Remake

by A. J. Sand

  “This second trip was as amazing as the first.” Of course, Bryson would bring New Orleans into their hotel room in New Orleans. But as she ate, she suddenly remembered that at some point in the future, he would probably be living here. Bryson was leaving L.A., and that thought made this lovely southern city lose all of its luster. She fought against the immediate rush of sadness, and fearing tears, she kept her eyelids aimed at him. For every beautiful night, a morning followed that stripped the façade created by darkness, and the light had a way of making every single specter haunting her visible.

  “You’re going to love it here,” she said, barely able to keep her voice steady. “…When you move.”

  Bryson’s fork scraped across his plate. “How’d you…? Oh, Carl told you? I was going to when we got back.”

  “So, you’re taking the job with your dad then?”

  “Yeah,” he said, laughing without a trace of amusement. “The one I didn’t want. But he finally wore me down. I put in my notice at Xcel, and they’re waiving the noncompete clause in my work contract as long as I don’t try to take any clients with me. It’s a great position with Silver Method, though. I’ll be the Director of Talent Mana—”

  “It’s okay.” Erica shrugged. “You don’t owe me an explanation. But you’re… never mind.”

  Bryson frowned. “What? You don’t think I should take it?” More than a year away from each other, and her opinion still held just as much weight as ever.

  “It’s not my place to answer that, Bryce…but are you really leaving because of me?” She finally looked up, emotions somewhat under control.

  He grimaced but didn’t deny it. “…I just can’t be in L.A. anymore.”

  “Because of me. Is that why you didn’t go to Wintervention or the music business conference this past winter?”

  Bryson cast his gaze over her shoulder. “I talked to Andy, and he said you were the one covering that stuff, and I didn’t think I was ready.” Andy was her boss over at Razorwire and the good friend who had given her the job as a fashion and indie music writer. His interest in her was always rooted in her music industry connections, more so than her writing skills, so she had been assigned one of the most coveted projects for the magazine, and put up in a nice hotel in Miami.

  “And now you’re moving to an entirely different state, across the country, like I did. Because I ruined you…”

  More grimacing. “I shouldn’t have said that, E…”

  “But you meant it,” she said with insistence.

  “Yeah, I meant it,” Bryson confessed, nodding. “In spite of everything, Erica, I’m still so terribly in love with you, and even the times I wished I wasn’t, I was lying to myself. This sounds crazy, but as hurt as I was…still am, that feeling only exists because of that love. Right now, I’m here with you because I trust you. I’m still fucking crazy about you, because I don’t know what other way to be. And there’s no other way I’d rather be. When you left, it hurt me so much, but you have a right to need space. I felt ruined because you didn’t trust me with why you were leaving. Someone hurt you, and you felt like you couldn’t trust me. You thought you were alone. And the fact that you believed that when you actually had me, it absolutely destroyed me. You didn’t come back.”

  That dreaded day. She had shut down completely when she returned to their apartment and had put an emotional wall up around herself. She didn’t want to be like Karen. She didn’t want anyone seeing her deteriorating or struggling or being weak. She could not have told him how she was feeling then. Could she do it now?

  Bryson had fallen in love with the woman she was before. Words had power. What if he saw her as someone else after she divulged everything? What if he could only see that deteriorating, struggling person who he could only pity after that, and he started treating her differently? Or what if dealing with what she was going through with the investigation and Chase was larger than he could handle? These were the questions that floated around her head all the time. Everyone had his or her limits, so even guys like Bryson must’ve, too. It was easy to say that a guy who couldn’t deal with a woman he loved after she endured something traumatic wasn’t worth her trouble anyway; her brain could certainly process that, but her heart could not.

  “Bryce, what made you say someone earlier? You said someone hurt me. You suspected…”

  “If there’s still hope for us, you’ve got to let me in again,” he said in an imploring tone. “Without that, we’re stuck here with this wall between us.”

  “But what would it change, Bryce? You’ve made a commitment to Holly already.” Still driven by the fear of what she would see in his eyes, she had a compulsive need to self-sabotage when he clearly wanted reconciliation. It was as though running away after the attack had broken the seal that made it easier to keep doing it, like her brief consideration of moving on with Matt…and now. She had to stop this.

  “No, E.” Bryson shook his head. “Not if it meant throwing us away for good. I don’t want to do that. I think this is still worth fighting for…that you’ll always be worth fighting for. And I know that because you’ve just made this the second best twenty-four hours I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m still having that out-of-body feeling, but it’s wearing off, slowly. I feel like I’m watching what happening but trapped in my body at the same time. I feel so lethargic, but I keep willing myself to fight back. And I can’t… but finally, my arm moves and…and, um, I…”

  “We can take a break, E,” Dylan said, shutting the camcorder door and setting the camera on the coffee table in front of her. Erica had barely gotten through two minutes of filming before the memory gaps came. It was like black ink slowly spreading across a page; the void would simply start eating through the images.

  Erica nodded and slumped down against the couch. “Yeah…it just gets really fuzzy here. A lot of it is fuzzy, but this is the fuzziest.” A week had past since her New Orleans trip. Not wanting to ruin how amazing the trip was, she had opted not to tell Bryson everything while they were still there. She was leaning toward telling him this weekend, after the Silver Method anniversary party, which was tonight. She and Dylan had spent the morning doing double duty with filming more of her portion of Traveler Lost but also her separate filming of her story, too. “I can’t get around this part. I just get the flashes. I don’t know how much of it is just inference from what I know now or how much of it is actual memory. I see my bracelet on my arm. I hear screaming. I see something twinkling, presumably his earring. My finger close around flesh—his earlobe, I guess. I hear a scream. Then nothing until I wake up the next morning. It sucks.” But it was more than that. It made her feel even more powerless. First, the loss of control over her body, and now the loss of control over her mind.

  “You want to start over?” Dylan asked, squeezing her hand.

  “No, ‘cause it’s already noon, and we have a lot to do before the Silver Method party. I don’t even have my dress yet.” But she had the one she’d tried on at Pillar & Co. in mind, and a quick call to the store yesterday morning meant an excited Gabi had put it on hold for her. The event was semi-formal and Silver Method parties weren’t really about pageantry; they were fun and not fluffy, so the dress was perfect.

  “I’ll come with. Kai’s stylist sent over some black and white designer dresses, and I keep envisioning myself spilling something permanent on them. Maybe I’ll find something last minute.” It was one of the perks of being a singer’s girlfriend. Erica’s own borrowing privileges had dried up once modeling ended. “She also insisted that the hair stylist and makeup artist come, so they’ll be here at five. I’m excited to be your third wheel tonight!” Dylan said with a hopeful grin.

  Erica only smiled, but since New Orleans, she and Bryson had spoken nearly every day by phone or text messages—those “just to hi” ones with lots of smiley faces.

  “You’re still meeting him beforehand, right? You guys are walking into the party together, right?” A sly smile formed on Dylan
’s lips. She knew all the juicy New Orleans details, which Erica had also shared over video chat with Jamie and Odette.

  “If you don’t mind hanging out by yourself for a while.” Erica was also meeting with Stazia, who had agreed to talk to her about the situation with her ex-boyfriend.

  Twenty minutes later, they were at The Grove and walking into Pillar & Co. Gabi’s squeal resonated throughout the entire store when she saw Erica, and when other customers turned their snooping stares to them, Erica blushed.

  “Whoa. I’m a lucky girl! First, your hot guy, and now you!” Gabi then stuck her hand out to Dylan. “Hi! You look familiar…”

  “I’m Dylan. And the only hot guy Erica knows is the one I’m dating. And he’s out of town, so…” She lobbed her stare at Erica.

  “I was just about to ask, too, because I have no idea who she’s talking about…” Erica said in amused defense when Dylan’s eyebrows shot up.

  Gabi pressed her lips together and creased her brow. “That guy Mark you were in here with a few weeks ago. He’s a douche, by the way.”

  “Mark? Oh…Matt! Wait, he was here? When?” She hadn’t heard from him since the night at Luz. He hadn’t been in yoga that morning or in Pinkberry, and Erica sort of missed him, but she figured he needed the space to move on.

  “Yesterday. He came in and returned that necklace he bought. He was really rude, though. Wouldn’t talk to me at all. He acted like he didn’t even know me.”

  “He returned the necklace?” He said his sister liked it, so why bring it back? “Did he say why?”

  “I rang up the refund myself, and I told you he didn’t talk to him…” Gabi tapped her lip as she trailed off. “Okay, wait, he asked about you—it was the only thing he said to me—and I said you’d be in here today to pick up that dress. He said you were going to look beautiful. And then he left. That was it. What a jerk! Not even a ‘You look nice, today, Gabi’ or anything. Whatever. He could never compete with Bryson anyway.”

  Erica pushed out a smile at Gabi. She couldn’t force Matt to talk to her if he didn’t want to, but it saddened her that he didn’t want to. She actually really missed the friendship. “Well, we’ve got to run, so I’ll just get the dress now. Thanks, Gabi.”

  After a quick browse in some nearby stores for Dylan, they were back in Culver City awaiting the arrival of the primping team. Under a storm of excessive hair extensions, countless eye shadow palette trials and perilously too close mascara wands, the girls got ready within two hours of their decided departure time. Dylan opted for a black fit-and-flare Gucci dress and, having heard Dylan tease Erica about Bryson wanting to see her legs, one of the stylists—who traveled with a mini sewing machine, just in case—coaxed Erica into taking almost three inches off her dress. It did look better and definitely more rocker chic. But more importantly, she did want Bryson to see her legs.

  The car he sent shuttled them off to the famous Sunset View Hotel in West Hollywood, and the spectacular Art Deco structure was aglow from the soft yellow lights permeating the fifteen-story columns of windows. The ladies walked the red carpet together, and Erica covered for an annoyed Dylan when the press peppered her with questions about Kai’s split with his record label and when they were planning to get engaged. She was thrilled to do it, especially when Dylan squeezed her arm to be supportive.

  “As Ms. Carroll values her relationship with Mr. White very much, she would prefer not to discuss it with the media… ever, and Mr. White is focusing on his exciting collaboration with J.Kutch right now, and they are working on really incredible music.”

  Slowly, the all microphones shifted from Dylan to Erica. “Ms. Evigan, are you back as Kai White’s publicist? Are you back with Kai White, LLC?” a young man asked. When Dylan squeezed her arm again, she smiled. She really did miss fielding the questions.

  “I’m with E. Evigan, PR, but I am back representing Kai White. Yeah.” And it felt really good to say. Once inside, the two of them dissolved into a dichromatic sea of mingling party guests gathered in the ornate lobby. Erica passed many familiar faces: employees from Silver Method, celebrity friends of Jeff and Sue’s, and other music industry moguls and executives. Erica managed to spot Hayden and Naomi in the corner in a circle of people. Her sister looked frightened and overwhelmed, but Hayden, ever ambitious, was having a conversation with the group of surrounding older men. An usher escorted Dylan into the event hall, but Erica took the elevator up to the floor where Stazia and Bryson’s rooms were. When the doors opened, Wes was standing in front of her in a tie-less suit, and it was always shocking to see him in anything that wasn’t board shorts and with his tattoos hidden, except for the one on the back of his hand.

  “Elliott,” she said, grinning.

  “Damn. Hey, E. Nice legs,” he said, pointing one of his charming smiles at her before he pulled her into a hug.

  “Who let you in here? Clearly, security is lacking at this hotel. Taking my business elsewhere!”

  “Ouch! The pretty ones are always the meanest. And it’s hot. Girl, if you weren’t with Bryson…” Wes teased when they pulled apart. “I’m here with Staz.”

  “Is this really a thing?”

  “Nah, not a thing. She just wanted a little bit of Wes in her…” He shrugged.

  Erica snorted. “In her life? ‘Cause I could’ve just told her it was all hype,” she joked.

  “My beautiful, sweet Erica, I did not misspeak. Okay, she actually got a lot of Wes in her in a lot of different ways for several very satisfying minutes, because let’s face it, there is nothing little going on here…”

  “Christ, Wes.”

  “It’s just for fun. She’s got too much drama for me.” Wes shook his head as they traded places. “I really just wanted the invite for the barbeque shrimp and free booze.” Wes stepped into the elevator and spun. “You here to see Bryce?” he asked, his voice lilting toward the end.

  Erica couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah, but your girlfriend, too…” She trailed off when Wes kept staring at her, unblinking. “What, Wesley, concentrating hard so you won’t have to look at my legs?”

  He smiled, but it didn’t disguise how serious he was. “Just missed you, kid. Nice to be able to see you all the time now. Ready for things to be back to normal for you. I’ve been feeling so paranoid. I broke some guy’s camera the other day because I thought he was the investigator. It was just some guy taking pictures in Venice.”

  “I know what you mean. I’m doing all right, Wes. I’m hanging in there. I’m sorry about this mess.” Erica blew a kiss at him.

  “Don’t you dare apologize, E,” Wes said. “All this shit is on Jeremy and Chase, baby, not you.”

  Erica smiled with gratitude. “I know. See ya downstairs.” Having fully recovered from her romp with Wes, a dressed up Stazia let Erica into the hotel room. Careful not to smear her makeup with tears, she explained that her ex-boyfriend from back home was threatening to sell pictures and video of the two of them having sex two years ago. Erica explained that if they were minors at the time, it was against the law to distribute the pictures and video, even if they made it. But Stazia went on to tell her that they were still dating when she first moved to L.A., and she sent him another video involving a Popsicle. And he was now attempting to extort her for two million dollars.

  “He heard that’s what my advance was. It wasn’t, but he thinks I just have it sitting in a bank somewhere. He’s upset that I broke up with him. Can you help me?”

  “Stazia, this is a big thing. I’m an officeless one-woman operation. Do you have a lawyer? And have you gone to the cops? He’s, like, blackmailing you, that’s a crime.”

  Stazia pressed her palms together. “Please! I’ll pay you! He’s going to put it out anyway, cops or not, I bet. You have clients already, right. Please? Please? I’m really doing my best to clean up my image. This isn’t what I want for my career. I made a really stupid mistake.” Well, E. Evigan, PR was certainly picking up overnight. Bringing on a new It Girl client would
be all the marketing she needed, but as someone who could relate to worrying about the impact of having a very personal issue go public, she was actually just concerned about Stazia’s well being. “Bryson was always talking about you and he says you do this stuff. Please? Please?”

  “Okay, get my number from Bryce. We can talk more on Monday about you getting out in front of this, but my soon-to-be brother-in-law is an attorney and he’s working at a firm downtown. Maybe he knows someone who handles things like this. I think we should do that first.”

  Before Stazia could respond, loud knocking interrupted them. “Hey, Staz, is Erica in there with you?” Bryson asked, sounding a bit panicked.

  “Yup…I am…” But the butterflies that had been waiting to sprout up in her gut from the sight of him dissolved. Something was wrong.

  “I really need to talk to you, E.” Instead of walking in when she opened the door, Bryson pulled her out and walked her down the hallway.

  “Is it your dad? Is he all right? Maybe he should’ve postponed the party…”

  Bryson shook his head before a look of confusion took shape on his face, and he shoved his phone toward her. “E, what the hell is this?” On the screen was a collage of particular photos of her, digitally sewn together to paint an inaccurate picture of who she was, and doodled in red along the bottom edge were the words, “JUST A WHORE.”

  Exposure – Chapter 11

  The pictures neither involved nudity nor were they secretly taken of her in any private moments, but they did intend for the viewer to make inferences about her sex life, obviously. There were four of them and each showed her with a different guy, including one from the joint bachelor/bachelorette party of some music industry friends from a few years ago where Erica was pretending to lick whipped cream off a male stripper’s abs. The guy’s face wasn’t in the shot, and it was just his torso and Erica’s head with her tongue sticking out. All of her friends, current and former, had been there, the girls and the guys—Jeremy, Chase and Bryson, too—and the pictures from that party weren’t even on any social media websites. People had them on their phones, and until today, they had never surfaced. There was another of her and a guy she had dated right before meeting Bryson. Like most people, she had a dating history accessible on social media just due to forgetfulness to remove all of them, and it was nothing she was ashamed of.