by Morgan Rae
We hold onto each other tightly as the aftershocks vibrate through us. I pant for breath in time with Damien. I don’t realize how compressed my chest felt until now, when it feels so open, as though my heart has cracked and is spilling all over him.
My shoulders tremble and my gasps become uncontrolled sobs into his chest. I don’t know when it started, but before I know it, he’s holding me and murmuring in my ear, “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” I blubber without even realizing quite why I’m saying it. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re going to be okay,” Damien consoles me. “I’m not going to let you go, Tomlin.”
Tomlin. That name is a stab in the chest.
Nancy, I almost say. Call me Nancy.
But I don’t. The cave is suddenly no longer romantic; it’s just a cold hole in the wall. I put my hands on his chest and push him away from me. “I’m sorry,” I sniff as I stumble to the cave entrance. “I’ve got to go.”
I don’t turn around. I don’t want to see the surprise on his face. “Tomlin. What’s wrong?”
I yank my dress over my head and ignore him completely. I’m on the verge of breaking and even the slightest touch from Damien will knock me into pieces. I pull my panties over my legs and rush out of the cave. I don’t even feel the shells break and crack sharply under my feet as I scramble across the beach and over the rocks to get to the other side. Everything is a blur and the bright sun of the day is unnerving. I choke on my sobs and quickly wipe my eyes. I feel messy between my legs and all over as my makeup drips and smudges.
“Pull it together, Nan,” I chide myself as I weave through the palm trees.
“You probably shouldn’t say that too loud.”
The voice startles me and I come to a quick stop in the sand. Jack, obviously done sleeping off the tequila, stands in front of me.
“Crap, Jack, you scared the heck of out me!” I snap at him.
“There’s the Nan I know,” he smiles. Jack reaches out and takes my wrist. “Come on, weepy. Let’s talk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: DAMIEN
One second, I’m passionately making love to the woman I’m crazy about. The next, she’s smoke in the wind. Water laps against my toes and vanishes back into the ocean and I’m alone wondering what the hell went wrong.
I can’t put it together in my brain. As I redress, the possibilities spin through my brain, but nothing syncs up quite right. I knew she was vulnerable going into it, but she seemed to want it, didn’t she?
What would my agent say?
Face it, Damien. You can’t help but break things that are most precious to you. Once a playboy, always a playboy. Stick to what you know, playing women like guitar strings. Respectable women like Tomlin don’t fall in love with the rock star and come out intact on the other side.
Physically, I’m spent, satisfied, and now even that flushed gratification makes me feel guilty. I call her name and hunt for her when I leave the cave, but she’s nowhere to be found. I hook my microphone back on and make sure it’s hidden underneath my shirt as though I never took the thing off. Let the sound guys think Tomlin and I took a rather long catnap together. I scale the beach, only the sand seems to grow thicker around my toes, drawing my feet down.
Little Maggie’s delighted squeals fill the air as Randall and Lacy hold a hand each and lift her above the oncoming waves. Randall glances up at me as I approach.
“Hey, man. Wanna get splashed?” Randall asks.
There’s unabashed joy in his voice. That’s what happens when you become a family. Love, real love, burns brightly around him and it’s evident to everyone around him.
Me? I’m a cloud of rain right now and I feel terrible breaking up their beautiful day. I take a step back, rest my hands on my hips, and shake my head.
Randall knows me like the back of his hand. His smile drops slightly and he lets go of Maggie’s hand. “Hey, play with Mommy, yeah?”
Lacy takes both of Maggie’s hands to continue their water games. Meanwhile, Randall’s hand clasps my arm and he gives it a pat. “Let’s walk.”
The daytime sun seems less abrasive with Randall’s tall form by my side. His feet clomp through the sand awkwardly, but if I close my eyes and listen to his voice, I can pretend we’re back in LA. Better yet, I can pretend we’re back in his mother’s garage, banging around on a cheap set of drums and wailing out songs about love even before either of us had gotten our first kiss in.
When I open eyes again, we’re back on the beach, a cameraman following closely behind us.
“What do you think of Tomlin?” I ask Randall, striking up a conversation.
“She’s a sweetheart,” Randall says. Neither of us look at each other as we walk, watching the beach or the sky ahead of us. “Whip smart.” He nudges me. “Good looking. You’ve hit the jackpot.”
I laugh, but it’s more breath than noise. “Yes, I think so.”
I feel Randall’s eyes on me now. “She’s a little distant, though, isn’t she?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean distant, like she’s got the wall of China between her and the rest of the world.”
“It takes a while to get through to her,” I agree. “She doesn’t open up immediately. But then neither do I.”
Randall squints at me. “Yeah. I suppose you’re right about that.”
We share comfortable silence. He’s about the only person I can be silent with these days. He’s the only one I don’t have to constantly entertain with a song or a dance or a charming smile and a dirty word. At least, he was the only person like that in my life before Tomlin came around.
Randall Ray and I are laced with lavalier microphones so I choose my next words carefully.
“I really love her,” I tell him. “More than I ever did before we came to the island.”
As I suspected, Randall reads between the lines. I wait for the chastisement, the warnings that this is all just reality TV and I shouldn’t fall for her shtick. I wait for him to tell me that I’m a playboy, a rock star, and you can’t have rock ‘n roll without a healthy dose of unfettered sex. I need him to poke holes in my heart and bring me back down to reality.
Instead, when he turns to me, he’s wearing this wide, wild smile. “It must be a cold day in hell,” he says. “C’mere.”
Before I know it, Randall throws his arm around me and hooks me in. I’m genuinely surprised and I break into a laugh and pat him on the back. “Alright. Get it out of your system.”
He gives my shoulder a squeeze when he pulls back. “I mean it, Damien. I’m happy for you. You deserve this. I swear, I never thought you’d fall in love again.”
Just like that, my joyous occasion bursts and the cold water of unease rains over me. My eyebrows knit across my forehead. “Hold on, what do you mean, again?”
His smile drops. “They haven’t told you?”
“Told me what?”
Randall looks down at his feet. It’s his tell, a guilty posture he’s been pulling ever since we were young kids who got into far too much trouble. Immediately, I know something is very wrong.
“Randall,” I repeat. “What haven’t they told me?”
“You’re going to want to read this,” he says. Then he pulls out a tabloid magazine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: NANCY
Jack Raleigh and I settle around the tiki bar and I watch him pour himself a sloppy shot of whisky. Apparently, he’s on a liquid diet today. As I watch him, I wonder if it’s killing him that his own reporter is getting more attention than he is.
“They’ve done a number on you here,” Jack says. “You look like Hawaii’s Miss USA. If I knew you looked this good out of sweat pants, I would’ve taken you off the road long ago.”
Jack belches and I wince. I want to be anywhere but here right now.
“I’m doing my job,” I say coldly.
A knowing smile cuts across Jack’s fac
e. “You’re doing more than that, aren’t you?”
There’s a wicker table between us and I find a stray bit of wood poking out from the threads so I pick at it. “Use your words, Jack,” I tell him. “I don’t do hints.”
He coughs on a laugh. “Please. Even you have to see the way Damien looks at you. You’ve turned a bad boy rock star into a lovesick puppy dog. I have to hand it to you, Nan. I didn’t think you would pull it off.”
My hair prickles up the back of my neck. I feel sick suddenly and a wave of nausea and anger rises in my throat. “Don’t call me that here,” I warn him.
“Tomlin.” Jack waves it off. “I knew you would get the story, you’re cut throat and competitive, but to get Damien Blaze to fall head over heels for you like that. Well, my hat’s off, Tomlin.” He mimics tipping an imaginary hat off his head. “I had no idea you were such a naughty girl.”
The wicker snaps under my fingers when I yank it too hard. “I’m pulling out, Jack,” I tell him.
“What are you talking about?”
“The show. The story. All of it. I can’t do this.”
Jack sits up straight in his chair. His smile falls into a contemplative frown and he takes another shot. I wait and silently pad my bones with steel, protecting myself from his next onslaught.
“Listen,” he starts, “you’re smarter than this. Maybe it’s the summer heat getting to you, his dazzling blue eyes, I don’t know or care. But this isn’t you. You get that this is all fake, right? As soon as the show ends, it’s bye-bye to Tomlin Murray. You both go your separate ways, he has his solo career and you have your story, and my office.” His eyes focus on mine. “Or did you forget our agreement?”
“Screw the agreement!” I snap at him. “I’m done. I mean it, Jack. I’ve lied for you, I’ve broken laws, I’ve broken hearts. I’m done being the bad guy.”
“But you are the bad guy.” He’s so calm that his voice sends shivers down my spine. “We both are. That’s why we work so well together, Tomlin. We know how to get results, no matter what the methods. We’re sharks, you can’t hide that. He’ll figure it out, sooner or later.”
I feel like I’ve swallowed a cube of ice and it’s lodged in my throat, unmoving. “He’s a good person.”
“Maybe he is. Maybe he isn’t. He’s a celebrity. They’re made of tough skin and plastic. He’ll order a big hotel suite, fill the bar with champagne, order five prostitutes, and feel all better about it in the morning.”
“He’s not that kind of guy,” I say through clenched teeth.
Jack’s laugh is cruel. “Sweet, sweet girl. The sun really has gone to your head. Of course he’s that kind of guy. They all are. You’ve seen it for yourself. It’s all one big, beautiful, screwed up little show and Damien is the star. What do you think is going to happen when the cameras turn off?” He shifts forward and gets right up in my face. “He’s going to go back to screwing the first groupie within arm’s reach and you’ll be at home, crying into your pillow about how you threw your competitive career down the drain for a man.”
“I’m not doing this for him,” I say. “I’m doing this for me. You’re toxic, Jack. I’ve had enough of peddling your lies.”
I start to stand, but Jack reaches out to grab my arm, halting my progress. “You still owe me a story,” he says sternly. “We agreed on that. I already have the promo material buzzing and everything. Don’t let me down on this, Nan.”
An unnerving realization crawls up the back of my neck. “What promotional material? I haven’t sent you anything.”
Jack stares me for a second, glassy-eyed, and then says, “The voice recorder I sent you.”
“But I…” But I flushed it down the sink, I almost say. My words die on my tongue, however, when the realization hits me. “It was synced up to your computer. You had the recording the second it happened.”
A crooked smile cuts across Jack’s face. “The miracle of modern technology.”
“Jack.” I grab him by the shoulders and force him to look at me. “What did you send out?”
“Christ, don’t get your tail feathers in a pinch. I took down the interview, researched his story, and found a gold mine.” Jack pulls up his phone, clicks around, and then holds it up to my face. “See for yourself.”
I scroll through the homepage to TXR’s website. Jack’s promotional material is more than just a “little promo,” it’s the headliner. “DAMIEN BLAZE TELLS ALL,” the story announces. “RELUCTANT PLAYBOY? LETHAL LOVE GONE WRONG? WHO IS LAURA SKYE?”
Underneath the press release, there’s a small piece about the “mystery woman” Laura Skye. Born in New Jersey, brought up with a complicated family life, got a college degree and picked up a job as an editorial assistant in a New York City publishing house. According to Jack’s sleuthing, Damien was in New York for a concert at Madison Square Garden. The courtship must have been intense, because as soon as he finished the tour she quit her job and followed him out to LA.
I have to hand it to him, Jack did his homework. He even dug up a reel of discarded paparazzi photos of Damien and Laura. Damien looks younger, thinner with less bulk to him, caught up in some ‘90s long hair phase. Laura is pretty, but not Hollywood pretty, a long face with raven hair and a nice smile. The first set shows them sitting together, laughing, knee-to-knee. In the next picture, Damien clearly spots the camera, the smile has slid from his face. In the final image, Damien has perched himself on the opposite side of the bench, away from Laura, and looks like he’s chatting up a lithe dog-walker. Laura’s face is blurred with the motion of turning away. Her body posture is closed, arms folded against her knees, and she looks like she wants to be anywhere but there.
She wasn’t some star-eyed, small town groupie, I remind myself. She was a woman with ambitions, dreams. Just like me. She fell in love with Damien, just like me. Only she couldn’t handle the lies, the secrets, hiding their relationship in the dark while he played a role for his rock star persona.
What was my fate in all of this?
“It’s good, right?” Jack says, patting himself on the back. “I think I’m going to publish her obituary this weekend, just to get the rumor mill really running.”
“What’s there to talk about?” I look up at him. “Damien told me she overdosed on sleeping pills.”
Jack scoffs. “Please. There’s always more to the story. Sure, the report says accidental overdose, but what if it wasn’t an accident?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “But it was an accident.”
Jack looks like the cat that ate the canary. He shrugs coyly. “Maybe the manager did it to protect Damien’s career. No,” Jack snaps his fingers, “even better, maybe Damien crushed them up in her water. Couldn’t handle this little puppy dog nipping at his heels so he got her out of the way to have the career he wanted. Now that’s a story I would read.”
“Damien isn’t a story,” I snap. “He’s a human. You’re talking about accusing an innocent man of foul play. It’ll ruin his life.”
Jack is gloating. “You didn’t have an issue with it when we started and now that it’s getting good, you want to bail out? It doesn’t work like that. Look, consider this a favor from me to you. Now you won’t have to be Damien Blaze’s next ex-flame.”
The blood rushes from my face, leaving me lightheaded. I push off from the table and stumble up to my feet. “I’ve got to go.”
“You’ll be back,” Jack says with a smug certainty. I want to slap that smirk right off his face. It’s all I can do to keep my legs from caving out underneath me as I rush away from Jack.
“Damien!” I call out. Even the air feels heavy on my skin, as though I’m trudging through water. I kick up sand as I walk and spin around looking for him. “Damien!”
When my eyes land on him, my shoulders relax with relief until I see his face. His eyes are dark and his lips are drawn tight. I stop in my tracks as he approaches quickly on long legs, leaving the cameramen struggling to catch
up with him.
As soon as he’s close enough, he lifts a folded piece of paper for me to see. I recognize Jack’s headline and my heart falls. “I can explain,” I start.
“You better,” he says. “I told you, and only you, about Laura, in confidence.”
His tone is incredibly controlled, but his jaw looks tight enough to break teeth. I exhale slowly and my eyes flicker between Damien and the cameras behind him. “Do you think maybe we could get some privacy?”
“What, so you can hide behind more lies?” Damien isn’t having it. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on. Now.”
I know what I have to say, but the words curl up in a painful ball in my throat. I draw my lip between my teeth anxiously until I can finally get my eyes to meet Damien’s. “I’m a reporter,” I say finally.
Damien squints at me. “So you leaked this to the press?”
“I am the press, Jack is my boss. We set this up, all of it…” I hug my arms tightly around my chest. “This show was supposed to be fodder for my next story. That’s it. I didn’t expect any of this.”
“You didn’t expect what?” Damien presses. His eyes are crystal hard. “You didn’t expect that I would be such a good shag? Was I ever more than entertainment for you?”
“What?” Surprise rattles sharply in my tone. “Damien, it’s not like that. I love you.”
“How am I supposed to believe that now?”
It’s then I realize that it’s not anger in his eyes, but hurt. There’s pain, deep pain, in the creases of his eyes. The man I care about is barely keeping it together in front of me and there’s nothing I can do to make it better.
My throat swells with emotion and Damien’s image blurs when I feel my eyes burn with pending tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he presses.
I shake my head. “I was afraid.”
“Afraid you’d get in trouble?”