by Shayne Ford
“Good for you,” he says mockingly, and my hands itch, a need growing inside of me to smack that smile off his face.
Nothing can deter the man right now, and as much as I want to downplay everything, he knows more than I think he does.
Even if he doesn’t know the details, I’m sure he gets the gist of it from me. It’s in the way I’ve been acting lately and also in my emotions and my moods.
I’m falling for her, and it’s so fucking obvious. He clearly enjoys my torment, challenging me and playing games with me, and now rambling about fucking other women to cool off.
And that’s the last thing I want to hear right now.
I better leave. I should leave.
Pushing out of my chair, I stretch my hand to him.
“Happy New Year! I’ll see you when I come back from LA. All the best to you and Nora,” I say.
We shake hands before I give him a swift pat on the back and walk away.
Big strides put me to Steve’s door in record time. Nervous, I start knocking. I burst in as soon as the door swings open.
“What does he know?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ron about Layla? What does he know?”
Concern rises in his eyes.
“He saw us when I gave her the key to your suit. Layla made quite a scene... I guess he figured out the rest.”
“Has he seen her when she left?”
“No. I don’t think so. We haven’t run into him, but he might have seen us when we walked out of the hotel.”
I crash onto a chair.
“Fuck!”
“Why is such a problem if he knows?”
“He’s giving me a lot of bullshit, and I wouldn’t be surprised if some of it spills in her direction as well.”
“There’s really nothing you can do.”
“Yeah, yeah... I know.”
Nervous, I rub my eyes, and then I bolt upright and dart to the door.
“Pick her up tonight, and bring her straight to me.”
I rush across the hallway and storm into my room. This is the last day of the year, and possibly my last night with her before I leave, and for some reason, I can’t shake off a sickening, gut-wrenching feeling.
“Happy New Year, baby.”
Her soft lips briefly connect with mine as my fingers splay on her back.
I glance down at her, and then I drink in her eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say.
She wears a strapless black gown, only for me, and I wear formal attire only for her. Embraced, we dance. A slow, nostalgic tune drifts through the air.
I kiss her champagne scented lips again.
“I’m going to miss you, baby.”
Her eyes gleam with tears, her love pouring into my soul. She leans on me, her bare arms curled around my neck, her head resting on my shoulder.
I slowly stroke her hair, a dull pain growing inside me.
It’s already past midnight, the noise of the New Year’s Eve party dying out, and the hotel turning quiet again.
I make love to her as if it’s my last night on earth, every smile and gaze and whisper, lodging in my memory tangled with that nagging pain.
I kiss her smile and drink her tears and breathe into her words of love, my heart filling with her. It all feels like a dream, and I start fearing the moment when I have to wake up and let her go.
Hours later, I have her breathing softly in my arms, her lips twitching in her sleep. Gently, I kiss her cheek. The ghost of a smile flits across her lips.
I roll out of bed and sneak into the shower, the last memory of her, locked in my mind.
Half an hour later, I turn the water off, pat myself dry, and exit the bathroom.
The bed is empty.
I take a few more steps and look around.
“Layla?”
There’s not the slightest sign of her.
I search a few more moments, my heart racing as if I already know. The dark thoughts I’ve been fighting these past few days come back to me.
My blood rams into my veins, my body snapping in pain.
“Layla??”
My eyes widen with disbelief.
She can’t be gone, can she? Where would she go at five o’clock in the morning? My eyes sweep the room, my mind going over the details that simply make no sense.
She was asleep in my bed, minutes ago, freshly loved. And now, she’s gone.
What the fuck?
I run my hand through my hair, and glance around a few more times, utterly lost, feeling as if I just walked into a different room.
From somewhere inside my heart the ugly truth comes jabbing at me. This is all I’ve feared and dreaded.
I knew it all along, and yet I couldn’t stop it.
She’s fucking gone.
Her things are gone. I pull some clothes on me and run outside. I’m back at Steve’s door, knocking. The door cracks open. I almost knock him over as I push inside.
“Have you seen her?”
“What...? What happened?”
“She’s gone.”
He rubs his eyes, half asleep, looking at me, surprised, confused, and I get an instant answer.
I can’t breathe.
“Fucking shit!” I growl.
He puts his jacket on and grabs his keys.
“She can’t be far. She’s probably downstairs waiting for a car.
I hold my hand up.
“Don’t,” I say.
He looks at me, surprised.
“What? Why?”
“It’s useless,” I mumble.
He looks at me baffled.
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s gone, Steve… Gone for good,” I say, my voice filled with disappointment.
“How the fuck do you know?”
“I know her.”
His eyes dart back and forth.
“You can’t walk away from her, River.”
“I don’t. She does.”
“I can get her back.”
“You don’t understand. That’s not how it works. I have to let her go. I have to...”
My own words put a knife through my heart.
I push out of his room and rush back to mine, harboring the crazy belief that I can find a different answer. I slip inside and sweep my gaze over everything that could give me a clue.
There must be an explanation.
Maybe I’m just crazy, and she’s nearby. Maybe she’ll call me and tell me it’s a prank... Or maybe it’s nothing but a way of testing me.
Any piece of information will do, anything to kill this fucking pain that barrels through me.
My eyes scan the room.
If it weren't for the champagne glasses, her fragrance still wafting through the air, and the imprint of her head on the pillow, I’d think everything was only a dream...
I search for my phone. It’s not on the nightstand, and not in my pockets. I find it on the floor.
Frozen, the screen displays the message I was waiting for from my sister. This begins to look like a fucking cosmic joke.
L: I’m pregnant. I just told Arleen. She’s over the moon. I’ll see you when you get home.
With trembling hands I look at the phone, hoping that it’s not what I think it is.
It can’t fucking be. It feels like a curse. A bitter smile comes to my trembling lips, my throat turning tight and dry. I can’t believe it.
As much as I stare at the phone, the reality remains the same. Anger sinks its fangs into my chest, the frustration and disbelief choking me.
It all came down to that stupid trust she couldn’t give me.
I thought I taught her better than that. I thought I showed her more than that and gave her enough love to make her understand that she means everything to me, but in the end, it didn’t change a damn thing.
What a fucking joke.
I slide my finger onto the touchscreen. It takes me a few moments to realize I have to turn it off and the
back on, to make it work, but I’m in no hurry.
I’m afraid I might try to call her, explain to her, swear to her, tell the story of my sister, beg for her trust... And it will not solve a fucking thing.
If my heart couldn't make her trust me, my words wouldn’t make a damn difference. They could switch everything for a moment, sure, but when the first opportunity would arise, she’d do it again, and it would all be the same.
I’ll be away from her, and things will surely unravel, as they have already had, with me here.
This is not in my hands, and the thought alone makes my mind explode, sweeping me into a spiral of anger that spins deadly inside me.
My fist crashes into the closest table, snapping it in two.
Shouting a curse, I hurl my phone against the wall, and then I sweep the glasses and the champagne bottle off the table.
They hit the ground, the glass shattering all over the floor, the champagne spilling on the carpet.
I fell in my own fucking set up.
I knew I could end up here. I knew she might not be able to handle my heart, but I gave in. I let her have it, so she can fucking crush it.
This is not fucking happening.
This... IS... NOT...HAPPENING.
My insides twist and bleed in searing pain. The sensation is so real, I brace my hands against the wall, panting like crazy. I’m falling so hard, my heart is about to burst open.
And then everything goes dark.
And silent.
I’m numb.
9
THREE MONTHS LATER
“River!!!”
“Steel! Steel! Steel!”
The crowd’s energy flows through me. I wipe the sweat from my brow and lean closer to the microphone.
“I’d like to end this evening with one of my favorite songs from our new album... It’s a love song...”
The public roars in anticipation.
Grinning, I wait a few seconds, catching my breath.
“You know... Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find the right person to love.” The people scream, their noise swallowing my words. I hold my hand up. “And sometimes, you lose that special someone... but that’s life... ”
My last words get lost in the clamor, the music taking over as I start singing.
In the same room, on the same path,
In the same breath, we’re first and last
Walking together, to the time’s last
We’re tied forever, to be ripped apart
I bare it all
But you don’t see me
I say it all
But you don’t hear me
Why is the fear your friend?
Why is the pain my end?
Within our hearts lays the truth
But is our minds that call the truce
The memories bear down on me
The darkest thoughts don’t let me be
I bare it all
But you don’t see me
I say it all
But you don’t hear me
Why is the fear your friend?
Why is the pain my end?
If this were my last breath, you wouldn’t know
If this were my last word, it wouldn’t show
The darkest hour is here to last
And in my dream, you’re still my last
I bare it all,
But you don’t see me,
I say it all,
But you don’t hear me.
Why is the fear your friend?
Why is the pain my end?
People sing the chorus with me, which is a good thing, especially when my mind shuts down and my voice refuses to deliver the lyrics.
I swing my gaze away from the balcony and shift my focus back to the audience.
What an illusion it was.
Slipping back into my stage persona, I carry the tune to the end, cheers filling the theater as my gaze coasts over the audience.
Detached, I offer my female fans a sexy smile. The cameras go off in the first rows, and my name explodes on people’s lips.
It feels good yet somewhat foreign, but I don’t ponder much. I shut down that part of me a while ago.
I’m not saying it’s good or bad. It just works. It keeps me afloat, functional enough to work.
Heading backstage, I swagger through groups of fans.
They’re mostly female fans. Okay, some are groupies, but I’m not going to dwell on semantics. The bodyguards barely hold them back.
Hands glued to me, they demand pictures, and autographs. I scribble as many as I can, some on their naked breasts.
I hear quite a few “Fuck me, River!”
For that, the line is around the corner.
They scream out of their minds, and my guess is, their excitement has nothing to do with my voice as much as it has to do with my shirtless body.
But who cares anyway?
Steve shoves a few of them to the side while I slice my way through the crowd and enter the back room. The place is filled.
I spot Nora, glued to Ron’s side.
She shoots me a sharp look, her glare filled with resentment as if I own her something. My eyes glaze over her. It’s unfortunate, but she’s just another thing that reminds me of Layla.
Alana sneaks up to my side. I lay my eyes on her.
Dark silky long hair frames her face. Ocean blue eyes sparkle behind her bangs. A soft smile spreads over her lips.
Giving me a languorous gaze, she congratulates me, in her own, ‘fuck me’ kind of way. Ahead of the competition, she’s earned a real shot at me.
Her arms curl around my neck as her lips trail the side of my face and plant a kiss on my cheek. I give her a quick once over.
She ditched the business suit for a pair of low-rise jeans, and a molded, corset lacy top that peeks from under the leather jacket. Her breasts spill out of her corset.
With nothing better to do, Nora scalds me with her stare as if I’m some sort of criminal. I wrap my arm around Alana’s waist, twirl with her and turn my back to Nora, blocking her view.
Flushed with excitement, Alana drinks me in, pleasantly surprised by my gesture. Without wasting any time, she starts her pitch.
“Hey, I was wondering... Maybe we can get together tonight, after the party.”
Nervous, she chews on her lip.
I look down at her, broadcasting a promising smile. Her long wait might have come to an end. She’s earned her turn, and she’s definitely well equipped to make me forget, at least for that fleeting second.
My smile morphs into a wolfish grin.
“Sure...Why not? We might skip the party all together...”
Leaning in, I run my lips over her cheek and kiss the corner of her mouth.
Heat sparkles in her eyes.
I break away, turn around and work the room, shaking hands, smiling, delivering funny lines. Ron grins like a proud father, dollar signs flashing in his eyes.
Fresh off the plane, he’s notified me that a line of clothing bearing my name is in the works.
Ironically, my little shirtless stunt went viral and brought the deal to our door. That’s huge dollar signs. For both of us. He struck the deal. I put my name and face on it, and I’ll also give my input on the clothing design.
If all comes out the way we planned, this little enterprise will double our worth.
No wonder he’s all smiles and watches me as if I’m the last breeding panda. Life is so fucking cruel sometimes.
As I spin to a different group, someone bumps into me.
“Oh, I’m sorry...”
I bet she is.
“Hey, Nora...”
My voice hovers over her, filled with icicles. I barely dignify her with a glance.
“Great show, tonight,” she chirps.
“Thanks.”
Averting my eyes, I get busy with someone else at her side. She hangs in there, waiting to catch my gaze.
“How are things with you?” she asks, playing cute.
“Good. What about yourself?”
Emotionless, I respond to anyone who cares to approach me.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
The sadness in her voice tells me something different, but I nip my care for her in a bud. It’s not my fucking business after all.
“How’s Layla?”
My words slip out cold, so cold my own stomach twists in repulsion. Frozen, she looks at me in dire need to find a hint of humanity in my eyes.
I know, she knows.
She might’ve been out of the loop when it happened, but I can tell she’s up to date, and based on the displeasure glinting in her eyes, I’m not held in high regard either.
For whatever fucking reason. So be it.
“She’s fine...” she mutters.
Her eyes glimmer, misted with tears.
“Great.”
I give her a gentle tap on the shoulder and move on.
Steps away from us, Alana waits for me patiently. Grinning, I curl my arm around her waist. Locked, we glide away, Nora’s scorching gaze glued to my back.
We ride back to the hotel in one of the SUVs. I stay away from Ron, simply because I want to stay away from Nora.
It’s one thing to hint I don’t give a crap about her friend, quite the other to engage in a full thespian performance with Alana wrapped around my neck like a muffler.
The cars pull in front of the hotel. It’s spring and the evening is really nice with a soft breeze and mild temperature.
A small crowd waits for us. Fans hold their phones up in the air, taking pictures.
I might have had a drink too many, backstage. Arm hooked around Alana’s shoulders, I lean heavy on her, grinning like an idiot. Not only that she doesn’t mind, but she tilts her head back, and looks up at me, smiling hot.
Good thing, I’m an elevator ride away from railing her.
As we walk into the hotel, my heart begins to race, and my breathing speeds up as flashes from the past scream their way back to me. Gritting my teeth, I push forward.
I could’ve asked for a different suite, but I didn’t want to.
Aside from being ridiculous, it doesn’t make a difference anyway. I’ll tear those memories from my brain, the same way you tear old wallpaper down from a wall.