by Bowie, Emily
“Dick, send a lawyer to Three Rivers for my brother Kellen. I don’t care what it costs,” he demands, his voice cold and hardened. I perk up, never having heard him use this tone before. He sounds serious.
“You don’t have money—”
“Do it.”
I jump at his tone, my eyes going back and forth between the two.
Dick starts walking away, but not before he gets the last word in. “You need to stop fighting other people’s battles. It will be your ruin in the end.”
Everyone scatters, pretending they never heard a word, leaving him and me in the empty basement. I go to put my hand on his shoulder, wanting to do something, but knowing he would never accept it. My hand rests there for a second longer than I expect before he shrugs me off, walking to his room. “You better know how to walk in those heels. I don’t want you to slow me down.”
There’s my Rhett. My strides almost keep up with his as I stay silent, keeping him in my view. I can’t stop, wanting to know what makes him tick. What made him so crusty in the first place?
We walk past the room that has a star on it with his name and continue down the hallway. We don’t stop till we stand behind the stage, watching the other performer.
“You okay?” I ask warily, unsure if I should even ask, assuming he’ll get pissed at me.
“I just need to get out of my head.” His hand is up by his head, which he’s shaking back and forth. To an onlooker, he still eludes confidence and swagger, but I can see the stress in his eyes and the small twitching of his fingers once he lowers his hand. We stand there, him staring out into the crowd, me at him, until he walks right onto the stage after the song. Just as the announcer introduces him, he’s standing in the middle of the stage, and a drummer hands him his guitar.
“Good to see you again, Camilla.” Dick picks up my hand and gives it a kiss. I feel my lips twist, not wanting his lips on me before I mask it, slowly putting space between us. I try not to roll my eyes. He had completely ignored me earlier when Rhett was here, but now that he’s on stage, I seem to have Dick’s full attention. I move around the railing of the small stage stairs, looking for a better view of Rhett.
He starts with that slow, seductive rumble of his voice on the song he stole from me. The crowd goes crazy for him, and the song pauses.
He shakes his hands out and starts again, making it seem like he’s teasing the crowd when I know he’s anything but.
His voice is losing its strength; that sexy deep voice of his isn’t coming from the heart. He finishes the next verse and pauses. I look into the crowd, seeing people start to look around, unsure if this should be happening. Rhett is slowly breaking down on stage, and everyone is witnessing it.
And for some reason, I can’t let that happen.
Stepping onto the stage, doing the only thing I can think of, I start belting out the chorus, his voice following mine. I look into the crowd and not at him, knowing he wouldn’t want to share this vulnerability with me.
Our melodies intertwine together as we sing the song as if it’s a duet. His voice gets stronger with each line. Reaching the last verse, he touches my face and holds my attention. He gives me this new smile, one I haven’t seen before.
Our arms go around each other’s back as we turn to the audience, and everyone is on their feet, clapping for us. There is a vibration in the air that holds an energy that only the best arenas have. The fans, the people here, love Rhett; you can feel it all the way on this stage. They are here for him.
“Camilla Black,” Rhett announces me as we take a bow. “I think this is my favorite version of this song.” He winks at me, and this is charming country singer Rhett that everyone sees. It’s his public image for anyone who thinks they know him. “Think I could get her to sing another one with me?”
The crowd applauses, hitting another level of noise.
“Well now, I think these fine people came for you, Rhett.” I begin to backstep, not wanting to encroach on his time anymore.
“Do y’all want to hear ‘Whiskey Lullaby’?” he asks the crowd, and they go wild.
Before I have a chance to backpedal any farther, Rhett begins the song. Our harmony from where I’m standing sounds perfect. I’ve never had this much chemistry on stage while singing before. It’s too bad as soon as we walk off stage, I’ll get the real Rhett, and who knows what his mood will be.
CHAPTER 21
Trying to hide behind large sunglasses and a baseball cap, I walk through the sliding glass doors at the hospital. I’m wearing baggy sweatpants, not the sexy kind, the ones you were forced to wear in high school for PE.
My anxiety rolls around with each step I take, creating a rock that sits in my gut. Bypassing the elevator for fear my stomach won’t be able to take it, I go up the stairwell one step at a time until I reach my floor. Opening the door, I pause before closing it softly. My heart pounds, seeing Dick flirt with a nurse by the elevator. Counting down from thirty, I give him time to leave without seeing me, wondering why he’s here. Peering through the tiny gap, I check to see if the hallway is clear. The elevator door is closed, and I see the nurse walking back to her station at the other end of the hall. Inch by inch, I open the door farther till I’m certain he’s gone. For a split second, I’m dizzy from holding my breath, and it takes me a moment before I start toward my destination.
I walk into my daughter’s room. Balloons and teddy bears are the obvious gift of choice.
“Hi, Camilla.” She brightens up, seeing me walk in like she has every time I’ve come to see her.
As I look over, her parents give me the same nervous smile they have since they contacted me, telling me that our daughter has leukemia.
“Hey, darlin’.” I go over to Leah and place my baseball cap on her head, and she giggles. “Guess what I got you today.”
She sits up straighter in her bed. “You got me something?”
“Of course! I couldn’t let my number one fan go empty-handed.”
“Camilla, that was unnecessary. You’re already giving her more than we could ever hope for,” her adoptive mother—the one I handpicked—Jillian, says to me. Robert, her husband and adoptive father to Leah, places his arm around her for support.
Calling me must have been one of the hardest decisions they had to make. I was only a teen when I became pregnant with Leah, with dreams of making it big, and my parents had dreams of me growing out of my rebellious days. Ironically, all those dreams started to come true on the same day.
I had handpicked these parents, knowing they would be the best option. It was the hardest decision I ever made. We decided Leah would never know I’m her biological mother; it was in everyone’s best interest, giving Leah a chance at a normal life.
I never thought I would see them again until the day they phoned me with news of Leah’s cancer and having no other options but for me to help.
Each time I step foot in here and see my poster and her face lighting up, it kills me that she has no idea she was once mine. For that first hour of her life, I was all she knew.
Reaching into my oversized bag, I pull out the newest collection in my lipstick line and hand over my favorite color to her.
“Can I put it on?” she asks her mom.
A small tear runs down Jillian’s face as she nods.
“Now, promise me you will only wear it when your mom says it’s okay.”
Leah eagerly nods as she opens the lipstick that has a small rectangular mirror on the side. She twists the tube of color up into place before painting her pale lips. She’s most likely a little young to be wearing makeup, but what do I know? All I care about is the smile that lights up her face. It’s all I can do for her.
“Are you nervous?” Leah asks me, referring to my procedure to extract some of my stem cells for her to use. Taking a seat on her bed, I inspect her lips, impressed she’s done a great job.
These conversations kill me and make me so thankful she has a loving family. I never thought my actions could mak
e me feel happy and sad. I’m happy I did one thing right in my life, while at the same time, it feels like I’m being stabbed in the heart.
“A little, but I know the results will be so worth it.” I’m petrified. I don’t do well with needles to begin with. But I can’t tell her that. She has gone through way more than me. She is the bravest person I know.
“Well, I need to go sign in to get you those stem cells you need.” Her parents follow me out into the hall.
“Thank you, Camilla. What you’re doing means the whole world to us.” They both hug me, squeezing me as if they love me too. When we pull apart, they have unshed tears in their eyes that show me I made the right decision ten years ago.
*
“Where is your driver?” the doctor who will be taking my stem cells asks me.
“Oh, he’ll be here very soon,” I lie. I’ll just call my driver or someone afterward. No need to bother anyone with waiting around for me.
“I will not start the procedure unless I know someone is coming.” His eyes narrow on me, calling my lie.
I have no one to call. My parents live in Canada, Kellie is out of town, and I’ve let Mindy have a rare day off. “Sure.” I hesitate, pulling out my cell phone. I scroll through my contacts; most are people I haven’t ever had a phone conversation with. They’re all contacts I’ve acquired over time. People who I ask favors from, or vice versa. Coming to Rhett’s name, I pause. My finger hovers above his name before I press down, dialing his number. It’s sad to say Rhett has very quickly become the person I see the most.
We didn’t talk after the concert incident. For the first time since I’ve known him, he was silent. There were no suggestive comments, no insults, no charm, nothing. He looked out the window, lost in his own thoughts.
After the third ring, he picks up. “Black Widow.”
It takes me a second to answer, somewhat wishing I could leave a message. The doctor stays beside me, waiting until he gets his way.
“Hi, if you’re not busy, can you do me a favor?” My heart thuds in my throat. I’m sure Jillian or Robert could drive me, but I don’t want to take any time they have with Leah.
“What do you need?” I hear him strumming his guitar for the first time since he moved in with me.
“Can you pick me up at the hospital in an hour? You’ll have to come in to get me.”
His guitar stops and he doesn’t speak. He’s going to say no; I can feel it.
“Why you there?”
“Exhaustion,” I reply without thinking, hoping he doesn’t call me on my bullshit.
“Yeah, text me where to go. I’ll be on my way right now.”
“Not yet—” I try to say I don’t need him here waiting for me, but he’s ended our call before I can say any of it.
“Happy?” I look up at the doctor, who looks like I’m just another typical stubborn celebrity.
“Let’s go.” He turns, and I follow him down the hall.
I swear the air gets colder as we get closer to the room.
*
To my annoyance, they roll me out in a wheelchair, refusing to let me walk. Rhett is sitting in the waiting room and stands as soon as I come through the doors.
Without being asked, he takes over from the nurse who is pushing me.
“The media got wind you were in here for exhaustion, so it’s a bit crazy out there.”
I groan, wishing I could have some privacy. I don’t feel good, and all I want to do is lie down somewhere soft.
He places my large sunglasses on me like I’m helpless to do it. My hands try to swat him away, but he ignores my attempts and places my shield onto my face.
“Where’s your hat?” he asks, looking into my purse. I can’t tell him I left it to a scared little girl, so I say the next best thing. “I must have forgotten it at home.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll block you as much as I can. I have Dick waiting at the entrance, so we don’t have to walk far.”
Using the strength in my arms, I try to push myself up, only for him to push me back down.
“Stay put,” he demands in that deep voice of his.
I wish I had more strength to argue with him. I feel grateful to have my purse sitting on my lap as he walks outside. People are yelling questions at us, like kernels popping under heat.
Rhett has to push a few paparazzi out of his way as they step too close to me. Before I know it, he’s helped me into the back seat of a tinted SUV and jumps in the back with me. Dick speeds away. All I can do is lean my head on the cool glass and hope this is never brought up again.
Even in my condition, I know better than that. All I can pray for is they believe I went in for exhaustion, hating to see how it would affect my daughter’s family.
CHAPTER 22
Camilla.
Fucking.
Black.
I follow her instructions and see this isn’t some plush ward for the tired. She isn’t resting because she’s overworked herself. Although, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t sleep. For a girl who has a permanent sun-kissed glow, she looks washed out. Her eyes look vacant, with dark circles completing her look.
I want to wring her neck and yell in her face while asking her, What the hell are you doing here? My anger keeps igniting as we walk out and no one gives her space. There are cameras right in our faces, people yelling out every possible question.
She winces as I place her into the back seat but never once complains. I have to bite my tongue until I taste metallic to keep my anger from exploding directly at her. She doesn’t need my wrath when she looks this weak.
As we round the corner by her house, the number of reporters camped out there is even more than at the hospital. Cursing under my breath, I don’t understand how she hasn’t moved into a gated community. It would be way safer. It can’t be a money issue, because she’s left her statements in neat and tidy places for any wondering eye to see. She could afford a house a hundred times larger than the one she’s in.
I look over at her, and she doesn’t even seem like she cares, making me scratch my head. She is a zombie right now, and I feel like I need to protect her until she can protect herself.
Dick stops, and I jump out of the vehicle. Going to her side, I sweep her up in my arms, hating how she gasps in pain, adding evidence she wasn’t there for exhaustion. Her body looks small in my arms, and she doesn’t fight me in any way. Dick is by my side, trying to keep the reporters at a distance as the three of us go into her house.
The way Dick’s eyes light up at the attention we are getting makes me feel dirty. I can’t brush off that feeling. Glancing down at Camilla, I walk her into her bedroom and gently rest her on top of her bed.
“Thank you,” she mumbles before falling asleep immediately.
I lean over, brush the hair out of her face, and stare at the girl who was supposed to be my enemy.
Dick’s whistle has me turning away and leaving her, when all I want to do it sit there watching her sleep to make sure she’s okay.
“This is going better than we hoped,” he says normally, practically giddy.
“Lower your voice.” I look back at her room, not wanting her to hear any of this. That grimy feeling keeps wrapping itself around me. I didn’t do this for media attention. I did this for her, only her.
“She’s out cold; we don’t have to worry. We need to strike now, with the media wanting to know more about the two of you. I’m looking into duet songs the two of you can sing. It will help fan the flames of what the people want—seeing the two of you together. This song will go to number one if you jump fast. I have a bunch of interviews planned for you to officially drop that the two of you are living together, and you also have some photoshoots. They wanted both of you, but I negotiated only you. The world needs to see that you are open to them, while she shies away, staying private. It makes you look like the good guy.” He’s talking a mile a minute about all our plans, while my attention goes in and out.
I stand, looking at him and noddi
ng, but my mind keeps going to Camilla, who does look like she needs a break, and I need to see my family back in Three Rivers. I think I may be able to help the two of us out at the same time.
“Dick, get a hold of whoever the hell Camilla’s people are, and order us a jet that will take the two of us to Three Rivers. Cancel everything else for the next week, and tell her people to do the same,” I demand. Three Rivers is the only place a circus has never followed. It will give her the rest she needs.
Dick’s eyes light up, and I can see him salivating at my new idea.
He points his finger at me with a wide smile. “You’re a genius, boy.” He pats my face, and I hate every second of it. “When you get back, you do need to shave this off. You look like walking pubes.”
I level him with a warning that I’m tired of this conversation. It’s only been a few days and he won’t shut up about it. I have zero intention of shaving; it’s about time I sport a new look.
*
I hear Camilla mumble on the phone but can’t make much of it out. I called her personal assistant, telling her my plan, while Dick talked to her manager. Neither one of them was thrilled I was calling, someone they clearly never knew existed in her life. Pretty much, I got told to fuck off. Dick got a little further, but still got the polite answer of no.
Not wanting to leave Camilla, who can’t even get to the bathroom without moaning, I sit on my bed that doubles for her couch and try to string words together. For the first time in a year, I have a melody. I try to play it out on my guitar, hoping to place some notes down before it’s lost on me for who knows how long once again.
Midthought, as I finally nail the chorus’s tune, Camilla’s assistant walks in like she owns the place.
“Mindy, I presume?” I greet her, as she looks shocked I’m in the middle of Camilla’s house.
