They don’t stop falling as I march out of the venue, trudge down the street, and call my dad.
He answers on the first ring. “Hey—”
“Can you pick me up?” I croak through hysterical sobs that I can’t seem to make stop.
“Of course. Where are you?”
“Voodoo. Well…down the street.”
Because I want to be as far away from him as I can get.
“I’m leaving right now.”
“Thanks.” A sharp pain singes my chest. “You were right about Phoenix.”
I’m grateful he doesn’t rub it in or say I told you so.
“I’ll be there soon, monkey face.”
Another swell of agony pummels through me as the line disconnects. It’s so sharp it nearly takes the strength from my knees.
When you fall off a building, all your bones break.
But when you fall in love? It’s your heart that breaks.
CHAPTER 19
LENNON
“Thank you,” I tell the drive-through attendant as she hands me my bag of food and a giant soda.
I can see the judgment in her eyes before I peel away.
It’s been four months since the worst night of my life, and in that time, I got my driver’s license, purchased a car, started college…and gained fifteen pounds.
Unwrapping my burger, I take a big bite. Sad thing is, I’m not even hungry.
I just want the endorphin kick.
Even though the shame will come soon after.
I’d love to be able to conquer my food addiction instead of letting it control me, but I don’t think that will ever happen. Especially now that my void feels bigger than ever.
This school is large, but I have no friends. Sure, I have a roommate who’s nice and all, but she has a boyfriend who also attends Dartmouth.
When she’s not over at his dorm, he’s at ours.
Something I only know because the scrunchie on the outside doorknob of our room gives me a heads-up not to interrupt them.
Reaching inside the bag, I grab the second burger as I pull up to a stop sign.
I need to quit doing this.
Taking a bite, I turn up the volume on my stereo. I don’t usually listen to the radio—because hello Spotify—but this channel not only plays awesome rock music that I love, they do interviews with musicians every so often.
That’s not the case today, though. The radio host’s annoying voice spills through my speakers. “I was a goner the second I laid eyes on my wife. And now I want you to tell me if you’ve ever experienced love at first sight. The tenth caller will get a pair of tickets to the upcoming Christmas rock festival.”
Blah, blah, blah.
I’m about to switch to Spotify, but the next words out of his mouth hold my attention. “In the meantime, I’ve got a little treat for you all. The brand-new, self-titled single that just came out yesterday but is already blowing up the charts by Sharp Objects.”
My car nearly swerves off the road.
Holy shit.
“I gotta tell ya,” the radio host continues. “I’m really digging this one.”
I go to turn it off because even though I’m happy for Storm, I don’t think I can handle listening to Phoenix’s voice without crying.
Then…I hear it.
I’m tough as a nail Sharp as a blade But I’m still lying here…
In the mess you made.
Everything inside me freezes.
I don’t even realize I’ve veered off the road and popped my tire on a curb I jumped until some woman runs over and asks if I’m okay.
I’m not okay. Not even close.
They say when you play with fire, you get burned.
But when you love it?
You get destroyed.
CHAPTER 20
PHOENIX
Four years later…
“Grammy!” a voice on the other side of the house shouts.
On cue, everyone takes a sip of whatever’s in their hand.
Last night, myself and the three other members of Sharp Objects became official Grammy winners when we took home Album of the Year.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about walking away without one. Four years ago, when we struck gold and made it big, we were nominated for Best New Artist and our self-titled track “Sharp Objects” was nominated for Song of the Year. The disappointment from not winning either felt like a brick to the face.
But we finally did it. To celebrate, our manager Chandler and the rest of our team rented us a sweet house on the beach and invited all our favorite supporters—i.e., groupies and roadies—to join us.
We’ve been partying for the last twenty-four hours, and I have no desire to slow this train down. I’ll be twenty-three this year and I already have a motherfucking Grammy. I’m the shit legends are made of.