Or, maybe they’ll be prisoners, sex-starved madmen, and the warden will throw me into their cell for them to have their way with me.
I’d worked myself into such a state of excitation that, unlike my usual patient self, I barked at the models to hurry up. “Come on. Let’s wrap it up, already.”
I was glowing with pleasure just thinking about the sensations I would experience later that night. But on the bus ride back to the lodge, that glow vanished in an instant. I received a troubling text message from Matty.
Hi Greta. I’m sorry things didn’t work out. Wish we could have said goodbye properly. We had a great time, though. And we accomplished a lot. We have a lot to be proud of. We wish you luck with your agency going back to New York. Take care.
“Sorry things didn’t work out”? “Goodbye”? “Take care”?
I phoned Matty, but the call went straight to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message.
“What’s wrong?” asked Andy.
“Everything,” I replied.
I went to Jake’s workshop filled with angst and uncertainty. I knocked on the door.
Jake opened, but he didn’t greet me with the delight and enthusiasm I expected. “Greta.”
“Jake.” I extended my hand to caress his cheek.
He pulled away.
“Jake, what’s wrong?”
“You slept with my friends.”
I tilted my head and furrowed my brow. “For you, Jake. We did it for you.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, right. I bet.”
Of course, that was only partly the reason, but it was an important part. “I don’t get it,” I said. “Why are you reacting this way?”
He looked up and put his arms out in disbelief. “Why am I—Greta, you slept with my friends. All of them!”
I frowned. “And?”
“And...” He turned away and shook his head. Then he looked back at me with hurt in his eyes. “I thought, you and I… I thought we were a team.”
“Were? Why ‘were’, Jake? We’re still a team, a bigger and better team now,” I said with genuine enthusiasm.
He frowned and shook his head.
“What?” I said, starting to get angry. “We had a good time. We put on a few shows.”
“And that’s it!? That’s all it was to you, a few shows!?”
I looked down at the ground, confused. “For me, that’s a lot. I didn’t realize you thought differently.” I looked back up at him. “You were the one who was all casual about it.”
“Yeah, but...”
“We’ll see,” I said. “Maybe we’ll see each other again. Who knows? That’s what you said. That’s how you were acting. Not me!” I was angry almost to the point of tears. I bit down on the inside of my cheek. I was not about to let him see me cry.
“You’re right, Greta. That’s how I was acting. We had a good time. And at first, I thought that would be enough.”
“But then?”
He exhaled loudly through his nose and turned from me again. “But then I let my guard down. I started to feel something, something intense.”
“Oh, Jake,” I said, and again I reached for him.
He grabbed my hand and lowered it. “Greta, you slept with my friends.” He took a step back into his workshop. “You did a lot for me, Greta. I’m grateful, and I mean it sincerely.” He smiled a smile of sadness and loss. “Good luck to you, Greta.”
“Wait. Hold on. ‘Good luck to you’?”
He lifted his shoulders. “You’re going back to New York in a few days, and me, I’m going to Colorado to serve my time.”
“Serve your time? I thought you were going to get the charges reduced to a misdemeanor.”
He sighed. “It’s a long legal battle. I’m just going to plead guilty to identity theft, do my two years and get it over with.”
I was baffled. “You’re not going to fight it?”
“What’s the point? What’s there to fight for?”
“Jake.”
He took another step back into the workshop. “Good luck to you in New York. I hope things work out for you and your agency.”
He closed the door, and I stood there a long moment, my emotions racing from anger to sadness to incomprehension to guilt then all of them at once.
On the flight back to New York, the models were all in good spirits. And why wouldn’t they be? They’d done good work. And when they got back to New York there’d probably be more work waiting for them. For Hans and me, the situation wasn’t quite the same.
Hans and I sat next to each other, but we didn’t exchange a word until the plane took off. Even then, it took me a few minutes to think of what to say, how to open a dialogue back up. Finally, I turned to him and said, “How’s your shoulder?”
He shrugged. “It will heal.”
A minute or two later, he turned to me and asked. “And how are you doing?”
I thought it over for a moment then replied, “I suppose I’ll heal too.”