disappearing from the scene at the beginning of the year,
Eric finally resurfaced a week ago when he and Carson were spotted at their
favorite nightspot, Club Amsterdam.” They flashed to a video of the beefy actor
Carson Kingsley walking confidently beside a darker-haired man. Ren’s breath
caught in her throat as she recognized the face under those aviator sunglasses.
“No…” Jolene said.
“Is that your Eric?” Lisa said with equal incredulity. “Tell me
that’s not your Eric.”
Ren began to nod, but her heart stopped when they showed a grainy video
of Eric inside the club, having an intimate conversation with a sexy woman over
a table littered with alcoholic beverages.
Jolene clicked off the television once the segment finished and the show
went to commercial. “Eric Sorenson is the guy you met and slept with in
Colorado?” she asked, sounding as if she herself didn’t believe the words that
were coming out of her mouth. “ That Eric Sorenson?”
Ren leaned back, shock still rendering her speechless.
“That guy is known for being a nobody who got famous because he parties
and drinks with actors,” Lisa said, jabbing a finger in the television’s
direction. “That guy is a walking Valtrex ad.”
“Lisa!” Jolene cried. “That’s… that might not even be true.”
Ren shut her eyes, avoiding the looks on her sisters’ faces. She couldn’t
decide which shocked her more: the fact that Eric was appearing on television,
or that he apparently had reverted to his old ways. And now her sister Lisa had
brought up a good point, one that had escaped scrutiny when she had been naked
under him. He was not someone you could call virtuous.
His words came back to her: Sometimes I wish I were a better person.
“Hypocrite.” The word came out of Ren’s mouth before she knew what was
happening.
“Who? Me?” Lisa asked.
“No,” Ren said with a sigh. “Eric. He told me he was trying to become a
better person. I guess he’s done trying.”
“Lisa was right. About Eric being nothing but an L.A. player.”
Lisa pushed her glasses up her nose. “For the record, I don’t want to be
right.”
“I guess that’s that, then,” Ren said, setting her glass of wine on the
coffee table and standing up. “At least that eliminates one of the things I was
worried about.”
“Ren,” Jolene said, grabbing her hand as she walked by. “Stay here
tonight. We can stay up and talk about it.”
Ren shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. This is one issue I
intend to put to rest.”
“So you’re done with Eric then?” Lisa asked with a smidge of skepticism.
“You are going to completely write him off?”
“Yes, definitely,” Ren said with determination. “As soon as I give him a
piece of my mind.”
Eric emerged from the bathroom whistling a tune. It finally felt like he
had steered his ship around towards clear waters. Though he knew it wouldn’t be
easy, he hoped he was on the right course towards a life he could be proud of.
The private classes he was paying for with Greg Hudson, master woodworker, were
proving to be a challenge, but one that filled him with a sense of being. It
felt good to be working with his hands again, no matter the splinters or the
inherent danger of cutting off an appendage or two.
Eric dropped his towel on the floor and climbed into bed, realizing that
it had been a long time since he’d had a guest stay overnight. He had almost
closed the deal with a woman the other night at the club, one who was
interested in his woodworking stories (or at least acted like it), but he had
stopped short. At the time, his actions had perplexed him, but now, in the
silence of his bedroom, he realized he had been self-sabotaging. And he had a
sneaking suspicion it was because of one girl with a penchant for wearing a
hideous sweater.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the phone began to ring, and his reason
for sleeping alone showed up on caller ID. “Ren,” he said
Eric finally resurfaced a week ago when he and Carson were spotted at their
favorite nightspot, Club Amsterdam.” They flashed to a video of the beefy actor
Carson Kingsley walking confidently beside a darker-haired man. Ren’s breath
caught in her throat as she recognized the face under those aviator sunglasses.
“No…” Jolene said.
“Is that your Eric?” Lisa said with equal incredulity. “Tell me
that’s not your Eric.”
Ren began to nod, but her heart stopped when they showed a grainy video
of Eric inside the club, having an intimate conversation with a sexy woman over
a table littered with alcoholic beverages.
Jolene clicked off the television once the segment finished and the show
went to commercial. “Eric Sorenson is the guy you met and slept with in
Colorado?” she asked, sounding as if she herself didn’t believe the words that
were coming out of her mouth. “ That Eric Sorenson?”
Ren leaned back, shock still rendering her speechless.
“That guy is known for being a nobody who got famous because he parties
and drinks with actors,” Lisa said, jabbing a finger in the television’s
direction. “That guy is a walking Valtrex ad.”
“Lisa!” Jolene cried. “That’s… that might not even be true.”
Ren shut her eyes, avoiding the looks on her sisters’ faces. She couldn’t
decide which shocked her more: the fact that Eric was appearing on television,
or that he apparently had reverted to his old ways. And now her sister Lisa had
brought up a good point, one that had escaped scrutiny when she had been naked
under him. He was not someone you could call virtuous.
His words came back to her: Sometimes I wish I were a better person.
“Hypocrite.” The word came out of Ren’s mouth before she knew what was
happening.
“Who? Me?” Lisa asked.
“No,” Ren said with a sigh. “Eric. He told me he was trying to become a
better person. I guess he’s done trying.”
“Lisa was right. About Eric being nothing but an L.A. player.”
Lisa pushed her glasses up her nose. “For the record, I don’t want to be
right.”
“I guess that’s that, then,” Ren said, setting her glass of wine on the
coffee table and standing up. “At least that eliminates one of the things I was
worried about.”
“Ren,” Jolene said, grabbing her hand as she walked by. “Stay here
tonight. We can stay up and talk about it.”
Ren shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. This is one issue I
intend to put to rest.”
“So you’re done with Eric then?” Lisa asked with a smidge of skepticism.
“You are going to completely write him off?”
“Yes, definitely,” Ren said with determination. “As soon as I give him a
piece of my mind.”
Eric emerged from the bathroom whistling a tune. It finally felt like he
had steered his ship around towards clear waters. Though he knew it wouldn’t be
easy, he hoped he was on the right course towards a life he could be proud of.
The private classes he was paying for with Greg Hudson, master woodworker, were
proving to be a challenge, but one that filled him with a sense of being. It
felt good to be working with his hands again, no matter the splinters or the
inherent danger of cutting off an appendage or two.
Eric dropped his towel on the floor and climbed into bed, realizing that
it had been a long time since he’d had a guest stay overnight. He had almost
closed the deal with a woman the other night at the club, one who was
interested in his woodworking stories (or at least acted like it), but he had
stopped short. At the time, his actions had perplexed him, but now, in the
silence of his bedroom, he realized he had been self-sabotaging. And he had a
sneaking suspicion it was because of one girl with a penchant for wearing a
hideous sweater.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the phone began to ring, and his reason
for sleeping alone showed up on caller ID. “Ren,” he said
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