by S. E. Dosher
He releases me and turns to open the door to the SUV, gesturing for me to get in. I take one step, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up; I can feel eyes watching me. I look down the narrow alley and see a tall figure quickly disappear. My mind immediately leaps to Suzy, the fear of her continued retaliation ever haunting my mind. I still have no proof it was her that turned over the photos to the police, but she’s the most likely culprit. I shake my head, trying to stop my worrying thoughts, and turn to smile at Stephen as I climb into the backseat.
“Is there anywhere you need to stop before we take you home?” Stephen asks as he folds his large hands around one of mine. Shivers of recognition run up my arm at the feel of him; a touch I haven’t felt in years.
“I don’t want to go home,” I meekly confess.
“No?” He questions with a small smile. “And where would you like to go?”
“Anywhere, just not home. I’ve kept myself locked in there for weeks since…” I trail off, not wanting to mention what happened, even though he obviously knows. “I’m just not ready to go home yet.”
“Lunch?” he asks, and I nod. “At my house?” I nod again.
“Change of plans.” Stephen leans forward to talk to the driver while I watch out the window of the moving SUV.
The front of the courthouse is swarming with paparazzi. Luckily, none of them are watching as we drive past; their eyes and cameras all trained on the front steps, still hoping to catch me as I exit. The group swiftly moves forward and a murmur loud enough for me to hear in the SUV ignites as the prosecutor emerges from the courthouse doors and begins down the steps.
A loan figure is left standing on the outskirts of the news-hungry crowd. A long, lean man wearing a baseball cap and large sunglasses. Clean-shaven, dark skin, and a long duster-style coat that has to be scorching in the afternoon heat.
His eyes are aimed directly at me, even though he can’t possibly see through the darkly tinted windows. A flash of familiarity shoots through my core. It can’t be. His name lingers on my tongue, but I don’t let it get further; it can’t be him. He would never be here in the middle of this circus. My eyes are glued to his face. I squint, trying to get a better look. My heart wants to believe it’s him, but my head is already convinced it’s not.
The SUV turns, and he disappears as my vision is filled with the buildings flanking the road.
“Okay, we’re all set,” Stephen tells me.
I exhale slowly and lean back to rest my head on the seat as my eyes drift closed. I’m exhausted; I haven’t done anything, yet my mind is worn out. The cool leather of the seat penetrates my clothes and cools my skin. Stephen moves to bring the side of his body flush with mine, and his hand settles on my knee. When I saw Stephen at his club the night everything went sideways, I never imagined it would lead to this moment. Never dreamed my life would be so fucked up, and that he would come to my rescue.
“Thank you, Stephen,” I say sincerely and lift my head to let my eyes connect with his.
“Brook, I haven’t done anything for you that you didn’t do for me in the past.”
“You hired me a lawyer,” I state. It’s no longer a question, and I feel stupid I didn’t see it before. “I never had to hire you a lawyer.”
He nods and laughs lightly. “You needed one, and maybe you never hired me a lawyer, but you helped in a million other ways.” A small smile touches his lips, but he turns his head, breaking our intense stare.
“I did need a lawyer,” I tell him honestly. “Thank you.”
A long silence passes as we weave along the highway toward his family’s house on the beach.
“Where’s Brock?” He breaks the silence with the softly spoken question, as if the quietness of his voice will make the impact of the words less hurtful.
I shrug my shoulders. “I haven’t exactly been in contact with him recently.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in closer. My shoulder fits perfectly into the crook of his arm; it always has. His heart thumps against me, and it feels good, feels right. Reminds me of a time when everything seemed to fit in my world, and the skeletons that hung in my closet weren’t so plentiful.
“Paul?” His question echoes through my hair as he presses his lips to the top of my head.
“Paul is still around. He’s the only person I’d never doubt; he’ll always stand by me.”
“I’ll always stand by you, too.” The confession escapes in an airy whisper I’m not sure was meant for me to hear.
I don’t acknowledge his statement; we both know it isn’t true. Instead, I take a deep inhale of breath and listen as it rattles around in my still empty chest then continue, “I told Paul to keep his distance for now. He doesn’t need any residual heat that might come from me.”
“You’re a good friend,” he says plainly, but I shake my head in disagreement.
“If I was a good friend, I never would have put Paul in this position to begin with. He risks losing it all because of me. If the owner of Blasé finds out the things he did for me…” My blabbering trails off, and I know I’ve already said too much, way more than I ever wanted to imply about myself to Stephen. I pull away from him and lean forward with my head in my hands. I’ve never said any of this out loud. Paul knows because he’s seen a lot of it, but even he doesn’t know everything. I’ve never told anyone the lengths my obsession took me to; how far I went to get what I wanted. The photo of me perched in a tree only breaks the surface, the things I saw were never meant for an outsider’s eyes.
“Brook…” I shake my head to cut him off before his words console me and make me feel better about what a fuck up I am—I don’t deserve that feeling. Shutting out what I’ve become has grown easier since I never say it out loud; ignoring reality is easier when you simply go through the motions and never acknowledge your impact.
“No, I screwed it all up. I did everything,” I say softly, and then lean up to look at him. “I did it all,” I say, louder and sterner.
His mouth opens, but I cover it with my hand and feel the tears well up in my eyes again.
“I did it all, Stephen. I gave up being in front of the camera because I couldn’t take the heat any longer, and instead of running away I turned that heat onto someone else. I invaded every aspect of his life just to make a few bucks, and then I let it get out of hand.” I exhale sharply. “I fucked it all up, I am a fuck up.”
“No, you aren’t. You may have lost your way, but I know you, and I know you were never trying to hurt anyone.” He tries to reassure me, and had his words graced my ears before today, my heart would have believed them. But not anymore; now I know who and what I’ve become.
“No, you’re wrong. You used to know me, but somehow that girl got lost along the way. Even I don’t know who I’ve been the last few years.” Tears slowly roll down my cheeks.
“Hey you, it’s okay,” he assures me, pulling me tight to his side.
I shake my head. “No, you don’t know that. My life is over; I’ve embarrassed everyone I know, I’ll never work anywhere again, and I’ll always be known for this one thing, and everything else I’ve ever done will be forgotten.”
“That’s not true, I won’t let that happen. No matter what has to be done, I won’t let that happen.”
“You can’t stop it, Stephen; I have to pay for what I’ve done…I owe him that much.”
“You don’t owe him shit, Brook. All you did was help him become more than what he should be. Any paparazzo that ever took his picture merely added to his career. I’m not so sure he doesn’t owe you.” He raises his eyebrows at me, and I laugh—an actual belly laugh; something my body hasn’t felt recently.
The SUV slows, and I glimpse his ginormous house through the windshield. He holds the door open for me, and as I climb out, the ocean air hits me, stirring memories of the past with its clean smell. I spent many days at this house as a teenager, many nights as well. Stephen is as much a part of who I am today as my brother and Pau
l are.
“My parents moved a while back, so I’m the only one that ever comes here now,” he tells me as we approach the front steps.
“Where are they living?” I ask, even though there was never any love lost between us, and honestly, I’m not sure I care.
“I’m not actually sure where they are right now. Since Dad retired, they spend all their time traveling from one vacation home to the next.”
“Must be such a hard life for them,” I say, barely suppressing an eye roll.
He laughs, “I’m sure they think so, but you know them well enough to understand.”
We laugh together, but I don’t bother to voice the rest of my opinions about his parents. They were part of my rise within the modeling world, but their pressure and insistence on helping manage me was also part of my shattering downfall. On one hand, I owe them for opening my eyes to the harshness of the world, but on the other, I’d really like to tell them to go fuck themselves.
When I walked away from a job because I didn’t agree with the lengths the shoot had taken, they spearheaded the major campaign that blacklisted me within the modeling community. Apparently, they saw my attempt at legitimizing my career as blatant disrespect for all they had helped me create. Stephen’s family is a jack-of-all-trades group; they put their hands in anywhere they think money can be made. At one point they saw that opportunity within me.
He threads his fingers with mine, and leads me through the large kitchen, overloaded with granite, to the back yard that would make any five-star beach resort green with envy.
Everything looks exactly like I remember, just a lot less crowded. Stephen has always been one to find enjoyment in a crowd. The last time I was here was the most heartbroken I’d ever been.
It was just over five years ago at Stephen’s annual end of summer bash. Probably the only party I’d ever looked forward to, but the memories from that last night are far from happy.
“It looks exactly the same,” I tell him as we stand on the edge of the infinity swimming pool.
“It should; except for the occasional guest, it’s been empty since shortly after the last time you were here.” He doesn’t turn to look at me, but his solemn tone proves his mind is plagued with the same memories as mine.
“You don’t stay here all the time?” I ask, wanting to avoid the painful conversation for as long as possible.
“No, I have a room at the club I usually use. It’s taken a lot of hard work getting it off the ground. I didn’t want to waste precious time on the long-ass drive every day.”
I slip my shoes off and break the surface of the water with my toes. It feels glorious, warm and inviting. I roll my pant legs up and sit on the pool’s edge, letting my legs swing in the water.
“I’m sorry, Brook.” Stephen says, and I know I’ve avoided it for as long as I can.
“Stephen…” I start to tell him he doesn’t have to say anything, we are fine; we can pick right back up as friends without him rehashing our entire history, but he stops me before I can.
“No, please let me finish. I’ve been planning what I would say for a long time, and I’d like to at least see if it sounds as good when I say it aloud, as it did in my head.”
I signal my silence by running my fingers across my lips, zipping them closed. He smiles at me then sits beside me on the edge of the pool.
He takes a deep breath, and I steady myself for what’s about to come.
“Sir, I’m sorry for interrupting,” a woman says from the doorway. “Your driver called ahead, and lunch is waiting for you in the dining room.”
“Of course it is,” he says in a hushed tone, his voice laced with bitterness. “Well, it appears we’ll pick up this conversation in a few minutes.”
“It’s fine; we have all night,” I tell him, but my stomach still twists.
What he has to say won’t be anything earth shattering—it won’t change who we are—but it will open old wounds I’d rather not visit. When Stephen left, my world was falling apart because his family’s campaign to end my career had just begun, and I’d needed him more than I ever had before. We’d been friends for a long time, always having run in the same circles. We had only been exclusively dating for a few months, but it was the most important relationship I’d had in my life at that time.
The party had just gotten in full swing, and he stood on top of a chair outside by the pool to announce he would be leaving for Hawaii the very next day. He voiced to everyone within ear shoot, that wasn’t already stumbling drunk, that there was nothing left for him in L.A., so he planned to conquer Hawaii. I found out his news right along with everyone else. I can still remember the raw feeling in my chest when he’d climbed off the chair and came face to face with me. His eyes paused on mine for several seconds before he scoffed and disappeared into the sea of party guests. I didn’t see him again until a couple weeks ago at his club.
“I hope you’re in the mood for chicken and lettuce,” he says as we enter the dining room and see large bowls of salad awaiting us.
“Always,” I respond half-heartedly, still reeling from my memories.
He pulls my chair out for me then takes the seat to my right. We immediately start picking at our food, only occasionally eating. My stomach rumbles with hunger, but I know if I eat too much it will revolt on me; especially in my current emotionally frenzied state.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks softly.
“Of course,” I say, trying to sound carefree, even though the thought of playing twenty questions with him makes my breath quicken.
“Why Niko?”
My heart skips a beat when Stephen says his name. I hadn’t so much as thought his name recently, and hearing it is like a kick in the gut.
“Umm, I don’t know exactly,” I say with a trembling voice. I peek at him, but his eyes are focused on his food. “I think I was just looking for an anchor, an object that made me feel a part of something larger than myself. I lost that with modeling, and when you…” my words trail off.
“When I left,” he states simply, no question in his voice.
“Yeah. That was a hard time for me. I lost you…” I pause briefly, and the words hang heavy between us. “…and a lot of friends after that. Paul was the only one that stuck by me. Well Brock, too, but our bond was never the same.”
“So somehow Niko entered your life then?” he asks, still focused on pushing food around his plate.
“I lost who I was as a person and started taking photos of others for money. Anything from weddings and babies, to high profile celebrities I passed on the street. But that money didn’t come easily; until I happened to be at the right place at the right time and snap a photo of an up-and-coming actor out partying with a busty blonde. That photo paid my bills for months.”
“Niko,” he says, and again, it’s a simple declaration with no question of accuracy.
I nod in response.
“I don’t remember exactly when I spiraled, but I’d been lost, and somehow I found a small piece of myself in the photos I took of him. It gave me an identity again. I now know it was a false me, but at the time, I grasped on and refused to let go.”
I exhale long and steady, pushing the bowl of food toward the middle of the table.
He doesn’t speak, his gaze is still turned down, but his eyes are unfocused and glazed over.
“I’ve never told anyone that before,” I whisper, more to myself, but maybe a small part is for him, too.
“I’m so sorry. I never knew what happened; I didn’t think about what would happen. Obviously, I knew it wouldn’t be easy—it wasn’t easy for me to leave—but I had no choice.”
“You had no choice?” I ask surprised.
“You know my family; I had no choice.” He shifts his eyes to mine, and they are filled with sadness.
“I missed you, I did, but your leaving was only a small part of what happened to me. I don’t think you could have stopped it if you’d been here to try.”
“They w
anted to force me out of your life,” he tells me.
It’s something I’ve always suspected, so the news doesn’t surprise me, but the confirmation stings. “I figured as much, but it’s okay. There’s no reason to focus on it now.” I want to make him feel better; there’s no reason to blame himself for my fucked up life.
“I always cared for you; I came back so I could be closer to you. Maybe find my way back to us.”
“What?” I ask, shocked at the implication in his words.
“I loved you the whole time I was gone,” he says, and his eyes tighten then focus in the distance, the memory too painful to envision fully.
“Umm, I…” I try to say something, but I can’t seem to form words to his declaration. ‘I love you’ were words we’d never traded.
He laughs nervously, “I’m sure that’s a shock to hear; I know I never told you. I wanted to, but I never worked up the courage. The fear of you not feeling the same always stopped me.”
“I would have said it back, I definitely felt it.” The words flow from my mouth in a rush of honesty before I can stop to consider them.
“Really?” he asks, surprised, and a calm resolve touches his face.
“Yes, of course. At that time you were the only man I’d ever loved,” I say just as the thought hits me—he’s still the only man I’ve ever loved.
“Leaving you was the biggest mistake I ever made. I wish every day I could take it back.”
His body shifts, and he kneels between our chairs. My mind flashes through the cheesy proposal scenes of every romantic movie I’ve ever watched and panic spreads through my body.
He lifts my hand from its resting place on my leg, and his mouth opens. Before he has a chance to speak, I jump to my feet. The chair I was sitting in crashes to the ground, and I try my best to maneuver around it, but my leg gets caught in the armrest, and I tumble to the ground.
Before the impact resonates through my body I bounce back up. I’m not sure what my mind is thinking, but all I want to do is escape.
“I’m sorry, I have to go?” I squawk, but it comes out sounding more like a strangled question than an actual announcement.