The Chelsea Girls(71)

“That’s not your decision. If you don’t agree, I’ve been told to give our regards to your grandmother back in Seattle. We’ll be sure to reach out to say hello from you.”

I let out a weak moan. Arthur knew my deepest vulnerability, and would have no problems giving orders to hurt my grandmother if I didn’t do what they wanted.

Hazel and I shared a cab back to the Chelsea Hotel after the final show, after the maudlin goodbyes and promises to stay in touch. She insisted we meet up on the roof for a final toast, and I agreed, eager for anything to dull the pain.

“How are you doing?” Hazel asked, once we’d settled into our usual places.

“I should ask that of you.”

“I’m fine.” She laughed when I looked askance. “I guess I’m fine. I mean, I’m still breathing.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Funny how when things are really, really bad, you look around and appreciate the tiny things—like the taste of this wine, you by my side—because the big picture is so scary that the small things are what keep you grounded.” She smiled softly. “Who knows? Maybe, eventually, I’ll write another play, one that’s even better, even if that seems impossible in the moment. It’s strange, but whenever I’m stuck, I come up here and stare out at the city and, before I know it, I’m back on track. Something about this place is magical, in that way.”

“It’s your muse.”

“You’re my muse. No, don’t shake your head. It was your boldness on the USO tour that inspired me from the very beginning: the way you handled the other girls, the soldiers, the officers. How you’re not afraid to jump into the thick of things without overthinking matters or being nervous about screwing up. I haven’t forgotten you’re the reason why I landed the director’s job in the first place. That would’ve never happened without you sitting at the table, pushing Mr. Canby, pushing me, and it was my dream job. So thank you.”

It was like a punch in my gut, to hear those words. “Not anymore, no way. I can’t be bringing you down like I did. You’re on your own from here, chum.”

“Please don’t be hard on yourself.”

I hated that she was worried about me, and looked away, studying the reflection of the setting sun on the skyline, as the gray facades of the neighboring buildings turned a shimmering pink.

Hazel stared hard at me. “What’s that on your face?”

Without thinking, I had tucked my hair behind my ear, exposing the bruise. I quickly covered my cheek with my hand. “Nothing, just some reaction to that awful stage makeup.”

“Let me see.” She reached out and gently cupped my chin, her touch so tender I wanted to weep. “Is that from Arthur? Did he hit you?”

There was no point in lying. “We got into a tiff, nothing major. I fell while we were arguing.”

Hazel wasn’t having any of it. “No. You’re lying. What happened?”

I tried again. “He saw me flirting at the opening-night party. It was my fault, I’d had too much to drink.”

“And so he hit you?”

“He didn’t mean to, I swear.” I had to deflect her attention away from him, for her own sake.

Hazel shifted forward in her chair. “We’re going to the police. I’ll back up your story, and we’ll get him arrested and carted off to jail. He deserves no less.”

God, no. That was a terrible idea, for dozens of reasons, none of which I could share with Hazel. “You can’t. I won’t.”

She pulled back, incredulous, eyes wide. “Why not? Are you that scared of him?” She watched me as I tried not to squirm. “What’s going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

I struggled to figure out how to answer.

“I love him.”

I don’t think I’ve hated myself as much as I did when I said those three words.

Hazel shook her head, confused. “If he hits you, why would you love him?”

I waited a moment, trying to figure out how to derail her demand to go to the police. “Just leave it alone, that’s all. I’m fine. If you’ve never been in a long-term relationship, you wouldn’t know what it’s really like.”

She inhaled sharply. The concern on her face was replaced with a stunned bewilderment. “I see. I’m not sure who you are anymore, Maxine.”

I wondered that myself. “Look, give me some time, okay? I promise everything will be fine. I just can’t be pushed right now, after the bad reviews and now this. I need a little time to get my bearings, reassess everything. You can understand that, can’t you?”

She nodded, but I could practically see her mind spinning, trying to figure out what I’d left unsaid. Where the missing pieces of the puzzle lay.

“Look, I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. You and Charlie, I know you’re close. I just worry about it, that’s all.”

Hazel’s face grew pinched. “After opening night, he told me that he’d been accepted into the FBI and we had a terrible row. I told him to break off from his father, from all the spy hunting, right there and then. He refused, and that was that. We’re done.”

I took a sip of my drink, unable to meet her eye or offer a word of comfort. Relief poured over me. They were done. She’d gone and saved herself without knowing it. I’d meet with Arthur tomorrow first thing and tell him that Charlie and Hazel were no longer a couple and to go jump in a lake.