A Walk Down Ivy Laine

Friday, October 10, 2014

Friday, October 10, 2014

Tucker's guest bedroom

Morning.

Just a pinch of fairy dust over my open wounds.

Today I wake with a vase of red roses on my nightstand. The curtains are drawn. They must be sun-out curtains, because it's still fairly dark. I won't lie, this bed is the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in. The pillows are perfect, not too much down, not too hard. The sheets must be a million thread-count. I got some sleep for the first time in days. Nightmare-free sleep.

The beautiful roses stare back at me for too long before I notice a written note at the base of the vase.

Call me when you wake up

- T

I do just that.

Tucker picks up immediately, "Hey! Get my flowers?" There's lots of noise in the background. People talking, moving elements.

"No? Where?"

Tucker snorts, "Careful. I have deep pockets."

"Oh, look! Roses!" I gasp, feigning surprise.

He snorts through a chuckle, then I hear some rustling noises and his voice again, "-in five? Okay...A moment, yeah...Ivy?" Tucker is back.

"Mm?"

"I had to get up for a quick meeting this morning. There's a premier for my new movie tonight so I'm not going to be home until late or even early tomorrow morning. I didn't want to wake you. If you need anything, on the back of the note is a phone number to Christian, my personal assistant. He's downstairs and always a call away. He's been made aware of -"

"-You told him about-"

"No! No, no, no," he corrects quickly, "No. He knows I have an important guest at my house that should receive the exact same treatment I would ask for, which is anything. Food, ride, clothes, money-"

My turn to snort.

"I know you wouldn't ask for any but just in case."

"Nope."

He grumbles, "I should have just called it Monopoly money."

I'm silent a moment, which makes him guess why, "You haven't ever played Monopoly have you?"

"...I know what it is. Does that count?"

Tucker sighs dramatically, "Well I guess we have a date tomorrow night."

A fake giggle fades from my lips. My grim mood is still persistent from last night and the night prior. He hasn't picked up on it yet. I shrug under the sheets, before finally getting the courage to give my response, "I'll probably be gone before you get home, but I just want to thank yo-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. Ivy, please. Don't feel like you have to leave. I know you said he doesn't know about me but I have the alarm system on. My security detail is there and the police will be there in three minutes if anyone even touches a blade of grass. Please stay, as long as you need. Mi casa, su casa. I'm having the security detail stay with you all day to make you feel better. Babe, I have to go, they need me. You going to be okay?"

"I'll be okay." I repeat his phrase, willing its magic on myself. Babe? He called me babe? The term feels strange, like it's already attached to some sort of 'relationship.'

"Talk to you in a few hours. Remember, talk to Christian." The phone hangs up.

Babe...I can't get over the term. What does it imply? A nickname for someone closer than a friend. A Hollywood term? Was I supposed to get butterflies when he said it? I don't know, but it doesn't feel like anything but a pet name. Nothing about this whole thing feels right. Him taking me in, waiting on me hand and foot in exchange for some sort of relationship. It's not right.