Tears are streaming down my face, and I’m hiccupping my way through part of my explanation, drawing inquisitive glances from several people, but I’ve gone beyond the point of caring. Danny holds me tight, ushering reassurances in my ear as I spill my guts. I break down in his arms as almost two years’ worth of pain seeps out of me like poison. I hear how pitiful it sounds. How pathetic it makes me seem to have put up with this shit and to still love him. But there’s a certain freedom in telling my friend. Briefly, I wonder if I should have seen a therapist, because letting the words fall from my tongue is cathartic, even if I’m sure I’ll regret it tomorrow.
After locating Audrey, Danny walks us both home, tucks me into bed, and leaves water and two pain meds by my bed before saying his goodbyes. I’m barely coherent at this point, and my eyes are closed, but I’ve a sense that he lingers, watching me from my doorway before making his exit.
20
“Babe. Wake up.” Audrey shakes my shoulders, and I pull a pillow over my face in a feeble attempt to drown out the drums playing a furious rhythm in my head.
“Go away.” I swat at my bestie. “There’s a death march hammering in my head, and I need to sleep for eternity.” I’m not ready to face this day yet, and I want to wallow in ignorance for a little longer.
“It’s after twelve, and I can’t keep this to myself any longer. Your phone is going crazy, and your mom called me. She’s threatening to come over here.”
“What?” That claims my attention. Whipping the pillow off my head, I whimper as pain rattles through my skull. My tired limbs protest when I pull myself up against the headboard. Pushing strands of knotty hair from my eyes, I work hard to focus my vision until Audrey appears less blurry. “She can’t see me like this. She’ll freak!” Mom knows I drink alcohol, but she’s always cautioning me to drink sensibly. She would be utterly ashamed if she saw the state of me right now.
“I think that ship has sailed,” she cryptically replies, handing me a mug of steaming coffee. “Drink this though you’ll probably need something stronger.”
“If it’s more bad news, I don’t want to know.” I blow on my coffee before taking a sip. “I can’t handle anything else right now.”
“This can’t wait, because I’m pretty sure the instant we step foot out of this apartment we’ll be accosted by paparazzi.”
All the blood drains from my face, and I clasp my hands around the mug, trying to siphon some of the warmth. Cold infiltrates every nook and cranny of my body, and I shiver, drawing the obvious conclusion. “It’s true? He actually got fake engaged to that bitch?”
“No, babe.” Audrey crawls up beside me, mirroring my position. “I spoke to Reeve earlier when he called for you, and he vehemently denies there is any engagement. Real or fake. Seems it was just tabloid speculation.”
“You spoke to him? He called?” He never calls in the mornings when he’s on set since they have super early starts. Filming on Sweet Retribution, the third Rydeville Elite movie, began a couple of weeks ago, but the filming won’t be complete until next spring, because they’ll have to stop to do promo for Twisted Betrayal, the second movie, which is releasing in January.
She gives a terse nod of her head, and an ominous sense of dread washes over me.
“What is going on?” I ask. I might as well get this over and done with.
“There is no easy way to say this, so I’m just ripping the Band-Aid off.” She slides her arm around my shoulders. “Danny sold you out, Viv. He recorded everything you told him last night on his cell, and it was posted online a few hours ago. Clearly, someone doctored it to make it sound like you’re a bitter ex mouthing off because the love of your life just got engaged to someone else.”
I throw up all over my bed as the mug slides from my hands, splashing the already destroyed comforter and drenching the hardwood floor. Audrey is still speaking, but I don’t hear the words. I’m too busy losing my goddamn mind as my world comes crashing down around me.
Somehow, Viv manages to get me into the shower, and I tilt my head up, letting warm water stream down my face while I shiver from a coldness that emanates from my soul. I don’t cry, and that’s a first. Either I used up all my tears last night or I’m numb to it at this stage. I lather my body with shower gel and shampoo and condition my hair, as if on autopilot.
Audrey turns off the water, holding a large towel out for me. “Your parents are on their way. I couldn’t hold them off any longer,” she explains, as I tuck the soft towel around my body.