by Amy Jones
“Eden,” Bryce said, but his voice was hollow and far away, and the tangle of cords never left his hands.
Ava rolled her eyes, closing her book and tucking it beside her on the window seat. “We’re not at a club, Eden. There are no paparazzi here. You don’t have to act all tough.”
“Who says I’m acting?”
“Eden, Jesus, it’s fine.” Kayla flipped a page in her magazine, shaking her head. “Who cares what she thinks, she’s nobody.”
“She thinks she’s somebody,” Eden said. “She thinks she’s somebody who can say shit like that to me and get away with it.”
“I can say whatever I want,” Ava said. “I’m not the one who’s acting like an idiot in front of the cameras just to get more sponsors or higher ratings or whatever it is you think you’re going to get from all this ridiculousness. I’m not the attention whore.”
Eden flinched, and for an instant Ava felt a twinge of regret. Then Eden stormed across the room to stand over Ava, her fists clenched in fury. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” she said. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“You want to come at me?” Ava stood up from her seat, suddenly aware that she was at least half a foot shorter than her sister. “Fine, come at me. Punch me in the face. Prove my point, Eden, go ahead, just do it.”
“Why do you even care about any of this, anyway? This is all just a game, remember, Ava?”
“Stop it, both of you!” Bryce yelled, throwing the cords down on the table. Both Ava and Eden turned to him in surprise. “I’ve had enough of this. You two apologize to each other right now.”
“Sorry,” Eden mumbled.
“Sorry,” Ava repeated.
For a moment, Ava thought she saw a brief flicker in Eden’s eyes of the sweet, funny kid she used to know. But had she ever really known her? Eden had been playing a role for so long it was impossible to know which parts of her were real and which parts were put on, constructed, carefully arranged. Ava doubted if even Eden knew. And it sickened her to realize that she had been the one to tell Eden that this was just a game. She had been the one to tell her that being Eden Hart was just a role she had to play.
Back then, Ava had thought she knew Eden so well. But standing there, watching her sister’s back receding up the stairs, she was struck with the sudden realization that no one can ever know anyone at all.
* * *
That night, as Ava was falling asleep, her phone went off. A Facetime call from Eden. Yeah, right, Ava thought, lying back down on her pillow, imagining Eden and the Kaylas in the room next door, drunk off the bottle of David’s brandy she saw them steal earlier in the night, and accidentally calling her while they posed for selfies. She didn’t need to see that. She didn’t need to see anything Eden had to show her.
But her phone kept buzzing, and eventually her curiosity got the better of her. When she answered, she was surprised to see the background was dark, and Eden appeared to be outside.
“Ava!” she cried as the connection locked in, her voice pitched high, her eyes bright and manic as she swayed in the frame. “Guys, guys, Ava will know this!” She gestured to someone off-screen, and a face Ava didn’t recognize appeared over her shoulder. “Ava, listen, I have a question. Lobsters live in salt water, right?”
“Yes, of course.” The phone shuffled, and Eden’s face was replaced by one of the Kaylas. Squinting at the screen, Ava realized they were standing by water, a large boat stretching out along the dock behind them. “Wait, where are you guys?”
Kayla’s eyes narrowed, her lids slackened under the weight of some kind of intoxicant, her mouth gaping. “We were, um, partying? On this boat? With, um, some guy?”
The other Kayla appeared. “Oh, hey, it’s Poems,” she said, moving her face closer to the screen, and Ava could practically smell her breath, thick and sour. She took a drag of a cigarette and blew it at the camera. “That’s what we call you now. Poems.”
Somewhere off-screen, there was a loud crash.
“Where’s Eden? What are you guys doing?”
“We are about to undertake a fucking rescue mission,” the second Kayla said. She stuck out her tongue and then flipped the camera around, panning it across the lamplit waterfront. She stopped in front of a restaurant called The Fish Hook. Glass was scattered across the boardwalk, and as Kayla raised the phone, Ava could see the front window had been smashed out completely, the shriek of an alarm skipping through the darkness across the water. Several people were standing on the boardwalk peering through the opening, but no one was doing anything. Suddenly there was a loud crash from inside the restaurant, and a moment later Eden and another girl appeared in the window, their arms full of live lobsters.
“Be free!” Eden screamed, throwing her armload onto the boardwalk, a pile of green shells and antennae, spider-like legs entwined as they made their way, en masse, down the pier.
“Kayla,” Ava shouted. “Kayla!”
“Oh my god,” Kayla drawled as she turned her gaze back to the phone. “It’s still you? I thought we were filming this for TMI.”
Taking in the crowd that was forming behind them, cameras in the air, Ava sighed. “Well, I’m sure someone is.”
Kayla turned around. “Sweet.”
“Can you please stop her? She’s going to get in huge trouble.”
“Oh my god,” Kayla said again, flicking her cigarette somewhere off the dock. “Go read some poems, Poems.” Then the screen went blank.
“Dammit,” Ava said, throwing her phone across the room. She thought about who in the house she could get to deal with this. Not David and Bryce, who would clearly die of heart attacks. Not Val, who wasn’t even home. Definitely not Antonio, who would film it all and package it up for a Very Special Episode of Where the Hart Is.
“Dammit,” she said again, and began digging around under her bed for her shoes.
* * *
—
By the time Ava reached The Fish Hook, the crowd had grown to about fifty people, all with their cell phones out. They formed a wide circle on the boardwalk in front of the restaurant, where the alarm was still sounding, a surreal background score to the silent liberation of what seemed like hundreds of lobsters, all scuttling toward the pier, pushing the onlookers back with their elasticked claws raised.
As Ava pushed her way into the circle, Eden appeared in the broken window, her arms laden with more lobsters. She skipped over to the pier and tossed the armful over the side into the water. “Swim, little babies. Swim for freedom.” Then she made her way back across the boardwalk and began trying to usher the rest of the lobsters to the edge. Several onlookers joined in, but others were scooping up lobsters for themselves.
“Eden,” said Ava, picking her way through the rippling pod of upturned claws. “What the hell? This is thousands of dollars’ worth of lobsters.”
“Ava!” Eden turned and hugged her. Her shirt was damp against Ava’s chest and when she peeled away, she left a lingering stench of fish on her sweater. “I’m so glad you’re here. Help me free these beautiful slimy weirdos.”
“You’re not freeing them, you’re sending them to their death. Their claws have elastics on them, for Christ’s sake. Do you even know anything about lobsters?”
“I know that they don’t deserve a life packed into a tank, waiting to become someone’s meal.”
“Eden, if you think this is going to get you back in with SoyBoy, you’re wrong. They’re not going to want a criminal as a spokeswoman.” She put her hand on Eden’s arm. “We need to leave before the cops show up.”
Eden shook her hand off. “No,” she said, staring at Ava as though she didn’t even recognize her. “We’re on a mission.” Her eyes focused in. “Go home, Poems.”
“Do you really think that name is a burn? That’s like me calling you…” She tried to think of something Eden liked, but she was coming up blank. “That’s like me calling you…”
“Hey,” Eden yelled, pointing at a
woman in a cowboy hat and cut-offs with a lobster in each hand. “Put those down.”
“Eden! You’re going to get arrested.”
Eden whirled around to face her. “What do you even fucking care?” she screamed. “You haven’t said more than two words to me in months. You don’t answer my texts, you don’t like my Instas, you don’t even watch the show.”
“You have like five trillion Instagram followers! Millions of people watch your stupid show!”
“You’re the only one who matters!” Tears wobbled on the edge of Eden’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “I said, put those down,” she yelled, turning back to the woman. “Those are my babies!”
“No, those are my dinner.” The woman shoved the lobsters in her purse, their claws sticking out the top, elastic bands growing taut as they struggled. The rest of the lobsters, their claws still bound by elastics, kept making their way over the edge of the pier like lemmings. Ava vaguely wondered if they could sense the water on the other side of the ledge, or if it was a coincidence.
“Eden,” Ava said gently. “I’m sorry. Come on.” Then, in desperation, she added, “Let me tell you the California story.”
Eden’s face softened. She cast her eyes down at her hands, red and raw from the lobster shells, and for a moment Ava thought she was going to bring her thumb to her mouth. But she dropped her hands to her sides, her features hardening again. “That story was such bullshit. That mayor would have been arrested, you know. I looked it up.”
Ava stared at her, confused. “It…it wasn’t real, Eden. It was just a story I made up for you. You knew that.”
“Of course I knew that.” Eden pressed her lips together, then clenched her fists as though she were trying to hold something in. Her eyes met Ava’s for a brief second, before they flicked away. “You stupid bitch,” she said suddenly. “Give them back!”
“What?”
Eden pushed past Ava, and Ava turned in time to see her sister knock the lobster-stealing woman to the ground. As the two of them struggled on the boardwalk, a few guys in the crowd began to cheer. The Kaylas joined in, both their phones high in the air. The woman’s purse overturned and the lobsters climbed all over each other, trying to get out.
“Eden!” Ava grabbed her sister by the hair, pulling her off the woman. To her surprise, when she let go, Eden whipped around and slapped her across the face.
“Leave me alone, Ava!” Eden snarled. “Why are you even here?”
“You called me!”
“Since when do you come when I need you?”
“I’ve always been here, Eden. I’m always right here. You’re the one who’s never here.”
“Because I’m out there! Doing what everyone else wants me to do!” She was yelling now, her voice harmonizing with the alarm. “Everyone wants to tell me how to act, what to do, who to be. Just be like this and we’ll love you, Eden. But you’re my sister. You should be the one person who loves me no matter who I am.”
“I do love you for who you are!” But even Ava could hear how hollow her words were.
“You promised me it would never change, that we would always be Ava and Val and Eden. And then suddenly it was me.”
“Eden…”
“You were supposed to protect me!” She lunged at Ava, her eyes wild, pushing her hard in the chest.
Ava stumbled backward under the force of the blow, feeling her foot catch on something behind her. She let a small “oh” escape from her mouth as she started tipping backward. The last thing she saw was Eden’s face, fixed with a mixture of anger and fear, and something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—and then she was falling. And her skull split open with light and sound and then there was water everywhere.
As she sunk through the depths, her consciousness blinking slowly on and off, like a dying battery, she was surrounded by dozens of lobsters, all of them silently and gracefully drifting down to the bottom of the ocean. She stared up at the sky, trying to find the moon, a star, the headlights of a passing car. Some kind of light to guide her. But, just as she always suspected, there was nothing.
TMI Online
News – Sports – Celebs – Watch – Connect
EXCLUSIVE VIDEO: Ava Hart’s Assault, Dramatic Rescue Off the Coast of Nova Scotia
By Sadie Jackson
June 23, 2014 7:13 am
TMI has received exclusive video of Where the Hart Is star Ava Hart’s dramatic ocean rescue last night, after allegedly being assaulted by her co-star and sister, Eden Hart.
The video, shot by Ava’s close friend, model Kayla Rhys, shows three bystanders diving into the frigid North Atlantic Ocean to retrieve the unconscious starlet. According to Rhys, Hart was knocked out and then pushed into the ocean by her sister during a vicious attack.
“Eden was on a rampage, and Ava tried to stop her,” Rhys said. “She was just trying to be a good sister, but then Eden snapped and started beating on her. Once she’d knocked Ava out, she dumped her in the water. I thought she was coming for me next. I was so terrified!”
Police confirm that a 17-year-old female was transported by air ambulance from Gin Harbour to Halifax with non-life-threatening injuries, although they have so far refused to release any names. No charges have been laid against 15-year-old Eden Hart, but a source close to the show reports that she has already been admitted to rehab.
Our thoughts and prayers are with the Hart family during this difficult time.
TMI Online wants to know: What’s your get-well message for Ava Hart?
9 Comments
MellieMellieMellie 31 min ago
We love you Ava get well soon!
Alison Church 33 min ago
XOXO Be strong Ava!
huing_ 33 min ago
WE’VE GOT YOUR BACK AVA! #teamava
SallyO 36 min ago
You guys are all so quick to judge but you don’t know the real story. Ava Hart is a liar and a whore and this is a publicity stunt to discredit her sister and get attention DON’T BELIEVE THE HYPE Eden Hart is the victim here and all you haters can go to hell
Abraham J. Simpson 37 min ago
Love u Ava!!!!
Mariana Diaz 40 min ago
¡Mejórate pronto!
JuicyG 44 min ago
You suck TMI
Nosidam 45 min ago
XOXOXXOXOXO LOVE YOU AVA XOXOXOXOXOXO
Peter Smyk 45 min ago
Stay strong Ava!
LIFESTYLE NETWORK
Your Life. Your Style. Your LifeStyle.
Memorandum
To: LifeStyle Network Executive Producers Date: Monday, June 23, 2014
From: Bob and Tess Axelrod Extension: 00676
Re: Cancellation—Where the Hart Is
In light of recent events, we have decided to cancel Where the Hart Is. We realize this comes at an inopportune time based on the increasing amount of public interest in the show, but taking into consideration Eden Hart’s age and the suspected involvement of alcohol in yesterday’s incident, specifically, Jane has advised this to be the best course of action given the optics.
We will be meeting with series producer Antonio Rivera in the coming days to discuss possible opportunities for monetizing the incident going forward.
Please direct any media requests to Maria.
Bob Axelrod, President and CEO
LifeStyle Network Tess Axelrod, CFO
LifeStyle Network
cc: Maria Nunes, Jane Burton-Brown, Antonio Rivera
Mags
February 2014
“Bright Outlines”
They wanted Mags front and centre in the shot.
“Let’s mess her hair up a little, like she just got out of bed,” the photographer said. “And let’s lose the sweater. What does your bra look like, sweetie? Oh good. Black. I like it. Let’s go with that.”
Suddenly there were hands all over her. She shivered as they took off her top, put their fingers in her hair, arranged her arms over her head in vari
ous positions. She glanced sideways at Sam, trying to catch his eye, but he was with Paul and Zac, crowded around the television propped up on a shelf in the corner of the studio. The three of them relaxed and fully clothed and probably high, waiting to step into the shot at the last minute without any kind of makeup or wardrobe or coaching on facial expressions. They were serious musicians. They were fine as they were.
The photoshoot was for their first magazine cover, promoting Align Above’s major label debut. Slated for a summer release, the album was almost finished and buzz was already growing—word had been spreading about the intensity of their live shows, and one of Mags’s favourite artists, Wylie Daniels, had given them a shout-out in a Rolling Stone interview. But Mags had been finding the publicity difficult to navigate. She had written most of the songs, but not one person had mentioned that fact during the interviews. Not the journalists, not Paul and Zac. Not even Sam. The only thing anyone ever wanted to talk to her about was her clothes, or her hair, or her stage presence, or what it was like to be the only girl in a band full of guys. They barely even mentioned her singing. Sometimes she felt as though she were another instrument, another stage prop to pack up in the van with everything else at the end of the night. And still she smiled, answered all the questions, giggled at the jokes. Partly she was intimidated, yes. But also she knew she needed to play the game. Whatever it took. She just wanted to sing.
In the corner of the studio their new manager, Emiko, was standing by the door, her ear glued to her cell phone. Emiko managed a few Toronto bands, including their old friends Holster, who said she was the best around. All Mags knew about her by this point was that she was always on her phone—Mags was certain she had never seen her without it. What did that ear even look like? Mags wondered. She pictured it deformed, a knobbed edge on an otherwise delicate shell.