The Mixtape

by Cherry, Brittainy

  “Well, we can do sparkling water and make it fancy. Did you know that if you add MiO to sparkling water it tastes just like Diet Dr Pepper? Random hack of the day,” she said, as if everything was normal. As if Cam hadn’t made some outrageous claims against me all over the internet and television today.

  My throat felt tight as she wandered to the kitchen and came back out with two bottles of sparkling water. What did she think of me? What did she think of the rumors?

  “Emery.”

  “Yes?”

  “I . . .” I looked down at my hands and rubbed them together. “I never hit Cam. I would never do that. I would never lay my hands on a woman.” The words burned as they fell from my mouth. I couldn’t think of a worse rumor to be spread around about me. The thought that people were thinking such things, tweeting those kinds of comments, made me sick to my stomach.

  “I know,” she said, nodding, as if she didn’t even need me to confess that truth.

  “I feel like I need to make it clear that everything she said was—”

  “A lie.” Emery rested her free hand on my forearm and shook her head. “Oliver. I know. She lied about everything. I watched her lie straight to you when she spilled that drink on me. I watched her cruelness for days on end. I know what kind of person she is. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I know your heart. At least I’m slowly beginning to learn it, from what you’re showing me.”

  “That’s not how people see me online. They are saying the complete opposite of that, judging every part of me. They even brought up the idea that it was my fault that my brother died again.”

  “Which is all lies. You know that, right?”

  I didn’t reply, because my brain seemed to love to jumble up my thoughts, making it hard to know what I believed anymore.

  Emery set the bottles of water on the coffee table and walked back over to me. She put her hands into mine and squeezed. “Oliver, those people who judge you the most are the ones who have never been close enough to you to hear your heartbeats. Their opinions don’t matter at all. They don’t get to define who you are with their lies. And every time you feel as if they are getting to you, I’m going to remind you of the truth.”

  “That’s not in your job description.”

  “You’re right, it’s not. It’s in my human description. That’s what humans are supposed to do. We’re supposed to look out for one another.”

  I wondered if she knew she was too good for the world we lived in. Not many people like Emery Taylor existed. Especially in my world. The entertainment business was built around the concept of people looking out for themselves.

  “You don’t really think that Alex’s death was your fault, do you?” she asked me.

  I tilted my head to lock eyes with hers, and I knew she saw it, because she slightly gasped. She saw my hurts, my demons that were sitting at the forefront of my eyes. She then turned to face me fully, crossed her legs, and squeezed my hands again. She linked our fingers together, and her warmth melted the frozen pieces of me.

  “Oliver, it wasn’t your fault,” she whispered. As if she’d known the story I’d been telling myself for over seven months now. As if she saw my guilt-ridden soul and knew the words I needed to hear.

  I was so close to falling apart, but I didn’t want to do that in front of her. I didn’t want to turn into any more of a pathetic fool in front of the first woman who’d made my heart feel things that I hadn’t known hearts could feel.

  “If you want, I can give you the name of my friend. She’s a retired therapist, and she helped me through the lowest points of my struggles. Without being able to talk to her, I would’ve crumbled completely.”

  I swallowed hard and cleared my throat. “She helped you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You trust her?”

  “With my life.” She squeezed my hands lightly. “How can I help right now, though?”

  Every time she spoke, I felt a wave of comfort. Every time she touched me, I felt somewhat okay.

  “Just stay with me for a while?” I asked, feeling stupid for saying it. Feeling insane for wanting it. But knowing I needed it.

  “Of course. But can I ask you something?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you talk to me during the day? I know we’ve been having our nightly phone calls, but it feels different during the day. Almost as if you try to make yourself more distant.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know how to be in the same space with you,” I confessed. “You make me nervous.”

  “Why?”

  “Because somehow you make me feel better, and I’m not certain if I’m allowed to feel better.”

  “Oh, Oliver,” she sighed. “If there was one person on this planet who deserves to feel better, it’s you.”

  I gave her a sloppy smile, unsure what to say. So, like an idiot, I said the first thing that came to my mind. “It was supposed to be ‘War,’ by Edwin Starr.”

  She arched an eyebrow at me, confused. Of course she was confused. My thought made no sense.

  “You sang the Bee Gees when you were giving me the Heimlich. I believe you’re supposed to sing ‘War,’ by Edwin Starr, and thrust at the word Huh.”

  Her smile grew ten sizes bigger as she covered her face in embarrassment. “Oh my gosh, I knew something was off!”

  “I think the Bee Gees is for CPR.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind when I give you mouth to mouth next time,” she joked.

  Even though it was a joke, the thought sat in my mind as my stare fell to her lips. Those full lips . . .

  “So, uh, maybe we should move to the couch. Watch some television or something?” I said, tearing my thoughts and my stare away from her lips. She agreed, and we took a seat.

  She sat close to me. As time went by, it felt as if she was growing closer. We watched a few movies. Well, she watched them, and I watched her. Every time she’d laugh, it felt like a burst of sunlight.

  I didn’t know when she fell against me. I didn’t know how long we stayed pieced together. I didn’t know how long my arms lay against hers and how long hers were wrapped around me, but I did know that I liked it. I liked the feeling of her smooth skin. I liked the honeysuckle smell of her hair. I liked the way she held on as if she had no plans to let go.

  I liked the way that she stayed.

  17

  OLIVER

  Dr. Preston wasn’t what I expected her to be. When she showed up to my house, I was expecting to find a woman in a business suit with a briefcase. Instead, I got a very vibrant woman with a wildly bright outfit. She wore thick-framed glasses, and I could almost feel her energy bursting from her being.

  “Hi, Oliver?” she asked, holding her hand out toward me. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

  I shook her hand. “Yes, Dr. Preston, it’s nice to meet you too.”

  She waved a dismissive hand at me. “Oh, no. No ‘Doctor’ needed, really. Just call me Abigail. Can I come in?”

  I stepped to the side of the door and welcomed her inside. I didn’t know what to expect from the experience. I had my doubts that Abigail would be able to help me work through the mess that was my mind.

  “Do you want to work in my office? Or . . . ?” I started.

  Abigail gave me the warmest smile and shook her head. “Oh, we can go wherever you want. I’m flexible. Whatever makes you comfortable. This is about you, not me.”

  I chose the living room. She sat in the oversize chair, and I sat down on the sofa. My anxiety started to build up, and I was almost certain Abigail had some sort of sixth sense, because she shook her head. “Don’t worry, that’s normal.”

  “What’s normal?”

  “Feeling like you don’t know what’s about to happen.”

  I snickered and pinched the bridge of my nose. “That’s exactly what I’m feeling. I’m sorry, I’m new to this whole thing. I tried once, and well, the paparazzi kind of ruined that for me. I honestly don’t even know why I decided to reach
out to you. I don’t know much, truthfully.”

  “Well, I do,” she said matter-of-factly as she crossed her legs and leaned forward toward me. “You know why you reached out to me, Oliver?”

  “Do tell.”

  “Because you got to the point of being tired of being tired. You are at the edge of despair, and you are looking for light. And when you start looking, it’s good to know that the light is always there for you. My job is to help you get to it sooner rather than later. Now, I’m going to be honest with you: some days you’re going to think I’m your best friend; other days I’m public enemy number one. But regardless, I’m on your team. I’m here to help in any way I can. Healing doesn’t walk a linear line; it takes the messy route. I believe that healing comes during both the dark days and the bright ones. It’s not all rainbows. Sometimes healing means slicing open the scars that made you hurt so much before and examining them to fully understand yourself. Why did the cut hurt you in the past? How did it change you into who you are today? What can we learn from the pain of your yesterdays to better your tomorrows?”

  “It seems like a lot to unpack,” I confessed.

  “It is. But luckily, there’s no rush. We get to unpack each bag as slowly, as carefully, as we choose. We’re on your timeline, Oliver, not the world’s.”

  That brought me a comfort that I didn’t even know I needed to have.

  Abigail leaned back in her chair and straightened her glasses. “So, you’re a musician, correct?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Successful?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did that make you happier?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She nodded. “So, what you’re saying is, outside success doesn’t define a person’s happiness?”

  “Exactly.” For a long time, I believed that money and fame would make everything okay. Truth was, there wasn’t a dollar amount that could make a person happy if their soul was sad.

  “So you already know the truth that so many people miss out on. True success comes from within. And that success is defined by being able to wake up and have gratitude. That’s the goal. Now, that’s not saying that everything is perfect when you are happy. That’s not what happiness is. Happiness, gratitude, is the ability to wake up and say, yes, some things in my life are hard right now, but I still get to feel good about one or two things. You get to choose joy, even when times are tough. That’s where we are going to get you.”

  “That sounds too good to be true.”

  “It always does in the beginning. So,” she said, opening her colorful notebook. She grabbed a pen from behind her ear and began scribbling. “Tell me your truth.”

  “My truth?”

  “Yes. Tell me the thing that you think more often than not. No matter how good or bad it is.”

  I parted my lips and felt ashamed of the thought that was sitting there on the back of my tongue. The thought that had haunted me for months now. “I don’t want to be here.”

  “Here as in on Earth?”

  I nodded. “I mean, I don’t want to die either. But I have those thoughts. Sometimes it doesn’t even feel like it’s my own thought.”

  “Not every thought you have is yours. We live in a world where outside noise pollutes our minds. With you being a celebrity, I’m sure people are tossing thoughts and commentary your way all the time.”

  “Yes, exactly. There’s so much noise in my head, and I don’t know what belongs to me.”

  “We’re going to figure all of this out, don’t you worry. Regardless, that’s a good thought to work with. I’m glad you shared that. Speaking that thought out loud gives it less power. And we are going to work through that thought over the next few weeks, okay?”

  I nodded and she smiled. I didn’t even think she knew how her smile worked, but it was powerful. The way she smiled my way made me feel as if I wasn’t completely damaged goods.

  “So now, tell me about your mixtape,” she said.

  “My what?”

  “Your mixtape. I figured as a musician, this would be the best way to get to know your story. Every person in this world has a mixtape of sorts, a collection of tracks that defines their lives. Each memory is a song, and they all come together to create a masterpiece. So, tell me about your story. What lyrics, what melodies, live on your mixtape?”

  In that moment, I knew I was in the right hands.

  I took a deep breath, clasped my hands together, and began to speak about one of the most important songs on my mixtape. As the words sat in my throat, they burned, but I managed to push them out of me. I managed to share that painful song. “I had a twin brother named Alex who passed away almost seven months ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Oliver.” Abigail looked up at me with sincere eyes and comforting tones. “Go ahead. Tell me a little about him.”

  18

  EMERY

  Each day, I felt closer to Oliver. Not only did we have our nightly phone calls, but now during the day we also ate our meals together with Kelly. He asked me questions about my life, and I asked him questions about his. He never talked about his brother, and I didn’t push for him to do such a thing. I figured he’d bring Alex up when he was ready to talk about him. But he told me a million other things.

  He told me about his struggles with fame. He told me about his favorite book growing up. He talked about his fears of how he thought his music wasn’t going to be good enough, and how he doubted fans wanted to hear it.

  He opened up to me day by day, and every time he revealed a new piece of his story, my heart fell for him a little more. He was a beautiful man with a beautifully scarred soul, and the best part about it was that he didn’t even know how beautiful he was. The broken pieces of his story were exactly what made him shine.

  “Mama, do I really get to swim in Mr. Mith’s pool today?” Reese asked me as we drove to Oliver’s house for the Fourth of July party. I had all the food prepped and ready to be cooked up later that afternoon, but I was heading over to Oliver’s early before anyone else arrived so I could set up a little more.

  Even though fewer than ten people were going to be attending the get-together, I had enough food for an army. I didn’t know why I felt so nervous about it all. Maybe because I was going to be meeting Oliver’s parents. Not that it meant anything. Oliver and I weren’t involved with one another. But still, my mind felt entangled by the idea of meeting the parents.

  Reese’s mind, however? She was focused on one thing and one thing only—the pool. She’d been going on and on about the swimming pool ever since I told her about it.

  “Yes, but only when I finish cooking. You can’t go in by yourself, since I’ll be working.”

  “But Mama!” she cried.

  “Don’t ‘but Mama’ me, Reese. Those are the rules, and if we don’t follow them, there will be no pool time at all.”

  She grumbled and whined the whole ride over, until we pulled up to Oliver’s home. By that point, her eyes widened from shock, and her jaw dropped to the ground. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered, staring at the mansion. “Can we just move here?” she asked, making me laugh.

  “Probably not.” I put the car in park and turned to look at her. “Now, remember what we talked about. Today, you’re going to meet some new friends, do some of your coloring activities, help me make a few meals, and what else?”

  She sighed and slapped her hand against her face. “And not ask Mr. Mith why his mirrors are covered in his house and not tell Mr. Mith that his music is garbage even though it is garbage because calling someone’s music garbage isn’t a nice thing to do.”

  I smiled. “Exactly. Now, come on. Let’s get inside.”

  She was quick to unbuckle her seat belt and then hopped out of the car, pretty much sprinting toward the front door. The moment Oliver opened it, he gave Reese a stern look. “You here to give me a hard time, kid?” he asked with a smug look on his face. A sexy, sexy smug look.

  Reese placed her hands against her
hips. “Depends. Are you gonna give me a hard time, Mr. Mith?”

  “It’s Smith.”

  “That’s. What. I. Said,” she sassed, and goodness, those two together were going to be the end of me.

  “Whatever, kid. How about you head straight back to the kitchen and see what my assistant, Kelly, got for you. She’s in there waiting.”

  “You got me a surprise?” Reese said with narrowed eyes.

  “I guess you’ll have to go see for yourself,” Oliver replied.

  In an instant, Reese disappeared down the hallway toward the kitchen. The minute she made it in there, she gasped. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Mith! This is amazing! Mama, you have to come see this!” she screamed.

  I smiled toward Oliver. “You really didn’t have to get her anything.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I figured she could use some things to keep her busy.” He slid his hands into his pockets and gave me his halfway grin. “You look nice today.”

  I glanced down to my teal sundress and smiled. Then back to him in his dark slacks and smooth black crewneck that hugged every muscle on his body. “You don’t look half-bad yourself.”

  We stood there for a moment, taking one another in, and I wondered if he felt the butterflies that I felt too. I wondered if his heartbeats raced at the speed of light like mine did whenever I was near him.

  “Mama!” Reese screeched, demanding my attention at that very moment.

  We walked into the kitchen to find a full-blown display of female superhero action figures and dolls, along with a cape that had Reese’s name on the back of it. Kelly was already helping her tie it around her neck.

  On the table were doughnuts that had small capes drawn on them too.

  “Look, Mama! I’m a superhero!” Reese remarked, striking her power pose.

  I snickered at her happiness as she jumped up and down. “This is too much,” I told Oliver.

  “No, it’s just enough!” Reese exclaimed, picking up two of the action figures. “Look! It’s Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel. There’s even Gamora!”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. And what do we say to Oliver?”