A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

32. Show Must Go On

32

Show Must Go On

T he visit to Aiden’s dad clearly didn’t go as planned. Eleanor expected to be in and out without being spotted by anyone else but Gordon. Hopefully step two will work out better.

After a long drive to New York in Antoine’s small Fiat—which miraculously was able to fit them all relatively comfortably—they’ve finally arrived to the city and found a parking spot at an outrageous location.

As they get closer to that small venue in the heart of Manhattan, arms linked like the perfect entourage, Antoine to her left, Gillie to her right, Alannah leading the way, Eleanor’s doubts start overflowing, but she tries to keep her spirit under control. Gillie rubs her shoulder from his side, and Antoine does the exact same from the other side, like his long-lost match.

It’s a small-scale show, nothing like the ones she used to accompany Oren to back home, but she still feels uneasy. Being in the spotlight was never comfortable, and now with the latest social media craziness, uncomfortable would be a welcome feeling compared to the war going on inside of her.

They walk into the club, waving their overpriced tickets. This is probably the first time she’s actually needed to pay money to watch her drummer ex perform.

“I need to speak with Oren Hason,” she tells the beastly large security guard blocking the back of stage passageway.

“Sweetheart, you can stand in line,” the guy smirks.

“No, he actually knows me.”

“Sure he does,” he says without even looking in her direction.

Nice…

Eleanor looks around, trying to find familiar faces, someone who could confirm she knows Oren. Or at least an Israeli bodyguard she could speak Hebrew to—her conviction somehow gets lost in translation.

But before she knows it, the show starts, and they’re forced to sit through it. Or more like—dance through it. Because Oren’s new band is actually pretty good, and Alannah pulls Eleanor up and won’t let her sit back down.

“Since we’re already here,” Alannha shouts in her ear, “we should at the very least have fun!” Her eyes carry to Gillie and Antoine nodding enthusiastically.

So they dance, and they sing out loud, and it feels good to let the music wash over her, after holding it together for so long, avoiding music, avoiding everything that reminded her of Oren Hason. Looks like that part of her life has already healed, or at least been put to rest. Because everything she felt before, it all pales in comparison to the past few months, since that moment at the airport. Her heart, her mind, her soul are all rooting for one person, for one broody professor, and there’s nothing she can do about it. It’s non-reversible. Done deal.

“You’ve got to let me in, I have to speak with Oren, please!” Eleanor urges the same unimpressed security guy from earlier once the show ends.

“Babe, you need to use the situation to your advantage,” Alannah reprimands. “Here.” She shoves her phone in the guy’s face. “You see this sexy-looking girl?” she asks, waving that old photo of Eleanor with Oren making out at the beach.

“Right,” he says, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Look carefully,” Antoine says and turns Eleanor’s head to the side, to match the angle in the photo.

The guy shakes his head and turns away, speaking into his earpiece.

“You think he believed us?” Alannah loud-whispers to Antoine above Eleanor’s head.

“I doubt it. Let’s go with plan B,” Antoine whisper-calls back.

“What’s plan B?” Eleanor shouts, forgetting the security guard is watching. “I’m not looking to get thrown out of a night club or get arres—"

“Watch and learn,” Gillie says. “Antoine and I will create a distraction. Once Bulldog here turns his head,” he gestures toward the security guard, “you make a run for it.”

“I’m in.” Antoine gives him a conspiratorial smile.

“Sounds like they’ve actually thought it through,” Alannah laughs.

“Now,” Gillie says as he pushes Antoine toward the guard, blocking his view of Eleanor. She can see Gillie’s hands reaching for Antoine’s face. He cups his cheeks and pulls him in for a scandalous kiss, gaining Bulldog’s full attention. That’s her cue. She starts running but it doesn’t take too long for Bulldog to notice and chase after her, speaking into his earpiece. Eleanor speeds up, still looking back, crashing into something. Or rather, someone…

“Ellie?” Her mind registers the Hebrew accent—the true pronunciation of her name and the familiar voice. Then comes the familiar touch. She looks up, relieved to see Oren’s face attached to the body she’s just slammed into. “She’s with me Serge, thank you,” he says to Bulldog.

Thank goodness.

Oren knows better than to hug her in public, so he takes a step back and leads her through a long corridor. But when they’re finally out of press or fans reach, he pulls her into his arms again. “Never thought you’d voluntarily come to watch me play.” His laugh fills the air. His familiar voice and feel and scent somehow make her miss Aiden even more.

“You guys are pretty good, it wasn’t all torture,” Eleanor chuckles.

“Still stingy on the compliments,” he smirks. “Next time let me know you’re coming, I’ll make sure to leave your name at the door or send you some tickets.”

“I tried to call you but apparently you don’t use your old phone number anymore.” Eleanor points to the little device in her hand.

“Oh, right! Sorry about that, had to ditch the old number once it got public,” Oren says, taking her phone out of her hand and stumbling on that selfie of her and Aiden. Yes, it’s still her home screen. And lock screen. “You guys are something else,” he says, putting in her password and unlocking her phone without a blink. Of course, she’s still using the same password she has for ages. And of course, Oren knows that. He’s the one who had told her she should change it from time to time, and she’d made a point to not listen. And of course, he knows that too. Some things, apparently, don’t change.

“Here.” Oren saves his new number and gives her back the phone, gesturing for her to sit. He grabs a bottle of water and chugs it within seconds. “Man, I was thirsty. Something to drink?” he asks, Eleanor shakes her head, so he takes the seat next to her. “Where’s your professor boyfriend?”

“Not really speaking to me right now, thanks to mostly me pissing him off and also some social media shitshow.”

“Ah,” Oren says noncommittally.

“And full disclosure,” Eleanor is in confession mode, “we were kind of fake-dating, Aiden couldn’t bear the fact that you still thought of yourself as my mythological ex.”

“Could have fooled me.” Oren runs a hand through his hair, then chugs another water bottle. Performing always made him thirsty. “You guys looked desperately in love with each other. Except for the fact that the poor guy had no idea about the ass tattoo… Which kind of gave it away.” Well, he knows about it now. ”But I played along, seemed like you needed a little push.”

“I needed a little push?” Eleanor tries, unsuccessfully, to appear shocked.

Oren just gives her a wink.

“Anyway,” she sighs. “Have you heard the latest gossip?”

“Are you talking about that hot old photo of us? We look good in it, don’t you think?”

“You’ve seen it?!” Eleanor gives him an incredulous look, although she can’t really say she’s surprised. “Why didn’t you deny the rumors about us getting back together?”

“You never gave a shit about social media rumors.”

“Yeah, when we were together, but after we broke up, they kind of made my life a living hell, even though you were the one who broke up with me. And now… These rumors are hurting the people I love. The person I… love.”

“I’m sorry,” Oren says, pulling on the curls in the back of his head.

“I can’t imagine how Tiffany must have felt seeing that photo.”

“Well, we might have kind of fake-dated as well,” he admits, shoulders a little slumped, eyes trained on a stain on the floor.”

“You? Fake-dated? Why?” Eleanor can’t hide her surprise.

“Well, we did go on one actual date, but I still get a rash just thinking of a full-blown relationship. Maybe I’ll get there eventually. Hopefully when I’m still young and handsome. When I saw you with Mr. Professor Bigshot it kind of caught me off guard,” he sighs. “But I’m happy for you, I really am. You deserve being with someone who is crazy about you like this guy is, who makes you happy.”

“Thanks, but with all the comments going around—"

“What comments?”

“Pretty degrading stuff, spiraling out of control.” She pulls out her phone and shows him some. The long list of comments has grown exponentially overnight. “Put aside the love triangle shit for a minute. There’s a whole bunch of bullshit that got Aiden in a whole lot of trouble at work. Now he’s under investigation for sexual harassment in the workplace. This is so fucked up.”

“Hell.” Oren pulls on his curls again. “The collateral damage for hanging out with me. I’m sorry, Ellie.”

“And that’s not even the worst part. Thanks to this photo, Aiden probably thinks I ran straight back into your arms, and I’m not even allowed to talk to him.”

“I would have loved for that to happen, but something tells me you’d much rather run into Aiden’s arms,” Oren chuckles.

“I would, if he ever agrees to speak with me again. Because now he probably thinks that I was pretending the whole time.”

“But you were pretending.”

“Pretending to be in a relationship, yes. But finally allowing my true feelings show. So in essence you could say—I was finally not pretending.”

“Well,” Oren says with an optimistic tone, turning her chair to face him. “How can I help?”