Whisky Moments

by Bowie, Emily

  Placing Dick on speaker, I go on my accounts to watch Camilla cry her heart out, the same heart I smashed into a million pieces. People aren’t wrong when they say the truth hurts. I did this.

  “I can fix this. I’m telling you, she and I are meant to be. I just need to show the world.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Rhett,” he scolds.

  I’m not giving up; no one can deter me. I’m a stubborn asshole when I make my mind up, and I am going to get Camilla back.

  “You told me to get inspired, and that’s what I did,” I tell him firmly, hating he’s trying to make Camilla the bad guy here. I deserve that title, not her.

  “Fine. Let me see how I can clean up this mess. And I expect a bonus for doing the PR work of someone you should have hired months ago.”

  That’s the Dick I love, and we’re back in business.

  “You’re a good man, Dick. See you back home soon.”

  CHAPTER 36

  “Rhett, is it true you have stolen your last two songs from your girlfriend, Camilla?” I’m asked while walking out of my hotel. All I want to do is drive by Camilla’s, but I’m trying to give her some room until I have a game plan.

  Happy to see only one reporter, I keep on walking. The media has blown everything out. Radio stations are banning together, not playing any of my songs in support of Camilla.

  The whole thing is causing me a headache, and not because they’re not playing my songs. I’m impressed by how both her fans and my fans are trying to support her. I feel like she needs this to finally feel like she belongs. She should’ve had the support long ago.

  What’s driving me crazy is I can’t get close to her. She has surrounded herself with all her people. The media is hounding her more than even me.

  “What the hell are you doing walking?” Dick’s out-of-breath voice calls out to me. Turning, I see him hunched over trying to catch his breath.

  “Didn’t realize I needed to let you know my whereabouts.” I stand there waiting for him to come to me, annoyed I can’t even take a walk by myself.

  “My sources tell me that Camilla is behind the boycott of your songs.” He looks proud of himself as he tells me this.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. “She hasn’t had time to do anything like that. And that’s not her. Your source is wrong.”

  Camilla is a lot of things, but that isn’t who she is. Camilla is as honest to me as anyone. If she did that, she would have gloated in my face. She would never go behind my back. Even with everything going on, I know this.

  “You’ve talked to her?” Dick pries, annoying me even more.

  “Just leave it alone. Whatever comes my way, I put on myself.”

  In the middle of the sidewalk in downtown Nashville, Dick stops in his tracks. People are moving around us, speed walking to their destination, trying to get out of the cold. No one stops to say anything, used to celebrity sightings.

  “You don’t understand. This is crippling to you. Your money will be gone in a few months if not sooner by the way you spend it on your family and hotels.”

  I shrug, not caring. My family is worth it. I’d give them the last shirt I own, even if it were coming off my back.

  I want to say “You’ll figure it out,” but I stop myself, because I honestly don’t want him to. I’m starting to think maybe I need a change, Dick being part of the change in my life.

  “Of course you don’t care.” He stares in disbelief as he looks me up and down. “You better start caring. You still owe me money. Money promised to me. Your wagon is tied to mine, and even if it’s only me caring about you, I’ll make sure you end up on top.”

  I tune him out and start walking. He keeps pace with me, and all I want to do is scream for him to get a hobby. Stop being my shadow.

  “I offered to pay you, and you told me to use it on my family,” I remind him, now realizing he was always planning on using this as leverage over me. Have to give it to the man—he’s cunning when he needs to be.

  He slaps me on the back, his signature move. “I think this will still work out for the best. The media just needs to see that Camilla is doing what she always does. You dated her, and now you’re falling from grace. Your fans will change their minds and come back once they realize the truth.”

  I stop to look at him. “No.” My eyes narrow. “If you plan on still getting paychecks from me, you will do nothing about this situation. I will get everything rectified my way. Not yours.”

  I don’t turn away until I’m certain he understands what I’m telling him. “Go find a concert location, somewhere I can put on a free concert.”

  He points a chubby finger at me. “That’s the spirit,” he chirps happily and heads back where he came from. We’ll see if he still feels that way after the concert.

  *

  Needing to see Camilla, I hope to stage a run-in by going to the little coffee shop by her house. But she never stops by or passes it on her regular run. I’ve tried hard not to drive by her house, but I can’t go much longer without seeing her.

  She refuses to answer any of my phone calls. I’m not left with many options. Finishing my coffee, I buy another one, giving me a reason to stop by her house. Parking my car out front, I spot a For Sale sign. Then my sights go to the boxes on her porch, my boxes. I wonder how much willpower she has to use not to throw my possessions on her front lawn.

  As I walk up to her door, a few reporters are lurking around her house but giving her space.

  Refusing to look at them, I feel awkward standing on the porch, knocking, my hands growing sweaty. Each of my knocks goes unanswered and I try to lean over, looking in the windows. I’m only able to see shadows of what looks like her house packed up in boxes as well.

  Having no way to load up my belongings, I’m forced to leave my shit on her doorstep. Automatically, I go to text Dick to make arrangements for him to pick up my stuff, but then I erase the message. I can do this.

  Making myself comfortable on her front porch, I start researching storage units and rent a truck to decide what I’m going to do with my stuff. It’s too much to haul into hotel rooms. As the day gets closer to night, the air becomes cold, and I shiver in my plaid flannel. I should have brought a jacket with me. I consider going to my car to warm up, but it would be too easy for Camilla to sneak by.

  As if she could sense what I am thinking, she walks up toward her house. “Rhett, go home. Your lips are blue,” she scolds me.

  She still cares.

  “I don’t care,” she answers my unspoken thoughts. “But a frozen dead person won’t be good for resale.”

  “Why are you moving?” She loves this house.

  “It’s time I get a place with more security. I found a nice penthouse,” she replies. I take it as a good sign and walk toward her.

  She holds up her hand for me to stop. “Rhett, I can’t do this with you right now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sure you are, Rhett, but it doesn’t change the fact that you continually stab me in the back. Even after things changed. I thought you changed. But you’re still that same cocky cowboy who refuses to believe they do anything wrong.”

  “That’s not true. Please tell me what I can do to make us better. I love you.” I can’t hold it inside anymore. I’ll regret this if I never say it out loud. “This is more than some PR stunt to me. Fuck what people think. They can hate me all they want if that means I get you.”

  “That’s the thing, Rhett. I never liked you.”

  I bite my lower lip, trying to rein in my anger at how she is dismissing us. “Then why did you let me fuck you?”

  “To scratch an itch. I guess I wanted to see if the rumors were true myself. Don’t worry, I enjoyed myself.” She shrugs and winks as she brushes my shoulder when she walks by me.

  “Bullshit,”

  “Do yourself a favor; go back to your old life. Your fans like you better that way. This caring version is pathetic. Your fans, women, want to dream about having you, no
t see you tied down.”

  I don’t know what to say to this. I’m not going to stop trying.

  “We’re not done, Camilla.” I nod at her. “I’ll be by tomorrow to get my stuff.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Dialing my best friend, I huff as she doesn’t answer yet again. Seeing her in the darkness of a remote parking lot didn’t help with my worry. If she needed me, she would call.

  Going to my computer, I watch the video of me that has spiraled out to the level of viral. In less than twenty-four hours, I had a million hits. Within forty-eight hours, three million. I still can’t believe I did that.

  I wonder what Rhett is thinking.

  No, I stop myself. It doesn’t matter. Just like I figured, he hasn’t called. He picked up his stuff sometime when I wasn’t home.

  I do wish I had more time to say goodbye to his family and thank them for giving me the break I hadn’t even realized I needed.

  “You ready?” Mindy asks me. I look around and I’m surrounded by my stylist, who has racks upon racks of clothes around me. I can hear the photographer saying they’re ready for me. I used to love this about the job.

  The outfit I’m in is something I would never wear. It’s all glittery, matching my guitar and brand I’ve created. I can’t help but think about that night I met Rhett for the first time.

  “You’re going to kill it, girl,” my voice coach encourages me.

  My hands are sweaty from nerves. Not from singing—I know I have that perfected. I went against what everyone thought I should wear and decided on something more casual, more country. I studied every country music star in magazines and tried to create what I thought my style should be.

  Stepping onto the stage, I refuse to look at the judges, knowing he would be there. I’ve loved Rhett Steele since the day I heard him on the radio.

  I belt out his song then something compels me to open my eyes, and he’s staring at me. His green eyes are intense as they study me with scrutiny. For a moment, panic rises in my body, and then he leans forward, holding my eyes. I swear I see a slight smirk before he covers it up with a frown.

  Concentrating on my steps, I move around the stage, feeling his eyes on me. It lights me on fire, and I give everything I’ve ever had to this performance. It feels like the performance of a lifetime.

  When my eyes land on his, it’s like a thousand butterflies release inside my body. All I can see is him. I sing to him; no one else in this room matters. Each word I sing, I feel deep in my body, like I’m experiencing his pain alongside him. It feels like our souls have connected, and every emotion I’ve felt mixes with his as they pour into me.

  When the song ends, the air feels electric. I’m out of breath and feel amazing. My heart is pounding as I wait for Rhett to talk. I’m so hopeful, happy, and proud of myself.

  Then he speaks, grabbing hold of my heart and squeezing the life out of it.

  That was the first day I let him hurt me, and I had promised myself I wouldn’t allow myself to be in a position like that again. It was also the last time I trusted my gut, allowing the label to mold me how they saw fit.

  I need to start trusting myself more. I have to open up to the media instead of allowing them to write lies about me. It’s time I take a stand in what I believe in.

  “What’s the holdup?” I hear being asked just before Mindy’s face is right in front of me. “Where did you go, Camilla?”

  I shake my head, placing on my public smile. “Sorry.” I hold up one finger, going back to the racks of clothes, choosing my own outfit. It may not seem like much, but I feel good about being able to show the world a version closer to my real self.

  The photoshoot takes four hours. I’m exhausted and still not done. At least I’ve been able to change and am wearing leggings and a T-shirt I feel comfortable in. I’m sitting across from the journalist who writes for Cosmopolitan Magazine, and she’s asking me her predetermined questions that my people approved and I’m giving her the answers that were written out for me.

  Once again, I feel like a fraud. Taking a sip of the now lukewarm tea, I wait for her next question.

  “Can you describe what you were feeling when you videoed yourself singing that song that has now gone viral?”

  This question isn’t on the list. But at the time, I hadn’t known I would do that and need to add it to my no-go zone.

  Seconds tick by. I can tell the journalist is nervous going off the script, but technically, she isn’t doing anything wrong. Taking a deep breath and another sip of tea, I decide I’ll be honest.

  “I thought it was evident. My heart was breaking.” If only the world knew the real me or the real Rhett. “The one person I thought I could trust proved to me once again that I was foolish with my heart.”

  “Is it safe to say you and Rhett are broken up?”

  Or never really together.

  “It’s funny the people you think you hate end up getting in your head so much that it clouds who they really are. Love and hate both hold so much emotion that they can often be confused with each other. Only time can truly determine which one of the two lines you’re feeling.”

  I feel foolish for feeling betrayed when I knew the stakes the whole time. Rhett needed me, and I needed him. It was a simple PR move to help each other out. To think we had grown into more was that innocence Rhett talked about the first time he met me.

  “Are you saying you love or hate Rhett Steele?”

  Do I love Rhett Steele? Absolutely not.

  Do I even like him? Not even close. I’d be a stupid girl to open myself up to him.

  But do I hate him?

  “Yes, I can confidently say I hate Rhett Steele. I don’t think this will come as a shock to anyone. Rhett and I are like oil and water. We never mixed well and brought the worst out in each other.”

  The journalist tries to cover her grin, like she thinks she’s pulling information out of me as no one has before. I’m tired of hiding and sugar-coating everything. Even when I volunteered in their communities, they would still light me on fire with the words they would write. At least now I’m giving them a reason.

  “Just confirming you and Rhett are no longer together.”

  “He’s all yours for the taking.” I smile and get up. I don’t care if she has ten more questions. She has enough here to keep whoever her boss is happy. And I can be that hard-to-get-along-with celebrity they can write about to help sell their magazine.

  Unable to keep my smile on, I let it slip. My frown feels like relief hitting my face. I want to cry, making me feel more upset. Rhett did us a favor. I was falling for him. I let him start to cloud my judgment.

  *

  Lying on my bed in my hotel room, I consider I need to find a place of my own. Between my parents’ ranch and my song that went number one, I have been able to save a bit for myself.

  I’m staring up at the ceiling, with my arms behind my head. Words have been flowing out of me faster than water out of a facet. At this rate, I’ll have my next album full of songs I’ve written. Music plays in the background, and I tilt my head to hear one of Camilla’s songs on the radio. I miss that voice.

  When the DJ comes on, he starts talking about Camilla having a daughter who was diagnosed with leukemia. My breathing stops. I didn’t tell a soul. I would never betray her trust like that.

  Closing my eyes, I can only imagine what she must be thinking right now. I have to see her, to make sure she is okay. I need her to know I wasn’t the one who breathed a word.

  I have to see her.

  It’s not hard to find Camilla. All I had to do was follow the paparazzi. There is no doubt she’s here. They stalk her like vultures waiting on their next prey.

  Pushing my way through the crowd, I finally get a glimpse of my girl. Her hair is blown out in large curls and she’s dressed casually, looking as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her. She walks with purpose and her head up, showing no fear.

  *

  Pressing the elevator button over and
over again, I try to will it to come faster. It slowly takes its time before dinging open, and I practically run into it. I don’t wait for any of my people to leave with me. I need a moment of space, to give me room to breathe properly.

  My stomach feels tight after talking about Rhett. I cringe, wishing I had the balls to tell him those things to his face. I slump against the cold mirrored wall of the elevator, not knowing how my life seems to have veered off the course I planned.

  Stepping off the elevator, there are reporters and cameras all outside the building. Taking another deep breath, I prepare to keep my head high and walk through till I get to my car.

  Flashes instantly blind me, reporters yelling their questions.

  “Is it true you have a daughter?”

  That one question stops me in my tracks. My one real, huge fear coming to life. As I lift my head, they take the second to ask another question.

  “Does cancer run in your family history? Were they aware of this before her diagnosis?”

  I can’t catch my breath as I try to run past them, my mantra of I hate Rhett Steele playing in my head. I trusted him with the one secret I kept hidden all these years, only to be burned alive by the one man I thought I was falling in love with. It stabs me in the heart repeatedly. If I thought my heart was battered and bruised, it’s now being squeezed till I have no more blood running through my veins. I can feel the blood draining from my face.

  I’m surrounded, and I can’t get out of here. Everywhere I look, there is a wall of people. I’m being pushed back and forth like a wave as they try to drown me in my own misery.

  “Are you getting my flowers, Camilla?” a voice asks.

  I look around to see faces everywhere. I feel like I’m being mobbed, and I can’t get out of the crowd.

  A tight grasp on my arm pulls me, causing me to lose my footing. My shoulders hit a hard, chiseled chest and I want to cry. Rhett pulls me from the crowd, making me hate him more.