Apollo's 11

by Anna Collins

  “Thank you for being a good friend tonight, Drake,” I said, before getting inside.

  The pain was unbearable, and I didn’t know how to let it out. The memories and the words Apollo and I had shared were swirling in my head, keeping me from forgetting about them.

  I needed to let it out. I needed to bleed away the pain. And then I saw the only thing I could think of to take the pain away.

  So I sat down on my desk and turned my laptop on. I wiped the tears on my face that obscured my view and then…I began to write.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Apollo

  Three months later…

  I couldn’t find her anywhere.

  How could a woman like that disappear without a trace? It made me antsy and all kinds of worried about her, my mind immediately going to the worse-case scenarios, driving me insane.

  I had realized my mistake the minute she turned around and walked away, but my stubborn ass-self prevented me from calling out and stop her. My pride had not let myself accept the fact my heart could not deny.

  I had fallen in love with Calista Cohen, and I didn’t want anyone else but her by my side.

  I tried the next day to contact her, but my calls wouldn’t get through and neither could Helen’s or Perseus’. I had hoped to find her in her apartment, but the landlord told me she had ended the lease. She had most of her things loaded into a moving van and left, leaving him with no address to contact her just in case.

  She was just gone without a trace, and the last three months became my pain and torment. I kept trying to look for her, but the moment I managed to get a clue of where she could be, the trail went cold, and I was back at the beginning. She was just as determined not to be found as I was hell-bent on finding her.

  My relationship with Helen became even more strained in the process, with my sister blaming me for the disappearance of her one true friend. She told me I was a cocky bastard who didn’t accept the love that was right in front of me, and she was right. She forgot to include ‘stupid’ in her list of insults, though.

  Because of what happened, Helen had packed her bags and moved in with Perseus, promising she would never speak to me again. I had no doubt in my mind she’d make good on her promise.

  At this point in time, I’d exhausted all my resources and options save for one. I was going to give her one of the things she wanted even before we got together, the one thing I was reluctant to agree with until the moment I lost her.

  I was going to put her name to my autobiography. I was going to give her the credit she deserved for editing my work.

  Even the publisher was surprised when I gave him the final draft of my work, with Callie’s name as a part of the acknowledgments. But what was more surprising for me was that I felt like a huge weight was lifted off of my shoulders the moment I decided it. Seriously, I’d forgotten why I was so against giving her the credit in the first place.

  Everything was ready for the book launching tomorrow, but the release date couldn’t have been set at a worst possible time.

  Two months ago, a fictional book was released under the pen name ‘Calliope Clearwater, ” and it became an instant hit. It had been dominating the bestseller’s list ever since the anonymity of the author just served to spurn the people’s curiosity to buy her book. I was a little curious myself because strangely enough, I felt like the name was familiar. I felt like I’d heard of it before, but every time I racked my brain for the answer, I came up with blanks.

  Despite the obvious hype for the novel, I hadn’t gotten around to reading it yet. Lots of the reviews I’d seen and heard said it was very good, though. But there was one other thing about it that bothered me.

  “Hey Apollo, have you read this yet?” Perseus asked, raising Clearwater’s book in the air as he entered my office. He had been helping me a lot at work lately, especially in regards to looking for a new secretary after I fired Daphne three months ago. So far, none was qualified enough to fill the position…well, not according to my standards, anyway.

  “I haven’t gotten around to it. Why?” I asked him, though I was pretty sure I knew what he was on about.

  “Because the male lead is just like you!” he exclaimed, and I hummed thoughtfully. I’d heard about the rumors going on that the male lead of Clearwater’s book bore a strange likeness to me, but I’d been too busy with work to confirm it. It had also led to a lot of people asking if the book’s events were based on my life, which again was something I needed to confirm as well.

  It was partly the reason why I had to push my autobiography’s release at the earliest possible date, so it could spurn off any unnecessary rumors.

  “I never took you as the type to read chick lits, brother,” I said, hoping to distract him instead, and he rolled his eyes, taking the bait.

  “I don’t really, but I got bored, and I saw it in Helen’s room, so why not?” Perseus said. “By the way, are you ready for that TV interview you have tomorrow?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “I heard the true identity of Calliope Clearwater would be revealed on the same show tomorrow, too. Are you sure it’s a good idea to do this?” he asked.

  “Well, I talked to the producers, and they made sure that her slot comes after mine. Most of the audience would probably be there for Clearwater, but since they’ll have to wait until after I finish my launch, it’ll help boost PR for my book,” I told him, and he nodded thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, I guess you’ve got all of that figured out. Mind if I get your John Hancock on my copy now before you’re eventually trampled on by your fan club?” he asked, putting a copy of my autobiography on my desk for me to sign.

  I chuckled and did as I was told, but when he reached out to get the book back, I tightened my hold on it until he looked me in the eye.

  “Have you heard from her yet?” I asked, and the mirth on his face earlier melted away into a downcast expression as he shook his head to my dismay.

  “No dice. And before you ask, Helen hasn’t been able to contact her either,” Perseus answered, and I let go of the book and slumped against my seat, leaning my head back with a sigh. “It’s been three months, Apollo. I know how much you care about her. Hell, I’m not as close to her like you or Helen, but I can feel the void she left behind. But honestly, Apollo, don’t you think three months of your life is enough to try and search for someone? Don’t you think that if Callie wanted to be found, we’d have heard from her by now?” he asked, and I closed my eyes.

  “I won’t stop looking for her, Perseus,” I said. I’d already made up my mind. Perseus sighed and nodded.

  “Alright. I hope she turns up soon, then. Good luck with the interview tomorrow, man.” He said, waving goodbye.

  I waited for him to shut the door on his way out before letting out a deep sigh.

  I’d come this far. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to. I needed Callie like I needed air to breathe. I didn’t care how long it took. I had to find her.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Callie

  “So, what time is your interview?” Drake asked, handing me the packet of sugar for my coffee. I took it with a smile and ripped the corner of the packet, pouring the contents down into my cup, stirring absent-mindedly.

  “Hmm, about an hour, but don’t worry,” I told him, and he furrowed his eyebrows.

  “Don’t worry?” he repeated. “Aren’t you going to be late?” he asked, and I shook my head.

  “The studio is twenty minutes away from here, so I’m not going to be late,” I reassured him.

  I had chosen this café specifically because of its location, and I heard that they served the best red velvet donuts in the history of humankind. The donuts were a bit of an exaggeration, though, but other than that, I really liked the place. It was quaint, peaceful, and made me feel right at home. The shades of brown and beige of the furniture and the walls made me feel warm and fuzzy, tugging at my heartstrings in a similar way as a certain someone did three months ago.
The one who lived in a mansion with the shades of brown and beige just like this café.

  I was trying my hardest to forget someone, but here I was choosing places that reminded me of him.

  I was pathetic.

  “Word is out that Apollo will be releasing his autobiography tomorrow,” Drake said.

  “Can we please not talk about him?” I said softly, and he sighed.

  “It’s kind of hard not to when it’s obvious you’re thinking about him right now. Why don’t you just call him and tell him where you are?” he asked.

  “There’s no point. He already made it clear where I stand with him. I was just an assistant,”

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he said flatly, and I glared at him.

  “What do you care?” I asked, annoyed.

  “I care about this because I care about you, Callie!” he cried, his eyes flaring. “Look, I get it. We’re never going to be anything more than friends. And as your friend, it’s my duty to bang your head against the wall when I know you’re making a stupid mistake. You love Apollo. And that dumbass probably doesn’t have the right words to say it, or he’s just too damn stubborn to tell you the words, but I can tell that asshole loves you too.”

  “He told me he didn’t want me like that. He told me--,” he cut me off.

  “Who cares about what he said? Men like me and Apollo always say things we don’t mean. We get too hung up over the idea that our emotions make us weak, so we never let anyone tie us down with it! Come on, Callie, wake up!” he cried, and I shook my head and gathered my belongings.

  “You know what? I can’t handle this right now. I’m going to go,” I said, walking away. He grabbed my wrist to stop me, and I looked down at him.

  “Just keep in mind what I said. I think you’ve hidden yourself long enough from him. If he’s as smart as I think he is, he’ll come after you, and he’s going to tell you all the words you always wanted him to say,” he said.

  He let me go, and I just turned my head away, refusing to acknowledge what he said.

  But what if he was right? Maybe three months of hiding myself away were enough to get Apollo to realize what he was missing? What if I had been so hung up by what Apollo said, that I was unable to realize the words he didn’t say?

  My mind was spinning around in circles, and I shook my head. I would think about this later. Now I had to think about the interview. After months of my publisher begging me to reveal my true identity, I finally gave in. It was time to reveal the truth.

  It was time to tell the world that Calliope Clearwater was actually Calista Cohen.

  Truthfully, I wasn’t expecting my novel to be as big as it was. I never considered it to be a New York Times Bestseller, but it made me happy that people appreciated it. It was a novel that stemmed from my heartbreak after all, and the novel became more of a medium for me to release my emotions than anything.

  Thea had mistakenly picked it up when she was at my place and had encouraged me to have it published, but when it came to finalizing the contract, I had stipulated that I wanted it to be published under a pseudonym rather than my real name.

  The reason was because I wasn’t ready to give up my freedom yet.

  I knew that once Apollo found out about my book, he’d be able to find me. I was still hurting at the time, and I wanted the peace, and quiet anonymity offered me.

  But after three months of peace and quiet, I was ready to move on with my life, and I thought it was about time I put myself out there, even if Apollo managed to find me.

  I got into the studio, and the assistant ushered me over to hair and makeup, and it made my heart skip a beat as the hair, and makeup artists talked my ear off about my book, asking me to sign their copies. I was not used to this new found fame, and I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it.

  “You are so much more beautiful that I thought you’d be! Oh, I can’t believe I’m so lucky! I got Calliope Clearwater’s and Apollo Irons’ autographs all on the same day!” she cried, and my eyes widened.

  “What did you say?” I asked her, and she tilted her head.

  “What? That I got your autograph?” she repeated, and I shook my head.

  “No, I mean--,” it couldn’t be possible that he was here, right? “Did you just say ‘Apollo Irons’?” I asked, and she nodded, sighing dreamily.

  “Yeah. He’s so much more handsome in person. He’s actually here today. He’s going to talk about his book. Actually, he’ll be appearing before you,” she said, and I felt the earth crumble underneath me.

  Was it too late to walk out the backdoor?

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Apollo

  “Places, everyone, in 3, 2…,” the director said, and the opening jingle of the morning show blared from the speakers.

  “Hello, America! Welcome back to the Morning Show with Phoebe and Jay. As you may have heard, the autobiography, ‘Lyre: A True Story,' hits the shelves tomorrow, and we were lucky enough to snag an interview with the dashing, debonair author himself. Please welcome the number one most eligible bachelor and business tycoon, Apollo Irons!” Phoebe said, and the music started up, which was my cue to enter the set. I nodded and waved to the audience before giving Phoebe and Jay the obligatory pat on the back and a handshake before taking my seat.

  “So Apollo, you’ve come across as a private guy. Other than that news involving your business ventures, your personal life has been very discreet. Why did you decide to release an autobiography now?” Jay asked.

  “I thought that the story about how I built myself from the ground up would help people understand me a little more, let them see who I really am behind the tough exterior I often mask myself when I conduct my business. I didn’t want to be just another conglomerate or another pretty face in a magazine, and I thought that this would be a good way to tell the world that,” I said.

  I kept the interview completely honest, something that was an entirely new concept to me, but I had to admit it was a liberating one.

  Soon the thirty minutes was up, and Phoebe was already looking at the camera, telling the audience to stay tuned as Calliope Clearwater was coming up next. The producers told me to stay in my seat as they would be promoting both mine and Clearwater’s books together at the end of our show, and I assented. I saw a copy of Clearwater’s novel at the desk and picked it up out of curiosity.

  The book was about a down and out author who was suddenly hired to work as an assistant for a mysterious billionaire. The premise was eerily familiar, and I found myself drowning in the first few chapters, my heart beating stronger and harder as the familiarity of the text, the dialogue, and the settings became too much to ignore.

  These were all moments similar to the ones Callie and I had shared. They didn’t feel like just another plot. They felt like…memories.

  Perseus was wrong about one thing, I realized. The male lead of this book didn’t sound like me.

  The male lead was me.

  Suddenly, everything was starting to fall into place. The pieces were coming down together in my brain, forming a clear picture of what this could be.

  This book didn’t feel like it was about me and Callie because it was about me and Callie.

  The name Calliope Clearwater sounded familiar to me because I knew exactly how she came up with it. She got it from my most treasured painting in my house, the one where she looked just the same as ‘Calliope.' The initials were just like hers too.

  Which meant…Calliope Clearwater was…

  “Please welcome New York Times’ Bestselling author, Calliope Clearwater!” Jay said, and I turned my eyes towards the entrance, my eyes meeting the pair of eyes I’d spent most of my days scouring the ends of the earth for.

  It was her.

  Calliope Clearwater was Calista Cohen all along.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. Here she was standing before me, and I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take my eyes away from her. She was so beautiful, so much beautiful that I c
ould remember.

  She sat next to me, and I thought that time had stood still judging from how long we kept staring into each other’s eyes. I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that she was actually here, sitting right beside me.

  “So, Calliope Clearwater, can you start by telling us what your real name is?” Phoebe asked, and she spared her a glance before looking at me again as she spoke.

  “Hi, my name is Calista Cohen, and it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

  “Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m sensing some sort of chemistry in here. Do you two perhaps know each other?” Jay asked, his gaze switching between both of us. Gathering my courage, I decided to answer that question.

  “Yes, actually. I’ve known Calista for a while now,” I admitted, and Callie actually looked surprised I had said that. “I’ve only known her for a short time, but I have to admit it feels like it’s been forever,”

  The audience squealed at my response, the others fanning themselves with their hands while a couple pretended to faint. Callie looked shocked and like she was ten seconds away from hiding under her chair.

  Tough luck, lady. I made the mistake of losing you before, and I’m not about to let you go again.

  You left the ball in my court, and now I’m making my move.

  “Well, how about we get to know more about Calista first before we dive into juicier details, huh?” Phoebe asked, and Callie eagerly jumped at the change of topic.

  She answered all the questions about herself politely, and I snorted when she said that her book was inspired by ‘true events’ that happened in her life.

  “Why did you decide to write your book? What urged you to create such a masterpiece?” Jay asked, and I saw Callie’s breath hitch at the question before continuing.

  “Well, to be honest, it was never my intention to publish this book. I wrote it at the lowest point in my life. I felt like I was drowning in my thoughts, in these memories and the emotions attached to it that I was desperately looking for a way to let it out. So one night, I was bawling, and I sat in front of my laptop and just…wrote,” she explained, and I felt something tighten in my chest.