by Emily Childs
“I’d like to understand her if it gets me closer to that hot brother of hers.” Ellie doesn’t give me a chance to respond before she turns concern my way. “Bridge be careful. The pap will eat you up if they find out you have a sexy, single woman living with you. Has she signed—”
“She doesn’t need to,” I say. I may have a wide spectrum of feelings about Alexis Knight, but one thing I know is she wouldn’t stab me in the back.
Ellie drags her bottom lip between her teeth. She disagrees with me not having Alexis with a gag order, clearly, but she doesn’t know her.
“How long is she staying?” Ellie asks.
“As long as she needs.”
Ellie grins a little wickedly. “Then you just found your Mary Sue. Bring her to the concert this weekend.”
“No way. She’s not going to stand in as this weird Tim idea.”
“Doesn’t need to be a girlfriend. Could just be a friend.”
“Yeah, that’s how the press’ll spin it. Bridger Cole has a friend. Oh, and guess what, she’s female. Nothing to see here, kids.”
Ellie laughs and does her thing where she tries to pinch my chest. I swat her away.
“All right,” she says, “don’t bring her. But I hope you will simply for my sake. If she’s known you her whole life, I have so many questions.”
“Maybe I will have her sign that NDA.”
“No way. I’m going to ask it all, Bridger.” Ellie rests a hand on my arm. “I joke a lot, but I really do want you to be careful. They’ll spin everything, and if you don’t want her in the spotlight, watch it. They’ll pester her, too.”
It’s so much more than pester. It’s borderline assault. “I know.”
“Okay. Well, I better hit the road. I’ve got a niece to go see.” Ellie catches me up on a few orders of business for tomorrow morning, reminds me not to be late like a mother hen, then leaves.
Alone, I fall back onto the couch and close my eyes. My head spins in too many directions. First, over Al. She’s innocent and hurt already. Being here might disrupt her life even more, but I don’t want her to leave. The truth is, selfishly, she helped put me in a place where I forgot today was the first of many interviews and excerpt releases on Nadia’s walk-of-slanderous-fame tour.
The betrayal presses on my chest like a lead weight. I want to shout all my frustration at Nadia, want to defend myself, but by now I’ve learned how words and actions are twisted.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Tim: Get ready. Here it goes. Oh, and remember 6:00 AM
Another text.
Brooks: Hey bro, after the concert, maybe come home for a while. The wrecking ball misses you and it might be good to lie low.
I smile at that. Maybe I ought to go home. It’s not far enough, though. I shoot my brother a text, more a warning to be braced for media. Then, I send another one.
Me: Better yet, man, maybe you and Jen should take Beau on vacation.
Brooks: Hey, we’ve already got our no comments ready. Beau said he’s going to kick them, so get ready for that bad press.
My nephew is a fireball. A three-year-old with a hot temper. My poor sister-in-law and brother have their hands full, to be sure.
A call rings over my phone. Now my palms grow sweaty. “Hey Mom.”
“Sweetie,” she says, voice trembling. “I . . . I want to watch, but I think I’ll go away for murder and—”
“Don’t watch,” I say, voice rough. “Don’t. It’ll trigger everything.”
My mom sniffles and I hate it. I hate what Nadia is doing to everyone I love. “Bridger, you are above this. Lies always fall apart, son.”
“Not everything she’s going to say is a lie.”
My mom pauses, her voice unsteady when she speaks again. “I know, but the untruths, they always come to light. One way or another. Cookies are waiting, kid.” My mom’s way of saying come home, the door is always open. She loves me.
“Love you, too.” I hang up before I lose it.
Then, I grit my teeth and open a live stream of Good Morning America. There it is—the promo of the book cover and Nadia’s grinning face. Pretty on the outside with her silky hair and red lips. But inside she’s nothing but jagged pieces.
“When we come back, a dig into the darker side of rock and roll,” says the announcer. “Nadia Prator, model and long-time girlfriend of rock sensation, Bridger Cole, gives a peek into life, love, and when fame goes wrong.”
My stomach is in knots. How can she sit there and smile when she knows everything is a lie? What sort of person does that? Better question—what is it she really wants out of this?
I’m glued to the TV, hardly breathing during the four-minute commercial break. Then, the first questions are asked.
How did we meet?
“A joint event during Fashion week. We had instant chemistry and fell hard. We fell fast.”
Look at that, Nadia can tell the truth. My fists ball in front of my mouth. I lean over my knees, propped on my elbows. My body bounces because I can’t keep still as Stephanopoulos digs in and presses about the harder things. When did Bridger’s temper flare? When did he take the first hit? What about the drugs?
She only gives bits and pieces because, come on, people need to buy the book.
Hints to my extreme alcoholism, my cocaine addiction. My violent temper. It’s like knives down my back. I hate her, I’m hurt by her. I was willing to give it all to her.
“Turn it off.”
I whip around. Alexis stands in the doorway of the kitchen, a dog biscuit in hand, and a very patient, very drooly Poppy waiting. With narrowed eyes, Alexis stomps across the living room and snatches my phone out of my hands. She flips the live stream off and still hasn’t noticed the dog is waiting.
“Al—”
“What the heck was that?”
“It’s complicated and—”
“Doesn’t sound complicated.” Red splotches dot her neck. She’s about to blow a gasket. “Why is Nadia Prator on GMA, lying?”
Poppy lets out a little whimper and flops onto her back. She’s performing, now, and really wants that treat. I open my mouth to say something, but Alexis is on me again.
“Bridger she’s lying,” she repeats. “You don’t have a drug problem . . . anymore. Who does Nadia think she is? It’s laughable. You, hitting her? Yeah, I’d like to see you try. Mama Holly would bury you. Alive.”
Poppy rolls back to her belly. She paws at the couch.
I snatch the treat out of Alexis’s hand. “Would you feed the dog already?”
Alexis pats Poppy’s head. “Sorry, girl. Back to you, Bridge. What was that?”
I slouch against the sofa. “It’s nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing.”
If I’ve learned one thing about this situation with Nadia it’s that sometimes talking does more harm than good. A twinge of guilt burns in my gut. This is Alexis, she isn’t Nadia, but for a moment all I see is pleading eyes, red lipstick, and ulterior motives.
My jaw tightens and I jolt to my feet. “Al, drop it, okay? Just forget it.”
“What? No way. I don’t forget things in case you forgot. Tell me what’s going on. I want to help, and if—”
“You’ll find out in two weeks with the rest of the world. Drop it.”
Alexis stares at me like my words have shot straight through her heart. Her voice is hardly a whisper. “What happened to being your safety net?”
Maybe I shot her, but she shoots back. I step close, chest to chest, and speak through my teeth. “That was before I realized my safety net leaves when things get rough sometimes.”
Her mouth parts, tears brim over her lashes. “That isn’t . . . that isn’t fair.”
We both can throw punches, but I know how to land the killing blow.
“We’re not going there, Al,” I say, backing away. “We’re not doing any of that again. And I’m not talking about Nadia. Just drop it.”
A bit of the li
ght leaves her eyes, and nothing can get me to stay and watch the rest of it fade. I let out a sort of growl, turn into my bedroom, and slam the door behind me.
Chapter 10
Alexis
Winter—2007
“Lila, I’m telling you if another one of those guys comes at my son again . . .” Garret Cole pauses, probably knowing we’re all listening from the crack in the back door.
I hunch on the back stairs, Parker over me, and Bridger standing, ear to the door.
My mom lets out a mean laugh. The kind she does when I bug her too much, or when she thinks my outfit looks ugly. Weird to hear it aimed at Bridger’s dad.
“You and Holly think you’re so high and mighty. Think you’re better than us, huh? Don’t forget I’ve seen you higher than a kite buckets of times.”
“Stop it, Lila. We’re not better than you, we just fixed ourselves.” His voice softens. “You can, too. If you don’t do it for you, do it for the kids.”
She laughs, the mean kind again. “The kids? Ha! The constant reminders of what I might’ve had. Of mouths I can’t feed unless . . .”
She pauses and drags in a long breath of her cigarette. I know what she thinks—that she needs someone to love her to take care of us properly. She’s wrong, but doesn’t get it, I guess.
I hate that my mom hates us. Holly, Bridger’s mom, says my mom doesn’t hate us, but feels like she doesn’t take care of us, so she hates herself.
Doesn’t make sense to me.
Mom can be nice. Once in a while we have waffles, or get ice cream before she goes to work. Sometimes she tells me she likes my hair or that Parker is good at baseball. She tells us to go to college. We tell her we will.
But today is one of the bad days. Where it feels like Mom can’t stand us.
“We can go,” Bridger whispers. “Al, you can be one of the guys today.”
We start to move, but pause when Garett leans over our table. “Lila, we’re here for you if you need support, you know that. But I’m also not going to let my son, or your kids for that matter, be hit, or yelled at, or abused by these creeps anymore. I’ll take Park and Lex myself, got it?”
Mom snorts. “You talk big, Gare. But you wouldn’t do it. Not really.”
“I would. They’re like my kids and you’re not going to mess them up.”
We scatter when Garett turns and heads toward the door. He’s not a dummy, though. Bridger’s dad has a big smile. Most people are scared of him because he has tattoos and bulky arms, but he’s the nicest guy ever.
“Hey, goofs,” he says, rustling Parker’s hair. “You shouldn’t listen to adults when they’re talking privately.”
Garett stops. My mom slams the door without even looking at us. A muscle twitches in Garett’s jaw, but he keeps smiling. I’m not dumb, either. He’s smiling for our sakes.
“Hey, Lexie girl,” he says as he tugs on one of my pigtails. “What’s up with the tears?”
I blink. Geez, I didn’t know I was crying like a big baby. With the back of my hand, I wipe my nose. “Did you mean it? You want us to be with you guys?”
Garett loses his smile. He flicks his gaze to Parker, Bridger, then back to me. “Kiddo, listen. Your mom loves you, she really does. I’ve been where she is and I always loved my kids even if I didn’t make the best choices. But yeah. If she can’t figure it out, then I want you guys with us. Until then, you’re welcome anytime. You know how to get in and that door’s always open.”
I nod and wipe at my eyes before Bridger or Parker teases me.
Garett returns his easy smile. “Hey, I don’t need to go into the station for another five hours. What d’ya say we hit the fields? Park, you been working on that curve ball?”
“Struck out three guys last game.”
Garett shoves his head playfully and says, “Thata kid. You stick with baseball. I think you’re going far. Don’t let Bridge and the other guys force you into their band.”
“Dad,” Bridger whines. “We need him to play bass.”
“You need him to do what he loves, just like you, bud. You two keep at it and you’ll be the one in a million.”
“The what?”
“One in a million,” Garett says. “When Park is playing pro ball and you’re on stage, supporting your old man with your multi-millions, kid. Statistically speaking both of you are looking at about a one in a million shot. And you know what—you’re going to be that one. Or two, in your cases.”
Garett winks, takes the baseball Parker carries everywhere, and tosses it back and forth with him as we walk.
Bridger hangs back with me. He doesn’t like crying, and usually tries to make it stop as soon as possible. “What’s with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Your mom?”
“No. I don’t really need her anyway.”
“It’s good to need people, though.”
I blow out my lips. “No it isn’t. Parker is the only one who needs me and that’s because he has to say that. I’m his sister.”
Bridger shrugs. “I guess so.”
My chin quivers. I said it, but I didn’t want him to agree with me.
“But, uh, who’d be my safety net without you?” Bridger whispers.
I flick my eyes to him, confused. Maybe a little hopeful. “I’m not that important to you, Bridge.”
In a rare moment, Bridger’s face softens around me. “That’s not true.”
“What?”
He moans and stares at the clouds. “Are you going to make me say it again? You and me, we don’t do games, right? We’re honest no matter what. You said you weren’t important, I disagreed. Honest. End of story.”
I grin and a weird tingle I keep getting around Bridger lately dances across my arms and it doesn’t make sense. Better to change the subject. I use my chin to point at his dad. “You’re lucky, you know.”
He nods, a small grin in the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Come on, I bet he takes us to that new burger place after the ballfields.”
I run to keep up with Bridger’s lanky legs, laughing. Almost forgetting how angry my mom sounded that she had kids.
We have a perfect day.
And it’s the last one we ever spend with Garett Cole alive.
Chapter 11
Alexis
I’m not one to give up easily, but I’ve also never seen Bridger turn into stone and withdraw so harshly either. Usually he’s always up for a good fight.
I stand outside his door, fist raised, ready to knock. I can’t bring myself to do it. With a long sigh, I turn away from his door and head to my bedroom. I flop back onto the bed and stare at the ceiling.
Who does Nadia think she is?
Those longing looks at the camera, the slight touch to the brim of her cheeks, as if a bruise remained there. Bridger never hit her. I bite my bottom lip. Then again, domestic violence is often a silent epidemic. Tears sting like needles behind my eyes. I can’t think those things of Bridger. It’d be a wretched kind of betrayal. He wouldn’t, not being so close to Parker and me. He wouldn’t be that way.
I sling an arm over my eyes, but am distracted when my phone rings.
“Hey, Zo,” I say through a knot in my throat.
“Random question,” she says and takes a bite of something. “I know he’s had some issues—I mean, who could forget—but is, uh, Bridger Cole a grade-A scumbag?”
“No, she’s lying!” I shout.
“Whoa, easy killer.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Sorry, but I know exactly what interview you’re talking about. It’s not true. Nadia is totally in this for money, maybe revenge because Bridger broke up with her.”
“Hmm. Maybe. I mean, there was a commenter on the video who agreed with you. Said she was a gold digger because her modeling career or whatever is on the fritz. And you know me.”
I grin. “You internet stalked her.”
“How could I not? Anyway, turns out she did get dropped by Maybelline for some sort of hushed up
contract infarction. Maybelline isn’t small fries. Maybe she’s looking for a payout.”
“Must be,” I insist. “He’d never do that sort of thing. You should’ve seen his face when he watched the promo. It was like someone socked him right in the throat.”
There’s a bit of a pause and I take the time to gnaw on my thumbnail when I replay the sullen, vacant expression in his eyes as he stared at his phone. Each word like a dart to his fragile shield he tried to keep in front.
“Lex, I’m going to need you to back up. Speak a little slower, maybe.” Zoey adjusts and I can practically see her, straight backed and tight lipped on her office chair. “Did you tell me I should’ve seen his expression, as if you saw it firsthand?”
My eyes bug out. “Holy cow, Zo. I forgot to tell you. I’m staying with Bridger. He sort of rescued me from my homelessness. I’ve got my own bedroom, and like a good man, it’s even stocked with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.”
“Alexis!” she interrupts. “You’re at Bridger’s house? Right this second? Alone? When he has a story like this breaking?”
“Hold up. I’m not in danger here, Zo.”
“Are you sure?”
“Zoey,” I say, heat flushing up my neck like a sick wave. “If anyone knows if he’s some secretly abusive guy, I think I’d know.”
Zoey hesitates. “That’s not the only thing that has me worried. I’m talking about the undergrad fallout.”
I wince. It’s not that I blame her. Some memories with Bridger are hard to forget. She’s right. Too right, and I hate it. Bridger has lived the stereotypical lifestyle of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Doubtless Parker knows more details than me, but I know things, too. Lived through things with him when no one else could be there.
“He’s not like that anymore, Zo.”
Paper crinkles in the background as she sighs. “Okay. I hope not, for both your sakes. But Lex, you haven’t really been part of his life for a while, right?”
“I’ll be fine. Parker knows where I am. He’s the one who called Bridger, actually.”
