first two weeks, as we were filming outside in the woods for much of it.

I thought back, remembered how the ring had looked, how the wood had been carefully arranged by our firebug, Sinjin VanCleef. He knew how to place it to get maximum burn time. I did my best to recreate it, and my mind wandered to those old memories as my hands set about their simple task.

The Scissoring 2. Seventeen-year-old Jade West would never have thought in a million years that one day she'd be offered the chance to direct the sequel to her most beloved movie of all time. Or that she'd have the chance to work with her idol, scream queen Danielle Harris. Or become close friends with her. Or yes, even kiss her one night on a drunken dare. (Don't worry kids, Tori kissed her, too.)

But before all that, before things got so big, we spent an amazing, magical night around a fire ring not so different from this one. An intimate set and a small crew; the perfect way to start off a project like that.

We had rehearsed all day. Cameras would roll in the morning. But that night, we had all we could have wanted. The entire shoot was ahead of us. There was something in the air; it was special work, a blessed project. We knew it, and we celebrated the moment. Tori played her guitar and we sang together. God, she sounded so beautiful that night. We sounded perfect together, our voices rising into the night sky, mingling with the whisps of smoke and ash from the fire. Once the cast and crew had wandered into their cabins, Tori and I stayed awake, wrapped in each other's arms, staring into the fire as if it contained all the promise and hopes for our future within its embers. I felt so young and vital and alive, like I was going to conquer the world with my beautiful muse and inspiration and partner at my side.

It was a simpler time and my heart ached not just from its memory but from the certainty that those days were gone. Life was too complicated. The world was too cruel. It would never be that way again, and the pain of that burden was profound.

I looked down at the ring, surprised to find the wood perfectly stacked.

"Nicely done," Sikowitz said. "You've done this before." He tossed me a lighter. "Care to do the honors?"

As I got the fire going, Sikowitz loaded up a few of his roasting forks with plump, juicy hot dogs. He had sticks set aside to cradle the forks so we didn't have to hold them. He vanished into the RV once more, this time returning with…

No way.

A guitar. A gorgeous old acoustic. It was well-loved and well-maintained, but it showed its age in the slight wear on the finish.

"I didn't know you played."

"Oh, I've picked up a few things over the years. Who says you can't teach old tricks to a new dog?" He blinked. "Wait, that doesn't sound right."

"Close enough."

Sikowitz shrugged. "Anyway, I thought maybe we could do a song together, if you're interested."

My smile was swift and wide. I'd never sung with Sikowitz before, but it sounded like the perfect way to pass the time. "It's been a while," I admitted. "But what the hell. What should we sing?"

He stroked his beard ponderously for a moment. "Do you know Ryan Adams' Lucky Now?"

It sounded familiar, but I wasn't sure. "You start. I'll jump in once I get it."

This seemed to make him happy. He took a moment to tune the old acoustic and began slowly. I recognized the notes and realized I'd heard the song before. It was a mellow, reflective tune that would prove to be exactly the song I needed.

I don't remember, were we wild and young?
All that's faded into memory
I feel like somebody I don't know
Are we really who we used to be?
Am I really who I was…?

I added my voice to his deep baritone. They blended nicely, slowly building a repartee.

The lights will draw you in
And the dark will break you down
And the night will break your heart
But only if you're lucky now

I was impressed by his playing. I hadn't heard much of his singing over the years, save for a somewhat memorable performance at Karaoke Dokie. Let's just say this song was more his speed than Ginger Fox's.

Waiting outside while you find your keys
Like bags of trash in the blackening snow
City of neon and toes that freeze
We've got nothing and nowhere to go
We've got nothing and nowhere…

Our voices blended, and we pushed each other to new heights. It felt so good to sing again. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done it at all. Tori and I missed our chance together just before I came back to LA. Looking back, I wished I'd stayed. I wished I'd supported her more.

And the lights will draw you in
And the dark will break you down
And the night will break your heart
Only if you're lucky now

The wind pushed our voices into the evening sky, carrying them up and down the beach and through the little cove Sikowitz called home.

And the lights will draw you in
And the dark will break you down
And the night will break your heart
Only if you're lucky now

It occurred to me that I was still lucky. I'd had a successful career in a cutthroat industry for a decade. I'd taken my beloved Scissoring and left my mark on it. Its star, my idol, was one of my best friends. But more than anything, I was married to Tori Vega, and that was the one thing, the one bit of luck, the one divine miracle, that I could never, ever account for. Despite everything I put her through when we were younger—or maybe, in a weird way, because of it—she chose to give up her own passions to help me succeed at mine.

And I never once questioned it. Not even as I boarded a plane to come back here and deal with my own stupid problems.

I don't remember, were we wild and young?
All that's faded into memory
I feel like somebody I don't know
Are we really who we used to be?
Am I really who I was…?

Sikowitz was wise beyond his years. I don't know why he lived so eccentrically, but now and again his profound insight would sneak its way into my life and change it. Sometimes, a break is all you need, he said. He was speaking of the storm clouds on the horizon, but I think he must have meant it in a larger sense, too.

I'd been drowning in the chaos Hayley brought. I lost sight of the blessings I had, those things that made me happy. I'd lost sight of Tori. Of my work. My real work. The creative energy that made Jade West who she was.

And the lights will draw you in
And the dark will break you down
And the night will break your heart
Only if you're lucky now

The final notes of the song vanished into the night and for the first time in months, my mind and heart were at peace. I felt the sting of tears again, but not of pain; of relief. Music always healed me in ways nothing else could. It wound its regenerative energy around my ragged nerves and soothed them. And now at the end of the song, it wouldn't be too dramatic to say that I felt partially remade.

There was a lot left to do. A lot of work before Tori and I could get back to where we were. Or maybe the idea wasn't to go back, but to go forward and carry with us the best of what was.

I knew what I had to do.

"Thank you for that," I said. "I really needed it."

"I know."

Of course he did. "You sounded great by the way, I don't think I've ever heard you sing like that before."

"I've been practicing," he said with a twinkle. "You sounded pretty…okay, too."

My eyes narrowed at that. "Just okay?"

"Maybe a little pitchy."

"Sikowitz!"

"Oh, look, the hot dogs are ready."

"Pitchy!?"

The break in the storm ended as I pulled into my driveway. It was getting late, but I didn't care. My surprise evening with Sikowitz had proven to be just what I needed. The company, the insight, the music, the camaraderie, it all reminded me that there was more to life than the problems I was facing. As kids, we faced problems on an almost weekly basis, and we pulled through them. These problems were tough, but they weren't insurmountable. Things would have to change, sure, but change didn't always mean something bad.

A decade earlier, things changed between me and Tori and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I texted Liz from the driveway, just a quick summary of my intentions, and hit send. I wondered how she'd react. It probably wasn't what she was expecting to hear, but I didn't care. It was the right move. I had no doubt we'd discuss it the next morning.

My next call was to book a flight back to New York. I had no intention of missing Tori's debut concert. I made the choice not to tell her, in case something happened and I couldn't make it. I would hate to get her hopes up only for the universe to give us the bird again and strand me in some podunk town halfway to nowhere. Luckily, there was an opening on an early flight the afternoon of her show, so I should be able to make it.

I hurried into the house; it was nearly midnight. I jumped in the shower and thoroughly enjoyed getting all the sand and mud out of my hair and everywhere else. My visit with Sikowitz had been amazing, but I couldn't deal with all that beach sand invading every crevice.

I had told Tori I was meeting with Liz earlier in the day. I didn't like being dishonest, but it was easier than going into too much detail about the very, very complicated situation that had unfolded. She'd sent me a bunch of kissy-heart emoji's and then, as I hoped, kept a respectful distance.

I set things up in the bedroom; a portable LED ring light facing the bed, some tasteful lighting in the background, and Tori's favorite lingerie: a black satin nightgown that boosted and showcased the girls and barely reached the bottom of my ass. It was just about midnight when I finally hit send on the video chat.

She answered the call from the bed in the hotel suite. She wore a plain, baggy t-shirt. It was obvious she was ready for bed, but I didn't care. The warmth in the pit of my stomach spread throughout my body when I laid eyes on her. Even looking like that, she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever known.

"Hey, gorgeous," she said, her lips curled up in a grin that gave me butterflies.

"Hey yourself."

I felt her eyes on me and had to fight the chills it gave me. I knew she was taking in my body, every curve, every inch of flesh, and thinking about what she wanted to do it. I couldn't wait to find out.

"Wow," Tori said, liking her lips. "That's quite an outfit."

I played it cool, but it took everything in me to keep my poker face up. "Oh, this old thing?" I shrugged my shoulders and one of the straps slid off. I couldn't have timed that any better. "I just threw this on."

Something seemed to register in Tori's eyes. She knew what I was after. I kept it going. "You, on the other hand…that's a stunning ensemble." I knew I'd catch her in her typical night clothes, but there was no way I wasn't going to tease her about it. "That's a stunning ensemble. You look ready for a night on the town. Assuming the town is Bumpkinville."

Tori giggled and bared her shoulder, leaving her bra strap up. "Yeah, well, my incredibly sexy wife isn't here, or else maybe I'd have dressed up for her."

A tingle shot through my midsection at the thought of Tori in lingerie, but there was something I wanted to see even more. "I bet she'd have loved to see that. But with what you're wearing now, I mean...it's so simple, you might as well be wearing nothing at all."

"Oh, really? Is that a request?"

It was getting tough to hold it together. I let a hand start to roam a bit below the waist, out of the frame. "Maybe."

"Well gosh, where should I start?"

Tori stood and ran her phone over her flawless but fully-clothed body. She wore snug black leggings and a t-shirt.

"Start with the leggings. You don't really need those, do you?"

She knew I'd start there. Vega's legs were flawless: long, lean, muscular, sexy. They were the first thing I noticed about her way back during the big showcase (how could you not, with that dress that barely covered her ass?) and I was more than a little obsessed with them.

"I don't know, it's kinda cold in here," she said, teasing me. God that just made me want to see them even more.

"I'll warm you up," I said, doing my best to keep my confidence up and the desperation out of my voice.

Tori lost the leggings and slowly–maddeningly so–ran her phone up her bare legs, lingering on her hips. She held her shirt up a bit so I could also take in her abs. My body shook. I wanted nothing more than to run my tongue down those tone abs and pull those underwear off with my teeth. I couldn't help sliding a hand down my own underwear as I imagined the taste and smell of her skin.

"Does that meet with your approval?"

"It's an improvement, but is the shirt really necessary?"

"Of course not, I don't know what I was thinking."

I watched with rapt attention as Tori slid out of her top and quickly dispatched her bra as well. As her phone slid down her flawless, naked body I realized I now had a finger working inside of me. "Goddamn," I groaned, watching the show. I shed my underwear quickly to make some room.

Tori's gorgeous face reappeared, wearing a coy smile. "Does that mean you like what you see?"

I nodded, but I'm not sure if she noticed; pretty sure I was wearing my pleasure on my face by that point. I could sense I was getting kind of glassy-eyed and my forehead felt a bit damp. Tori was one of the few reasons I ever actually broke out into a sweat.

"Whatcha doing over there?" She slid her phone down to her boobs and shook them, then smiled at me.

I bit my lip and returned the favor, sliding my phone down to let her see where my finger was and what the sight of her incredible body was doing to me. I brought my phone back up to my face. "Answer your question?"

"Oh god, yes," she said, and I knew I had her.

"Good. Then you'll appreciate this."

I brought my hand up and waved the fingers I'd been using at her. Her tongue traced her lips. Good idea, I thought, and brought my own tongue to the base of my fingers. I licked them slowly, bottom to top, one at a time, groaning as I went down on each.

"No fair." Tori was starting to gasp and I suspected she was rubbing her clit. The thought drove me insane. I wanted to reach through the phone and take her right then. Why did I even leave?

"I'd rather it be you," I groaned as I slipped my fingers back inside.

"Like this?" She brought her own fingers up. They glistened with moisture that was promptly licked away by Tori's freakishly long tongue.

Every time she did that, my stomach flipped. "Fuck, Tori," I said through gritted teeth. My thighs were quivering.

"I wish you could fuck Tori," she said, her hand disappearing out of fame again.

Seeing her tongue and then hearing her drop an f-bomb was like a one-two punch to my ovaries. It pushed me closer…closer…

"Me too, babe," I gasped. "I'd slide my fingers so deep they'd tickle your throat."

Her visceral response to that, the noises she made, the look on her face, pushed me so much closer. I felt it building deep in the pit of my stomach. My fingers flew. I could see it in Tori's eyes, she was close, too.

We were beyond sexy talk. We just watched each other, listened to each other. The subtle muscle twitches. The eye rolls. The shallow breaths.

"Tori, I'm so close," I gasped.

"Me too…"

It was too much to bear. I tried to hold out. I wanted us to do it at the same time. I slowed my pace a little, painful though it was.

And then it happened.

Liz called.

"Are you kidding me!?"

I sat bolt upright. I barely had a second to acknowledge Tori's disappointment. It was well after midnight now, if Liz were calling it was probably urgent. Damn it, Liz, I thought.

"I'm so sorry, Liz is calling. I have to take this. I'm really sorry."

My heart broke at Tori's disappointment. "Oh, okay," she said. "Call when–"

My stupid, fat finger accidentally accepted Liz's incoming call, cutting Tori off. I felt horrible. Like less than shit.

"Hello?" I said, trying to compose myself.

"Jade, are you kidding me?"

"Am I kidding you? Do you know what I was just–"

"Have you really thought this through? I mean, come on. I expected a lot of things from you, but this is insane."

I took a deep breath. Liz was one of my oldest friends in Hollywoods and angry though I was at her interruption, I understood her concern. I expected we'd talk about it in the morning, not in the middle of the night when my fingers were half-deep in my–

"It's not a joke," I said, clearing my throat. My voice was still trembling. I wondered if she could tell. It would serve her right for interrupting us. "It's the right thing to do."

"I disagree."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have left it up to me."

"I never expected you to do this."

My hopes of ending this call quickly fled. I sighed and settled in; this was going to take a while.

I walked through the familiar doors to Grim Studios. Joe smiled at me, as he always did. "Your Majesty," he said, bowing. "You look exceptional today." His eyes narrowed slightly as I approached. "But worried, too. Everything okay?"

I tried to mentally reboot my poker face. "I'm fine," I said. "Is Liz up there?"

"She's been here since six. Didn't seem herself today. And that nasty woman is back, too. The one from last week. Not a fan of hers. Something doesn't sit right about her."

Joe was observant; maybe more so than I ever gave him credit for. "I'll see what I can do to fix that," I said with a wink.

Joe smiled, but it was fake as mine. "Good luck," he said. "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. Your Majesty."

He bowed once more and buzzed me through. I was impressed not just with his perception but with the fact that he actually quoted the play right. The bard would be proud, I mused. I wondered if Joe had been an actor in his youth.

Allie seemed uneasy as she peered up from behind her computer. The tension in the building was thick today. As Liz goes, so goes the studio, I mused. The woman always set the tone for the day and usually that tone was optimistic. But I knew she was upset about my decision, and that trickled all the way down to the security guard and the receptionist.

"They're in there already," Allie said softly. "She seems upset."

I stopped next to her. "Look, kid, do me a favor. Don't lose who you are right now. I mean you're going to grow and learn and change, but this Allie, the one I'm talking to, make sure you keep her around. You need her to remind you of the things that mattered when you were still optimistic about the future. Trust me…it'll help later."

Allie didn't seem sure of what to say. She nodded sheepishly and offered me an encouraging smile. "I hope it goes well in there."

"Don't even sweat that, kid. It's going to go how it always goes: exactly how Jade-fucking-West wants it to."

I winked at her and opened the door.

Hayley was in my chair again. I laughed to myself as I took the second seat without a sound. Liz seemed ready to say something, but that wasn't how this was going to go.

I turned my chair to face Hayley. She looked different. I mean, her smug little troll face was as smug and troll-like as ever. But when I really looked, I saw past it. I saw a young woman who had been conned and manipulated and hurt. Maybe she deserved it and maybe not. It wasn't for me to say.

But I saw the inner workings of a broken heart. I saw how one thing led to another led to another. No, having a reason and a past and a tragic backstory does not in any way excuse her villainous behavior, nor did it give her a free pass for the delight she took in it.

But here's the thing: I'm a lot of things, but I am not, and never have been, the villain of anyone's story. Not even Vega's, despite my best efforts. And I was done being the sort of person to answer violence with violence, hatred with hatred.

Something had to give. This business, this city, hell, this fucking planet is so full of hatred and vitriol and cancellation and anger and echo chambers and horrible people doing terrible things to each other. I doubted anything would stop that decline. But I didn't have to be a part of it. Jade West chose her own path; no one was going to force me to do anything. If I did something, it would be because I wanted to do it.

"I'm sorry."

Hayley's eyes narrowed; I knew she'd suspect this was a setup. "Uh-huh. What's the punch line? Sorry I'm such a bitch? Sorry my daddy couldn't pay for my bar exam score?"

"No. I'm sorry for not being the better person in this. I'm sorry for the assumptions I made about you and your motivations. I'm sorry for letting something that happened ten years ago when we were both dumb kids inform my adult-self's decision making. And I'm sorry for…well, for anything that may have happened to you over the past ten years that made life tougher."

I felt Liz shifting in her seat. "Jade, are you–"

"I'm fine, Liz." I didn't take my eyes off of Hayley. I tried my best to read her, get some sense of what she was thinking. Her poker face was as good as mine; impenetrable.

"You're not going to sweet talk your way out of an apology for your casting practices," she said, but some of the fight had gone out of her voice. The edge was softened.

"I'm not going to apologize for that," I said. "It's not wrong to cast people based on their talent and suitability for a role. I don't discriminate against anyone. If they're the best fit, they'll get the job. No matter their color or sexuality or whatever else. I don't even see those things when I audition people. So I won't apologize for that. And I won't promise to cast a certain percentage of a certain race or gender in my next few projects. Films are art. Art has to take risks. It has to offend, to get people to think, to show possibilities. Otherwise, it's manufactured bullshit restricted to standards set by people who don't know anything about anything. So no…not apologizing for that."

Hayley glanced at Liz. "Then I assume you'll be–"

"Hey, Princess, I'm not done." I permitted a small smile at Hayley's dirty look. "Liz isn't doing anything. I am choosing to end my association with Grim Productions. In fact, I'm choosing to end everything. All of it."

Oh, I wish I'd have taken a picture of Hayley's face. Beady eyes all wide, shock setting in. She hadn't seen this coming. Oh, no. She had a dozen contingencies all lined up because she expected me to fight her tooth and nail. She thought she'd be able to strip away my support a piece at a time. She wasn't expecting this.

"Are you saying you're…retiring from filmmaking?"

I finally settled back into my chair. "That's what I'm saying. So you can tell your friends they don't have to concern themselves with my future casting choices, because there won't be any. And you can tell them they don't need to worry about what Grim Productions thinks of me, because there's no longer a me to think of."

Hayley's confusion slowly morphed into frustration. She leaned forward aggressively. "You expect me to believe you're going to flush your entire career down the toilet? That you're just going to roll over and die and fade away?"

"I don't really care what you believe," I said. "But yeah…that's what I'm doing."

Hayley shot Liz a panicked look. "You can't possibly believe she's serious."

Liz rubbed her exhausted eyes. "I think this is the stupidest thing she's ever done, personally. And you can quote me on that if you'd like."

"What's the problem, Hayley? You can spin it however you want. Social justice triumphs! Jade West backs down! Racist director retires! The story's over. Isn't that the goal?"

I could almost see the smoke pouring out of Hayley's ears as she struggled to come to terms with this. "You can't just do this."

"Pretty sure I just did. Sorry if it ruins your fun. And for what it's worth, I meant what I said earlier."

"I don't care about any of that," she snapped, rising quickly to her feet. "I don't accept this. This isn't over."

"It is for me. I'm going to get on with my life. You probably should, too."

One final glare and Hayley stormed off. I felt Liz's eyes already drilling into the side of my head.

"Okay, so you got rid of her, but come on, Jade. How can you walk away from your entire career?"

I sat back down in my chair. "Look…I can't stand that little brat. But I found out she was mixed up in some bad things. I got some dirt on her–"

"From your father-in-law?"

"That's right. And I just couldn't use it. I mean, I should never have had him dig it up in the first place. Tori would kill us both if she ever found out. It just wasn't worth it, I guess."

Liz rose from her desk and broke out the glasses and alcohol. "Sounds like it's been a long week for you." She poured us both a glass of gin. "Maybe we both need one of these."

I took it gladly. "I never say no. What are we drinking to?"

Liz looked at her glass ponderously. "To you."

"Me?" I shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes, you. You saved my studio ten years ago with your brilliant movies. And you saved it again just now. So yeah, Jade, I'm raising a glass to you. The most creative, driven, brilliant, fearless woman I've ever had the pleasure of working with." Oh, god. Her eyes were damp. "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart."

Our glasses touched and we drank, and I did my absolute damndest to keep my own tears inside. I'd cried way too much recently. But I couldn't deny…hearing those words from Liz…it meant so much to me. Filled some need I didn't even know I had.

"You know, I never really wanted kids," Liz said absently. "Seemed like too much trouble to me." She met my gaze and smiled gently. "But if I could have one that turned out like you…maybe it would have been worth it."

I caught the first tear. But the next dozen got right by me.

Damn it, Liz.

A second later, I was in her arms, thinking… So this is what it's like to have a mother. Maybe it's not so bad…

I found myself sitting next to a quiet brunette; she wore her hair long, with glasses accenting a beautiful face. She had a slightly darker tone to her skin and features that seemed more European. I smiled at her as I slid into my seat.

She returned the smile, then nervously looked back out the window. A sheen of sweat seemed to be on her brow. Her knees bounced endlessly and she kept fidgeting with her hands.

Poor kid, I thought. Must be her first flight.

"Nervous?"

She turned to me, wide-eyed as if surprised someone was speaking.

"Always," she said briefly. I detected a trace of an accent in her words, but she didn't say enough for me to pinpoint it.

"So you've flown before?"

She turned back to me, a little less apprehensive, at least about me talking to her. "Once before," she said. Definitely an accent, but I couldn't place it. "I flew here last week from Italy."

Well, that explains it.

"Wow. That's a hell of a first flight."

The girl nodded. She seemed ready to reply, but the engines grew louder. The plane began to slide away from the gate as the captain's voice blared out that we were about to depart.

I loved this part, but I could readily see my companion didn't. As we gradually reached the runway and began to pick up speed, I learned over.

"Look, this is nothing. What's five hours compared to what you already went through? The worst of it's over. You're practically there already."

This seemed to relax her. She slid her glasses back up her nose.

"I love this part," I said, pointing out the window. The plane lifted off and LAX faded into the distance. Moments later, so did the entirety of Los Angeles. "It's a different perspective, isn't it? It's all so small."

The girl watched with awe, her pretty eyes aglow. "I was too scared to look the first time. It's beautiful."

The pressure on the cabin eased, and the seatbelt sign turned off. The tension of takeoff was a memory, and a sense of ease settled upon the cabin. Even my companion was more settled.

"So what's over here in the 'states that convinced you to get on a plane and endure that flight?" I asked.

Her eyes twinkled. "A girl," she said with a contented sigh that seemed to touch her very soul. "She's even more afraid to fly than I am. I'm surprising her, she has no idea I'm coming."

I couldn't help but smile. "Pretty courageous of you. Is she in New York, then?"

"For now. She lives in Pittsburgh but she's in New York for a writer's convention. I came here first to see family; now I'm off to see her." The girl wiped her hand on her jeans, then offered it to me. "I'm Simona."

Pretty name for a pretty girl, I thought. I accepted her hand. "I'm Jade."

"I know."

I hesitated. "You…know?"

Her grin was beautiful; a pair of perfect dimples appeared in her cheeks. "Sure. My girlfriend is a big fan of yours. Me too, I just…I'm not as into horror as she is. But I like your other movies a lot."

Her bashfulness hid a deeper playfulness. I found myself completely at ease with her, which was surprising. "Horror's not for everyone. But I'm glad you've given my other movies a chance. And I appreciate you not making a big deal. Sometimes it's nice to just disappear into the crowd."

Simona nodded. "Yeah, I know. My girlfriend, she's an author. And sometimes she has that problem, you know? With fans making a big deal. Not as much, I mean she's not like famous outside of her circle, but she's said the same kind of thing."

"What does she write?"

"Horror," Simona said with a grin. "Mostly. Though when we met online a few years ago it was over…well, fan fiction."

I chuckled. "That's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. I'm a little nauseous about it, to be honest." Simona's brow furrowed. "I'm kidding," I added quickly. "Mostly. I think that's really cute."

Simona fumbled through the small bag at her feet. "Could you maybe sign something for her?"

"Sure."

She pulled out a copy of a book and handed it to me. "Can you sign it to Ginny?"

I caught the author's name on the book: Ginny Walters. The cover was of an old road that seemed haunted. The title was in a creepy-looking font: The Curse of Miracle Mile. "This is her book?"

"One of them." Simona was beaming; she clearly took great pride in her love's work. It hit me, then. I'd seen that same look of pride in Tori's eyes so many times. And I'd given it right back to her. Maybe not as often as I should have, though.

"You're really her biggest fan, aren't you?"

"From the day I read the first word of her first story."

I suddenly felt wistful. My arms ached for Tori. "That's good," I said. "I'm…I'm my wife's biggest fan, too. Make sure you always let her know that."

"I do. I will."

I opened the book to the first page. I wasn't just going to sign my name, not after the little story this chick shared with me. An idea came to me.

Ginny, your biggest fan says you're a horror author. I expect a copy of this book with your own signature in it so I can give it a proper look. Deal? Kick some ass, girl. - Jade

I handed it back to Simona. She read it; her smile threatened to swallow her entire face. "She'll love that. Thank you."

"Yeah well, we horror buffs have to stick together, you know?"

We settled into a stretch of silence, as Simona excitedly pulled out her phone and began texting. I glanced at my own phone, tempted to write to Tori and let her know I was on my way back to see her show. But no…as much as she'd appreciate it, I wanted it to be a surprise for her. I did, however, order some flowers with a message indicating which row I'd be in and for her to look for me. I only hoped Tara kept her word and didn't say anything about it to Tori.

I was just starting to relax, to let myself feel the excitement of reuniting with Tori, when my phone went off. Thinking it was her, I glanced at it…and my blood ran cold. A series of texts hit my screen, one after the other. The number was unfamiliar, but it was quickly obvious who the author was.

I told you this wasn't over. Since you kept me from coming after you, I guess I have to go after her instead. I learned a dirty little secret about you that may or may not involve your feline friend. I'm sure you know what I mean. And tonight at 11:30, Tori will know exactly what you did. - HF

Was she talking about what I had done with Cat all those years ago? What the hell did that have to do with anything? And why so late? Did she know I was flying back? Did she want me to be there? Did she really think I wouldn't try to stop it?

Just like that, the excitement about our reunion turned to dread. I had taken the high ground. I'd done the right thing.

And suddenly, I regretted it.