The Beautiful Truth

// 171

"Seriously, this is still happening?" I complained, having Googled myself on Micki's laptop during what had become a rare visit back to Berkeley these past few months. It had been a month since Leno. Apparently I was still madly in love with Charlie Stafford. Seriously, some of these pictures were months old. Whatever happened to responsible journalism?

"Why aren't they following Jordan and Charlie yet?" Micki commiserated.

I laughed. She totally didn't care. I was living in a fantasy world to her at this point—I was a live action soap opera, and she was enjoying it. "No idea. Maybe they're better at being covert boyfriend and girlfriend than we are at openly being friends."

Micki finished folding her laundry and came to sit on the couch with me. "Give me that."

I looked up at her, not understanding.

"Give me my computer. You're not gonna sit there and Google yourself," she complained, rolling her eyes.

"Fine." I snapped her laptop shut. She was right. Who Googles themselves?

"Now, can you please call Barton and tell him that you're not dating Charlie Stafford?"

I rolled my eyes. "Barton knows I'm not dating Charlie Stafford."

She shook her head. "Do I need to remind you how far he flew off the handle when he had less to go on than a nationally televised interview?"

She did have a point.

I took my phone from the coffee table and walked into Barton's room. Micki and Alex had left it just as it was when he'd left. I climbed onto the bed and dialed him up.

"Please enjoy the music while your party is reached," said the mechanical voice before a ringback tone.

I don't think you're right for him
Look at what it might've been
If you'd took a bus to Chinatown
Met me standing on Canal...and Bowery...

Oh no. He really thought...

I knew Barton Black well enough to know that it was never possible to read too much into song lyrics. If I wanted to bet, I'd be willing to wager that he'd put that song—whatever it was—on his phone on the off-chance I'd call.

"What?" Micki asked. "You look like you're gonna be sick."

"I think...he thinks..."

"Oh you heard the song, good," she said matter-of-factly.

"What was that?"

She shrugged, hopping up onto the kitchen counter. "Some band he's been hanging out with in New York for a little bit. Just their demo or something. Somehow he rigged that as his ringback."

"I'm going to New York."

"Knew it," Micki winked. "I'll help you pack."