Page 56 of Notorious

“Hey,” I say to my momther as I signal to pass a Prius.

“Hey yourself,” she says. “I hope you’re well. We have a few things to discuss.”

“I suppose,” I say, trying not to be rude.

“Surprise, we’re headed to Southern California this weekend. Can we meet your husband?”

“I want to say yes, except he’s not with me right now. It will have to be next week at the earliest,” I tell her.

“Oh? Is he busy?”

“You could say that.” I realize I’m not going to be able to keep this from her even if I wanted to. “Mom, he’s got some issues—not substance abuse or anything violent—and I’ve checked him into a hospital.”

Her voice immediately takes on a caring tone. “Oh no. Is he okay?”

“I think he’s going to be. I hope so. But he’s going through some personal stuff, and he needs a chance to recover. Can you give him that?”

“Of course, honey. I’m sorry. We’ll schedule when it works for him.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

I want to tell her that he was so close to being another Andrei. That I couldn’t go through a loss like that again, even if I didn’t care about Johnny as much as I do. And that I feel like I know him already, in part because he’s been part of my intimate life for so long.

None of that’s appropriate to tell my momther. So instead, we talk about her schedule, and when I hang up, I call my assistant and give her a list of things Johnny will need while he’s in the hospital. Good thing I know his sizes and preferences now. I remember a book I read a year ago that I liked, and I ask her to add it.

I drive back home.

The condo feels emptier than usual, even though Johnny was here less than a day. He’s got such a big personality that his absence looms large. I set his phone and wallet in the dish on the counter by mine and study them. His worn leather wallet reminds me of him. It’s something a cowboy would carry around. His phone is an older model, which doesn’t surprise me. They somehow look right next to my YSL billfold and new iPhone.

My pulse quickens at the memory of making out with Johnny in the living room just a few hours ago. When I wander upstairs, there’s his suitcase and bag of new clothes in the corner of my bedroom, his towel on the rack, his indent in the pillow.

Dammit. I miss him.

I could look at him anytime I want to, on my phone or laptop. But the thought of watching him on my favorite porn site now feels slightly icky, even though I remind myself that he willingly puts himself out there for people like me to ogle and that he’s been a part of my sex life for basically my entire adulthood.

Some people might think that I’m imagining the connection between us because I’ve objectified him in his videos, but I don’t see it that way at all. Johnny was never simply a sex object to me—he always seemed so sincere and down-to-earth. So human and real. I always wanted him to be real for me.

Now he is.

It’s just been me, my right hand, and my imagination (combined with a premium subscription) for a long time. Oh, sure, I’ve had a few dates and hookups, but no one’s sparked the kind of interest in me that one evening with Johnny did.

Hell, I wanted to marry him after a few hours together.

And I still want to be married to him. It feels like I have some claim on him, and—as weird as it sounds—I feel possessive of him. I’m clearly delusional, since there are likely plenty of fans who feel the same way.

But I’ve got his phone and wallet, and his signature on a marriage license.

In that sense, Johnny Haskell is mine.

When I called Sam to schedule dinner, I wasn’t planning on him bringing his boyfriend, but I understand why Jules is here. Sam has to manage his public image for Jules’s sake. And having dinner alone with his “ex” is a recipe for disaster. Good thing Jules is terrific.

We’re in the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes, although when Jules leaves, there’s sure to be photographers at every exit.

I want to be careful of Johnny’s privacy, but these two are as trustworthy as it gets. Jules knows what it’s like to have his privacy invaded. He has no desire to talk about anyone behind their back. Sam doesn’t, either, plus he’s part of Johnny’s team of lawyers and is required to keep things secret.

Sam also has connections everywhere, because his grandfather is the governor of California, and he always seems to have a commonsense solution to problems.

“I need some advice,” I say without preamble, after we’ve ordered.

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