Revelation

Part 10

"How the fuck are we supposed to understand women?"

"Not the faintest idea, mate, seriously. It's like they're from another planet."

I snorted. "You got that right." The situation with Jo was sending me bonkers, mainly because I had absolutely no clue exactly what our situation was. I'd been calling and texting her for two weeks but she wouldn't answer or reply and I was trying to keep doing my job – well, two jobs, as I'm producing as well as acting in this thing – and her silence was driving me nuts. In all the years I'd known her, she'd never given me the silent treatment before; if she was mad at me, you can bet your boots I knew all about it, she didn't hold anything back. Now I didn't know if it was just that she was mad at me or something else. Was I supposed to refuse to let her quit? Stop her from going back to London? The idea I may have hurt or disappointed her has been eating away at my gut, but I can't find out or talk it over with her because she won't fucking answer my calls.

Today I got chewed out not once, but twice; firstly by Lois, our wardrobe manager, because apparently I've lost weight and she's got to take in my uniforms for the next few days' worth of shooting, then Jenna had a go at me for the dark circles under my eyes. Yeah, cause it's totally my fault I'm not sleeping.

"They've got us by the balls though, don't they, eh?"

"Yeah." I tossed back the last of my coffee. "Alright, mate, I'm gonna get going. See you in the morning."

"See you Gerry."

A car was waiting to take me back to the hotel and as we negotiated traffic through the outskirts of Sofia, I thought back on that last comment; Jo did indeed have me by my balls. Without her, I was aimless and aching, a lead weight squeezing my chest every time I remembered she wasn't here with me – which happened about fifty or sixty times a day. When she left Bristol, I'd been stunned, of course, though I knew she was right about not being able to show her any favouritism, but what I hadn't expected was her cutting off all ties completely. I thought we'd been doing okay, that we were sailing fairly smoothly through the whole boss-and-employee-turned-into-kissing-and-having-sex thing, and while I knew I was head over heels crazy for her, I really had no idea how she felt about me. Maybe that's it, that's why she won't answer my calls or texts. Maybe she doesn't feel anything for me and now that she's not my assistant any more, she doesn't want anything to do with me.

Fuck, I hope not.

I pulled out my phone to check for messages – again – and hesitated with my finger hovering over the phone contacts icon. Each time I tried and failed, a little piece of me died and after a rat-shit day already, I wasn't sure I could handle more rejection. Then her face appeared behind my eyelids and the ache in my chest intensified, and before I knew what was happening, I found her contact and pressed the damn button.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

I'll give it five more seconds, then I'll...

"Hey." Her voice sounded quiet and breathy, which stole mine completely and I stared dumbly at the leather seat in front of me, my hand gripping the device so hard it was a wonder it didn't crumble into dust.

"Hey," I croaked, cleared my throat and tried again. "Hey, uh...Hi, Jo. It's me, Gerry." Well, duh.

"Really? Huh. That must be why your name and photo showed up on my screen then, I guess."

Sass. She's giving me sass. I allowed myself a small breath of relief.

"Yeah, well...you know how it is." I swiped a hand over my jaw, feeling the scrape of my five o'clock shadow and noting without being at all surprised that my hand was shaking.