“I hope there are babies in my future,” I finally say.
“Your future?” Danny says. “You mean, our future. She means, our future,” he reiterates.
“So, you have a future?” Madison asks cautiously.
Danny tells them the story of how we met, the instant attraction, why he ended it, and how we met again.
“That’s so romantic, and it sounds meant to be,” Madison says. “But how will it work? I mean, with your life in LA?”
Danny starts to answer, but I cut him off. She asked me.
“To be blunt, I’ve done well enough that I don’t really need to work. I’ve been smart with my money, and Troy and I were not married and never commingled assets. I can be choosy about any projects I decide to do. I purchased a home in LA last week where Danny and the kids and any future kids would be comfortable, and although I’m very much in love with him, still, Danny and I are very new. And, sometimes, it feels too easy.”
“Love should be effortless,” Madison says dreamily. “That’s what my mother told me.”
Marcus shakes his head. “She was wrong about that. Love isn’t easy.”
“Actually, I disagree. Vehemently,” Madison says. “I’ve been in love with Marcus since I sat down next to him in math class my junior year of high school. Our love was always easy. We fell hard and fast, and it was beautiful. The world makes love hard. Like when he got offered a scholarship to play football at a college I hadn’t applied to. When I got pregnant our sophomore year. We’ve been incredibly blessed though. Somehow—actually, somehow isn’t correct. I know exactly how—because of our love, we made the right decisions. We worked together. And if your love is as strong as it seems just sitting here with the two of you—I swear, you both are practically glowing from love.”
Phillip coughs and says, “Or the sex.”
“You’ll figure it all out, too,” Madison finished.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely to her. “I think we will.”
Once dinner is over and we’re waiting for dessert and coffee, Madison and I both head to the ladies’ room.
“I didn’t want to say this in front of Danny, but no matter what shenanigans Lori tries to pull—and trust me, she will if word gets out—you can’t let her get to you or between you and Danny. She’s like the evil lord you battled in your Sector movies, only she’ll smile to your face at the same time she’s pulling out her dagger to stab you in the back. We love Danny. I haven’t seen him look so happy—maybe ever. Don’t let the evil one ruin anything. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“And if you need any backup, you let me know.”
“Thank you. I will.”
We get back to the table just as a delectable pumpkin spice cheesecake is being served. I’m ready to dig in when my phone lights up. I glance down to read a text from Jason.
Jason: Call me. It’s urgent.
Jason reminds me of the boy who cried wolf. To him, everything is an emergency—from an amp going out at a show to a flight getting canceled.
But another text follows. This one from Damon. I quickly scan the text, hoping everything is okay. He, Devaney, and Chase were allowed to hang out at the Diamonds’ house while the babysitter is next door with the younger Mackenzie children.
Damon: Just got an internet notification about Troy. They are saying he maybe committed suicide. Thought you’d want to know right away.
Below his text is a link to an online tabloid. I click it and read.
Breaking News: Paramedics were called to the scene of the Malibu home of Troy Malone for a suspected suicide. Troy was taken to CS Memorial Hospital. No word on his condition. The charismatic, international DJ and his longtime love, award-winning actress Jennifer Edwards, recently called it quits after photos of him in an Amsterdam brothel surfaced.
“Oh my gosh,” I blurt out. “I have to go!”
“What’s wrong?” Danny asks.
I hand him my phone, so he can read the news. He does so and then calmly sets the phone down.
“No, you don’t.”
“I don’t what?” I ask, confused.
“You don’t have to go to California. You told him it was over.”
I stand up and slam my napkin on the table. “You know if you heard that about Lori, you’d go.”
He looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “No. I don’t think I would. Richard would be the one to go.”
“She’s the mother of your children!” I argue.
“And if the children wanted to go see her, I would take them.”
“You’re not that coldhearted, Danny. You just aren’t confident enough in our relationship to let me go.” I look at him sadly. “And I’m sorry, but that’s on you.”
I pick up my bag and make my way to the exit.
Jadyn reacts first, coming after me and catching me at the door.
“What do you want?” I snarl at her.
She pulls me into a hug and says nothing. I fall into her arms and start sobbing, my emotions everywhere.
“I don’t want to leave Danny or this wonderful night. I don’t want to see Troy, but—”
“You have to go,” Jadyn says. “I understand.”
“Why doesn’t Danny?”
“His heart is on his sleeve with you.”
“And mine’s not? I’m so afraid he’s going to change his mind about me.”
“It’s new, Jennifer. It will get better. Everyone feels vulnerable early in a relationship. It’s natural. Come on. I’ll drive you to the airport while I call our pilots.”
When she drops me off, I tentatively walk up the steps to the plane. Everything in me wants to rush back to the restaurant and be with Danny, but I have to go.
It doesn’t help that I’m feeling guilty, like this is all my fault. That my not doing what Jason suggested and pretend I would marry Troy to get him into rehab caused this reaction. He told me he couldn’t live without me, and now, he’s trying to prove it. Even worse is, I don’t know his condition.
One pilot and the stewardess have arrived, but we’re waiting on the other pilot as I take my seat and get buckled in.
I read the texts, scan the internet for further information—don’t find any—and then call Jason.
“Are you on your way?” he asks, his voice sounding stressed.
“Yes, I am.”
“Thank goodness,” he says.
“How bad is it?” I dare to ask.
Jason’s voice cracks with the kind of emotion I don’t think I’ve ever heard from him, and I immediately know the situation isn’t good. “It’s bad, Jennifer. Really bad. He took a bunch of pills. I found him unresponsive with a suicide note in his hand. His lips were blue.”
“What did it say?”
“I didn’t read it. I just saw it was for you and knew what he had done. You can read it when you get here. And please pray he makes it.”
I cry during most of the three-and-a-half-hour flight. I’m afraid when I get there that Troy will be dead.
That it will be my fault.
I reminisce about the good times we had.
How he swept me off my feet—literally—when we danced at Keatyn and Aiden’s wedding. He was so sweet and poetic. He’d write snippets of songs when we were together, always whispering them into my ear with a different melody, the tune sometimes coming to him before the words were complete.
I remember the first Twisted Dreams concert I went to. They were finishing a UK tour and their last gig was at Wembley Stadium in London. I’ll never forget the fans screaming the band members’ names. Most crushed on front man, Damon Moran, but a large number crushed on the handsome drummer.
And he was mine.
He called me up onstage that night and confessed his love for me. It was almost like a proposal, and the crowd went crazy. After the show, he took me to a club where he DJed the rest of the night. I’d been to plenty of clubs, but I’d never seen anyone so masterfully handle a crowd. Troy could slow them down and whip them up into a
frenzy depending on the mix of music, and it made me a little awestruck. I was already in love with him, but that night just solidified that love and highlighted his brilliant talent.
And, really, it was that talent—an unreserved ability for him to reside in the moment—that would ultimately lead to our downfall.
His downfall, I think, wondering if he’s still even alive.
It’s not the first time Troy has overdosed, but it’s the first time he has done it with intention. The first time he left a note. The first time he took a drug not as a cocktail to keep going, but rather to purposefully end his life.
When we fought about his addiction, he would tell me to stay out of it. That I wasn’t his mother or keeper. That it wasn’t about me. That his relationship with drugs and alcohol was personal. He truly believed he was different—that the drugs didn’t control him. He believed he used them medicinally, just like someone who took an over-the-counter pain reliever for a sprained ankle.
He talked about his usage in such a confident way that, for a while, I believed him. He convinced me that he didn’t have a problem because he knew exactly what he was doing.
When he got drunk, he’d ask me, “What’s wrong with that? We all do it once in a while.”
He pointed out that even me, the girl whose father was an alcoholic, would tie one on occasionally. And, yes, while I did do shots backstage after I won an Academy Award and was so tipsy that I kissed everyone in the vicinity, it was due to the fact that I was a lightweight. I’ve always had a two-drink limit, and I had three shots in quick succession that night. I lost control, Troy said. That it was understandable. That it was just for fun. But he also told me that was where he differed from my father. My father drank because he had to. Troy said he drank because he wanted to.
It wasn’t until later that it all spiraled out of control.
When we land, I thank the pilots profusely, get their cell numbers, and ask that they stay here for a few hours until I can get a read on the situation. They assure me that they are on call for me until Monday morning when they need to fly back to pick up Jadyn for a Monday night flight back to LA for her weekly hotel update meeting.
A car is waiting for me at the jetway.
On the ride to the hospital, I check my phone.
No texts from Danny.
No texts from Jason or Troy.
There is, however, a group text from Damon, Devaney, and Chase. They have apparently been searching the internet for updates on Troy, have forwarded different articles, and are speculating on his status.
It’s really sweet of them. It feels like they are trying to support me. I appreciate it and tell them so.
I decide to read the articles.
One tabloid has reported his passing, causing the hashtag #RIPDJTroy to trend on social media, but Devaney says she doesn’t think it’s true.
I’m praying that it’s not.
As we pull into the hospital parking lot, I brace myself for what I will learn about Troy’s condition. But as we get closer to the entrance, I see that even though it’s midnight, the paparazzi are out in full force.
I want to tell the driver to turn around. To take me somewhere I don’t have to face the harsh judgment of the cameras, but I need to get inside.
I open the car door and am bombarded with a barrage of shouted questions.
“Jennifer, Jennifer, what took you so long to get here?”
“If Troy survives, does this mean you’re getting back together?”
“Social media accounts are saying Troy is dead. What have you heard?”
“Where have you been hiding out?”
“Who made your dress?”
I look down at myself. Trying on party dresses in Jadyn’s closet seems like so long ago.
“Jennifer, will you come back and update us on Troy? We’re all really worried about him.”
This from a woman reporter who is particularly cutthroat even though she sounds very sincere.
I march past them and enter the hospital where a security guard recognizes me and tells me a room number.
“Is that the ICU?” I ask.
The guard chuckles under his breath as he shakes his head.
I go to the room, wondering could possibly be funny at a time like this.
And the second I walk in, I understand.
Troy is sitting up in bed, laughing and playing cards with Jason.
“What the fuck?” I yell. You have got to be kidding me. I came all this way to find the asshole sitting up in bed, laughing?
“Jennifer, thank goodness you are here,” Jason says to me. “As you can see, our boy is going to be all right.”
“He’s not my boy,” I say to Jason and then turn to Troy. “People think you’re dead.”
Troy lets out a wry smile. “I wanted to be dead, Eddie. I wrote you a note and everything. Seeing you here now though makes me happy I survived.”
“I’ll let the two of you chat in private,” Jason says, quickly slipping out of the room.
“I can’t believe I flew all the way here for you,” I mutter.
Troy motions for me to come closer to the bed. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll punch him right in the face.
I stand rooted in my spot.
He holds up a piece of paper. “This is for you. I didn’t intend to ever wake up again.”
“Well, you didn’t do a very good job of it, I guess,” I say.
“Wow, you’re really pissed at me, aren’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. I left in the middle of a dinner with friends, rushed to the airport, got on a plane, and flew here, wondering the whole time if you were dead or alive. I didn’t know what I would find when I got here. Turns out, things aren’t quite as dire as Jason led me to believe.”
“I wanted to die, Jennifer. Apparently, I can’t even do that right. But you will be happy to know that once I leave here, I’ll be going straight to rehab. Thirty days. I feel like I’ve been given another chance. I survived. I’m not going to waste it.” He shakes the piece of paper at me. “Please come and take this.”
I march over and pull the note from his hands.
“Read it. It’s my apology to you.”
“You’ve already apologized, Troy. I told you the last time we spoke that you had to show me you’ve changed because your apologies mean nothing. They are empty promises that your actions never back up. I don’t want to read this. I won’t read this. I. Am. Done.”
I fold the paper, then rip the thing in half with force, and then hand it back to him.
“You are in charge of your life now. I sincerely hope you do something good with it,” I say, marching out of the room and heading straight to the hospital front door.
I’m on my way out when Jason comes rushing up next to me.
“He’s going to rehab,” he says happily.
“Don’t ever call me again!” I narrow my eyes at him in anger. I’m so mad that I can barely stand myself. I grab him by the arm and drag him out of the hospital entrance where the paparazzi are waiting.
“Jennifer! Jennifer! How’s Troy?”
“You should ask his manager about that,” I say, walking away and hailing a cab.
I’m barely in the car before I’m calling a crew to let them know I want to go home. Right now.
November 19th
Jennifer
I’m so mad that I don’t sleep the whole way back to KC. And I’m still fuming when I land. One of the pilots offers to drive me to the Mackenzies’ house, but that’s not where I need to go. I need to talk to Danny. I need to tell him what happened and what I said and did. Because I know he will be proud of me.
I call his cell, but he doesn’t answer.
I then realize it’s Sunday, and he probably has a game. Except that it’s his bye week, isn’t it? I try calling him again.
Still no answer.
I check the time. It’s seven thirty.
Maybe he’s not awake yet.
I text him.
No reply.
That leaves me no choice but to text Damon and Devaney, hoping one of them is either up or will hear their phone buzz.
Damon immediately replies, telling me his dad is at the stadium.
My mind is too scattered to ask him why he has a game when he hasn’t practiced all week, but I just go with it.
I have to talk to him.
I ask the pilot to take me there, expecting to find the parking lot full of tailgaters. I’m surprised when there are none. “Is there a game today?” I ask.
“Not today. It’s their bye week.”
“Okay then. Why don’t you take me to the players’ parking lot?”
“I’m not sure where that is exactly,” he says.
We drive around the stadium for a bit until I see an area that looks familiar.
“There! I think that’s it.”
The pilot is stopped by a security guard.
“I need to see Danny Diamond right away,” I yell from the other side.
“That’s not possible, miss,” he says. “Unless you have a pass.”
“But I’m Jennifer Edwards,” I say with a pout.
“I know who you are, ma’am, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I can’t let you in.”
“Can you let Danny out? Like, can you tell him I’m here?” I beg desperately. “Please. I’ll get you anything you want. Red carpet. Movie premiere. You name it. Please. He doesn’t have his phone with him.”
“No offense, but maybe he just isn’t answering your call. Besides, you look a little, um, disheveled right now. And you’re awfully dressed up.”
“I’m wearing last night’s dress because I left dinner because—” I stop talking, realizing how it will sound if I continue. Everyone thinks Danny is still married. Some crazy girl showing up at the stadium in last night’s dress wouldn’t look good. I decide to use my acting skills instead. “There’s this Dream Wish child. That Danny knows. That I know. And I need to talk to him about it. It’s urgent. Please. I wouldn’t be here in last night’s dress if it wasn’t. I flew straight here from LA in the middle of the night.”
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