by N. N. Britt
I spent the rest of the month searching for a new venue. Unfortunately, all my efforts were to no avail, which only caused more tension between Levi and me. Isabella was booked for a series of shows and charity appearances in Seattle and we couldn’t postpone it any longer. The screening had to happen before the second week of April.
In my defense, I continued to grill the managers of the clubs that were still undecided and even reached out to a couple of places who’d rejected the project. Bottom line: I was desperate. I was ready to work with anything. Even the back of a restaurant as long as it could fit a stage and a projector.
Unlike my heart, my new ink healed nicely. Jax had wonderful hands. The needle was his paintbrush. At first, the idea of having a comic book character imprinted onto my skin had seemed crazy, but the moment he showed me the sketch, I knew she was the one.
She was a representation of the new me. A warrior. An independent woman who didn’t need a man, even if said man kept sending her flowers every week like clockwork, long after his calls and texts had stopped, long after he’d vanished. From my life. From the public eye.
Gone.
I’d made it clear when we last spoke that I didn’t want him to seek me out anymore. His silence could mean many things. Maybe he’d checked into rehab just like he’d promised or maybe he’d gone on another drinking spree. Maybe neither of those things. Whatever he’d chosen, we’d fallen apart. We were an affair that hadn’t lasted. A relationship that hadn’t withstood the storm.
A fading memory.
Having Heidi Fox tarnish this memory during Bowl N’ Roll wasn’t something I’d been prepared for. Meeting ex-Mrs. Blade in general wasn’t something I’d been prepared for. We didn’t run in the same circles. The chances of us ever bumping into each other were very slim. Practically nonexistent.
After Heidi and Frank called it quits, she stopped hanging out with musicians and left the scene. According to her 2013 Cosmopolitan interview, they were too unstable. A couple of months later, her name had resurfaced online. She’d been rumored to date some billionaire from Costa Rica. That hadn’t lasted long. Up next was a famous tennis player. Then an A-list Hollywood actor. Heidi Fox didn’t waste any time. Especially since time hadn’t been kind to her. She wasn’t a glorified girl-next door with golden skin and perfect blond hair anymore. Just like Frank, she was the victim of a scalpel. She was a nicely packaged product to sell. In her early thirties, the woman was still beautiful—tall, fit, long-legged with perfect facial features and impeccable makeup, but when it came down to it, Heidi Fox was merely a pretty girlfriend-for-hire. Whatever happened to her aspirations to change the world?
Heidi was making her way through the upper concourse of the bowling alley in the company of Caleb Waters when I saw her from my spot across from the step and repeat area set up in the reception of the bowling center.
Earlier red carpet attendees had already been teamed up and escorted to their lanes. Bets had been made. Drinks and appetizers had been served. The floor buzzed with energy. Starstruck ticket holders chased after celebs. Security chased after starstruck ticket holders. Those who didn’t want to be bothered hid in the private rooms upstairs.
The newly arriving guests were lined up for a photo op by the PR girls running the event.
Levi and I had been here since five. We planned to wrap it up after catching the last wave of VIPs who arrived late.
Bowl N’ Roll was by far one of the most tiresome charities of the season. A casual snob-fest. Usually, I enjoyed it. But not this year. Reason number one, Dante’s presence, although he’d only shown up on the red carpet for a photo session and we hadn’t had a chance to talk. Reason number two, the countless stares of other guests and the press. Darn you, Frank! Reason number three was walking through the concourse next to the skateboarding sensation right now.
“Hey!” Levi’s head emerged from behind the camera. Pulling his phone out to summon Carlos back to the red carpet, he jerked his chin at the group of people moving in our direction.
“I know,” I mouthed, trying my best not to roll my eyes as every single reporter gawked at me. Being under a microscope drove me nuts. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t be myself anymore. One wrong move or word and I’d end up on TMZ again. Like I had last week. Someone had taken photos of me leaving my gym, and a few days later, they’d appeared on various Hall Affinity fan sites and had eventually made it to a few tabloids.
At least people who worked the red carpet refrained from calling me names or asking me questions about Frank. My Twitter and Instagram, on the other hand, were flooded with message requests from certified weirdos. People didn’t seem to grasp the concept of privacy.
Levi and I shared a concerned look as the couple strode over. Cameras flashed. Voices grew louder. Caleb Waters was obviously the main attraction. The biggest name in skateboarding after Tony Hawk, the man had just signed a ten-million-dollar deal with Nike.
The PR gal leapt over to the center of the step and repeat and held up a sign with Caleb and Heidi’s names. A few reporters who had no idea who the two were made notes. Others plunged forward. In my peripheral, I saw Carlos. Both cameras up in the air, he ripped through the crowd and pushed his way to the front of the line.
My palm that was wrapped around the base of the microphone dampened. My cheeks hurt from hours of smiling. The unraveling chaos became too much, and I hated Frank for making me despise something I’d once loved—doing press.
Caleb was battling a barrage of questions while a silent Heidi clung to his arm. They moved along, nearing our side of the red carpet. A microphone was thrust at them right before they met up with Levi’s camera. More questions poured from the guy to my right. I stepped back, contemplating whether Caleb Waters was worth the hassle. Rewired readers probably didn’t care about skateboarding.
“I think I’m skipping this one,” I whispered to Levi.
“Are we done then?” He surveyed the reception area to make sure we didn’t miss anyone. When I followed his lead, I caught a glimpse of Dante’s hat bobbing above the heads of the people crowding lane twenty-two. I heard a long rumble of the ball, followed by the crash as it knocked into the pins. Everyone on the floor cheered and clapped.
“Yes. Let’s pack.” I nodded, returning my gaze to Levi.
He reached for the LED panel to turn it off. As if on cue, one of the PR girls leapt over. Then she grabbed my elbow and said in a low voice, “I know Rewired doesn’t feature sports, but Caleb is endorsing Richie Kingston’s next record. He’d appreciate you helping him to get the word out.”
“Our readers are mainly rock music fans,” I said with a smile. Turning down an interview with a person who had over five million followers on Instagram went against my beliefs, but I had no desire to be anywhere near Frank’s ex right now, even if her new beau was in cahoots with a Grammy nominee. “I’m not sure how well the interview would be received by our target audience.”
The girl matched my smile. “I understand that.” Her face remained calm. “If it makes any difference, Tommy Bryce will appear on a few tracks.”
My curiosity was piqued. A metalcore guitarist on a hip hop record? Experiments like this intrigued me. Adrenaline rushed through my veins. Getting first dibs on this exclusive info that, to my knowledge, hadn’t been released yet was worth being in close proximity to Heidi Fox for ten minutes.
Levi and I exchanged a quick glance. He powered the LED up again.
“Rewired would be happy to chat with Caleb as long as he’ll be willing to talk about Richie and Tommy’s collaboration,” I said quietly, needing verification.
“Absolutely.” The girl patted my forearm and stepped back. Her gaze flickered over to the skateboarder, who was about to wrap up his interview with another outlet. They had a brief, covert exchange before he stepped closer.
Deep breaths, Cassy. You can do this!
I tried to ignore the anxiety as we dove into the first question, but Heidi’s stare was like a dancing laser b
eam across my skin. Burning me raw. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her perfume, however, reached my nose as if the woman had bathed in it before going out. Distracted by my emotions, my tongue didn’t listen to my brain. They were in total disagreement. I stuttered, not once, but twice. It was pathetic because the woman posed no threat to me whatsoever. But the sea of cell phones floating above my head did. People were taking photos of me interviewing the man who was seeing the woman who used to be married to the man I was still allegedly with.
Talk about complicated.
My stomach lurched. Swallowing down the nausea, I went on with my next question. Dark-haired with a rough, freckled face, Caleb was a well-spoken charmer. He and mute Heidi Fox seemed like an unfortunate mismatch.
I was on my fourth question when a bright light entered my line of vision.
“Excuse me for a quick second.” Giving Caleb my best smile, I turned toward the string of reporters huddled around Levi and motioned at the phone pointed at my face. “Could we please get that out of the way?”
The light jerked back.
“Thank you. Please keep it there.”
Snide whispers swept through the crowd. Great, now I had haters because I didn’t want some paparazzi wannabe with a cell phone to blind me and the person I was interviewing.
Shifting my attention back to Caleb, I resumed our chat. Then my heart jolted into a mad sprint when Dante’s thin frame emerged on the opposite side of the red carpet. His slow movements and silly grin indicated he was drunk.
There was an obvious shift in the air. Thanks to Frank’s confession, the world now knew about Dante’s indiscretion with Heidi.
I noted the change in Caleb’s voice. Obviously uncomfortable being in front of the cameras in the company of a woman and a man who slept with each other some years back, he rushed through the last question.
Heidi continued to smile.
“Pleasure to meet you, Cassy.” Caleb shook my hand. “Thank you for your time.”
“No, thank you for your time.” I hurried to shut off the microphone. “I’m excited to hear what Richie and Tommy came up with.”
“Caleb, my friend!” someone called from the crowd.
The obnoxious cell phone light swam closer and darted between me and Heidi while her date tried to get away from the impromptu photo session. The owner of the phone was a kid Ashton’s age—skinny, medium build, wearing a black hoodie. It was obvious he was trying to make a quick buck. I knew every face on the scene and his wasn’t familiar.
“Do you have credentials?” I asked, scanning his clothes.
The barrage of voices surrounding us grew louder. People began to push as Dante continued his approach. The light jumped over to him, then back to me.
The kid had some nerve.
Pulse pounding, I barreled my way in and reached for his phone. “You can’t film without credentials.”
“Fuck off, bitch!” He threw his other hand out. At first, I didn’t feel the impact of his fist against my chest. My breath caught. The microphone slid from my palm. My body tilted backward and landed against a warm mass. Someone propped me up from behind. People began to scream. It hit me then, both the rage and the ache that spread to my throat and stomach.
My head roared. I didn’t know what it was—the insult, the lack of privacy, Heidi’s presence, or this pitiful attempt at assault, but I wanted to hurt this kid back. The thought terrified me, especially since I wasn’t a violent person.
“Security!” a voice shouted as I scrambled to my feet.
Levi’s horror-ridden face came into focus. “Are you okay?” He grabbed my hand and helped me up.
Unable to speak, I nodded. The crowd grew tight. The air felt heavy. I blinked through the haze in my eyes and settled my gaze on Dante’s hat. He shoved everyone aside with his elbows and stepped closer. “Are you good, short stuff?”
In the background, people were screaming and running.
A lollipop stick danced in front of me. I palmed my cheeks and tried to calm down. I’d never been hit in my life. Especially not by a stranger and not while I was working.
“Do you need a doctor?” Dante dipped his head to look me in the eye.
A couple of cameras in the back flashed, but the rest stayed idle.
“I’m fine.” I sounded like I had a fork stuck in my throat. I sure as hell felt that way.
“Is she hurt?” someone asked.
“She needs to sit down.”
“Shit,” Levi spat out and spun around. His camera stood off to the side, unattended.
“It’s too fucking crowded,” Dante slurred, torturing the candy between his teeth. “Let’s take her upstairs.”
“I can’t leave my gear,” Levi told him.
“All right, just come find me when you’re packed, huh?”
The cameras made an attempt to follow us, but security guards pushed everyone back to the red carpet.
The private room Dante took me to was empty and looked a lot like an Irish pub. Two pool tables sat on the right. The bar was across the way. Bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors lined the shelves. A huge crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling offset the deep green upholstery that draped the couches and the chairs. The cool quiet swallowed the noise that ruled over the busy lanes and the rest of the downstairs.
Overwhelmed, I sat on the couch and tried to breathe through my hysteria. The kid must have hit me really hard, because I could feel it everywhere, a dull ache that ran from my head to my toes. Even my teeth hurt. The entire top row.
“You want a drink?” Dante asked, hovering.
I shook my head. Being alone with the man brought back nasty memories.
“Suit yourself.” He rounded the bar and grabbed the first bottle his eyes landed on.
My gaze followed his hands as he filled a glass with ice cubes using swift, elegant movements. The man made a great bartender. He looked the part too. The dark, brooding type with his sleeves rolled up and his jewelry-clad forearms bared. Lifting his eyes to meet mine, he cocked a brow. “You sure?”
There was no malice in his tone. No regret either. He seemed overly calm considering how much shit the tabloids had posted about him after everything that happened at the party. Frank wasn’t the only one whose reputation took a public beating. Although Dante’s reputation was born out of scandal.
In a sick way, I envied his no-fucks-given attitude and his ability to block out and move on. He was a natural-born asshole superstar who didn’t care about anything or anyone but his own gain, and I was merely a girl with my heart in shambles. Playing the role of a good Samaritan wasn’t like him. Contrary to what he’d once claimed, we weren’t friends. Just the opposite. We were foes. Yet here we were. Alone. Maybe it was time for us to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.
Still reeling, I took him up on his offer and rubbed my chest in an attempt to evict the pain. “Okay, I’ll have one, but not too strong.” My voice was a hoarse whisper.
Dante poured himself a glass and took a swallow. His features crinkled. “Don’t worry about that punk.” He grabbed another bottle. “They have security cameras here. They’ll catch the fucker.”
Drawing a deep, painful breath through my teeth, I watched him finish mixing his drink and move on to making another one. He spun around to face the shelf and scanned its contents, then fumbled through the cabinets and fished out a tiny umbrella.
“Ah!” A silly grin passed his lips. He raised his hand to demonstrate his find. “This has your name written all over it, little lady.” A smirk.
I smiled at his goofy remark. Apparently, this was just a pretend pub. Dante continued to work on the drink. Bottles clanked. Ice rattled.
The silence that stretched between us was awkward. I felt like I was behind enemy lines. Witnessing said enemy cooking up the cocktail of death. For me.
My phone buzzed. Levi wanted to know where I was. I sent him a text explaining we were in one of the private rooms upstairs.
Once satisfied wi
th the results, Dante grabbed both glasses and walked over. “It’ll make you feel better.” He handed me the one with the dangerous-looking blue liquid.
I took the drink and stared at the umbrella. “It seems like it’ll make me feel the opposite of better.”
“Anyone ever told you that you have a great sense of humor?” He circled the room and deposited his hat on the pool table, then tossed his lollipop into the nearest trash can.
“Yes. Frank did.”
We locked eyes. His were dark and impenetrable, and I wondered how much he’d had to drink.
“Look… I’m sorry things got out of control during the party.” There was a real apology in his tone.
“I can’t even go to the store now. I have to get my groceries delivered to me.”
“It’s that bad, huh?” Dante stared at the bottom of his drink, confusion evident in his features. “Why do you need to go to the store anyway? Have Hannah do it.”
“Frank and I aren’t together…” My voice shook. I didn’t know why I was telling any of this to Dante. He was partially responsible for the clusterfuck my life had become, but he was the sweet monster. The charming kind you wanted to keep talking to.
His gaze drifted back to me and his eyes wandered across my face. “How come?”
A sarcastic laugh escaped my throat. “Do you really have to ask me that after everything that happened?”
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two.” He shrugged and took a swallow of his drink. “He’s not fucking answering my calls.”
“Of course he’s not. You didn’t stand by him when the label decided to fire him. You didn’t even have the decency to put up the original promotional poster at your party. Instead, you slapped Marshall’s face next to Frank’s artwork.”
“That doesn’t explain why you two aren’t together anymore.”
My frustration began to choke me. “Because I don’t want him to make any more promises he doesn’t plan on keeping. I’m okay with him breaking those promises when they’re made to me. I can take the heat. I grew up with a man like that. But I’m not okay with him breaking promises he made to a nineteen-year-old girl. Publicly. You just can’t do that. You can’t give hope to a person and then take it away. It’s not right.”