Suddenly my mind was swimming with my fate. Even if me and Crimson were at the same skill level acting-wise, fans of the show would be less likely to blame him if there were mistakes.
But me? I was an unknown. I was a scapegoat. I could see it now: My name plastered all over every internet forum, people making mean comments and wishing I’d kill myself.
It would be just like high school, but worse.
Oliver noticed my discomfort. I thought he was going to say something to dig the knife in, but he averted his eyes.
“I have to go to my hotel room to check something,” he said, then excused himself.
I knew he was probably going up there to see if this rockstar was in there, but I couldn’t care less. All I wanted right now was some alone time— to get away from all of this judgment and my inevitable doom. No matter how well I performed in my upcoming scenes, I knew the internet would take me down with its cruelty.
I walked away from the crowd of people and deeper into the village, feeling more and more down on myself with every step.
The townspeople that were out and about kept staring at me, and I knew it had to be because of the new clothes I was wearing. Reese had one of his set managers order me a bunch of new clothes — they were all designer brands and flashy. Even the most unassuming outfit from the bunch was form-fitting and eye-catching, studded with sequins that shone in the light.
Their eyes bored into me as I hurried along. I was feeling very out in the open and vulnerable; the only thing I wanted was to get away from all of these people, get away from all of these eyes.
Even though I knew that this feeling would only get worse the more famous I got, I still wasn’t used to it. I longed for a breather, so I kept walking in more and more sparse areas of the village until the very last building gave way to a dirt path winding through a cluster of trees.
Stepping into the underbrush, I wandered further and further into obscurity; into safety. No one could find me here.
Finally, privacy. The thing I needed most right now was some guidance; someone to tell me that everything would be all right.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Hazel’s number.
Chapter Twenty
“Hello Charlie, it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you,” she said.
It felt so good to hear her voice. I felt like it was cradling me in a blanket of happiness.
Even as I thought that it felt a little weird. I’d only seen her in person once, and I’d bothered her several times on the phone. She was just a stranger to me, but she felt like my grandmother.
“I’m sorry to bug you,” I started, “I—”
“Bug me? Hah!” she laughed. “You could never bug me, Charlie. You’re one of my soul children. It’s my job to be bugged by you.”
Soul children? Hearing that was a little weird, but it was still reassuring in a way. I was going to go with it; the good feelings she gave me allowed me to suspend disbelief.
“You’re having quite a time over there, aren’t you?” she asked.
“How did you know?”
“I just know things,” she said impatiently. “I also know you haven’t forgiven whoever the person is you’re supposed to forgive.”
“I don’t know who it is!” I exasperated. “I’ve been trying to figure it out. And that’s not all I’ve been doing — I wrote down all of the qualities I wanted in my heartmate, and there are a few guys around me that might be it, but it’s like they’re all pieces of who I wish they all were together…”
“You still haven’t met him yet,” she maintained. “Well, it’s a little complicated but—”
“Who do I need to forgive?” I asked desperately. “Is it someone in my past? Is it someone in my future? Please, Hazel, I’m desperate here.” Tears began to bead in my eyes as I felt the loneliness creep in. “Please.”
“Healing is painful. That’s how you know it’s working,” Hazel said. “You’re reliving your past and making peace with it. Allow yourself to feel these things, and then let them go.”
“But I hate feeling this way,” I complained. “I feel exactly like I did back in high school, back when I hated myself…”
“Why did you hate yourself, Charlie?” she asked, a hint of wonder in her voice.
There was something there on the edges of her words that gave me pause. Then my mouth went dry.
“Do I… do I have to forgive myself?” I asked breathlessly.
“Bingo,” she said. Even though the phone I could hear her smiling. “What an insight! Everyone goes through this in their spiritual journey. For some, the realization never happens and those poor souls never get to vibrate at their highest level. They keep hating themselves until the day they die. But you, Charlie, you’ve figured it out! Now you simply need to forgive.”
“…how do I do that?” I asked, dumbstruck. Though, I couldn’t deny that I felt a spark of excitement crackle within me, as if I’d just unlocked a door that had been closed off.
She tutted. “I’m supposed to do that for you too?”
“S-sorry,” I said. “I’ll try not to—”
“And enough of this sorry business,” she said shortly. “You’re a shiny one Charlie, take that hammer out of your hand and stop beating yourself up with it. You’ll shine much brighter if you do.”
For a second I didn’t believe her anymore; I explored the thought that she was just some crazy old woman. But there was some feeling that was in my gut that felt… lighter after that revelation.
“So all I need to do is forgive myself and my heartmate will be right there waiting for me? I won’t have to be lonely anymore?”
She chuckled that wholesome grandmotherly chuckle that was like a kiss from a hummingbird. “Oh, Charlie. You’re still so young.”
And with that, I knew that I wasn’t going to get anything else out of her. As a last-ditch effort, I asked, “…do you have any tips for forgiving someone? It’s not the same as forgetting.”
“Just do what feels right,” she said tiredly. “Now, I’ve got to run an errand Charlie, so I’m going to let you go. Though in two weeks, I’m vacationing to Morocco. I trust you’ll be there too?”
My heart was pounding. “How did you know?”
“I just know. The same way you’ll just know when you meet him,” she teased.
“Oh! Speaking of that, I met someone that I felt those fireworks with,” I said, thinking of when I first met Leo.
“What did it feel like?” she asked patiently.
“It felt like my heart was tethered to his immediately, and like my whole world shifted,” I said breathlessly. “Could it be him?”
She laughed, then said, “Like I said, it’s complicated. You’ll find out.”
I frowned.
“But you’re not all the way there yet. First, focus on forgiving yourself. Get rid of all that poison in your aura.”
“Forgive myself for what?” I pressed.
“Goodbye, Charlie. I’ll see you in a few weeks — we can talk more then.”
I watched as her name on my phone screen turned dark. And just like that, she was gone and I was alone again.
As I resumed walking through the woods, I reached out and tore a leaf off a tree. What did I need to forgive myself for?
I plucked at the leaf, tearing the smooth parts off the skeleton.
As I thought more about it, I frowned. I always did things by following what I thought was moral, good, and right. That’s the thing that Oliver complained to me about — being on my “high horse.” That was also the root of the reason why Alina wasn’t speaking with me… she thought I was judging her for making a bad choice when she was a teenager; exchanging her body for a chance at fame.
It wasn’t right, and it didn’t sit well with me.
And if that’s what I needed to forgive myself for, it would be a long time before I could do that. I was only doing what I thought was right, and there was no way I would ever think that her sleeping with her director was e
xcusable.
That must’ve not been it, then.
Perhaps I needed to forgive myself for being such a crybaby in high school. Occasionally I thought about that past version of me; the weakling with thin skin who got upset at everything. I should have reacted differently when I was bullied. I should have stood up for myself. I should have told a teacher, or the principal before things got really bad.
I should have never slept with that guy, that guy that started all the rumors.
Internally, I cursed my past self for being so stupid.
Try as I might, it was impossible not to feel angry about the whole thing and the way I handled that situation. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
Was this a normal part of forgiveness? And if forgiveness was separate from forgetting, was I digging myself into a pit of rage by repeatedly thinking about it?
I came to a clearing after a while, and jumped when I saw a figure leaning against a rock in the middle.
It was a man, tall and slim, wearing tight black pants, expensive-looking boots, and a sea-green v-neck t-shirt. He had a shock of bright red hair that was styled into extra-long locks that fanned out on top of a sharp undercut.
My hairstylist knees went weak.
He looked over at me, and the rest of me went weak too as my world shifted.
This wild-looking, over-the-top man could only have a wild, over-the-top name.
He had to be Crimson Sin.
“Hello?” he asked in my direction, craning his neck. “I see you there…”
I stumbled out from behind a tree and tried to regain my balance.
He took one look at me and the corner of his mouth went up; he was amused.
“I— I didn’t know anyone else was out here,” I said quickly, brushing dry grass blades off my knees.
“I’m not. I’m a figment of your imagination,” he said, waving his hand in a circular motion.
“Does that mean you want me to go away?” I asked breathlessly.
“On the contrary. I want you to tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Everything,” he said simply, tucking his phone into his pocket.
I approached him in the clearing, feeling like I was having an out of body experience. As I drew closer, each step revealed something striking about him: He had a cuff and chains hanging from his ear, shining silver in the Italian sun. His nails were painted black, and tattoos swirled up and down his forearms, bleeding vivid red and blue colors in an intricate pattern.
But nothing prepared me for his stunning purple eyes.
I got lost in them for a second, trying to figure out if they were natural or—
“They’re contacts,” he explained, watching me as a smirk bloomed upon his face.
I felt the urge to say sorry, but Hazel’s words telling me not to whipped me like a slap on the wrist. Instead, I said, “I’m guessing you’re used to people staring at them.”
He raised a rust-colored eyebrow and nodded with a smile. “I get a lot of questions about them. But in my opinion, they look better than my natural eye color.”
“Which is…?”
He reached up to his eye and gently moved the contact lens to the side. Underneath was a pale blue iris — so pale it was almost white.
I scrunched up my face in disgust.
“I know, they’re a little off-putting, right?” he winked.
“Sorr— I’m just not used to people touching their eyeballs in front of me,” I said.
He ignored me, instead peering deeply into my eyes. “And what color are your eyes, naturally?”
“Oh, mine?” I said, feeling like a fraud. “They’re brown. But not this kind of brown,” I said, gesturing to my color contacts. “My real eyes are boring.”
“How could anything about you be boring?” he asked, staring me down.
There was a silence in the air that stretched out between us.
“I’m probably the most boring person you’ll ever meet,” I said, extending my hand. “Charlie, by the way.”
“You’re a liar,” he said with a grin, then shook my hand. “Crim.”
“So you’re the guy everyone’s talking about,” I said, riding the flow of our conversation like a waterslide.
“Oh, they’re talking about me already? Surely they have more interesting things to discuss…”
“Surprisingly not. There’s a cluster of people outside your hotel right now.”
His face fell, and the tone of our conversation shifted to something more serious. “Never become famous, Charlie.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. On the one hand, I wasn’t famous yet and there was a good chance I was going to mess everything up before anything extraordinary happened. On the other hand, if everything kept going as planned, I would be famous in a short amount of time.
“You don’t like fame?” I asked, leaning against the rock next to him.
Unlike the other stars, being around Crim was… it was normal. It felt comfortable; it felt like we’d already been friends for a long time. Was there such a thing as friendship chemistry? If so, I was lost in its fumes.
“It has its ups and downs,” he said elusively with a shrug. “Sometimes it’s great — I get things for free, people know my name, people like my music and some people even say it inspires them. Helps them out of hard times, you know?”
“I have an idea of what that’s like,” I said, thinking of the rush I got whenever a client would leave my salon happy.
“So you know how fulfilling it is to touch lives in that way,” Crim said, leaning his head against the rock and staring into my eyes.
Those violet eyes against his shock of red hair were mesmerizing.
“But there are other times when it’s not so great. Like today,” he said. “You can’t turn it off. People always want more from you, whether it’s music, photos with them, signing up for events… your attention gets divided into twos, threes, fours…”
“Isn’t that part of the deal?” I asked, looking into his eyes.
“A deal with the devil, for sure,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll be honest with you, just us two mirages talking to each other in this clearing: Every single day, I wish I could get out of it.”
“Get out of what? The fame?” I asked.
He nodded, his long locks sliding over his face. He raked one of his hands through it gently, his black fingernails shining in the sun.
“Then why did you agree to do this season of The Black Castle?” I asked, taking out a mental notepad.
He shrugged and said, “I owed someone a favor. But after this, I’m done.”
“What do you mean you’re done?” I asked.
“Done with fame. I’m going to rent a cabin in Iceland for a year, and go live like a nomad.”
I laughed long and hard.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, fixing me with his purple stare.
“It’s just—” I started, “—oh, you’re serious.”
“I’m never not serious,” he said with a smile. “And yes, I’m retiring from this lifestyle after my contract is fulfilled. I’m just going to blast my way through it, not going to give it a whole lot of effort. All I want is to be alone in complete isolation.”
“Wait, so you’re not even going to try?” I asked, crestfallen. That meant that he was going to be a bad actor. The fans of the show wouldn’t hate him; they’d hate me, a nobody, for ruining it.
“Nope. It’s not important.” He said, fixing me with a smile. He was so confident that I almost believed him.
Almost.
I scrunched up my brow. “But what about your costars? You’re just going to put on a sloppy performance for them to pick up?”
“What they do with it isn’t of concern to me,” he said, looking off into the distance. “I live for music and poetry. That’s my form of art; my medium. Trying to make me an actor is like the producers are trying to take air and convince it to be water for a day. It just won’t work.”
<
br /> My mouth hung open. I was beginning to dislike this curious Crim more and more with each passing second.
“That’s selfish,” I said. “You could ruin the show.”
“Don’t worry, good old Reese Riley won’t let me ruin the entire thing. Though I have such a problem with authority that I’m going to do my best to try…” he said with a wink.
As I learned more and more about Crim’s intentions, I couldn’t help but see who he really was. That magical aura that I’d first felt when I walked into this clearing had vanished. In its place was a cocky, arrogant narcissist who thought rules didn’t apply to him.
He was just like Narcissist Guy.
Maybe he just needed to know that he was talking to one of his costars; maybe that would give him a nice little reality check.
“I’m new to the cast, but I’m an actor in the show, too,” I said as I crossed my arms.
“I know. You’re Charlie,” he said, looking at me lazily.
“S-so you know about my character and everything? How I was written in?” I asked with disbelief.
“The producers filled me in,” he said simply. “Besides, it’s obvious you’re an actor. You’re all shiny and everything,” he said with a wave of his hand.
Shiny. That’s what Hazel called me.
“What do you mean by shiny?” I asked suspiciously.
“I think you know what I mean,” he said with all the confidence in the world. “I speak in poetry and music. All this around you—” he gestured to everything in my immediate vicinity, “It's hard to translate to English. It’s a language that makes sense to me, but it’s difficult to explain,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. “Does that make any sense at all?”
“I guess,” I said, completely turned off by his pompous attitude.
There was a nearly imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, then he looked down. “I thought you’d understand, being shiny and all. But you’re just like the rest of them. You’re tied up in all of it — all of the solid things you see. There’s more moving under the surface, you know.”
I was beginning to plan my escape back to the trailers; back to normalcy. I wanted out of this frozen moment with this crazy, arrogant stranger.
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