The Fall Up

by Aly Martinez

  “Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I—”

  “Or maybe you’re exactly who I thought you’d be.” He lifted his hands, motioning around my lush foyer.

  That hurt. A lot.

  But not as much as the idea of losing him.

  “I’m sorry, please—”

  The door slammed before I could even finish the apology.

  “Wait!” I yanked the door open, but a sleepy Devon stood on the other side. “Move!” I tried to shove him out of the way.

  But he only shook his head and backed me into the house. “Levee, stop. I had Carter take him home.”

  “You did what?” I screeched, rushing back to the door just in time to see the taillights disappearing.

  “You have bigger shit to deal with than that jackass.”

  Gritting my teeth, I stalked in his direction. “You’re fired.”

  “Oh please. I have a good mind to quit after the shit I found out you’ve been hiding from me,” he bit right back.

  “I wasn’t going to jump!” I yelled for what felt like the millionth time, but when it cleared my lips, I realized it was the best lie I’d ever told.

  Even I believed it.

  Sam hadn’t though.

  Deep down, I’d seriously considered it. More times than I should have.

  Daily.

  My legs began to tremble, but they never even had a chance to give out before I was caught by Devon’s embrace.

  “Shh. I gotcha,” he whispered into my hair. “Always, Levee.”

  “I, um… I think… I need”—Sam—“help.”

  “Then we’ll get it.”

  Shit.

  IT’D BEEN ANOTHER sleepless night for me. After some huge guy I assumed was another bodyguard drove me home, I’d sat on my porch with Sampson at my side and watched the sun rise. I was starting to feel like I’d never get a full night of sleep again. It didn’t take long for me to regret having stormed out on Levee. She had problems, and I had done the one thing I’d sworn I’d never do again after Anne died—I’d walked away. But fuck, her explosive rant had cut me deep.

  That’s not completely true though.

  Anne had cut me deep.

  Levee had unwittingly rubbed salt in the already-gaping wound.

  I needed to apologize. She didn’t deserve that shit. If I went back over there, I could probably make her understand my over-the-top reaction.

  But that was the last thing I really needed.

  I had absolutely no business trying to pursue something with her. We came from different worlds—and only part of that had anything to do with her being famous. Hell, that was the easy part. We were both so filled with pain. Only she was determined to escape it, while I physically ached to stop her. We’d be a fucking train wreck together.

  But that woman…

  It’d only been a week and we’d only spent one night together, but, God, she’d felt like the great I’d always been searching for. Who cared if she had issues I would probably always stress about?

  Oh, right. Me.

  But, when we were together, it was easy to forget how we’d met. It was easy to get lost in her whiskey eyes and her contagious smile.

  Her lithe body and her smooth, white skin.

  Her soft breasts and her tight…

  Damn it.

  I desperately needed someone to talk to about her. But since Levee was such a public figure it made it tricky. I couldn’t air her bullshit like she so obviously already thought I was going to do. My mom was still struggling with Anne’s death. I couldn’t bring this kind of drama up without upsetting her. She was just starting to get it back together.

  I had one choice…

  So, at nine a.m., I grabbed my wallet and headed out the door.

  “Dude, what the hell are you doing up here?” Ryan asked when I walked into his office, closing the door behind me.

  “I just hired you. I fucked up last night and I need to talk, but you can’t say a word to anyone.”

  “What. Did. You. Do?” he said very slowly, pushing away from his desk and rising to his feet.

  “By the way, I really wish I’d known you charged four hundred dollars an hour before I paid Jen for your time. Fucking hell, man.”

  He cocked an angry eyebrow. “One, stay the fuck away from Jen. Two, we’re best friends! You didn’t have to pay for my time, asshole.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I needed attorney-client privilege for what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Fuck, Sam. This does not sound good.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he perched on the edge of his desk, and then motioned for me to spill it.

  “I’ve been kinda seeing Levee Williams, and last night, I slept with her,” I rushed out.

  His head snapped up. “Levee Williams, the singer?”

  I quickly nodded.

  “No shit?” he breathed. A grin spread across his face, but just as quickly, his eyes grew wide. “Oh, Jesus, did you hurt her? Is she trying to claim you forced yourself on her?”

  “What? No!” I shouted, jumping to my feet.

  “Then what the fuck did you do that you suddenly need a criminal defense attorney?”

  “Nothing! I just wanted to talk to you without worrying that you’re gonna run your big-ass mouth. For fuck’s sake, Ryan! The first thing you assume is that I assaulted her?”

  “I didn’t think you necessarily assaulted her,” he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging. “Maybe she didn’t like the bionic cock? You never know.”

  I laughed without humor. “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone likes that.”

  “Including Levee Williams?” He smirked.

  “Come on, jerkoff. Act like a professional.”

  “Fine. I’ll ask that when we aren’t on your dime.” He walked back around his desk and, very businesslike, sat in his chair. ”Now, Mr. Rivers. What can I do for you today?”

  I sucked in a deep breath and settled back in my chair. “I met her on the bridge about a week ago.”

  He lowered his voice and mumbled a curse. “You have to stop going up there and torturing yourself.”

  I waved him off. I didn’t need a lecture. I needed someone to tell me that I was insane for wanting to be with Levee. Then I needed someone to convince my body that it was insane, too, because all I really wanted to do was run back up that hill and lose myself inside her again.

  “I didn’t know who she was at first. She was always wearing shades and a wig, but I could see her intentions like a beacon of light.” I cleared my throat. “She was going to jump. I know she was. She kept sticking her legs through the railing like she was testing out the wind on her skin. I couldn’t stop worrying about her, so, on the third night, I struck up a conversation with her. I’ve been meeting her up on the bridge every night since, and last night, she finally told me her name, and after dinner, we…uh…went back to her place.” I smiled and shook my head at how perfect the first half of the evening had gone. Then I groaned at the memories of how it had ended. “Anyway, I told her bodyguard that she was planning to jump, and when she found out, she exploded and kicked me out of her house. I have no fucking idea what to do, Ryan. I really want to go back over there and apologize tonight, but a woman like that is going to shred me. You remember how I was with Anne. I’d just be a sitting duck waiting for an instant replay. But I…um…like her.”

  He sighed. “You can’t be with someone like that. Your personality cannot handle the crazy.”

  “Come on, dude. Don’t call her crazy.”

  “I just mean you need someone a little safer and more on an even keel. You know I’ve always considered you a brother. But the fact that you made me lunch and folded my clothes every day in college definitely made it easy to keep you around.”

  I glared up at him, unimpressed.

  “You’re a caretaker, Sam. It’s what you do. You did it for your mom when your dad died. You did it for me when…” He paused and swayed his head in consideration, “Well, you still do it fo
r me. You did it for Anne. You do it for Morgan. And now, you’re gonna try to do it for Levee freaking Williams. You did the right thing by letting someone know what was up, but I really think she’ll be okay without you. If you want to have under-the-covers fun with her for a while, by all means, go for it. But, since I know your vagina doesn’t work like that, you need to stop this now. What you really need is for someone to take care of you—not the other way around.”

  He was right.

  I’d spent years of my life taking care of my father. Then even more years repairing the damage he’d caused our family when he’d ultimately hung himself in his workshop. Most recently, I’d spent my life trying to prevent Anne from sharing his same fate—a task I’d monumentally failed at.

  Yeah. I couldn’t do that with Levee.

  Not again.

  Clearing my throat, I pushed to my feet. “You’re right.”

  He was so fucking wrong, and I knew it even as the agreement tumbled from my lips.

  She was right.

  We were right.

  I was just too afraid to start the cycle of pain all over again.

  So, like a coward, I repeated a lie. “You are absolutely right.”

  “Good.” He stood up too and buttoned his suit coat in a very professional manner. “Are we done here?”

  I sighed and nodded, preparing to leave, but Ryan stopped me first.

  “You want to grab some coffee? Off the clock, of course.” He winked and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Yeah. I could seriously go for a smoke and some caffeine,” I replied, deflated.

  “Awesome. Now, spill it. Was she a freak in the sack? I can see her being kinky. And don’t even try to avoid answering. You can’t fuck the world’s biggest pop star and keep this shit from your best friend.”

  I cleared my throat. “My best friend doesn’t know I had sex with Levee. Just my attorney. And since you’re off the clock…” I trailed off, tossing him a shrug.

  “You are worthless.” He pouted, and I made a mental note not to let Ryan ply me with alcohol any time soon.

  “That’s not what Jen said,” I joked, dodging the punch that I knew would be heading toward my shoulder.

  Ryan talked the whole way to the coffee shop, but I didn’t have anything left to say. How was I supposed to just forget about her? Or stop worrying about her? Or stop myself from getting in my car and heading up to her house? God, I hoped Devon was going to truly get her the help she needed and stop taking her to that fucking bridge every night.

  There was only one way to be certain about that though.

  For seven days, I fought the urge and somehow managed to stay away from her. Her house was only fifteen minutes from mine, and my palms itched to touch her again.

  For as much as I wanted to see her, it wasn’t like Levee was reaching out to me, either. She had my cell number from the night I’d given it to her at the bridge, but I didn’t know if she’d kept it. She knew where I worked though. I’d given the receptionist at rePURPOSEd full permission to give my cell number to anyone who called asking for it.

  A million clients called; Levee didn’t.

  Anxiety wouldn’t allow me to just write her off though. Every night, I marched up that bridge hoping to find a pair of designer shoes lurking in the shadows.

  They never were.

  For as much relief as it gave me each night when she wasn’t there, an ache grew in my chest.

  I miss her.

  It wasn’t long until I’d lived up to the nickname she’d given me and became a legit Internet stalker. During one of my many Google searches on her, I found that she’d canceled several of her upcoming performances. Tabloid speculation was that she was pregnant with Henry Alexander’s love child. They’d even posted obviously edited pictures of her alleged baby bump. More reliable sources reported that she was headed to rehab. I couldn’t imagine Levee being hooked on drugs, but how well did I really know her? And the pendulum of my anxiety swung, leaving me worried all over again.

  Originally, I’d been grateful for the distraction Levee had provided me. If only I could have figured out how to distract myself from her. It wasn’t like we had some torrid love affair I’d never be able to recover from. It was simply a flash-in-the-pan romance that never should have happened in the first place.

  I needed to let her go and move on.

  I just couldn’t actually do it.

  At all.

  “I REALLY WISH you would stay home,” Henry said, sprawled across my bed.

  When he’d arrived at my house the night Sam had walked away, he had done it with a huge suitcase wheeling behind him. I hadn’t initially questioned it, but by day three, when a moving truck had shown up in my driveway, it had become abundantly clear that he was moving in. He hadn’t necessarily asked if I was okay with living together again, but I hadn’t exactly argued as a herd of movers had transformed two—yes, two—of my guest rooms into Henry’s personal sanctuary.

  “I have to get out of this house. I’m dying of boredom,” I replied, stepping into a pair of washed-out skinny jeans. “Why don’t you go out and do something tonight?”

  After riffling through my drawers, I pulled on a New York T-shirt that hung off one of my shoulders. Simple, comfortable, and exactly what I needed.

  “Hideous,” Henry vetoed from the bed. “And no, thanks. I need some downtime.”

  I huffed then yanked the shirt back over my head and stomped into my closet. “When did you become such a homebody?” I called as I began searching through the rows of shirts.

  “When the cockless love of my life decided she was going to jump off a bridge,” he said, appearing in the doorway.

  I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. “I’m sorry.”

  “Meh. I’ll get over it. You just scared the piss out of me. I’m not much in the mood for going out without you these days.” He smiled absently as he became enthralled with his reflection in the full-length mirror.

  While I wasn’t exactly in the know about Henry’s schedule, I knew that it wasn’t open. He was a busy guy. Yet, somehow, he’d managed to spend every waking minute of the last week at my side. Which meant he’d witnessed me obsessing and worrying about Sam firsthand.

  Which also meant he already knew the answer when he asked, “Still nothing from Sam?”

  Over the previous week, I’d slowly begun the process of getting my life in order while preparing for a month-long stint at a luxury resort. (Read: crazy camp/rehab.) I wasn’t addicted to drugs, but according to the doctor Henry had forced me to see the morning after Sam’s little revelation, depression, anxiety, and exhaustion were my poison. I couldn’t say that I disagreed. I also couldn’t say that I liked it. The press was going to have a field day, but Stewart assured me that we could keep it quiet. I laughed. Nothing was ever quiet in the music industry. The rumors were already circulating.

  During all of it, I had mostly been concerned with what Sam would think when he heard the news. Would he be happy? Relieved? Still angry? Would he allow me a chance to at least apologize? I felt like an ass, but I missed his wicked grin and his golden eyes.

  I missed the way his hands warmed me. And especially the way they sent chills down my spine.

  Honestly, I missed the calm I felt with him just standing next to me smoking a cigarette.

  “Nope,” I replied curtly, taking the emerald-green tunic top he’d picked out from his hands.

  “Then stop moping and call him, Levee. Put your damn pride aside and just call the man.”

  “And say what? ‘Sorry I’m a basket case workaholic who can’t even remember to eat on my own’? ‘Sorry I kicked you out of my house for trying to help me’? ‘Sorry I met you on the top of a bridge while contemplating suicide The exact same bridge that your sister jumped off. You want to go on another date with me?’ Yeah. No, thanks.” I laughed even as tears built in my eyes. “Let’s not forget that, even if I could magically find the words to say, I have no one to tell the
m to. He hasn’t exactly been beating down my door.”

  Just because I hadn’t seen Sam since he’d stormed out of my house didn’t mean I hadn’t thought about him. I’d flipped my house on end but never could find that scrap of paper he’d given me with his cell number. I’d finally given up. I’d called rePURPOSEd more times than I’d ever admit, hanging up before anyone had the chance to answer, sometimes even before the first ring.

  For a person who could tell an entire story within the lyrics of a three-minute song, I couldn’t find the words to fix things with Sam. I was mortified about the way I’d acted the last time I’d seen him. Here was a guy I genuinely liked, who’d gotten a front-row seat to one of the biggest meltdowns of my life. Embarrassment couldn’t even begin to cover it.

  “Okay,” he sighed. “Maybe you should lead with sex. ‘Hey, I’m sorry, but can you at least stop by for another romp in the sack, and this time, let my pal Henry touch your cock?’”

  My mouth fell open in a mixture of anger and disgust, but Henry threw his hands up to stop me before I had the chance to unleash it on him.

  “I’m kidding!” He lowered his voice and mumbled, “Kinda.”

  I hurled a coat hanger at his head.

  He dodged it.

  It was very anticlimactic.

  “You’re lucky I love you,” I warned, stepping into a pair of black pumps.

  Henry cleared his throat. “Wedges.”

  I glared at him for several seconds but eventually stepped to the side and slid the nude wedges on instead.

  “In all seriousness, Levee. I’m not sure a new boyfriend is what you need right now. But I certainly am not going to stop you. Reach out to him. Give him the chance to tell you to fuck off.”

  I flinched. That’s exactly what I was afraid of.

  “Orrrr…more than likely so he can apologize too. Have you stopped to think he might be feeling just as weird about the way things went down as you are? So what if he hasn’t popped up on your doorstep like some lost puppy. That doesn’t mean he isn’t wishing you’d show up on his.”

  God, I hated when Henry made sense.

  But what I really hated was knowing he made sense and being too afraid to listen to his advice.