Crash

Call Me

Shivering, both Penelope and Charles made it back through the fence and safely to the car, Charles in his trousers, which were now soaking wet, and Penelope shrouded in his dinner jacket, carrying her long, red and very expensive dress in a bundle in her arms. 

When they made it back to his Ferrari, he swiftly opened the trunk and produced two red blankets, wrapping one around her shoulders and the other to dry his torso. Penelope smiled, noting the common theme here - everything was red. 

"I should have told you earlier," Charles said as he opened the passenger door for her, "but you looked really good in that dress."

"Really?" she asked coyly, letting the blanket hang off her shoulder. "Shame you made me take it off."

Charles smirked as he put the car in reverse, revving the engine. "You could always put it back on. I wouldn't complain."

"Sure, Leclerc. Maybe if you're nice to me, I will."

"Deal."

Penelope stared out the window, smiling to herself until something dawned on her. She caught a glimpse of the dashboard, more specifically the time, which read 2:07am. Her eyes went wide as she whispered a curse under her breath. "I have work in the morning," she realised, the burden of reality suddenly resting on her shoulders once again. "Shit. I should probably go home."

Charles pulled a face, but she could tell he was kidding. "So I can't convince you to stay out a little longer?"

Penelope shook her head. "Not this time. I have rehearsal and table read and-"

Charles held his hands up. "Okay, okay. I get it, you're a busy woman."

"You can drop me back at the restaurant. I'll make an excuse or something, I don't mind."

"Don't be stupid," he said plainly. "I'm not gonna make you go back to that place. Give me your address, I'll take you home."

***********

The drive back wasn't long, but it was peaceful. Charles, unsurprisingly, was a good driver, and the gentle hum of the engine functioned as a lullaby for her, easing her mind. As Charles drove, she watched the landscape pass by out the window, the trees rolling past like a snapshot in a camera lens. It was beautiful, and for those twenty minutes, she felt true peace in her own company for the first time in a very long time. 

When they finally pulled up outside her house, Charles opened the door for her once again. Penelope gave him a small smile, her hair still dripping water onto the paving stones under their feet. "That's becoming a pattern, Romeo."

"Ah, maybe it's a French thing."

"That hard just to admit that you're a nice guy?"

"Well, if you say so..."

His lips were tender against hers as he leaned in and kissed her, his face cold but comforting, like returning home after a cold winter's day. She let the moment take her, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, pressing her body to his. 

Without leaving enough time to talk herself out of it, Penelope said "Come inside with me."

Charles kissed her again just as she expected him to, but when he pulled away he shocked her. "Not tonight, mon amour," he murmured, placing a gentle, tender kiss on the bridge of her nose. 

Penelope stared at him. "Are you turning me down?"

"Never. I'm saying to call me when you're done with work, and I'll take you to dinner."

"Dinner?"

"You told me I was a gentleman. I'm trying to act like one. I like you, I don't want to ruin it."

Penelope bit her lip, hard. "You're making this very difficult for me right now."

Charles laughed as he kissed her one last time before backing away towards the car. "Call me! Don't forget!"

"I don't even have your number!"

Charles winked. "Ah, it's in the jacket pocket. Put it in there as soon as we sat down at that dinner table. I just had a feeling."

Sure enough, screwed up into a small, crumpled ball was a little slip of white paper. Scrawled inside was an eleven digit phone number, a heart thrown on at the end.  

"So I guess I'll see you around?"

"No," Charles corrected, rolling down his car window so he could make sure she could hear him. "I'll see you at dinner. Tomorrow."

Before she could reply or turn him down (not that she was going to, anyway,) he was gone, his car racing down the driveway and into the darkness of the night. Penelope watched him go, her whole body still on high alert, like every nerve of her being was on edge. She was still freezing, but the warm fuzzy feeling in her chest helped to thaw some of the cold. It wasn't until she remembered the time and her schedule for tomorrow that she worked up the motivation to move towards the front door. 

After fumbling for her keys for what felt like forever, she finally managed to get inside, pulling the door firmly shut behind her. The house itself was dark and silent, which wasn't surprising. When Jane wasn't here, Penelope lived alone, trying to fill her large LA house with enough stuff to curve the loneliness it instilled in her. Unfortunately, it rarely worked. Sure, in the day the house was normally buzzing with staff or documentary camera crew (long story for another time) or family. But at night, it was big and sad, the atmosphere flat and the darkness scary. Part of her wished she could move back in with her abuela and abuelo, into her childhood bedroom with the posters and ballet shoes and stuffed animals. Maybe that way, she'd feel less alone. 

Sighing, Penelope gathered her dress and shoes and made her way upstairs, one heavy step at a time. She knew she should probably shower and brush her hair and wash her face, but she collapsed back on the bed before she had the chance. As she stared up at the ceiling, all she could see was Charles's face, his smile and his green eyes, like a lovesick teenager who' been on a date for the first time. For the first time in a while, she felt a surge of hope, like maybe something good might be looming on the horizon. Maybe there was a reality where she could have her career and be happy, in and out of the public eye. Now more than ever, that was starting to look like a possibility. And, at least for the time being, she couldn't see how that could be anything other than a good thing that she should try very, very hard to hold on to. 

*********************