I wasn’t living anymore, though. I was a dead man walking, quietly wishing that the sun would fade forever, and I wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.
I don’t want to be here.
When Emery pulled her hand away from mine, the warmth she’d given me faded away too. Before I could reply to her, my parents were rushing toward me.
Emery’s warmth ebbed from my hands as she pulled away, and she nodded once toward me as if it were our final goodbye as Mom rushed toward me and drew me into a hug.
“Oh my gosh, Oliver! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Mom. I’m fine,” I lied.
Sometimes it was easier to tell the truth to strangers. Your truth wouldn’t hurt them as badly. I knew if my parents knew I wasn’t okay, it would eat at their souls. I didn’t need them worrying about my well-being after I’d been the cause of them losing the other half of their hearts.
When I glanced back at Emery, she gave me a halfway grin, noting the lie I’d told my parents, and I gave her a lopsided, weak smile back. When she looked my way, it was as if she was saying, I see you, Oliver, and you’ll be okay. Then she nodded once and put her car in reverse and drove away. Unlike how I’d crashed into her world, she slowly retreated from mine in a much classier fashion.
“Why did you fly out here?” I asked as Dad pulled me into a briefer embrace than Mom had.
“Well, we heard last minute you were doing a show, so we figured you could use some family support,” Dad said. “Then, when we landed, we weren’t able to get ahold of you, so we got worried.”
Mom’s eyes watered over as she hugged me again. “I was so scared that something happened to you.”
The heaviness of her words and the fear that was in her made me feel like the worst son in the world. “Sorry, Mom. My phone died, and I haven’t been able to make it back home until now. I’m sorry for the stress. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
She placed one hand against the half heart around my neck and her other hand against my cheek as she smiled at me with tears. Then she smacked my cheek and sniffled. “Don’t ever do that again, or so help me, I’m putting a tracker in your phone. Now let us inside. You look hungry. Let me make you some food.” Mom headed toward the front door of my house, and Dad lingered behind a bit.
My father wasn’t as chatty as Mom. He didn’t really say much, except for when words were needed. I was like him in that way, while Alex was more like Mom. He placed a comforting hand against my shoulder and squeezed.
“You all right, son?” he asked, his voice deep, low, and calm as ever. I couldn’t remember a time Dad ever raised his voice. He may have been the most down-to-earth person I’d ever come across.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
He nodded in acceptance of my answer. “Who was that who dropped you off?”
“Just a woman who was kind enough to help me out last night.”
“A good-looking woman,” Dad said with a smirk plastered on his face as he nudged me in the shoulder.
“Really? I didn’t notice. I was just trying to make it home.”
He chuckled. “Liar.”
True. It was almost impossible to not notice Emery’s beauty. If I were a different man with different struggles, I would’ve asked for her number. But the world I lived in didn’t really match the world where she resided. Her world seemed more stable.
Plus, there was Cam.
I wondered how many messages I’d received from her on my dead cell phone.
“You want to talk about what happened yesterday?” Dad asked as we walked up the stairs of my porch.
“Not now.”
“Okay. When you’re ready, we’ll be here.”
If patience were human, it would be my parents. They never pressured me to talk about the thoughts that were flooding my mind. Most of the time, they simply randomly showed up and cooked me a lot of food as we listened to music and talked about anything and everything outside of my career and emotions.
I knew that the day I was ready to open up to them, they’d be there for me. There was a comfort in knowing that even when one was lost, home was always right there around the corner. As I ate my meal and chatted with my parents, I felt a little less alone.
Then, without my permission, my mind wandered to Emery. She was one of the better places that my mind had wandered as of late, and I didn’t hate the fact that she was there.
8
EMERY
My sister and I used to be best friends.
We used to tell one another every secret and comfort each other whenever our parents were too harsh on us. Too harsh on me. My parents were never hard on Sammie. Maybe because she was the youngest. Maybe because they loved her a little more. Maybe because she was the golden child who’d never done anything wrong.
Over the past five years since Reese was born, our relationship had shifted. We didn’t talk like we used to, and when we did, the conversations felt forced. Though sometimes we’d chat, and it would feel like the old days when she had my back and I had hers, and we’d tell one another all the best secrets in our hearts.
That afternoon when she called me, for a small amount of time, Sammie and I felt like my favorite memory of us. We felt like best friends again.
“Ohmygoshhhh! Tell me everything! Every. Single. Thing! Don’t leave a single bald spot out,” Sammie squeaked over the phone as I walked into my apartment with a stack of résumés in my grip. Coming home felt like returning to a closet after dropping Oliver off at his oversize mansion. The moment I got a second to breathe, I texted Sammie and filled her in on everything that had gone down with Oliver the previous night.
Needless to say, she was having a panic attack about it all. If anyone loved Alex & Oliver as much as I did, it was my sister.
Her voice shook with excitement as she continued talking. “What did he drink? How was his hair? Were his eyes as dreamy as ever? What did he smell like? For the love of all things righteous, please tell me what he smelled like.”
I snickered. “Um, whiskey and vomit?”
She swooned over the idea of whiskey vomit like it was top-of-the-line cologne.
“You lucky girl,” she sang through the phone receiver. “I would give anything to smell Oliver Smith’s vomit.”
“You’re insane,” I laughed.
“Maybe, but oh my gosh, Emery. This is wild! I cannot believe you ended up front row and center at the Oliver Smith show—kind of. It’s like your biggest dream came true.”
“This wasn’t exactly the way I dreamed about hanging out with Oliver.” In my mind, I figured we’d randomly cross paths in Venice, where we just so happened to get on the same gondola by accident, then laugh at the same moment due to the mistake. Then our eyes would lock, our bodies would respond, and he’d sing to me as we traveled down the endless stream of love. We’d have five children, the first being named after Oliver. Then, somewhere along the line, E! Entertainment would offer us our own sitcom, yet we wouldn’t accept because I’d see how power couples had been destroyed time and time again due to reality shows. RIP Nick and Jessica, Jon and Kate, and Kendra and Hank.
Then, we’d spend our fiftieth anniversary taking that same gondola ride, only this time surrounded by our children and grandchildren.
That’s how the dream romance went between Oliver and me.
The reality? Not so many swoon-worthy moments. Definitely more gag-worthy situations.
“So, are you seeing him again? Was there some kind of connection?” she asked, as if she didn’t hear me mention his aroma of vomit.
“The only connection was I learned that celebrities are just regular people who are messed up, with paparazzi and money. It wasn’t as dreamy as you’re imagining it to be.”
“Yeah, okay, I get it. I’m sorry it was such a letdown.” She cleared her throat. “But like, before the vomit, what did he smell like?”
I smirked, shaking my head. “You really want to know?” I asked, walking over to my couch and plopping down.
�
��Yes, yes, a million times yes!”
“Like a smoky forest oak that burned for just the right amount of time.”
“Oh my goodness, I knew it,” she blew out, “pleased” being an understatement. “Did you cut a piece of his hair for memories?”
I giggled. “You’re ridiculous. But I have to say—”
Before I could finish my thought, I heard a voice in the background of Sammie’s phone.
“We’ll be ready for you in a few minutes for the fitting,” they said.
I arched an eyebrow. “Who was that?”
“What?”
“I heard a voice.”
Sammie snickered. “I’m just leaving a coffee shop; it was a woman coming in. But enough about that. Tell me more. What happened when you were with him? I need all the details.”
“Well, he peed in my plant.”
“Oh my. Um, is that some kind of sexual code word?”
“What? No. He legit peed in my houseplant.”
“Did you ask him to do that?”
“Why the hell would I ask him to pee in my plant?”
“I don’t know. Fangirls are weird sometimes.”
I laughed. “Well, no, I didn’t. He was so drunk that he thought he was peeing in the bathroom but went straight into my houseplant.”
I could almost see Sammie’s frown through the phone. “I’m going to be honest, that’s pretty disappointing.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” I chuckled, shaking my head at my sister’s comment. Man. I missed her. I could’ve really used her around me as of late, but I knew I wasn’t able to ask her to come visit. If I did, the phone calls would get more distant. Sammie had a way of pushing things away when they became too much for her.
As I was talking to her, I received a message from Joey at Seven, telling me to come down to the bar as soon as possible. “Sammie, I have to get going. We’ll talk later, okay?”
We said our goodbyes, and I hopped into my car to drive over to Seven. I tried my best to completely shake the past twenty-four hours from my brain. If I could go back in time, I would’ve never gone in to work that night. Then, my fantasy of the man who made the music that had saved me through my darkest days would still be fully intact. I’d still be a crazed fanatic, and I wouldn’t have to face the reality that he was merely human after all. I remembered when I met him at a meet and greet years ago; I still felt as if he was Superman. Now I understood he was just a man who struggled like everyone else in life. I couldn’t blame him for his struggles. He literally lost his other half.
My mind kept betraying me by wandering back to Oliver, the man who’d destroyed my fantasies. In a way, he’d been such a big part of my life growing up. A huge part of my sister’s story too. His music is what got Sammie and me through our parents’ strict rules. We’d sit in our bedroom, listening to the songs quietly with our earbuds in, because as Mama often said, “Satan’s music does not belong in a house of God.”
Just to be clear, any music that wasn’t Mama approved was Satan’s work.
Did people really get to listen to One Direction growing up? I sure didn’t.
Mama said the only direction those boys were going was down to the devil’s cave.
Growing up and listening to Alex & Oliver’s music was our dirty little secret. They were the key to our strong sisterly bond. So, to face the reality of who Oliver was nowadays, versus the person I’d thought him to be when Sammie and I met him years ago, was such an emotional whirlwind. I didn’t know how to feel about Oliver being the complete opposite of the person who’d made my sister smile all those years ago. Those smiles were the last ones I remembered ever getting from her.
I wanted to believe that the man I’d seen was a big departure from who Oliver really was deep to his core. I wanted to believe that he was just temporarily damaged, and not forever this way. I wanted to believe that somewhere within him lived the man who’d written the words that had saved me time and time again.
I craved the idea that he was still my hero, and not just a fallen star who’d burned out his light. Yet I knew there was going to be no way to prove his truths. We’d probably never cross paths again. The worst feeling in the world was coming to the realization that your idols were merely human themselves.
When I headed into Seven, still thinking about Oliver, I was completely thrown off.
“You’re fired,” Joey barked out as I walked into the bar through the back entrance. A group of paparazzi was outside the building, wanting to get an exclusive. They stood around like psychopaths waiting to attack. Joey hadn’t even unlocked the front door yet, which seemed odd. It should’ve been opened for business hours ago.
“What?” A knot formed in my gut as I stood there, flabbergasted by his words.
He crossed his arms and nodded toward me. “I said you’re fired.”
“Joey, why . . .” I blinked, trying to get rid of the panic and turmoil that were rising up within me. Numbers started formulating in my head, bills skyrocketed across my mind, the struggles that I’d face without working at Seven. I was already struggling with the job. I couldn’t imagine the hardships without it. “I . . . I can’t lose this job. I can’t.”
“But you did. I’ve been here all day cleaning up the mess you made, and counting up the register, trying to make ends meet, and do you know what? Ends don’t freaking meet because you pushed dozens and dozens of drunk people out of the bar without closing their tabs! When whatever went down, people stole bottles from behind the counter. And you gave a top-shelf bottle of whiskey to some celebrity who you didn’t charge.”
“I can cover the costs . . . ,” I said, my voice becoming shaky.
“Oh, trust me, you already are. I took your check from the past week and am using that to recoup some of what has been lost. Outside of that, we’ll call it even. You can go now.”
My body shook at his words, because I couldn’t walk out of that bar without my check in hand. I couldn’t face Ed without actual cold hard cash to hand over to him. I knew if I showed up without a check to give him that evening, I’d be kicked out in an instant.
“No, no, no. You don’t understand, Joey. That check . . . that’s my rent, and it’s due today. It was due a week ago, actually. Please, you can’t do this.”
“I can, and I did. Now go!” he barked, pointing toward the exit.
I wanted to keep arguing with him. I wanted to fall to my knees and beg for him to reconsider, but I’d known Joey long enough to know that he was stubborn in his ways, and it was almost impossible to change his mind. Besides, I’d seen him fire people for far less than what I’d done.
The tears kept rising to the corners of my eyes, but I tried my best to keep them locked in tightly. I didn’t want to fall apart in front of Joey. I didn’t cry in front of people. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had witnessed me losing control. I kept my sadness and emotional breakdowns to myself, in private, where no one could try to give me comfort. I didn’t want people’s pity; I just wanted to be strong enough to keep myself from falling apart.
But I wasn’t there yet. The moment I hit my car, the tears began to flow. I gripped the steering wheel, and I didn’t even try to keep from allowing my heart to shatter. There were a million reasons why my heart was breaking, a million reasons why I was falling apart, but the main reason was because of Reese.
My beautiful star who deserved so much more than I’d been able to give her. She deserved the world, and I was giving her crumbs.
I didn’t know how I’d do this. I didn’t know how I’d be able to provide for her. All I knew was I couldn’t put her in a position where she didn’t have a place to lay her head. I couldn’t put her life in jeopardy because of my failings. There was nothing more important in this world than my daughter.
When it rains, it pours.
About a year ago, I heard those words from a homeless person who was standing outside a grocery store, panhandling. It didn’t rain much in Los Angeles, but that afternoon it was a
downpour, making it hard to even drive through the streets.
The woman stood in the rain with a jacket covering her head, and she was swaying back and forth, chilled to her bones and holding up a sign for some help. Reese seemed completely unaware of that woman’s struggles; her only mission in life was to jump in every puddle she crossed.
When I looked at the woman, my chest felt tight. Sure, things weren’t perfect for Reese and me, but our struggles could’ve been worse. I reached into my purse and pulled out the few dollar bills that I had and handed them her way, along with my umbrella.
“Oh no, you keep the umbrella,” she ordered, as she thanked me for the money. “I don’t need it.”
“It’s coming down pretty hard. My daughter and I can just rush to our car to get dry. You need it more.”
“When it rains, it pours,” she sang, looking up at the sky as her face became drenched, yet still, she was smiling. The biggest smile on her face. “But the rain always stops, and the sun comes out again. Thank you for your kindness. May God bless you.”
I was certain that interaction didn’t resonate with the woman as much as it had with me, but her thoughts got me through some of my hardest times. Especially the ones I was currently partaking in.
When it rains, it pours, but the rain always stops, and the sun comes out again.
Funny how strangers could affect a person without even knowing it.
I was having a terrible day, going through my own deluge, and I couldn’t even fully process it because, before I could be fully human, I first had to be a mom.
As I picked up Reese from camp, I was determined to show some of my best acting skills in front of her. Inside my soul, I was cracking due to the storm; outside I smiled like the sun.
“How was camp, sweet pea?” I asked after climbing back into the driver’s seat of my car as Reese hummed some song she’d learned that day.
The Mixtape Page 8