Dylan chokes on her cookie, which makes Mrs. Ross pat her back. Nothing like being put on the spot.
“No thank you, Mrs. Ross, she’s not really my girlfriend.” Dylan kicks me lightly under the table. I look at her, raising my eyebrows. What was I supposed to say?
“Okay. Dylan, would you like to tell me why you applied to NYU?”
Now I’m the one looking at Dylan, my eyes wide. She’s never mentioned going to New York for college. In fact, she’s never mentioned college at all.
“I… um… I sent in an application with the essay that won first place last year. I didn’t think I’d have a chance.”
“Well, it seems not only did you get in, but they gave you a full scholarship.” Mrs. Ross pulls an envelope out of her pocket and sets it down in front of Dylan. She looks from the envelope to me and to her mom before jumping into her mom’s arms.
I’m happy for her. I am, but wish it were me.
When they’re done celebrating, I give her a hug.
“Will you go with me?” she asks when I release her.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I can’t go to New York without you.”
I close my eyes and nod. I pick her up and spin her around. She laughs, holding my neck tightly. When I set her down, Mrs. Ross hugs the both of us.
“I’m okay with Dylan going as long as you’re there with her, Ryan.”
“Yeah, I’ll go,” I shout loudly.
CHAPTER 40
Hadley
I throw down my headphones and push the microphone out of my way. My producer stands, his hands pressing down on the table that holds his mixing board. He’s leaning over it, staring at me through the glass. If the look on his face is supposed to be menacing, he’s missing it by a mile. I can’t do this anymore. These songs, the ones I thought I wanted to sing for my new album, aren’t cutting it. I wrote them shortly after I left Ryan. Putting my feelings down on paper helped a little, but I never thought I’d be standing here in a studio recording them.
I’m not sure I can do it. There is so much anger. Pain and sadness fills my lyrics, but when I say the words, I hate them. I hate myself for letting Ryan go. In my mind, he was going to wait. He was going to be ready to take me back, forgive me for my stupidity and everything would be perfect.
He was the smart one. He moved on. I can’t blame him, even though I want to. How come he didn’t know I’d be back? Because I didn’t know I’d be back, that’s why.
I can’t do this, not today. I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. I open the door only to find Ian standing there with his arms against the doorframe, blocking me from leaving. He’s shaking his head and his lips are curled into a sneer.
“Get back in there and get this done.”
“I’m not feeling it today. I need to leave.”
Ian straightens. This is his ‘I’m the boss’ stance. It works with the media and others who cower to him, but not me, not anymore. Not after everything that has gone down in the past few months. He’s supposed to be my friend, my confidant. I should be able to trust him, but he showed his true colors, repeatedly.
“I don’t think you understand.”
“No, Ian, I don’t think you understand. Your contract with me is up in a couple of months. If I was you, I’d start kissing my ass in the hope that I’m willing to re-sign with you.”
“Excuse me?” He steps back, which I don’t expect. I figured he’d push me into the room and shut the door so he can read me the riot act.
I step forward, finding a bit of confidence within. “You heard me. Don’t act so shocked. Yes, I know your contract is due for renewal and you bet your ass that I’m shopping around. You work for me, not the other way around.”
“You wouldn’t fire me. We’re family.”
I scoff. “You can’t throw the word ‘family’ around when it’s convenient for you,” I say as I point my finger at him. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll move out of my way.”
“You’re a spoiled little bitch, you know that?”
I shrug. “Whatever, Ian, I don’t care what you think. Not anymore.”
I walk past him, purposely bumping my shoulder into his. I slam the door behind me, hopefully conveying my anger. I doubt it did though. I opt for the stairs. I don’t want to see anyone out front. I don’t want to be stopped by the nosey receptionist who is supposed to order my lunch this afternoon. I just want out.
As soon as I’m out on the street, I’m heading to the local coffee shop. Today is not the day to be accosted by fans, but I see it coming. I can’t even stand in line without someone pointing and whispering. Yes, people, believe it or not, Hadley Carter buys her own coffee. Better call the paparazzi and let them know that I do mundane things. The cashier asks for my autograph and I stare at her. Really? Isn’t there some unknown code where people waiting on you know better than to ask for an autograph?
I slap down my money and tell her she can keep the change. I don’t even know how much that is, but I’m hoping it’s nothing more than a few pennies. I take my coffee and smile. I hear the word bitch as I turn my back.
Whatever.
I’m done.
I pull out my phone and call Alex. “I quit,” I say as she answers.
“Okay.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“No, but I do think you need a break. You’ve been through a lot and you didn’t take any time after you and Ryan. And then there’s Cole and the media all over you because he’s dating someone new and they're desperate for a story that isn’t there. So, I don’t blame you.”
I stand at the corner and wait for the traffic to clear or for the signal to change. As beautiful as it is today, the streets aren’t that crowded. I walk into Central Park and find a bench to sit on. There are a few street performers, but none who catch my attention. What I’d really like to do is sit here with my guitar and just play for people; people who don’t care who I am or what I do for a living.
“You need to talk to someone.”
“I’m talking to you.”
Alex laughs. I know what she’s talking about. We discussed me going to see a therapist when I was on tour, but of course when the tour was over, I went right into the studio. Can’t let my fans down. Maybe Alex is right. Maybe I do need to talk to someone to help me deal with what’s going on in my head, because we all know the song writing isn’t cutting it. Usually that’s my therapy, my release, but not this time.
“What do you think?”
“I think people will think I’m nuts if they find out.”
“No one will find out, Hadley, but I think you need this. You never saw one after the first time with Cole and then there was Ryan and now this very public relationship with Cole again. Talking to someone will help you deal with it all.”
“Okay.” I don’t want Alex to list all my problems. I know them. I’ve always thrown myself into my work and never dealt with what Cole did to me or what I did to Ryan.
“Okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, call someone for me.” I don’t say goodbye. I need to get off the phone before I change my mind. Within minutes Alex texts me with a name, location and a time, a time that is an hour from now. I have a sneaking suspicion she had this set up for a while now.
“So,” she says, she being Dr. Patrick with her jet-black hair wrapped tightly in a bun perched high on top of her head. She greeted me the moment I walked in, like she had a nanny cam in the hallway; either that or she has no other head cases lining up to see her. She likes black. Her black pencil skirt goes with her black stilettos and black jacket only accented by a red cami to match her red lips, all while I’m sitting on a black couch. Maybe she needs someone to talk to.
“So,” I reply back. I keep my hands folded and rested on my knees. I really don’t know what I’m doing here. Am I supposed to give her my life story or wait for her to ask me what’s wrong?
“Sometimes people come in here and just sit and others spill. I’m not saying you have
to do either, just remember that no one judges what you say here. This is an open forum. I only take notes when there’s something I want to ask you again or remember for our next session. You don’t have to worry about the press or your manager finding out about what you talk about. Your assistant, Alex, was very clear about what you expect.”
Her voice is smooth and the words tumble out in a gentle cadence; it’s amazing how she eased so many worries just like that. I sit back, a little bit more comfortable. She doesn’t smile or even change her position. She’s good at her job and she knows it.
“You like black?” I didn’t mean this as a question, more of a statement, but didn’t know how to end my thought.
“Believe it or not, it’s calming. If everything was white, you’d think clinical and hospital and you wouldn’t want to talk. Red brings out anger and yellow makes it seem like I’m forcing you to be happy. Black allows you to be relaxed.”
“Some would say black is death.”
“Some would, but it gets people talking.”
She’s right, I want to talk and I do. I start with Coleman and tell her everything. How we met, fell in love and I thought I had found the one for me until I caught him with someone else.
“But when I met Ryan… my soul knew he was the one I was destined to be with, but everything was against us.”
“Like what?” she writes down something, asking her question without looking at me.
“Completely different lifestyles and not just because of my job, but we were even raised differently. My parents doted on me where his didn’t acknowledge he was around. It was hard for me to see him not have basic necessities, like new clothes. I wanted to take care of him, but knew he’d never accept my help.”
“It’s not uncommon for people to come from different social economical classes and have one want to take care of the other.”
I shrug. I think Ryan would’ve been okay if I bought him more, but he would’ve gotten into trouble.
“It’s not just social status. There’s an age difference.”
“What is it?”
“Five years.”
Dr. Patrick adjusts in her seat, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. “Five years isn’t that big of a gap, Hadley. Many people have an age difference larger and make it work.”
“He was seventeen when we dated.” I drop my eyes before I can see the look on her face. I don’t need to know that she doesn’t approve even though she doesn’t know us. I can hear her pen moving across the page, that’s how quiet it is in here. There isn’t the sound of a clock with its tick tock, tick tock to break the silence. Not even a bird outside chirping. Just the sound of writing as she puts down all the questions she’s going to ask.
“How did his parents feel?”
I rub my hands down my pants. They’re sweating and I know she’s going to judge me. I should feel ashamed, but I don’t. I love him. I’ll wait a lifetime to see him again if I have to. “Only his mom knew, but she didn’t approve. No one approved except my friend, Alex, and she still had her reservations. Like I said, we were doomed from the moment we met.”
“When was the last time you spoke with him?”
“That’s just it,” I say, shaking my head. “We got arrested when I went to visit him and my manager made a deal with the police, or whoever, that they wouldn’t charge Ryan with assaulting an officer. In exchange, Ryan signed a no-contact order stating he couldn’t contact me until he turned eighteen.”
“When is that?”
“Six months ago.”
Dr. Patrick sets down her notepad and leans forward slightly. “So what’s keeping you from reaching out to him?”
I readjust and sit more comfortably on her leather couch. I know why doctors use couches: it’s so you can lie down and tell them your woes and feel better about yourself while you’re encased in fine Italian leather.
“I had bought him a phone and turned it off so I wouldn’t be tempted. On his birthday, I'd had enough and needed to hear his voice, but he never answered. He never replied or read my text messages. The message is clear, I just can’t let go.”
“What about going to visit him?”
“He ran away the day after all this happened.” I shake my head, fighting the tears to no avail. I wipe at my cheeks, roughly, needing the pain to feel human. “I don’t know where he is. I lost him because of the people in my life. My manager made him sign that stupid form and I lost him.”
She stands and hands me a tissue. I’m surprised I’m able to smile and thank her.
“Tell me about your manager.”
“He’s my uncle and he’s an idiot. His contract is up soon and I’m really thinking it’s time we part ways. He’s good at his job, but he’s like a spoiled child and does the most unbelievable things when he doesn’t get his way.”
“And Coleman?”
I clear my throat. “I love him, but not the way I love Ryan. When I look at Cole, I see a friend who has been a part of my life, but not my future. I wish I did because being with Cole could be so easy. I know everything about him and can easily fall into a routine with him, not to mention we are in the same field. But he’s not what I want.”
“Here’s what I want you to do. Write down what it is you want and when we meet next week, we’ll talk about the healthiest way to achieve that goal, okay?”
I nod and dab at my eyes.
I breathe in deeply when I’m outside, taking in the sounds of the city and wonder where Ryan is and if he’s happy. I hope that he is. I hope he’s getting everything out of his life that he wanted and making a name for himself.
CHAPTER 41
Ryan
Graduation.
I can’t believe this day is here. My mom will be there today, in the auditorium, watching me walk across the stage to receive my diploma. I still haven’t spoken to my dad. Mom never brings it up and he doesn’t try. Apparently I meant nothing to him. I think my feelings would be hurt if it weren’t for Mr. Ross.
After Dylan and I broke up, he saw that I was down and started taking me to the gym. Working out has been my salvation. It gives me something to do. I also got my driver’s license. Once I turned eighteen, I didn’t have to take driver’s education and Mr. Ross insisted I learn to drive. I don’t have a car, but Mrs. Ross lets me drive hers when I need to.
I stare at the ceiling, biding my time before I have to get ready for graduation and reflect back on the last ten months. So much has changed since I started my senior year that it’s hard to believe I’m the same person I was at the end of August. No one but Dylan knows about Hadley. We don’t talk about her or what happened or how I made the biggest mistake of the year by even thinking I had a chance with her. I do think that if I hadn’t met Hadley, Dylan and I would’ve never taken our relationship to the next level. A relationship that we haven’t exactly stopped, we just aren’t dating. ‘Friends with benefits’ is what she calls it. She’s had one boyfriend since me, but that didn’t last very long.
I ended up taking Dylan to prom and we had a blast. Our prom was held at a hotel in Jackson. At first Mr. Ross was adamant that we not go, or go and come home. He even offered to pay for a driver, but Mrs. Ross said it was just one night and we were about to move to New York, so what was the big deal. The night of prom, Mr. Ross reminded me that he had a gun and I wasn’t to touch his daughter. If he only knew, I may be dead now.
I would’ve never thought my year would end the way it has, especially considering the way it started, and I have Dylan to thank for that.
“Umf,” I grunt when Dylan jumps onto my bed, landing on top of me. I wrap my arm around her shoulder as she rests her head on my chest. Our relationship is pretty solid and probably a deterrent for anyone who wants to date her. I feel bad about that, but I’m not sure how to change it.
“You’re getting too buff.”
I look at her out of the corner of my eye. “I thought chicks dig muscles.”
“They do, but when we get to New York all the chic
ks are going to be chasing you down the block and I’m going to be right behind them with my broom.”
“I need a girlfriend, don’t you think? Unless we’re getting married and having lots of babies.”
Dylan slaps my stomach. Earlier in the year that would’ve hurt, but now I barely flinch. I like who I’ve become in the past few months. I walk with confidence now. I still don’t have many guy friends, but I’m willing to make those changes when we move next week. I’m going to be a new person and leave behind this underdog.
“Knock, knock.” Mrs. Ross is standing in my doorway, not even caring that Dylan is lying on my bed. I think she knows, but as long as we aren’t getting into trouble, she doesn’t say anything. We’re allowed in each other’s rooms as long as they’re home and the doors stay open. For the most part we follow the rules.
Dylan and I sit up. Mrs. Ross comes in and sits on the edge of my bed. I can tell she’s been crying. I know she’s not excited about Dylan moving, but I told her I’d make sure she’s taken care of. We rented a two-bedroom apartment. Her parents will pay for our rent since they’re saving on dorm costs and I’ll find a job to cover the rest of our expenses, like food.
“What’s up, Mom?” Dylan asks as her mom shakes her head. They embrace and I hear crying, my cue to escape. I’ll let mom and daughter have their crying fest.
I find Mr. Ross in the garage working on Dylan’s car. We are taking it to New York, so he’s been putting a lot of money into it.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re crying.”
He rolls his eyes and hands me a wrench. “Let me teach you how to change the oil.”
We spend the next hour under her car learning how to change the oil and where to watch for trouble. He teaches me things that every dad should be teaching his son.
“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me this year. If it wasn’t –“
He sets his hand down on my arm, silencing me. “I did it because you deserved to have someone care about you. I sat back far too long and that incident woke me up. You needed someone to help you grow into a man and I needed someone to show me that I could make a change. You’ve turned into a standup young man and for that I’m proud. You could’ve taken what happened and turned down a path of self-destruction, but you didn’t.” He sets his hand on my shoulder, but I go in for a hug.
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