by Virna DePaul
Shaking with anger, guilt, shame, and heartache, I couldn’t string words together. I could only glare defiantly through my watery eyes.
“Now march yourself up to your suite and go pack your bag this instant. We’re going back to my hotel, where I’ll get you your own room and you can shower and sleep,” he instructed. “We’ll be on the first flight home tomorrow.”
Lips pinched, I tried not to break into hysterics. I had never felt so alone, so incontestably alienated, in my life.
“Answer me, Gwendolyn.”
Suddenly exhausted, my liquid courage dissolved. My fists uncurled. “Yes, Father.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes and a fit of senseless, private tears later, I stepped out of the elevator, toting my poorly packed bulging suitcase. Upstairs on our floor, I had spent five of those minutes standing at Garrick’s door, knocking in an attempt to apologize profusely. He hadn’t answered, which hit me like a machete to the gut. I had pleaded with him to give me a moment, if only to say goodbye. No sound came from behind the door. I had tried to explain that I only said those things to prevent the situation from escalating—to stomp out the flame before it became an inferno. I had no excuse for my cowardice in front of the paparazzi though, and he was welcome to be angry with me for that, as I deserved. He had said nothing.
Soon enough, I had become too hysterical to form coherent sentences, and had fled to my room.
Erica, Shane, Tyler, and Alice were all still at the party, and none of them had answered their phones when I tried. I had no one to run to, no one to rely on. No one but myself, and I’d already let myself down in too many ways to count.
I had always gone along with my father’s rules and his attempts to restrict my freedom, telling myself he did it out of love, and that I needed to respect that. Garrick had been correct, no matter how much I loathed the truth. I hadn’t taken responsibility for my right to be an adult. I’d compromised myself all for the sake of my dad’s approval. I’d needed it like an addict needed her drug of choice.
I’d hurt others because of it. Worst of all, I’d hurt Garrick.
And as I replayed everything that Garrick had done and said downstairs, how he’d confronted my father, how he’d believed in me when I hadn’t believed in myself, I began to reassess the things I’d always taken as a given, starting with the strength of my mom and dad’s relationship.
Mom had never seen fault in Dad to my knowledge. She held him in the highest esteem—on a pedestal not even she could reach.
I’d always viewed her love for him as something to envy.
Now I realized the ideal relationship I’d always pictured them having was a sham. The night I had drank too much at dinner, I had listened to Dad critique the food, berating her with every breath, for an hour and a half. And that was why I kept returning to the liquor cabinet—kept pouring the booze down my throat. I couldn’t bear it.
I finally admitted to myself that my parents were the farthest from perfect where marriage was concerned. My mother had no voice—no opinion of her own, shut away in big, empty three story house day and night—a whitewashed prison of silk sheets and diamond earrings.
Was that really how I had defined love? Powerlessly under the control of a man too strong to be gentle, even to me? I would never doubt for a second that my father would kill to protect my mother. But I had never seen him take her hand. Hold her. Kiss her. I had seen him command and belittle and expect perfection. And she gave it to him. How had I missed that?
The ugly truth hit me like Thor’s hammer. It wasn’t money that glued them in place. My mother had come from money. My mother indeed cut a gorgeous figure, but she had aged quicker than Dad. Physically speaking, especially with his resume, he could easily land someone my age. Plenty of Hollywood men less full of vigor than he did these days.
No.
It wasn’t those things at all.
It was, as agonizing as it was to admit to myself, the fear of him that kept her from leaving, that held them together.
Mom was trapped.
I wouldn’t be that woman. I wouldn’t be that daughter either. Not anymore. Not ever.
No. No boy or man would ever be strong enough to save me from my father. If I wanted rescuing, I realized, I had to save myself.
I, completely autonomously from the people stitched together in the web of my heart, had all the power I needed to change my life.
It was time to grow up. It was time to take the reins of my life and dash ahead, out of my father’s shadow, at a mad gallop. It was time to take risks and stand for my future and my independence.
It was time to stop being so damn straightlaced.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Garrick
For the last week, I had made myself scarce around Gwen, only communicating with her when we had a scene together on set. I didn’t text her, dine with her, or chat between takes. My heart couldn’t handle it.
I kept my mannerisms cordial, but far from fond or flirtatious. We didn’t even banter anymore. I could tell our on-screen chemistry was suffering due to my standoffishness, and there were times I witnessed her break character, and caught myself doing the same.
Tyler had been right. The similarities between Lacey and Gwen, and Payton and me were astonishing. But I could always tell the difference between when I took over versus when Payton stood in control. The fact that we had to shoot take after take to get things close to acceptable did not ease my mood or allay my frustration. My fire for Gwen, and the enormous bucket of ice she took to it the night we confronted her father, had consumed my thoughts. It didn’t even end when I slept.
I dreamed of her.
I thought about her all the time.
I still heard her, in the eerie corners of my mind, knocking at my door, pleading with me to hear her out. I had sat on the other side, feeling the vibrations of her fist against my back and listening to her voice crack like egg shells, her words pouring out into the frying pan of our dying affair.
She could say whatever she wanted to me, I had thought.
Nothing got through.
She would always stand in her father’s shadow, never risking a thing for the sake of his approval. I had risked everything opening myself up to her, prepared to put her at the forefront of my agenda. But in her eyes, I would be merely background noise, and a dirty little secret for her. I’d never be proudly introduced to her family or her friends. Time with me would pale in comparison to the time taken up by her career.
At some point, I even had the fleeting thought that she had meant to use me as a springboard to catapult her into the spotlight all along. It wasn’t until I said it out loud in front of the mirror that I realized how ridiculously arrogant I sounded.
Gwen wasn’t that kind of woman. When had I forgotten that?
Somewhere between the paparazzi fiasco and bonding with Daddy, I supposed. I’d started to realize that I was just as much to blame for the distance that had continued to separate Gwen and I for the past week. She’d tried to talk to me that night, and I’d let my pride get in the way.
I had sworn to be there for her. I had promised her the world with me as her knight. But somehow I knew she’d taken that role instead for me.
Despite her repeated warnings about her father, I hadn’t listened. When he’d been going off the deep end, it had taken everything I had just to open my mouth in the man’s presence. No wonder Gwen had caved. Not just for her own benefit, but—something I’d begun to suspect later on—probably for mine.
After her dad had pushed me, I’d seen the horror on her face. Things had been escalating out of control, and she’d acted to stop it. I was sure of it now.
The thing that struck deepest and still resonated with my innermost anger was the fact that Rachel had been the one to tip off the press, something Gwen’s dad had told Lyle and Lyle had told me when things had calmed down.
Today, we were continuing with Episode Five, filming in the Student Union Building. A room had been
set aside for us on the second floor to unwind in and take a breather.
On the way to grab a soda and chill out, I heard muffled conversation ahead.
“You know,” snipped the calm, cold voice of a female, “you’re much more interesting online, and friendlier when you’re sloshed.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Tyler’s voice answered. I realized that the woman must be Alice and held back a moment more to listen.
“Apology accepted,” she granted, as though she had taken his sarcasm, chewed on it for a moment, and spat it back at him. “Basically, you’re telling me that you’re not interested in interaction when we’re not behind a computer screen?”
With a hum, Tyler continued, “I don’t really dig live action relationships.”
“Oh. So you were thinking of dating me online then?”
“What?” Tyler said.
“I can see that. I mean, I’d be a little intimidated to be out in public with me too.” I could hear the tart smile in her voice.
Tyler actually stuttered. “Tha-That’s not what I—”
“I just don’t picture it working out though.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s such a pity we have nothing in common aside from our interests, intelligence, literary tendencies, personality, taste in music, and favorite foods. Well. See you around! Have fun scrolling through that NASA thread. Spoiler alert: The soil sample doesn’t contain any trace of water. Sad day. I read it this morning.”
With that, Alice’s tiny suit-clad self breezed out of the room, sparing me a polite smile on the way by. I didn’t have the sense, or the mental capacity (currently stretched too thin with the circumstances between me and Gwen), to interpret what I had just heard. Plus, prying into Tyler’s life would be like herding cats into a coffee can to pull their teeth. Nope, nope, nope.
I entered the break room, and for a moment, Tyler, unaware of my presence, looked grim. When he caught sight of me, however, his expression wiped clean and he picked up his Galaxy. “So, that last scene with you and Gwen was interesting.” If he suspected I’d heard him and Alice talking, I had to give the guy credit; he still looked cool as the flipside of my pillow felt.
“Don’t start, man,” I groaned, crossing to the fridge and opening the door.
“And by interesting, I mean horrible. You know I mean horrible, right? That was painful, Garrick. And I was clear across the lot.”
Shane, Tyler, and Erica had learned what happened through hearsay, and had mercifully left me alone until now. The last thing I wanted to do was scratch the scab off fresh wounds, and I did my best to ignore Tyler.
“What the hell is going on between you two?”
“Nothing,” I muttered.
“Really?” he deadpanned. “Nothing has you staring into an empty refrigerator for two minutes?”
I blinked in shock, emerging from my mental fugue to find that the shelves sat empty. Remembering that it was Tuesday, and that the people who stocked it didn’t usually show up until three p.m., I closed the door. Sadly, that didn’t erase the idiot I had made of myself.
“Well what about you?” I asked, shifting subjects as I pulled out a chair from the table and dropped into it. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to bring it up after all. I had nothing else with which to dig at him. “When Alice arrived at the party last week… you seemed awfully excited to see her.”
“Being that you were three shots and two drinks ahead of me, I hardly think you were sober enough to properly judge my expression. Also, you’re evading my question.”
I leveled him with a sidelong smirk. “I know the look of a guy with an eye for a girl a mile away. You were practically drooling.” Not to mention I heard the tail end of your conversation a few minutes ago…
Tyler went back to scrolling, seeming indifferent to my persistence. “That’s not a hobby I make a point of keeping, unlike Neanderthals like you.” He smiled tartly and I battled the urge to clock him across the mouth.
“How’s that NASA thread treating you?”
Tyler scowled.
“Well,” Shane announced, marching into the fray with his own brand of arrogance. “This Neanderthal has a hot date tonight.”
Glad for the distraction, I sat back and swallowed my pain, kicking my eyebrows up. “Oh, really? And is she a young millionaire author, by chance?”
I had never seen Shane flush that particular shade of carnation pink, but he did. “No,” he muttered.
“You’re kidding. By the way you guys were locking lips at that party, I thought I was going to have to pry you two apart with a crow bar. I didn’t imagine it, did I?”
His jaw clenched. I could tell he wanted to say something, but instead he digressed to another topic. “I met this other girl last week when I went to grab some coffee. We’ve been texting.”
“You got a picture?” I asked, humoring him with a lewd grin.
“Oh, please,” Tyler begged at his Galaxy, his voice lacking all sincerity. “Yes. Show us a picture. I can hardly contain myself.”
Shane bucked up, fishing his phone out of his jeans. “Yeah. We took a selfie before I left. Better brace yourselves. She’s super hot.” Opening his phone, he pulled up the picture and passed me the phone.
I could have died on the spot.
“Her name is—”
“Rachel,” I finished, sick over the image of the blond-haired blue-eyed Barbie with her lips pressed against Shane’s cheek.
“Yeah!” Shane laughed. “You know her? Small world! She’s great.” He started rambling. I couldn’t hear a word even if I wanted to over the blood roaring in my ears.
Rational thought left my mind, replaced by a spiny, clawed madness. Standing up suddenly and upending my chair, I thumbed over to his contacts, scrolled down to her name, and dialed the number.
“Whoa, man! What’s up?” Shane asked, clearly unsettled as I put the phone to my ear.
After three rings, her syrupy voice answered. “Shane! Hi, sugar!”
“This isn’t Shane,” I growled, fixing my eyes on the wall and envisioning the shock I hoped hung on her fake face. She didn’t say a word because I didn’t give her a chance to. I honestly hoped that on the other end of the line, she stood choking on her tongue. “You know damn well who it is. I’ll say this once, and only once. You stay the fuck away from my friends. And you stay the fuck away from Gwen. I’m dropping her, but I’m never coming back to you. No matter who you puppet, or what lies you spread, I am never putting myself in your slimy, sinister, traitorous hands again. That shit you pulled with not only the press, but with her god damn father was low. I never thought you’d sink to that level. Gwen has her issues, but she didn’t deserve that. There was a time I did what I do to make you jealous, to seek revenge when I made it big, and left you in the dust. Those days are done. I’m doing this for me now. I’m going to be successful, happy, and whole for me. After this moment, know that I will never think of you again. But if you continue to contact me, or my friends, I will file a restraining order. I will drag your synthetic ass through court and the mire of public scorn for being the psycho, grasping bitch you are. Do not test me, Rachel. This is the only warning you’re going to get.”
With that, I ended the call and dropped the phone on the table. Ignoring Shane and Tyler’s pale expressions of horror, I stalked out of the break room.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gwen
Feeling as though I had been hollowed out with a newly sharpened ice cream scooper, I sat in the chair in the conference room, oblivious to the buzz of conversation around me as more of the crew filed in. Even though I’d been shaking in my boots, I had succeeded in standing up to my dad, informing him that I was continuing my role on Straightlaced. I had never heard him scream at me like that before. But with Lyle’s support, I’d stayed strong. I’d told my dad I didn’t want to see him or hear from him until he could be civil. Then Lyle had gone the extra mile and told my dad if he didn’t leave, he’d be forced to call the police.
When I’d
said nothing, my dad looked like I’d plunged a knife into his stomach.
I’d almost caved then, but I didn’t, not even when my dad turned and walked away from me without another glance.
Two weeks had since passed—two agonizing weeks with no word from my dad. Two weeks of being close enough to touch Garrick, and simultaneously a thousand miles apart. The tabloids had had a field day, the story erupting across the internet. I tried to steer clear of it. I tried not to put myself through even more agony by reading the comments.
I tried.
But I failed.
What a slut.
Wow. WHORE.
I knew she’d go crazy. They all do eventually.
Where did she buy that crap outfit? Walmart?
Her father must be so proud.
Ew.
That guy can do so much better.
HE’S SO HOT!!!
Go die, bitch.
It all echoed in my head—a hellish symphony that never shut off, and no one around to cover my internal ears.
Now, aside from Erica (who had been too engrossed in production of the second book to have time for me), I had no one. Garrick had written me off, something I justly deserved after what I had put him through. Tyler and Shane had both tried to talk to me, to buoy my spirits on set, but they hadn’t succeeded. While I appreciated the effort, what I wanted most was to be left alone, the only place I felt safe anymore. I didn’t even try to call Vi, who had always been a wonderful confidant and shoulder-to-cry-on in the past, because I was in New Mexico and California seemed a world away, and without her physical presence to comfort me, I knew talking to her over the phone would just make me feel worse.
I had entered protective mode, fully absorbed in self-preservation and enduring the least amount of hurt possible. The less I gave credence to my emotions, the less propensity they had to be wielded as weapons against me.