I didn't sleep on Thursday night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face and heard the words come out of his mouth, the words that he was trying to use to justify working with someone I despised with every fiber of my being.  Every time I thought about it, I tossed and turned, until the sun was coming up and it was a brand new day.

I got up, took Barksdale out, then called in sick because I couldn't deal with getting dressed and going to work and pretending everything was fine when my heart was breaking.  My eyes were puffy, my nose was big and red and I couldn't pull myself out of the slump I'd fallen into.

I took Barksdale out for a light walk a few times a day, but I couldn't bear the trek out to Runyon Canyon, where I'd met JC, where we'd spent so much time together.  Besides, I was afraid JC would come out and find us and try to talk to me and I wasn't ready to talk to him yet. Maybe I wasn't ready to ever talk to him.

By Sunday, I was really tired of my condo, of the four walls in my living room, of watching movies and listening to music and most of all, of Barksdale gazing out of the window, looking for JC; of him staring at me with those big browns, asking me ‘what's wrong?' in that way that only dogs could. He hadn't left my side since Thursday.  I'd tried to put him to bed, but he wouldn't go. Instead, he lumbered to my bedroom and hopped up on the bed.

It wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't his fault I was sad, so I took a shower and finally put some clothes on and grabbed the leash.  An hour later, we were lounging at the beachfront patio at Oscar's of Venice Beach. Barksdale gnawed on a giant rawhide bone and I sipped on a giant lime margarita.

"Did he say why he was writing a song for Rex? Or even how he knew Rex?" In a strapless, knee length smocked sundress, Jen drank from a bottle of Lagunitas Pale Ale. Her oversized shades hid evidence of a late night.

I picked large granules of salt from the edge of my margarita glass, listlessly shrugging a shoulder. "I didn't even really give him a chance to explain. I don't want to hear about the benefits of working for Rex and why I shouldn't be angry right now."

"But I mean... there must be a reason. He knows about you and Rex, right?"

"Everything, Jen. He knows everything about me and Rex. The relationship, how he lost his ever-loving mind after his first hit, the abuse, that fight at the Ivy. How I got fired from Teller Publicity. How I left LA because of the bullshit that Rex started. All of it."

Jen's brow furrowed, her lips pursed. If she was confused, I was double confused. "And so... he still... hmmmm."

"Yeah. Hmmm, is right. Like... why? Is there really even an answer to that question? Did he just not think about it? Did he not think it would hurt me?"

"He would have told you right out instead of making you pull it out of him."

"I guess. I just really... was hoping..." I sniffled, but refused to let myself cry anymore about him. I'd known him less than a month. It was three weeks of amazing... but that was over now.

"I don't really want to think about it anymore. I don't want to talk about it, especially at the office. That's why I wanted you to meet me out here today, so we can get all of our gossip and speculation and calling him an asshole out of our systems."

I sighed, lifting the thick heavy glass to my lips. I took a sip, then a gulp. And then another. Heartbreak tastes like tequila and lime apparently.  "When we get to the office tomorrow, I don't want any mention of JC. I'll talk to Ian, too. I just want to forget him. And I'm really, for serious, done with celebrities."

"Okay, hon," Jen said, agreeing surprisingly easily to my demands. I had expected to have to argue with her, talk her down, refute a bunch of platitudes and sayings meant to make me feel better. That Jen gave in without an argument old me a lot about my situation.

My heart sank even further, physically aching in my chest. My bottom lip began to quiver, but I caught it. And the miscellaneous tear that threatened to bring its friends to cascade down my cheeks.

Jen reached for the menu.  "Let's order something, okay? You need to soak up that alcohol.    I propped my elbow onto the table and rested my head in my palm. I closed my eyes and nodded. She was right, I did need to get some actual food in my belly. I hadn't really eaten since Thursday.

We chatted over frittatas and I traded in my margarita for a beer. Jen regaled me with stories of her Friday night antics that started with an early happy hour and had ended at 4AM on Mulholland Drive. For a few moments I laughed and indulged in a well-told story of an absolutely ratchet Friday night in LA.

I forgot about JC, about Thursday night, about Rex. About opening up myself and my heart after five lonely years of solitude and seclusion. About finally tearing down that wall, only to have the bricks thrown in my face.