Shards of My Heart (The Forgotten Ones Book 2)

by Nellie K Neves

  Jealousy sparks when she acts scenes with Zane. It’s stupid on my part. He said it wasn’t serious. Not even a crush. Interest. That’s all he said. I’m interested in a new pair of work boots at the feed store, doesn’t mean I’m going to take them home, or buy them dinner…bad example, but that shows how far out of this whole scene I am.

  Little Jaimie McGuire, or Jay, is remarkably talented as well. Surprisingly so. I take the opportunity when I can, when he’ll allow it, to hang behind the camera with him and watch what he’s shooting, rather than watching the live action. His eye sees differently than mine. I’m sure of it. Staring at the wide scene in front of the camera, it’s an open meadow with a socialite picking wildflowers. When I stand back and let him take over what I’m privileged to see through the lens, it’s a woman, isolated, alone, seeking solace and rebirth in a magical community that doesn’t understand her. Tabitha isn’t close to the caliber of actor that Zane is, but Jay has a way of translating her lack of talent into something breathtaking.

  “Okay, that’s a wrap,” Jay says as Tabitha delivers her final line. “We’ve lost the light. We’ll have to go at it tomorrow. Good work today. Same tomorrow, essentials at daybreak.”

  I’m turning to leave when I catch Jay’s eye. I smile one of those simple you-caught-me-looking-at-you-so-I-guess-I-better-act-polite kind of smiles. But he takes a few steps toward me, and I wait because he’s in charge.

  “Helen,” Jay says, and I glance over my shoulder to see if he meant someone else.

  “Finley,” Anton corrects him.

  “Finley?” Jay asks. “I thought it was Helen. Oh wait, that was our original artist, right?”

  “No, Glenda,” I tell him.

  “Not Finley?” Jay asks.

  “Yes, Finley,” Anton says. “Glenda was the original.”

  “Who’s Helen?” Jay asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say, “but I’m Finley.”

  “You’re local, right?” Jay doesn’t wait for me to confirm it, instead motions for me to fall in step beside him. “I swear I’ve seen you around, but we didn’t go to school together, did we?”

  He’s quite a bit older than me, but it doesn’t seem like the sort of thing I should point out.

  “No, we didn’t.”

  In the distance, I spot Zane waiting by the wardrobe trailer. I need to remove his scars and then there’s the drive home. I have to admit I’m dreading it after what happened this morning. I don’t know whether to ignore it, meet it head on, or pretend I have a flat tire and beg anyone else to drive him but me.

  “How do I know you then? Do I know your parents? An older brother?”

  “Um,” I don’t have parents, I have a Mona, “I lived with Mona Sullivan.”

  “Oh,” recognition dawns behind his kohl-lined eyes, “I used to hang out with Simon. You’re his little sister, aren’t you?”

  That’s taking some real liberties with the word. Simon lived with us for about four months before he turned eighteen. Nice guy, liked video games. Technically, Mona adopted him, but it’s not like he comes home for the holidays. He does drop a card in the mail for her birthdays.

  “Something like that,” I say, suddenly eager to deal with Zane instead of these personal matters.

  “I got Zane a place to stay with Cecelia. She and Ester are still friends with your mom, aren’t they?” Jay drops his clipboard inside the trailer and leans his weight against the fiberglass edge. “He’s got this thing about living in trailers. Prefers a house. I guess of all the requests an A-lister like him could have asked for, I should be grateful all I had to do was call up an old friend. But small towns are great like that, right? Just one big family.”

  “Yeah,” I say while debating my best exit strategy. “I mean, it’s great that you’re doing this for Ridgedale. I know tourist season has been dying out a little more each year. Something like this could boost things.”

  Pride swells in his eyes and puffed chest. “I wanted to give something back to this little town now that I’m making it, you know? Really try to make a difference.”

  “Jay’s last three movies won Oscars,” Anton says as if on script. “He’s been labeled the fiercest up and coming director in the business.”

  Jay shrugs as if none of it matters, but does he think I’m an idiot? This is clearly rehearsed. Jay plays humble while his little wingman spouts off his many virtues.

  “That’s great,” I say, taking another step back again.

  “People ask me what it’s like to come from nothing and explode overnight like I have.” He runs his fingers through his jet-black hair. I’m surprised it actually parts with all the product he’s added. I’m still considering offering him a makeover. “I’d like to give that to you, Helen.”

  “Finley,” Anton corrects him.

  “Finley,” Jay says as if he got it right the first time.

  “Give me what?” I feel the need to clarify. Especially when he takes two steps forward to lessen the bubble I’ve built between us.

  “That explosion,” Jay says the word with emphasis to drive it home. “I want to bring you into the limelight. You’re good, really good. You could be doing huge projects, paid top dollar. You’re bigger than this town, Miss Sullivan.”

  He takes a step with every new promise. Anxiety winds a noose around my throat. The edge of his trailer pop-out catches my back and pins me in place. Without ducking down and making a scene, I can’t escape.

  “I want to bring you back to LA. Get you in to meet some friends of mine, show what you can do. I get the feeling we’ve only scratched the surface.”

  Jay’s taller than me, but I haven’t felt the strain until now because he’s towering over me. I keep distance between us, so I never have to stare up at men, not since Todd. My eyes stay fixed on my shoes, so he won’t see my fear.

  “What do you say?” Jay asks. “You want to run away from this place and never come back?”

  A long time ago, that line would have worked.

  A long time ago, that line did work.

  But I’ve learned what happens beyond happily ever after.

  “I don’t know, I mean, Ridgedale is home.” I’m a blubbering mess because it’s taking everything in me to keep from shattering like glass at his feet.

  Jay’s hands capture my shoulders as his voice turns slick as his oily hair. “I’m offering the world, all I need is your nod, Finley.”

  I can’t breathe.

  Black seeps in at the edges of my vision.

  My knees quiver as if I’ll fall at any second.

  Trapped.

  Fiberglass and metal cut into me as I press back against the trailer.

  “Do you understand what I’m offering you?” Jay asks.

  But it’s words in a dark tunnel, echoed and distant.

  You’re safe, I tell myself. He’s not Todd. He’s not going to hurt you.

  Air won’t draw into my lungs.

  I squeeze the denim of my jeans until my nails bend back to keep my hands from shaking.

  Danger! Screams the voice in my head that’s kept me alive for years.

  “Finn?” Zane’s voice cuts through the haze like an arrow. “You comin’ or not? I’ve been waiting for ten minutes. Or should I just rip these scars off?”

  I turn and face him because he sounds angry. But concern burns where I’d expect to find rage. He’s giving me an alibi, an excuse, a reason to duck out because our big shot celebrity actor shouldn’t have to wait around on a lowly makeup artist like me.

  “No, that’ll hurt you and the scars. I’m coming.” I smile weakly up at Jay glowering down at me. “Excuse me,” is the best I can whisper as I duck from under his grip.

  Before I escape, Jay catches my arm. “Think about it, okay?”

  I nod once so that he’ll release me before I scream. I mean to fall into step beside Zane, but it’s him who has to catch up to my pace. He’s quiet all the way to the trailer, but before I step inside, he asks, “Are you okay?”r />
  It’s another quick nod before I jog up the steps. Zane takes the seat with only a quick glance in my direction. I go to work like a robot on auto-drive. Shut down and coast through the emotions, that’s what I know how to do. Can’t look up, can’t feel any of it. Too dangerous to feel.

  It’s stupid. I wasn’t in danger. Jay wasn’t going to hurt me, or attack me, or force me to do anything. Rationally, I know that. But fear is a powerful hallucinogen. It twists reality into a nightmare and fabricates the truth to a new state of being. I might as well have been waiting on Todd’s first bite, hoping dinner didn’t get cold while he read the paper. Everything had to be perfect. Everything landed squarely on my shoulders. Too hot and he’d scream, too cold and he might throw the plate at me. If I close my eyes, I’m there again, perched on the edge of the dining room chair, waiting dutifully for his first bite and the verdict on my fate.

  “Finley,” Zane says again because he’s trying to get my attention. “Finley, your hands are shaking.”

  He captures one in his just to have me rip it away.

  “I’m fine.” I replace the scar in the storage case. “Just tired.”

  “Tired doesn’t make you look like you’re holding back tears.” It’s strange to see him, half-scars, half-clean face. Sometimes I wonder if that’s how all men are. A mask with the real face hidden beneath.

  Like the beast.

  But which is true?

  The beast or the prince?

  “Exhaustion always brings on tears,” I say as I return to my work. “My first month with Oliver as a newborn taught me that. I was always about to cry at the drop of the hat. You sleep maybe half an hour before the baby is up, and that goes on for months.”

  I’ve shut him down again. Like I did this morning. Or maybe he doesn’t like to remember that I have a son. It’s another one of the nicks to my character.

  Not cute enough.

  Not talented enough

  Not righteous enough.

  Single mom with no prospects.

  Never good enough.

  I remove the last scar and snap the storage lid shut. Leaning close, I work on the remaining latex and foundation with a cleansing cloth. Zane’s eyes close, and instinctively I worry I’m hurting him. I doubt he’d tell me if I was.

  “Are you okay?” I ask before pulling back.

  His blue gray eyes find mine. I count three wrinkles between his eyebrows before he draws in a short breath between parted lips.

  “No, I’m worried.”

  “You shouldn’t be. It was nothing.”

  “That’s what people say when something happens. Especially something that rattles them the way I saw you get rattled.”

  Needing space, I back away and start cleaning my table. “It wasn’t Jay. It was me. I have issues.” He starts to speak, but I stop him short. “And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I slip the last of my brushes into the case and roll it closed again.

  “Are you ready to go?” I ask as I turn around. My face is rehearsed, just as perfect as Tabitha’s laugh. I know how to bury feelings. I know where to dig a grave and shove them deep so even I can’t find them.

  But somehow Zane still sees me.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  How is silence one of the most deafening sounds? It is, by definition, the absence of sound, and yet I hear it all around us. It’s a fat man sitting on the center console staring at me, because Zane hasn’t said a word since we left the filming site.

  And it’s all my fault.

  Every breath I draw in I mean to say something. But every time the words jitter in my throat and take a swan dive in the opposite direction. I’m a coward. That’s why my life never goes anywhere. That’s why Oliver is behind. That’s why I keep messing up—

  “I shouldn’t have said anything.” Zane’s words deflate Fat Man Silence. “This morning I mean, I should have kept it to myself.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I keep my eyes on the road because otherwise he’ll know I was the one who screwed it up.

  “I’ve been out of the game a long time,” he says. “I guess I’m rusty on what the protocols are.”

  That earns him a quick glance to see if he’s messing with me. “I saw you in three separate tabloids with three different women. I doubt you’re that rusty.”

  He somehow frowns and smiles all at once and my anxiety melts under the warmth of it. “And here I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

  “I didn’t until four days ago,” I tell him. “I had to Google you.”

  “That sounds so much dirtier than it is,” Zane says through his laughter. “You seriously Googled me? Read all those crazy stories? No wonder you shot me down.”

  “I didn’t shoot you—” I stop myself. “I needed to know who I was working with.” I ease through the turn and take the second left. “Are they true?”

  “I don’t know, probably.” Zane runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been to rehab three times. I hope this one sticks. I’ve got anger issues when I’m using, and I’ve completely destroyed my life in the last two years.”

  “That’s pretty much what I read.” I take the last turn. “So, when you said you have nowhere else to go?”

  “I meant it.” His voice is real again, that stripped-down version with nothing to lose. “I sold my place in Malibu to pay off the last of my gambling debts. My remaining friends won’t speak to me on advice of legal counsel. No one in the industry will return my calls. I couldn’t even get an audition for a toothpaste commercial.”

  I shift the car into park in front of Cecelia’s house. “That’s a low point when they don’t even want to showcase your teeth. They’re nice teeth.”

  Zane gives his best fake smile to make me laugh.

  It works.

  “I took this job because I don’t know what else to do with my life. The friends I thought I had are gone. The fans who cared about me send their well wishes that I’ll stay sober, while secretly hoping I’ll fall off the wagon and do something crazy again when I’m using.” He stares out the window focused on nothing but past decisions he can’t change. “This is it. My last shot.”

  I let his words hang there because they feel like they need the airtime. He doesn’t strike me as the type of person who shares his feelings easily. But then, what do I know? I only met the guy a couple days ago.

  “I still don’t think you’re rusty,” I say with a faint smile. “Like I said, you were just with three different women not that long ago.”

  “See,” Zane twists so he can face me, even if I won’t hold eye contact, “here’s the thing about that, and I warn you, I’m about to sound like Jay. But when you get to the level of fame I was at; you don’t have to try anymore.”

  “Oh, poor baby,” I croon.

  He brightens again at my sense of humor. “It was a burden, but I took it on graciously. Women were throwing themselves at me, and I always wanted to play outfielder.”

  “Oh, you’re the worst!” I say through my laughter. “You expect sympathy?”

  “Maybe a little?” Zane pinches his fingers close together until barely a slip of paper could fit. “Just a tiny bit?”

  I copy him and tighten up my nose to tease him. “A teeny tiny bit.”

  He holds my gaze for a moment, happy, I think, to have me willing to look at him. “You have pretty eyes,” he says, and my gaze drops to the center console.

  I hear his sigh just as I mumble the words, “Thank you.”

  There’s six seconds of silence before he asks, “You really haven’t seen any of my movies?”

  My head pops up, and I watch excitement spark in his eyes that he’s got me back again. Blood rushes to my cheeks at the thought, and it only delights him that much more before I have to break eye contact.

  “No, I’m sorry, I haven’t. But Mona loves you. She’s begging me to meet you or get you to sign something.”

  “Invite me over for dinner,” he says. “It’s not a date i
f I’m meeting a fan.”

  For half a breath, I let the invitation perch on my tongue. He’s right. It’s not a date. I’m fulfilling my adoptive mother’s dream.

  “Maybe another night,” I say.

  Zane hides the disappointment well, a shadow that passes before he locks it away again. “I can’t wait.”

  “I should probably watch one of your movies first,” I say, trying to lighten the air again.

  “Start with Gremkey Gongo. I think you’d like it. It’s a kid’s movie about a monkey. Your son might like it.”

  “Okay,” I agree, just so I can watch him smile again.

  Zane sets his hand to the door handle but pauses before he opens it. “Again, I’m sorry for what I said this morning. Maybe I’m lonely. I haven’t made a friend, a real friend who doesn’t have ulterior motives, in a long time. Would that be okay?”

  “I can do friends.”

  He climbs out and starts for the house. I watch him go, claiming that I’m worried for his security, but that’s a lie. He’s right. We have chemistry. He makes me laugh. I like his smile. But we can’t follow through.

  Jay’s rules.

  Zane’s fish.

  And my fragile psyche.

  Chapter 7

  Gremkey Gongo surprised me. Zane’s got layers, like me in the dead of winter when it takes me twenty minutes to get dressed before I go outside. It could be weeks before I actually know him on a personal level.

  Oliver loved it, also big points in my book. Gremky Gongo is the name of the monkey who escaped the zoo and moved into uptight Gregory McMellan’s New York apartment, AKA Zane Alexander in character. It was all slapstick comedy, very Three Stooges with beams smacking him in the back, dropping rice like a rain shower over his head, and stupid jokes about throwing feces. Of course, Oliver loved it.