Strange Addiction

by Alexis Nicole

  “Heiress, I want you to know that you did good today,” she said again, as if she had to reassure me.

  Whatever! I turned away from her and barely said good-bye before I ran out of there.

  Chapter 38

  Time had passed. Really, enough time for King to have gotten over his tantrum. But even though it had been weeks, the house was still tense. King just had not recuperated from his loss, and it was like he was consumed by his own sorrow.

  I did my best to tiptoe around him, treating him like he was some kind of fragile puppy. But whenever I talked to him, he snapped. Whenever I suggested we do something, he told me how dumb it was.

  He treated me like I was the enemy.

  He treated me like he really thought I was the reason for his loss.

  Just when I wasn’t sure what else to do, his parents showed up. Literally. I was in the backyard, and when I heard the doorbell ring, I frowned.

  No one ever came to visit, but when I went to the door, there were his parents . . . Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, in all of their wonderful Hollywood glory.

  “How are you, dear?” Mrs. Stevens asked me as she stepped inside before I could give her and her husband an invitation. She gave me a hug.

  “I’m doing good,” I said, hugging her back.

  Mr. Stevens stood behind her, as if he wasn’t very happy to be here.

  “I didn’t know you were coming by,” I said, closing the door behind them. “Did King?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No, he didn’t know we were coming by, but after speaking to him this morning, I just knew I had to.” She lowered her voice. “He’s still upset, isn’t he?”

  I nodded but didn’t say a word. I wasn’t going to get in the middle of anything.

  “Well, after I spoke to him this morning, I decided that we needed to come to help both of you. So”—she moved toward the kitchen, and I followed her—“we’re going to have dinner.”

  “Oh, well, I didn’t cook anything, and our chef . . .”

  “Is off today,” she said, finishing my sentence for me. “I know.” Then she added, “I don’t know how you and King do it without a chef on the weekend. But not to worry. I brought my favorite caterer. He’s bringing dinner in around the back.”

  I was stunned. Who traveled with their own caterer? However, Mrs. Stevens was like a force of nature, and I watched her as she let the caterer in, then as she directed him as if this was her kitchen. When I sat in the nook, Mr. Stevens joined me.

  “So how are you really doing, Heiress?”

  “I’m good.” That was all he too, was going to get out of me.

  “I know my son has been in a funk.” He shook his head. “I told him not to make that movie.”

  I frowned. What was wrong with that movie? King had been nominated for an Academy Award. Wasn’t anyone in the Stevens family going to acknowledge that? I said nothing, breaking my silence only when he asked me where was King. I pointed him to the den.

  By the time King and his father came out of the den, Mrs. Stevens had the dining room table set and we all sat down to dinner. But right away I could feel this was going to be a disaster. It was because of King’s parents, especially his father, who didn’t even seem to understand the word supportive.

  “You know, I won my first nomination,” Mr. Stevens told all of us, although everyone sitting at the table already knew that.

  For the first time, King spoke. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry if I disappoint you.”

  Mr. Stevens nodded, as if he was accepting King’s apology. “But you know, I told you not to make that movie.”

  “Sweetheart,” Mrs. Stevens said to her husband, as if she was trying to warn him.

  But he shook his head. “No, I told him not to make that B movie. But did he listen to me?”

  “But, Mr. Stevens, King was nominated,” I asserted.

  He waved his hands. “Heiress, you need to be quiet, because you don’t know anything about such things. You’re not an actor.”

  I couldn’t believe he’d spoken to me that way, and I waited for King to defend me. But all he did was stuff a piece of roast turkey into his mouth.

  But then why did I think that King was going to defend me when he spoke to me the same way?

  Mr. Stevens continued, “Son, you need to be more selective in your roles. You have to be discerning, because if you’re not, if you don’t fix this soon, you will never reach the ranks of me or your uncle Herman.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing. As Mr. Stevens spoke, King sank deeper and deeper into his chair.

  “Sweetheart!” Mrs. Stevens said again.

  “Don’t sweetheart me,” Mr. Stevens responded. He was on a roll, and I guess he wasn’t about to stop. “King needs to hear the truth. He’s wasting his time and his talent, and he will never be an A-list actor if he doesn’t get it together. He will always be a disappointment.”

  “You know what, Dad? I’m sorry if I’m a disappointment, but maybe it would help if you would be a bit more supportive,” King snapped.

  “Don’t get mad at me! I’m not the one who’s a loser.”

  “Oh, God,” I whispered.

  And Mrs. Stevens sighed.

  “Well, I might have lost the Oscar this time, but at least I’m not a loser as a father,” King grumbled.

  Mr. Stevens raised one eyebrow.

  “Maybe it was good that I lost, because that means I’m nothing like you.”

  His father chuckled. “You got that right.”

  King went on. “And I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to be a man who puts down everyone around him. I don’t want to be a man who builds himself up by breaking everyone else down.”

  “So is that what you think?” Mr. Stevens asked, though from his tone, it didn’t sound as if he was very affected by his son’s comments.

  “Yeah, Dad. You’ve never supported me. I was never good enough, could never learn lines fast enough, nothing. Nothing was good enough for you.”

  “That’s because I always wanted you to be the best.”

  “And I tried.”

  “I was trying to teach you how to be a man. But it looks like I failed.”

  King glared at his father, then shook his head and stomped out of the room.

  I sat in place as I heard the door to the den slam. I sat in place as Mrs. Stevens apologized, but Mr. Stevens said nothing. I sat in place as she cleaned off the table, then kissed me good-bye before the two of them finally left our home.

  It was only after I heard the front door close that I pushed away from the table and walked past the living room to the den.

  I knocked on the door, but King didn’t respond. I tried again before I pushed the door open. But before I could step inside, King yelled, “Get out of here, Heiress. Leave me alone!”

  I jumped back and closed the door. Leaning against it for a moment, I caught my breath. I wanted to be angry, but how could I? After what I had just witnessed, I understood King a whole lot better.

  This wasn’t his fault. The way he acted just wasn’t his fault. It was clearly in his DNA.

  So I backed away from King. I backed away from the door and did what I’d been doing for weeks now. I went up to bed . . . alone.

  Chapter 39

  It was hard to live without having someone to talk to, and since I wasn’t going back to Leslie, I felt like I was all alone.

  With the distance between me and King, I couldn’t take it. I had to reach out to Donovan.

  I was determined to reach him today, but he was making it impossible. I couldn’t reach him on the phone, so I drove all the way to Beverly Hills. But after paying twenty-five dollars for parking, Donovan wasn’t even at his store.

  “Do you know where I can find him?” I asked the same blond woman who had brushed me off before.

  And just like last time, she was no help.

  Desperation made you do desperate things, and I drove to his home. Again, no matter how much I pounded, he was not
there.

  “Where are you, Donovan?”

  And as fast as I asked the question, I had another answer. The warehouse in Pasadena.

  Forty-five minutes later I found out that I was right. I breathed, relieved when I saw his car parked in front of the building, but at the same time my heart pounded. We were going to have a showdown, and I didn’t know how this was going to turn out.

  Still, I got out of my car, because I wanted my friend. Taking the same path that I did last time, I knocked on the huge door. After a couple of knocks, it was opened, but not by Donovan.

  “Can I help you?” the guy asked over the sound of several machines going at once.

  “I’m here to see Donovan.”

  The guy pointed. “He’s over there.”

  There were several people in the warehouse this time, working, and I remembered that Donovan told me that he hardly had to come up here. But I spotted him at the same machine he used to make me the glass when I was here. I got closer, but still he didn’t notice me. Even though he was dressed in overalls and was covered in sweat and soot, he looked so wonderful to me.

  I yelled out to him. And waved. I could tell that he saw me, but he continued spinning the wheel of the machine. I took a breath and told myself that he wasn’t ignoring me. He just had to finish what he was doing.

  And I was right. Finally, he stopped, took off his gloves, and took slow steps in my direction.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked without even a hello.

  I inhaled. I deserved this. But I wasn’t going to give up. I said, “I hated the way we ended things. I hate not talking to you, not being able to call you.”

  He shrugged and looked around like he didn’t care about my words.

  “I’m here to make up,” I continued. “I want us to be friends.”

  He shook his head. “No, I can’t do it anymore, Heiress. I can’t keep going back and forth with you.”

  “But . . .”

  He held up his hands. “One minute you want to be with King, and the next minute you’re crying on my shoulder, right before you go back to him. It’s too much.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. But I go back to King only because I love him.”

  He chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. “You need to check that out, because it’s got to be an illness.”

  “What do you mean?” I frowned.

  “Anybody who keeps going back to someone who hurts them more than makes them happy has got to be sick.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. In a way, he was right. But he just didn’t understand.

  He kept on. “And you know the worst part . . .” Now he stepped closer to me. “What’s worse is that you’re too blind to see a man who loves you unconditionally. You’re so blind that you can’t see the truth.”

  “But there’s so much you don’t know,” I said, needing to defend myself. “You weren’t there when King treated me like a queen.”

  He shook his head again. “Why do you keep holding on to the good things in the past, instead of opening up your eyes to what’s going on in the present?”

  I blinked my eyes, because I refused to cry. No matter how much he was hurting me.

  Donovan said, “These kinds of situations never turn out good, Heiress. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why you don’t see this.” He paused. “But it’s your life, your decisions, totally up to you. Just don’t expect me to stick around and wait for you to go through it anymore.”

  I wasn’t doing a good job of hiding my emotions. Really, all I wanted to do was turn around and run out of there. But I had to give it one more try.

  I said, “You said you would always be here for me. You said that if I ever needed you, I never had to turn to anyone else. What happened to all of that? What happened to that promise?”

  “You don’t need me. You just need yourself. You need to find the old Heiress, the strong, independent Heiress who wouldn’t put up with half the stuff this new Heiress has lived with. When that girl shows up, I’ll be there for her. But until then . . .” He stopped, turned around, and went right back to the machine. He didn’t look over his shoulder, didn’t look at me in any way. It was as if I wasn’t even there.

  I stood there for a few more seconds, completely humiliated. I’d come here to find my friend, but that guy was gone. And it looked like he would never be back.

  I turned around and headed toward the door, holding my tears until I got to my car.

  Chapter 40

  The text alert button flashed on my cell, and I hesitated before I reached for the phone. I read the text.

  King never loved you.

  I fell down onto the sofa. I closed my eyes and wondered why someone was trying to push me to the brink of insanity.

  This was at least the fiftieth text I’ve received, not to mention the phone calls. And the pictures, of course.

  The pictures had come only once. Weeks ago. But the day after I went to Donovan’s warehouse, I received the first text. Did you get my pictures?

  Then, that night, came the first phone call. “You better leave my man alone,” a voice warned.

  All the calls were from a blocked number.

  The text alert buzzed again, and I grabbed the cell. I read the text.

  Soon u will find out the truth.

  The truth about what? About King?

  I wished to God that I could talk to King about this. But I had never once mentioned it to him. How could I? I didn’t know what was real and what was fake. And as distant as King had been since the Oscars, I was doing everything I could to hold us together. I didn’t need to bring the stress of these accusations to him.

  But it was becoming harder and harder not to say anything. Especially since I didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. Blair had fallen off the face of the earth, and Donovan had completely written me off. There were my parents, of course, but I could imagine that call. After I told them what was going on, they would tell me to get on a plane and never look back.

  So I had to keep this all inside, until I could find a way to talk to King about it.

  My text alert buzzed again, but this time I didn’t read the text. I just turned off my phone. My headache was instant, and all I wanted to do was get away.

  Sleep was my refuge, my greatest friend now. Sleep never deprived me, never turned me away. And so I did what I’d been doing a lot. I crawled back into bed, even though it was two o’clock in the afternoon.

  But sleep wasn’t a good escape. Not really. Not when dreams met me there. The dream about shooting King on our wedding day played over and over. Almost every day now. It started the same way and always ended the same, with me waking up, shivering, cold, yet dripping in sweat.

  But this time in my dream, when I was flat on my face and staring into King’s dead eyes, he spoke to me.

  “Why, Heiress? Why?” he cried over and over.

  This time when I awakened, I was more than shivering, more than cold, more than dripping with sweat. This time I was terrified.

  Grabbing my cell, I powered it back on. I scrolled through until I found the number.

  “Leslie!” I said frantically when she answered the phone. “I have to see you.”

  “Heiress?”

  “Yes! Please! Can I see you now? Are you with someone?”

  “No, my appointment just canceled. Are you all right?”

  “I just need to see you.”

  “All right. Come right over. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  I didn’t even bother to change out of my sweats. I jumped into my car and tore over to Santa Monica. Within thirty minutes I was sitting on Leslie’s couch.

  “What’s wrong, Heiress? What has you so upset?”

  “I keep dreaming.”

  “Okay, but dreams are normal.”

  I shook my head. “Not this one.” I told her about the dream about my wedding, about walking in with my father, about seeing King and then shooting him. “I have this dream over and
over and over. Only today, even though King was dead, he spoke to me. What does this mean, Leslie?”

  My heart was pounding as I spoke, and I was sure that in the silence that followed, Leslie could hear my heart pumping.

  “I don’t analyze dreams, but let’s look at this together. It sounds to me like it may be a warning. It sounds to me like your mind might be telling you to get away from King before something like this happens. Maybe that’s why you dream it over and over again.”

  I nodded.

  “Heiress, I like for my clients to come to their own conclusions about their situations, but in this case, I think it’s time for you to get out. Get away from King.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can.”

  She took my hand. “Yes. You can. This relationship is not healthy, and I think you’ve known that for a long, long time.”

  I nodded . . . a little.

  “Maybe all you need is a little time away from King. I’m not saying it has to be permanent, but I am saying that you must go.”

  I took a few more breaths and then nodded.

  “What about going home to Ohio, without King? Just for a little while. Just so you can get clarity.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t sure that was what I wanted to do. But Leslie was right. If I was honest with myself, there was nothing left of me and King. Like Donovan said, I was holding on to the memories of the past and not the truth of the present.

  “All right,” I said. “All right.” I stood and thanked Leslie.

  She reached for my hand. “Let me ask you something. Do you have a gun?”

  I shook my head but then nodded. “I don’t have a gun, but King does.”

  “Is it in the house?”

  “Yes, I think so. In the closet. King doesn’t carry it. He got it a couple of years back, before he met me. He had a stalker or something. I don’t know. But the gun’s not mine.”

  She nodded. “Please, just get away. Like I said, it doesn’t have to be permanent.” And for the first time, Leslie did something that she’d never done before. She hugged me. “Be careful, Heiress. And have a good trip.”

  “Thank you,” I said before I turned to the door and headed home.