The Hollywood Tales: Brandon Books 1-4

by Audra Cole

  “I know you must hate me Cherry. And I don’t blame you for that. I also know that simply saying that I’m sorry would not even begin to cover what I did to you.”

  “I don’t hate you Brandon. I tried to hate you for a long time, believe me. I just never could.” I don’t meet his eyes when I say this, although I can feel his gaze on me. I feel tears brewing too close to the surface, but I absolutely refuse to break down in front of him.

  I flick a glance in his direction, my brows crinkled with confusion. “Why are you even here? You didn’t fly here to see me.”

  He shakes his head. “No. I didn’t. This is really the first break I’ve had since I moved to LA, and my parents asked me to come home. My grandparents and my Aunt Cara are in town. It’s a bit of a family reunion, I guess.”

  I nod and focus on the road as pictures of his family flood my mind. Other than a few awkward run-ins at the grocery store or around town, I haven’t really seen his parents or younger brothers since the night of our rehearsal dinner.

  “How are Marky and Steve these days?” I ask. I smile sadly as a shuffle of memories plays through my mind. Mark aka “Marky” had just turned thirteen when Brandon left town, and Steve had been sixteen. “I bet they love having a movie star for a big brother.” I smile.

  He returns my smile and I feel a wave of heat hit my stomach. Traitor, I silently scold my body.

  “They’re doing good. We Skype a lot. I’ve flown them out to LA a few times to come visit me on set and meet all the other actors. Of course, Steve is more interested in meeting the actresses than hanging out with me these days.”

  We both laugh. I can just picture the now nineteen-year-old Steve, chasing down the girls for autographs and pictures. The last time I saw him, he looked just like a slightly taller and stockier version of Brandon, so I’m sure he does quite well with the ladies.

  Our laughter trails off and leaves an empty silence in its place.

  “Cherry, I really am sorry,” he says. “For everything.”

  His words paralyze me. My heart feels like it has stopped beating, but my brain has alarm bells going off.

  I take a deep breath to steady myself, and ask the one question that has been ricocheting around my mind since the day he left. “Just tell me why. Why did you leave? You never gave me a reason.”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve thought a lot about that question over the years. The conclusion I’ve come to, is I was scared. We were so young, and I felt like the walls were closing in, like I was trapped.”

  “Trapped?” My head snaps to face him. “What is that supposed to mean? No one was holding a gun to your head when you proposed!”

  Hearing his words, I feel the scars of a three-year-old wound rip open. All the healing and processing I’ve gone through seems to have evaporated. I am left raw… exposed.

  Brandon quickly backpedals. “I didn’t mean trapped by you. I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. Always did. I just meant that being married so young would have entailed a certain lifestyle. I couldn’t just pick up and move for an acting job. I’d have to give up that dream, and I didn’t want to end up twenty years into a marriage with regrets that I never tried, to be left always wondering ‘what if?’ I cared too much to put that on you. I needed to go out and see what would happen, and if I ended up crashing and burning, it would be on me. I didn’t want you to suffer for my mistakes.”

  “I never asked you to give up your dreams,” I say, trying not to sound defensive.

  “Not directly,” he says.

  “What are you talking about? I never said I wanted you to stop acting, or to give it up and just work some job you hated for the rest of your life for my sake. I loved you. I wanted you to be happy.”

  “What about all those brochures? The trade school applications? That didn’t exactly seem supportive.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. I try to scan back through my memories to figure out what he is referring to, but come up empty.

  “I came to see you the morning of the rehearsal. I had been on the phone with my agent, and a studio wanted me to come down to California for an audition. I went to your house to tell you about it, but you were out doing something for the wedding. I don’t remember what. Anyways, I had brought some flowers, so your mom let me in and when I put them down on the table I saw an envelope with a sticky note that said ‘For Brandon.’ I assumed it was from you, so I took it home and it was full of brochures for different schools and training programs, things like plumber, electrician, EMT, and more.

  “Seeing all that gave me this picture of what you wanted, and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to live up to that. You wanted a normal life with a normal guy, and I just didn’t fit that mold. I felt like I would be a disappointment.”

  My heart is beating too fast, and my mind is spinning as his words tumble out.

  “Brandon, I didn’t leave that package for you. I have no idea what you’re even talking about!”

  He looks completely stunned before asking, “Well if you didn’t, then who did?”

  I can’t say for sure, but my top suspect would be my mother. She was always rattling on about Brandon needing to get more serious about finding a career. We had received our two-year degrees, but had not returned to college to finish the full four-year program. Neither of us had a solid plan of what we wanted next, so we had decided to take a year off to get married, get settled, and then go back to school. Thinking of her packaging up career options and leaving them for him like that makes me want to hit something. Hard. Anger boils up, mostly directed at my mother, but it spills over onto Brandon as well.

  “How could you feel all this and not bring this up to me? You didn’t let me have a chance to work this out with you! Why just run away without getting all the information first? After all the years we spent together, I feel like I should at least have been given a chance to explain!”

  “I wanted to talk to you. I tried. I was upset, but I still showed up at the rehearsal and was still planning to go through with everything. Then, there was this moment of clarity. Or confirmation I guess.”

  “What? What happened?” I demand.

  “At the dinner, my dad asked how you felt about the possibility of moving to California, and you said we’d have to wait and see about that.”

  He pauses.

  “So? What’s wrong with saying ‘wait and see’?”

  “Cherry, we both know that is what you always said when you didn’t want to do something, but you didn’t want to just say no outright. It was like a cover.”

  “You cannot be serious. That’s what this is all based off of? An assumption?”

  I take a deep breath and try to slow my heart rate. It feels like I’m going to have a panic attack…or maybe an aneurysm.

  “It wasn’t an easy decision. I wrestled with it all night, going back and forth, trying to figure out what to do, but in the end I took the selfish road.”

  My voice sounds hollow when I finally speak, “Brandon, do you know how many times I said ‘we’ll wait and see’ that week?”

  I stare at him, keeping my hands level on the wheel. “Everyone wanted to know everything all at once. When are you going to have kids? Where will you live? Are you going to keep your job at the library? Are you going to move to the city for more jobs? Are you going back to school?”

  I sigh and fix my eyes back on the road.

  “I didn’t have the answers for any of them, so my default became ‘wait and see’ with a big, fake smile to convince everyone that we had all our ducks in a row. You think you were scared? I was terrified. I had no idea what I wanted. Did I want to stay in our hometown or did I want to move? Did I want to be a housewife and stay-at-home mom or did I want to finish school and get a career and have my own thing? I didn’t have answers to any of my own questions, let alone anyone else’s.

  “The only thing I was sure about was that I was crazy in love with you, and that I always would be. Ironically, that ended up being
the most unstable thing of all. I guess I threw myself into planning our perfect wedding because I figured that as long as we were together, the rest would work itself out somehow. Starting our life together, whatever it would look like, was the only thing that gave me peace and made everything else not seem so scary. I was ready to spend the rest of my life with you. Filling in the blanks and everything else was ‘wait and see’.”

  Brandon looks like I just punched him in the gut.

  Neither of us speaks for a long time. I have a compulsion to reach out and take his hand and tell him that everything will be okay. But it’s not okay. Nothing about this whole situation is okay.

  I’m mad and sad and completely at a loss.

  Brandon finally speaks. “I’m sorry, Charity, you have no idea. I should have said something. I should have stayed. I should have given you a chance to explain back then.”

  He honestly looks close to tears. I wish I could think of something to say, but I can’t. A long time ago, I mentally boxed up my thoughts and memories of Brandon, and packed them away deep in my mind. Right now, it feels like someone dropped a bomb on that box. Now the contents are scattered in a million pieces, and nothing makes sense. All I feel is chaos. I’ve spent the better part of the last three years trying to move on and to let go of the past, but it seems as though all that work and energy has unraveled over the course of a single conversation.

  I can’t deal with this anymore. I mentally shut the box again and decide to pick up the pieces once I’m alone. Right now, I just need to get out of this situation. It’s claustrophobic.

  “It’s fine. Really. It was a long time ago. We were both young, we both made mistakes,” I say.

  Without giving him a chance to reply, I flick on the radio and scan around trying to find something worth listening to before settling on an instrumental channel with jazzy music. Normally it would give me a soothing, relaxed feel, but tonight I don’t think anything is going to take the edge off. I turn up the volume loud enough to prohibit further conversation.

  Fifteen minutes passes before Brandon reaches out and turns the volume down. “Charity, do you think you will ever be able to forgive me?”

  “I already have,” I say. “It’s been three years Brandon. I’ve moved on with my life, you have obviously moved on with yours.”

  “So, then, what now? Where do we go from here?”

  “There’s nowhere to go. You came, said your piece, and I listened. That was the deal, remember? It’s over now,” I say, my tone frosty, daring him to argue.

  I can process this whole conversation when I get home, back to the safety of my bed, but right now it’s time to put the wall back up and just get this night over with. I feel stupid enough for even getting myself into this situation. It hasn’t accomplished a thing, other than to dig up a lot of feelings I would rather have left buried.

  “That’s it? After all that?” Brandon asks. He seems to be genuinely surprised.

  “What did you expect? What is this really all about? You thought I would just be sitting here pining away for you? Get real Brandon. We have no ties to each other. We’re not together, and we’re not even friends anymore. Haven’t been for a long, long time.”

  I can hear the edge to my voice but can’t seem to curb it.

  “As far as I’ve seen and heard, you’re some bazillionaire, with more money than you know what to do with. You’re shacked up with some fame-hungry gold digger down in LA, and are quite content to wander through life only caring about your career, mansion, and designer clothes. I don’t even know why you begged to come with me tonight. You would have been better off in your town car talking sports with your fancy driver. Did you just want to see if I would still be hopelessly in love with you? To stroke your ego? Well you came, you have now seen, and can go back home with your curiosity satisfied.”

  Half of my brain cheers at my sassy comeback, but the other half feels a guilty sting at my harsh words. I quickly drown out the naysayer side, by reminding myself that I am finally moving on with my life, and do not need a giant, Brandon-shaped roadblock in my way.

  Brandon’s nostrils flare and I can see the heat in his eyes. “Fine, if that’s what you want to think. I won’t try to change your mind. But just for the record, I’ve avoided this town, even just to visit, since we broke up because just being here makes me crazy. Every single thing reminds me of you. Honestly? I was hoping I wouldn’t see you during my visit. I was hoping to have a little peace from all that. But when I saw you tonight, I don’t know, I guess I figured it meant something. That it was more than just a coincidence.”

  He pauses to look at me. I try not to meet his gaze, but I can feel him staring at me.

  “I see you’re nothing like the girl I knew. So, you want me to leave you alone? Fine. I’ll leave you alone.”

  He folds his arms across his chest and turns his face towards the passenger window.

  I feel a little pang of regret for my angry words, but I quickly flick the volume of the radio back up to drown it out.

  Chapter Seven

  The rest of the car ride is quiet, each of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts and regrets. We are about five miles from town when I realize that I don’t even know where I’m supposed to be taking him. I hesitate to break the glassy silence, not wanting to force us back to reality, when there seems to be so much to deal with from the past.

  Am I supposed to drop him off and then just go back to my life the way it was before? How can I even think that would happen? It’s like everything I knew about life has changed in a matter of seconds, and my brain can’t process the information fast enough.

  I feel dizzy.

  I steal a glance at him. He looks just as miserable as I feel.

  “Are you staying with your parents?” I finally venture, flicking off the radio. My voice gets swallowed up by the sudden silence.

  Brandon’s parents live a little ways out of town, but I know the area well. I cannot even count the number of times I have been there. And although it’s been years since I was last there, I can close my eyes and see every last detail: the long driveway, low rock wall surrounding the borders of the yard, the homey looking yellow house with a porch swing. It’s like something out of a movie.

  “Uh, no, actually I have a room at that inn off Briar Lane. You know the one? I have the address on my phone,” he answers, and turns in his seat to dig around in his carry-on bag in the backseat.

  Watching in the rearview mirror, I smile sadly as papers fly through the air while he struggles to find his phone. He had never been a very organized person. He used to joke that he was marrying me because I always knew where to find things. I guess he has a personal assistant for this kind of thing now. I frown at the thought and turn my attention back to the road.

  “I know which one you are talking about, it’s called the Beverly Inn.”

  “Aha, yes. That’s the one.” He shoves everything back into the case and then rights himself in his seat. “I’m hopeless when it comes to remembering that kind of thing.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say, trying not to let the memories take over again.

  “Right.”

  An awkward silence falls as we both fidget and shift in our seats.

  “Why not stay with your parents?” I ask, desperate for a subject change.

  “It’s already pretty full with everyone in town. Plus, I keep weird hours these days, so I figured it would be best if I stayed on my own.”

  I nod, unsure of what else to say….unsure if I even want the conversation to continue.

  I spot the inn ahead and pull to a stop in one of three parking spots. Apparently it’s not a very busy establishment, but from looking at the front it appears nice. Well-tended bushes line the walk on either side of the double French doors, and a hand painted sign sits atop the doors, with little spotlights on each side.

  “Guess this is home,” Brandon says as he peers out the window. I smile, suspecting that he is more familiar with flashy, five-
star hotels by now.

  “Well, have a good time with your family,” I say, wishing my palms would stop sweating.

  Brandon turns to face me. “Charity, listen, I know things have not gone super smooth tonight, and I know I said I would leave you alone, but I’d really like to see you again, at least one more time before I go back to LA. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

  I shake my head and look down at my hands. “I really don’t think we should.”

  He drops his gaze and nods slightly. “All right, understood. Well thanks for the ride.”

  I try to smile but it doesn’t feel genuine. What’s left to say? Have a nice life? Wish things could be different?

  None of it seems right.

  He leans in and kisses my cheek, and I hold my breath.

  “Good-bye, Charity.” His eyes lock with mine.

  “Good-bye, Brandon.” My voice breaks.

  Sometimes I hate being a girl. It seems like you are always on the verge of either crying or going insane. Then again, maybe it’s just me. My friends all seem well-adjusted for the most part.

  He offers a small, sad smile before grabbing his bag from the back seat and exiting the car. He shuts the door softly before turning to go up the small walk of the inn.

  I watch him go inside, and then release the breath I’ve been holding back. I rest my head on the back of the seat and try to regain control. It’s one of those moments that you think for sure must be a dream. Or a nightmare.

  I hear a click and turn my head to see Brandon opening the passenger door. Before I can say a word, he leans across the front seat, takes my face in his hands, and presses his lips firmly to mine. The kiss feels possessive, and I instantly melt into it, amazed at how natural it still feels after all this time. Butterflies explode into fireworks in my stomach as the kiss deepens, and his hand moves to weave through my hair. His lips are soft and warm, and familiar against mine. He parts my lips with his and the tip of his tongue invades my mouth, touching the tip of mine and sending fresh waves of heat over my body.