Heavy: A Contemporary Romance

by Mells, J. C.

  I looked down at my son, who was already fast asleep with his free hand grasping mine. He looked so peaceful and calm, and I prayed this would last for the rest of the night. His nightmares and panic attacks were definitely not as frequent as they used to be, but seeing my son haunted by his trauma from three years ago was soul-destroying. A father should be able to protect his child. But, how do you protect someone from their own memories?

  I looked over at the picture of his mother, Charity, on the wall. I’d painted her as I’d seen her on that summer day almost six years ago. Sixteen, laughing at something her friend had said to her; I’d captured her in a carefree moment – a perfect moment. She looked happy, and kind, and beautiful, and every other wonderful thing I’d described her as to her son over the last three years.

  I wanted his memories of her to be good ones. Memories of how she had been in the beginning when I’d first met her. There was no need for him to know the truth. There was no need for anyone to.

  {3}

  Cali

  Two and a half months later…

  “Are you sure I can’t call anyone for you, honey?” the Recovery Center receptionist asked me again.

  I looked up from my spot on the waiting room chair and smiled weakly, shaking my head.

  “My stepsister’s always late,” I answered, shrugging my shoulders.

  Why couldn’t I just call a car service to pick me up? Damn the Center’s policy that I had to be checked out by a family member. I’d been waiting for almost two hours now.

  “Cali!” a voice called from just outside the sliding doors as Lake made her grand entrance into the reception area.

  I didn’t have to get near enough to smell her to know she was definitely high and probably still drunk from the night before. She was dressed in club gear and had probably come straight from whatever party she’d been at to pick me up.

  She stumbled towards me on five-inch heels and gave me a boney hug.

  “So glad you could finally make it, Miss Rivers,” the receptionist interrupted, her tone a little on the sarcastic side.

  Rolling her dilated-pupils at me, Lake turned. “Nice to see you again, Susie,” she said with exaggerated fake warmth. “Tell me where I’ve got to sign, and I’ll get my sister the fuck outta this shithole.”

  I gave a nervous wave to Susie while Lake signed the discharge papers with unnecessary flourish.

  “Take care of yourself, Cali. We’ll miss you here.” She looked at me with a mixture of pity and hope in her eyes. Pity for the fact she was handing me over to Lake, a rehab regular, and hope that I wouldn’t find myself back here again.

  “Take care, Susie. And thank you.”

  “Now, let’s get the hell out of here!” Lake said, grabbing my arm and half-pulling, half-using me to hold herself upright as she ushered me through the sliding doors.

  George, my father’s chauffeur and sometimes bodyguard when he was in town, stood next to the Town Car, door opened and waiting.

  “Nice to see you again, Miss Huntington,” he said as Lake fell into the car in front of me.

  “Thank you, George,” I smiled. “How’s Rose?” George was married to our head housekeeper.

  “Missing you,” he said as he smiled back, closing the door behind me. That was only a half-truth, I’m sure. She wouldn’t have missed all the trouble I frequently caused over the last few years.

  By the time George had walked around to take his seat behind the wheel of the car, Lake was already passed out. She reeked of cigarette smoke and booze, and it wasn’t long before a soft snoring sound was heard throughout the car.

  As we made our way down the long driveway of the private and exclusive Blaire Institute, George’s eyes connected to mine through the driver’s mirror.

  He shrugged. “Miss Rivers has been staying with her father for the last month. I believe there was a celebration of some kind last night.”

  I laughed. “No kidding.”

  I realized then that it was probably only because George had gone to pick her up that Lake had remembered to come get me at all.

  There was always a ‘celebration’ going on over at Max’s house. He’d been the front man for his band for over thirty years and he hadn’t slowed down for a second of it. His marriage to Tallulah, his first and only wife, hadn’t lasted too long – just long enough for her to have Lake. Tallulah went on to marry my father when she was coming to the end of her short modeling career. Lake was nine and I was five. My father was already an A-list actor when they met. You could say one thing about Tallulah – she was consistent. And, when it came to men, she had a particular type: rich and famous.

  Lake divided her time between our house and her father’s. I suspected that with me out of the house for the last few months, Lake had found herself to be the focus of all her mother’s attention. Without me there as an unwilling buffer, I’m sure Lake couldn’t wait to high-tail it over to Max’s place. Tallulah wasn’t the easiest to live with and there’s only so much a person could take of her – even her birth daughter. With my father overseas on set so much, that left me alone with both Tallulah and Lake a lot. Too much.

  Not for much longer though. I’d turned twenty last month and it was high time I started making some decisions about my future. Namely, getting away from this toxic life I’d grown up in.

  I took a deep, calming breath as soon as the nervous imps in my stomach started rearing their ugly heads, as they were so prone to do every time I started thinking about leaving home and the small security team that came with it.

  “You look really good, Miss,” George interrupted my thoughts. “Rested and healthy. I hope you got the help you needed back there.” Though he would never mention it, I was sure he knew about my former midnight kitchen episodes through Rose. I could always hide some of my past antics through excessive cleaning after the fact – but I couldn’t cover up the missing food after one of my binges.

  “Thanks, George, I think I really did.” I paused before changing the subject. “Do you know where my dad is right now?” I had no visitors or any contact with the family for the last three months.

  “I believe he’s in Spain at the moment, Miss. He’s doing a bio-pic on a legendary matador as I understand it.”

  “Do you know when he’s due back?”

  “Two weeks, last I heard, Miss.”

  All right. I had two weeks before I announced I was moving out then. I had two weeks to mentally prepare myself to move out. This time I was going to find the courage to leave. What happened the last time I’d tried to move out was not going to happen again. That couldn’t happen again.

  God, I hope it couldn’t happen again.

  {4}

  Cali

  George and I dropped Lake off at her father’s house before heading over to mine. Two members of the Rivers’ staff had to carry her in from the car. From the noise coming from inside the house, it sounded like last night’s party was still in full swing. It was almost ten a.m. and it would probably be at least another two hours before the die-hards started to leave.

  Three months ago, I might’ve been one of those die-hards.

  We pulled up outside the large Huntington estate and I jumped out of the car before George could get out to open the door for me.

  “I’ll have your bags sent up to your room, Miss Huntington,” he smiled.

  “Thanks, George. And do me a favor, will you? Drop the ‘Miss Huntington,’ please. You’ve known me almost as long as I’ve been alive.” He’d called me by my first name my whole life. I had no idea why he wasn’t now.

  Before he could respond, my stepmother’s car pulled up behind ours. Her driver walked around to open her door.

  The look that George gave me told me in seconds the exact reason he’d moved to calling me ‘Miss Huntington’ after all these years.

  Tallulah.

  She’d always hated the staff being too familiar with me. My three-month absence had evidently been a great opportunity to change things up a bi
t.

  “It’s nice to have you home again, Miss California,” George finally compromised in a low voice before hurriedly getting back into the car and driving it towards the garages.

  I turned and waited to face my stepmother.

  “Ah, California, I see that you’re home.” Tallulah turned to her driver. “I’ll take some of those myself,” she said to him as he stood there holding several bags from stores on Rodeo Drive. “Here,” she said, handing the bags to me. “Be careful with that one, it has a crystal vase in it.”

  So the ‘appointment’ that had prevented her from coming to check me out of the clinic had been a shopping trip, evidently.

  I followed her into the house, through the main entry hall and into the family room. It was one of three living rooms on this floor and the only one we used regularly. Tallulah sat down on one of the sofas and I placed the packages I was carrying next to her.

  “Well,” she said as she looked me up and down, “You still look a little heavy.”

  Apparently, my stepmother preferred to think I’d been vacationing at a fat farm these last few months. Of course, she preferred to think that over admitting I might have any psychological issues. After all, it was Tallulah who’d shown me how to stick my fingers down my throat in the first place.

  I looked down at myself – baggy T-shirt and skinny jeans. I had actually put on about five pounds at the Institute in a healthy, your-body-is-your-temple kind of way.

  “I was in there for my mental health, Tallulah, not to lose weight.” As it turns out, bulimia is just a symptom of other psychological anxieties.

  “I see you’re still standing by your ludicrous assault story then.”

  I looked at her for a moment and tried to choose my words carefully. Five minutes out of rehab and I was already facing one of my biggest demons.

  “I wasn’t assaulted, Tallulah. I was kidnapped and held against my will for three days. I was almost shot in the head.”

  “Ah, yes,” my stepmother replied, the scorn and disbelief heavy in her voice. “The kidnappers that the police and even a private detective could find absolutely no trace of. You’re still going with that one, are you?”

  “Yes, Tallulah, I am.”

  “Yet, you refuse to let us hire a bodyguard for you. Wouldn’t someone dealing with the aftereffects of such an… incident… want some round-the-clock protection?”

  “I want my privacy. No thanks to you, I’m taking steps to deal with my traumas.”

  “What medications have you been prescribed?” she asked, changing the subject as soon as she heard defiance creeping into my tone.

  “Why? Are you looking to score?” Lake and I had been dipping into her stash for years - until we were old enough to get our own.

  Of course, Tallulah would never admit she had a pill-popping problem. She merely had a ‘nerves’ problem.

  “I see there has been no improvement where that sarcastic mouth of yours is concerned,” Tallulah said dryly.

  I sighed, taking a deep, cleansing breath. “I am off all meds, Tallulah. I’ve been clean and sober for two months now.” More importantly, it had been two months since I stuck my fingers down my throat, too. The first month in rehab had been… trying. They’d slowly weaned me off my medications and had soon learned to watch me closely, during and after all meals.

  Tallulah laughed again. “Let’s see how long that lasts.” She picked up a magazine off the coffee table – her way of indicating that this conversation was over.

  Three months ago, I would have challenged her for the last word, but today was the first day of the rest of my life.

  I turned and left, taking the stairs two steps at a time as I headed up to my room.

  I threw myself on my bed and took my tablet out of my bag. Switching it on, I made my way over to a now familiar video. I’d told myself I wasn’t going to watch it anymore, but who was I kidding? Two minutes with my step-monster and I needed to watch the video again. It was what had got me through the last month. I fast-forwarded to my favorite part, and then pushed play.

  Commentator One: Up next, we have twenty-two-year-old Thatch Reston, a walk-on and first-timer. At six feet and one hundred and seventy-three pounds, Thatch is a tattoo artist in Las Vegas, Nevada. His claim to fame is he’s the kid who did that tattoo for Max Rivers, the lead singer of Limber, that got all the media attention a few months ago. Thatch says he’s dedicating this run to his five-year-old son, Thaddeus, who’s a huge fan of this show.

  Commentator Two: Becoming a father at such a young age is certainly no easy feat, but it sounds like he’s doing a great job at it. I’m eager to see how he does on the course.

  Commentator One: And, there’s the starting buzzer now. Thatch making his way across the Tilted Steps easily.

  Commentator Two: Yes, he looks very comfortable out there so far. He ran track in high school and has been rock-climbing for about three years now. We often see rock-climbers do very well on this course.

  Commentator One: He’s also been training at one of the newer Ninja Athlete training facilities in Vegas, geared specifically to prepare you for these obstacles.

  Commentator Two: Of course, there are two new obstacles tonight that no one here, even the veterans, was able to prepare for. But, look at Thatch tackle the Revolving Wheel! This new obstacle has been the death of many a run tonight – and he’s locked onto that thing like he does it every day before breakfast!

  Commentator One: Notice how he took the time to really position his feet in order to make sure he’s secure before he started the roll. Next, it’s the Slack Ladder – another new obstacle. Oh, and he almost slipped up on that last wrung! Great save by Thatch Reston!

  Commentator Two: Yes, he was flirting with disaster there, but what a recovery! This rookie is certainly making good time as he makes his way through this course.

  Commentator One: Now, he’s making his run for the Hanging Bars onto Cargo Net. And… will you look at that leap!

  Commentator Two: Did you see his hand slip? I thought it was all over for Thatch, but he managed to hang on! Tremendous run so far for the rookie! This next obstacle will be the true test of his endurance though….

  Commentator One: Yes, not many competitors have managed to make it past the Hanging Pegs tonight. This is where his rock-climbing skills will come in handy for sure. Look at the way he’s maintaining his “L’s” with his arms – so key to keeping control as you make it up and across this obstacle.

  Commentator Two: The trick is to get up the first part quickly. You need all your stamina to survive the Hanging Pegs. Technique is important here, but it’s your endurance that’s key.And he’s done it! One of only three people so far to complete five out of six obstacles.

  Commentator One: The crowd one-hundred-percent behind him now. Listen to them cheer him on! Where did this guy come from? He’s certainly showing a thing or two to some of our seasoned veterans tonight!

  Commentator Two: He still has to make it up over the Wall. Here comes his first attempt. Oh! So close! I saw his fingers graze the top, but no money. Remember, he has three attempts.

  Commentator One: And here he goes for try number two…and he’s done it! There’s a new kid on the block and his name is Thatch Reston!

  Commentator Two: Thatch Reston hits the buzzer and punches his ticket to the Dallas Regional Finals. One of the strongest performances we’ve seen here tonight – and let’s not forget he’s a walk-on rookie!

  Next came my absolutely favorite part of the entire clip.

  Following Ultimate Ninja Athlete tradition, after hitting the buzzer, Thatch pulled his shirt over his head and raised his arms up in triumph for the cheering spectators. Then, he turned and we got a view of his back – one of the few parts of him I hadn’t seen in that hotel room just over three months ago.

  The full-back tattoo he sported was breath-taking. A fallen angel stood, huge black wings semi-opened and spanning Thatch’s shoulder blades, facing away from us but its head in p
rofile.

  Commentator One: Now we can see the evidence of his day job. That sure is some tattoo, isn’t it, Al?

  Commentator Two: It sure is, Mark. Now let’s head down to Jan, who’s waiting to talk to Thatch about his incredible run.

  The video cut to the female commentator on the ground.

  Female Commentator: Congratulations, Thatch. A rookie and a walk-on. How does it feel to be heading to the Regional Finals?

  Thatch (looking unbelievably sexy): I made a promise to my son to try out for the show. I came and kept my promise. Anything else is just icing on the cake, Jan. Hi Thaddeus! (Thatch gave a cheeky, lop-sided grin and waved at the camera).

  Female Commentator: Your son is going to be so proud of your performance tonight. Great job, Thatch. Good luck and we look forward to seeing you in the Regionals.

  Thatch (still looking hot): Thank you Jan.

  Female Commentator: Back up to you, Mark.

  I pushed stop.

  God, I loved that video. Watching Thatch overcome the challenging course of grueling obstacles had been the all inspiration and motivation I needed to get through my stay at the Recovery Center. I’d watched it so many damn times, I felt I knew him, which was ridiculous, of course.

  He had a five-year-old son. That part had been a shocker at first. No wonder he’d been so quick to distrust me the last time we saw each other. He became a father at sixteen or seventeen. There had to be a story there. After all, there’s no sign of a mother in the picture from what I could see. Where was she? He said he left New York to live with his father. What had happened? The fact that he made it through art school and was now an up-and-coming tattoo artist and accomplished athlete was amazing. Inspirational and amazing.

  And God, I had to stop constantly thinking about him.

  My cell phone sounded with a familiar ring.

  Lake.

  I rummaged around in my bag to find it. I hadn’t seen or used it in over three months; the Institute must have charged it a little before returning it to me.