Part of me wanted to sit and hear more of his thoughts. He never opened up about the store or the choices he made at my age. It was hard to think of your parents being twenty-three.
“Really? You’re really ok with this?” I was dumbfounded.
“Yep. We’ll even help you move. Make it a family vacation. I’ve never been to Texas.” He stood from the chair, folding his glasses in half.
I laid the contract on the desk. It hadn’t happened in months, but I threw my arms around my father’s neck and hugged him.
He patted me on the back. “All right, Mom’s got chicken salad for us. Let’s go tell her the news. She hasn’t been on a vacation in years. I can’t wait for you to put that smile on her face.” He walked out of the office.
I had never been more confused in my life. I left the contract and joined my parents for ice tea and chicken salad, like life was normal, serene, and perfect.
Thirty-Seven
Ben
The passage of time can be a fickle phenomenon. When you’re in love, every divine second feels fleeting as you rush to scramble the sands back into the hourglass. Uselessly trying to pause the moments, the love, the rush that overtakes your body and soul. But when your heart is broken, every second is one that you want to speed past and skip. Time slows to a crawl, dragging your heart through memories and pain that can only be eased by walking through what seems like endless dark days.
A week had gone by since I had seen Chelsea. She wouldn’t answer my calls, and when I stopped by Paul’s house, Derek met me at the door with a don’t-come-back message. Admittedly, I had asked Derek to protect her. I just didn’t think it would work against me.
The collection of reporters Rebecca had assembled for her staged love reunion departed a few days after she did, realizing that Brees Island wasn’t the most exciting place. The locals left me alone, but the tourists knew I was there now and I had seen more cell phones emerge to capture my face than I had seen in months.
Foolishly, I thought once the media storm was over and Rebecca left, Chelsea would realize things could go back to normal. However, maybe once you’ve made national news, things never go back to normal. I didn’t know anymore.
It didn’t feel the same being on Brees Island, knowing that Chelsea wanted me as far away as possible. Silver Sand Dollar was filled with memories of her. Every part of the beach reminded me of walking with her after the hurricane. I couldn’t see a kayak without thinking about going overboard. My sanctuary had turned to loneliness. It was time to leave.
“Oh, baby, I’m going to miss you around her. You sure you can’t stay until the end of the month? It’s August and summer is almost over.” Alice pulled on my neck.
I untangled from her arms. “No, I think it’s time to head back to Texas. But that’s between you and me.” I winked. I knew Alice wouldn’t gossip about me. She never had.
“Well, you take care of yourself, and I’ll look for you on the big screen.” She smiled.
I shook my head and tossed my duffle bag into the backseat. “Don’t count on that for a while. I’m taking a break, but you never know.”
After I had fired Rick, I knew I needed to hire a replacement, but that wasn’t going to be easy. How do you hire someone to represent you and handle your media when you don’t want to star in another film? There was still a job to be filled. There was media. There were charity commitments and the foundation to run. Someone had to help navigate the business I had created.
Rebecca might have left the island, but she hadn’t given up on us garnering the Love & Bondage roles. She texted relentlessly, emailed, and left voicemails. It was worse than when I saw her magazine pictures from Hawaii. I wasn’t about to tell her I had ordered a copy of the book. The spine wasn’t broken yet, but if my name was getting tossed around and she was campaigning for it, I at least wanted to understand the fascination and obsession with the story.
I had a meeting set up tomorrow to interview a new agent. He was a fellow Texan, and I hoped Hollywood hadn’t corrupted him yet. It would be a while before I trusted someone like that again, maybe never. Rick had deliberately tracked down Chelsea’s bio under the guise of providing information to Brandon at Blue Steel. That was how we were revealed—how Rebecca found us. I had kicked myself a hundred times for getting involved. If I had left it alone and let her try to break in the music business on her own, we never would have been found.
I looked at the Sand Dollar one last time before snaking down the path to the office.
Mistakes were made way before I asked Rick to get Chelsea in with a label. The first one was lying to her the day I took the job at the store. I didn’t need a job. She would know that now. I had millions in the bank. I could have told her so many times. If I had only seized one of them, maybe I wouldn’t be handing over the Sand Dollar’s keys to Flo.
I closed the screen door behind me. “Hey, Flo.”
“Look who’s here.” She was working on a crossword puzzle.
I held up the key. “I came to drop these off. I’m moving out.”
She stood from behind the desk and walked toward me. I didn’t know what was happening. She reached up with her lips and kissed me on the cheek.
“Flora!” I smiled.
“You know I’m a big fan, and I wasn’t about to let you waltz out of here without at least one smooch.” She giggled like one of my twenty-something fangirls.
“I hear you might have a calendar of mine. Can I sign it before I leave?” I waited while she pulled it from the desk drawer.
“I wasn’t going to ask you to sign it.”
“I know, but I want to.” I reached for her crossword puzzle pen. “To Flora,” I read aloud while I wrote my message. “Thank you for a wonderful summer. I’ll never forget Silver Sand Dollar or you. All my love, Ben.”
I handed it to her. “And thank you for keeping my secret all summer.”
“It’s none of my business.” She swatted at the air. “You going to tell Carl you’re off? He’s fishing.”
“I wouldn’t leave without doing that.” I moved toward the door. “Bye, Flora.” I closed the door behind me and headed to the beach where Carl would be sitting with his pole, waiting for the fish to bite.
The ferry crew waved me on the ramp. I had barely made it. When I pulled up and realized I was at the end of the line, a sliver of hope surfaced that maybe I didn’t have to leave Brees Island. Even though I knew there wasn’t any reason to stay. It only brought her more pain if I tried to see her, and I was done causing her pain.
I parked behind a pickup truck and waited for the crew to put the blocks under my tires before stepping out of my Jeep. It might hurt, but I was going to take in every mile of the island while the ferry floated me toward the mainland. I needed to memorize it. I heard the horn blow and I leaned against the railing, letting the wind whip my hair. I pulled my glasses over my eyes and watched Brees Island slip farther away.
Thirty-Eight
Chelsea
It had been a week, and in those moments when I focused on something else, breathing wasn’t as painful. It should have been an amazing week. I signed the contract with Blue Steel Records, thanks to my father. I still hadn’t come to terms with the steps we had taken in our relationship. It seemed different somehow. Maybe at some point I could talk to him about what he was doing with Eileen, but I was nowhere near ready for that. Right now, we were on speaking terms and he was helping me sort through the business aspect of my first contract. It was something new and delicate.
As phenomenal as the contract was—and the prospect of working with Quinn Jansen—I was experiencing it all blurred and hazy from the numbness that crept in when I wasn’t looking.
His name was Ben Baldwin. Ben Baldwin, I tried saying it so many times, but feeling the betrayal surge through every time it passed over my lips always stopped me cold.
Was any of it real? I had asked myself that question repeatedly. I stared at the ceiling, rocked in my hammock, drank a bottle
of wine, and ran on the beach, asking that question. Was it real?
The question had rooted in my heart, and the only way to deal with it was to write about it. The lyrics came out in complete verses, pouring forth with every tear and every sob that shook me.
Every time I heard from him, I shut him out. I didn’t want to hear excuses or justifications for the lies even though I craved them. It felt like weakness invading my body how desperately I wanted to know how sorry he was. If I heard just the right words, maybe the nightmare would go away and I could slide into his arms where the world was safe and calm. But I kept pushing his chance away. It scared me to face him.
I realized I was completely new to the ways of the rich and famous, but when my landlady, Mrs. Gaits, showed up to hand me real estate papers, I almost fainted. Ben had bought my house. Well, he bought it for me. There was a letter enclosed. He wanted me to have a place that was all mine, that I didn’t have to share or worry about nosey neighbors. I thought it was ironic, considering none of my neighbors were the ones who ratted me out to the press. It was all people he knew.
While I was still trying to absorb my new homeowner status, a van pulled up from Banks Security. Ben had called the company to install a security system. He didn’t send a letter with them. Reluctantly, I let the men in. It was highly unlikely my life would be under the media microscope again, but I agreed that if it ever were, I’d rather lockdown in my place instead of Casa del Paul.
The biggest highlight of the week had to be the call with Quinn Jansen. Quinn had called me, and I almost flipped right out of my hammock. She sounded like any other twenty-five-year-old girl—happy, fun, in love with music. I knew we instantly clicked. I trusted her with my music.
Trust. The word had many layers and folds. I had never known it to be such a gray fabric until this week. The one person I had given myself to completely had betrayed me. The one person I considered the island’s biggest liar, I had entrusted with my music career.
I ran my fingers through my hair, closing my eyes. Maybe some time away from Brees Island would take the hurt away, redefine normal, and restore some balance in my life. It was only a four-day trip to Austin to meet with Brandon and Quinn, but it was a welcome distraction.
I stepped from my car. I always liked to watch from the railing when the ferry horn sounded the departure. It was like embarking on a new journey every time.
The salt air filled my lungs, and I leaned against the ship’s wall. The sun felt good on my face. I shifted left, watching the foam bubble up in the wake of the ferry. My eyes trailed along the crowd who had gathered to wave good-bye to the island. I froze. My heart quickened. It was him. Ben Baldwin was standing fifty feet away, leaning against the ferry. Before I could dart back to my car, he saw me. And there was no hiding, no escaping. He was walking, dodging children, bikes, and cars to get to where I was.
Thirty-Nine
Ben
My heart pounded and my head raced. She was there. Chelsea was on the ferry. If I could get there fast enough, I could touch her. That was fucking stupid. It was the last thing she wanted. Maybe I could talk to her.
I zigzagged between cars, never realizing fifty feet could be so far away.
“Chelsea!” I shouted. She was turning from the railing, and I worried that she might lock herself in her car. I couldn’t blame her. There were a lot of reasons to lock me out.
I jogged to her. She was close to the bow, where there was an open platform too narrow for cars to pull forward.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
The urge to reach for her and pull her against my chest was unbearable. Why was that the first thing I said, instead of ‘you’re beautiful and I’m an idiot’?
“I’m going to meet with Brandon,” she answered, hiding her blue eyes behind sunglasses.
There wasn’t a right thing to say. I didn’t have words that could undo how badly I had fucked up. But I had to try. “I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” Maybe she would listen.
“We can’t talk about this right here. I won’t talk about it.”
“Why not?” I pressed. “You deserve answers. You deserve the truth.”
“The truth?” she scoffed. “Now you’re interested in honesty? I’m finally leaving Brees and you want to talk about taking the blindfold off your lies?” She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to hear any of it. Just let me get back to my car.”
I blocked her path. “No.” My lips pressed together.
“No?”
“You heard me.” It was my last chance. “We have one hour until we get to the other side of the sound. One hour. After I’m done, if you don’t want to, you never have to talk to me again.”
Her hair blew around her bare shoulders.
She pointed at a line of people behind me. “But, see? There’s an audience. I’m not interested in making the news again. I’m not interested in anything that has to do with Ben Baldwin’s life.”
Damn it. Tourists and their smart phones. I searched for somewhere we could hide. If I let her drive off this ferry, it would be final. There would be no second chance.
I grabbed her by the hand, ignoring her attempt to jerk it back.
“Let go.” She wiggled.
“Follow me. You’re going to listen.” I was more stubborn than she was. And stronger.
I climbed a set of stairs to the lounge, tugging Chelsea behind me. There were several couples and a family enjoying the air conditioning inside the cabin.
Chelsea huffed as I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my wallet.
“Listen up.” I cleared my throat, competing with the hum of the ferry engine. “I’ve got a hundred dollars for each of you if you’ll give me the courtesy of having this room for the rest of the ride,” I announced.
Chelsea looked at me as if I had announced I was about to start breaking kneecaps. “You can’t be serious.”
“But, it’s all or nothing, folks. Everyone out or no cash.” I ignored her glare and started counting out the bills. I had enough to pay off these people and the ones downstairs.
“You got it.” The first dad collected his money.
“Yep, we can enjoy the view downstairs.” And older couple smiled.
“Thank you.” The last pair collected their two hundred dollars.
I slid a chair under the door handle to make sure we didn’t have any more interruptions.
“Ok. We’re alone. No cameras, no people. You and me.” I turned toward Chelsea.
She stacked her hands on her hips. “You paid them off!”
I shook my head. “You don’t get it. I want to be alone with you. Yes, I paid them off. I would clear out my bank account to be alone with you.”
“And buy beach houses with it?” she fumed.
“You didn’t like that? I thought you’d want your own place and that way you can keep it secure. You love it there.” I wanted to protect her. It seemed like the best way.
She spun on her heels and looked out the window. “I do love it, but I don’t love being bought. Is that what being a movie star is all about?” Her eyes narrowed. “You buy people’s silence? Their loyalty? Their love? Is that how it works for you?”
That hurt, but I deserved it. I had given her every reason to believe I was a dick instead of just being myself from the beginning.
I inhaled all the air my lungs would take in. I needed strength. I needed the speech of my life to get her back. I needed a damn Oscar-worthy script.
“Chels.” I sighed. “I lied to you about who I was. I lied. I am a liar. But—”
“No. There are no buts for lying. Everything was dishonest and concocted.” She ran her hands through her hair. Her voice was quiet. “Why couldn’t you just tell me your name? Two words—it was only two words,” she pleaded as she lowered into the chair.
I looked out the window. There were people gathered below with cameras. By now, they knew I had handed out cash to reserve the lounge. I reached above each window and tugged on the pu
lleys until all the blinds were closed.
It was as if she was in a trance. She kept talking, so I kept listening. “Did you think I cared about your money or about your fame? Did you really think it mattered to me that you’re a movie star? I haven’t even seen any of your damn movies!”
“Ok, I get what I did was wrong. And no, I never thought that stuff mattered to you. I know you don’t care if I have fifty million dollars or enough to buy us dinner.”
Her eyes flared. “No, I didn’t want any of that from you. That’s not what we were about.”
Here she was telling me the things I had known and felt since the first day on the docks. There were more important things in life, and I would give every cent I had if I could trade my life in and stay on Brees Island with her.
“I was stupid and made the biggest mistake of my entire life. Believe that.”
A tear rain down her cheek. “How can I believe anything you say? You have lost all credibility.”
I kneeled in front of her, wanting to wipe the tear from her face, but knowing she would probably slap me if he tried to touch her.
“Can I tell you why I came to Brees Island?” It was a story she needed to know. I waited for her to answer.
She nodded. “Why not? I’m locked here.”
“Because I wanted normal. I wanted my life back. Becs and I were dating.” I noticed her eyes flared at the mention of Rebecca. “And she went to Hawaii to shoot another film. Anyway, she hooked up with some guy and it made headlines.”
“I remember that story,” Chelsea whispered.
“The headlines got it wrong. I wasn’t heartbroken. She and I were done before she ever cheated. But I was tired of my personal live being splashed across every magazine and making the entertainment channels. It was humiliating to see another one of my failures on display for everyone to see. I was fucking embarrassed. And done. I was done with being a headline. Done with Becs. With relationships. All of it.
Double Mountain Trouble: A MFM Menage Romance Page 71