Without another thought, I hit the dial button and I pace my kitchen while I wait. My heart thunders so loudly in my chest that I fear it might burst free at any time. I find my teeth chewing on my bottom lip as anxiety gets the better of me. I’ve never been like this before, I’m usually confident to the point of being arrogant, but now I’m like a shell of my former self. I doubt the people in my life would even recognise now.
“Hello, Mr. Beaumont’s office,” a silky smooth female voice offers. I feel the tight knot loosen in my chest and my shoulders to sag with relief. This seems real. Like, really real. Maybe this is actually happening for me! “How may I help you?”
“My name is Stephen Jones,” I reply with only a little shake in my voice. “I’ve been asked to call this number. I was an artist on the Princess Cruise.”
“Ah okay,” recognition sparks in her voice. “Yes, I know. Mr. Beaumont is very interested in you. He’s actually in a meeting at the moment so I’ll have to get him to call you back if that’s okay?”
“Oh, right that’s fine.”
I can hear the sound of rustling papers in the background. I try to imagine the sleek office that I’m sure this woman is sitting in. All white and silver, very show offy. The music industry is all about appearance. Artists, offices, everything needs to look amazing. That’s why I need to take this chance if it comes my way. Soon enough I’ll be far too old.
“Actually, I know he wants to meet with you face to face so I can set that up if you like?”
My excitement grows, I know this is a good sign. Music moguls don’t bother wasting time on people they don’t give a shit about. “Yes please.”
“Can you do Friday at eleven AM?”
Oh my God, is this real? Is this really happening? I reach my fingers down to pinch my arm, but the sharp radiating pain that greets me reminds me that I am actually awake here. This isn’t a dream at all.
“Sure, sure, sounds good.”
“Wonderful I shall pencil you in.” The thing is she really does sound like she likes the ides of me coming in for a meeting. I must have done better than I thought with my one show on the cruise. How much better I could have done had the damn murder not happened. “I will see you then. Goodbye.”
“Thanks, Violet.” I must be keen, I even remembered her name. “Goodbye.”
By the time, I hang up the phone the second time I feel much more positive about things. This is amazing, a great sign that things are going my way at last. This is exactly what I came to America for and now it looks like it might really be happening. I jump around excitedly for only a moment, celebrating before reality crashes down on me once more.
It makes things crystal clear to me, and actually the one thing that comes out of it the most is the fact that I need to go to the cops about what I saw on the boat. I mean, I already thought that but now I really know it. I just have to find a way to do it anonymously so it doesn’t bring a load of shit my way afterwards. Maybe I couldn’t do anything to save the dead man, but I can let his family know what happened to him and I can try to prevent it from happening to anyone else. Including me.
I want to go into my dream with a clear, focused head. I want to be able to enjoy it. I don’t want to be worrying about criminals coming after me. I need to put an end to this once and for all.
I glance at myself on the small mirror that I have on my wall, allowing a smile to spread across my lips. Maybe I do look tired and more drawn than usual, but that’ll change when I put all this behind me and I get my mojo back. I’ll be back to my handsome self soon enough. I will get back to Stephen Jones and then I can finally start living the dream.
Chapter Nine - Tia
They’re all living the God damn dream. All of them, it really isn’t fair. As I scroll through Facebook, taking a break from my writing that really isn’t happening, my heart sinks lower into my chest. Diana has been positing some incredible looking pictures of Cambodia and Tokyo, Helen has already been promoted, and by the looks of it Alexa is doing amazingly with her wedding planning. It’s only me stuck in my teenage bedroom, ignoring the one piece of writing that I’ve done since college, getting nowhere with my plan to move out at all.
At this rate, I’ll be here forever.
‘He’s there, standing in front of me, the man I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with. Or if not love, then lust. With his hot, muscular body nearing mine, my heart leaps and dances about in my chest. There’s a fire in the pit of my stomach, a burning that races all the way down to my center. If I don’t have him soon then I might just die.’
I don’t know what it is about this paragraph but I really want to finish it. There’s something about the text that gets my heart racing and pleads with me to be inspired. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of how I felt when I first saw Stephen Jones. That magical moment when I finally started to feel like someone new.
I pick my pen up and hover it over the page. I want to write more, I feel like the words are in there within me, but they’re trapped. They’re waiting for something. Or maybe someone.
If only I could see Stephen again. I don’t know why but I feel like that could solve everything. Even if he’s a player who totally blew me off I just want to see him. Maybe it’s just to get answers, to learn why he didn’t come back for me after he promised that he would, or maybe it’s because I miss him and he’s handsome. So damn handsome.
There’s no point in me looking him up online. Mostly because I already have and for someone that wants to have a music career he has a very sparse social media presence. I’ve found a very bare Facebook profile. I’ve sent him a friend request but I haven’t had anything back as yet. I don’t hold out much hope because it doesn’t look like he’s really into it at all.
I sigh loudly and roll over on my bed so I’m staring up at the ceiling. All I want to do is get the hell out of here but I can’t seem to do it. Something is holding me in place and I don’t know what it is.
“Tia?” Mom’s voice rolls up the stairs. “Are you in?”
I haven’t seen much of her since I’ve been back, but I think that might be more because of me than anyone else. I’m avoiding her, I’m avoiding Dad, I’m basically just avoiding life. Every time the house is empty I take a look around, I snoop trying to find what I can, but I don’t get anything. My dad keeps his office locked when he’s not in there and it seems he has the only key that he keeps on him at all times, so I have to assume that he’s meticulously careful and everything is only in there. You would think that he’d have one slip up and he’d accidently drop something somewhere, but it seems not. Maybe that’s why he’s such a good criminal.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I practically mumble back.
“Can I speak with you?”
I know she’s asking for permission to come into my room and I’m also very aware that she’ll find a way in whether I say yes or not. I flip back onto my front, slam my laptop shut and tuck my notebook away. This house might be big, but it’s no good for privacy. For me at least. I’ve been forced to learn how to make things look boring so Mom doesn’t don’t bother.
“Yep. Come in.”
I force myself into a sitting position and I brush my clothes down. Maybe if I make myself look presentable Mom won’t notice that I’m falling head first into a pit of depression. One that I’m not sure I’ll be able to claw my way out of.
By the time Mom has pushed the door open I think I look normal enough, but judging by the furrowed expression on her face I haven’t managed to pull it off.
“What is going on with you, Tia?” she asks in an exasperated tone of voice. “You just aren’t you anymore.”
“Erm.” I can feel my face flame with humiliation. I cough awkwardly trying to cover up my embarrassment. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, Tia.” She shakes her head in despair. “When you left here you were such a happy girl, always laughing and having fun with your friends. Now, I don’t know who you are anymore. You’re always locked away in your
room, you don’t speak to any of us, I never see you with anyone. What happened to you? Did you have a bad time in college? Or maybe on the cruise?”
I screw my fists up in temper. I don’t want to say it aloud for fear of having a massive argument but I don’t see how she has the right to say this to me. She barely knows me, she didn’t know me then and she doesn’t know me now. This is all superficial observations that she’s basing this off of. Maybe if she really knew me she would have more reason to be worried, but that isn’t the point here.
“I’m just trying to work out what to do, Mom, that’s all. I’m trying to work out my next move. I thought you said I could stay here for as long as I need to.”
“You can,” she insists rapidly. “This isn’t that. I’m just worried, that’s all. Are you happy? Can you honestly tell me that you’re okay at the moment?”
I part my lips, ready to reassure her again but before I do I halt myself. I’ve been wanting to speak to Mom about this the whole time, I just haven’t had a chance. Maybe this is the opportunity that I’ve been waiting for. She’s in my bedroom, we’re alone, Dad is out as far as I’m aware… it has to be now.
“No, Mom, I’m not happy.” I purse my lips and shoot her a determined glance. I wait for her to challenge me but she doesn’t. She waits for me to start speaking again although I can tell by the way she desperately tries to keep her expression straight that it isn’t patiently. “I overheard something the other day in this house that has me really worried.”
Almost as an instinctive reaction she stands and she paces up and down the room. “You… you did?”
I need to pursue this now, no matter what. “I came home and I didn’t think that anyone was in. As you know I didn’t come home much during the holidays when I was at college…”
“You didn’t come home at all,” Mom accuses. “Not even once.”
No, because I didn’t want to come back into this circus freak show, I think, but of course I don’t say that aloud.
“So I wanted to familiarize myself with the house again.” I offer Mom a one shouldered shrug. “I was just walking aimlessly around.”
“And what happened?”
“I heard…” I sigh loudly and hang my head. “I head Dad and Adrian talking about murder.” I expect Mom to gasp or something, but she remains dead silent. “Mom, did you hear me? They were talking about murder. As in, they are going to commit murder. They’re going to kill someone because someone saw something they didn’t like.”
Mom still doesn’t say anything. She just nods and looks at her feet. Sickness coils around in my stomach, I have to clamp my lips tightly together to stop it from spilling out. My brain buzzes painfully, I can almost feel it banging against the sides of my brain. This doesn’t seem like Mom just ignores everything and turns a blind eye to it, it seems like she actively knows and she chooses not to care because of a few designer handbags.
“Mom? Why aren’t you saying anything?” I warn. “Don’t you think we should go to the cops or something?”
She grabs onto my arm and gives me a truly panicked look. As she does I realize it’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen in her face in my entire life. Even through all the Botox I can see that she’s terrified. “You cannot do that. You can’t go to the police. You go to the cops and you wreck everything.”
“Everything?” I push her off me and step backwards. “So, you’re okay with this? You don’t mind your husband, my father, killing someone just so you can keep everything? Are you insane?”
She opens her mouth but no words come out. She knows as well as I do that there is no excusing what she’s done. I open my eyes wider at her, showing her my shock. Now she’s standing across from me and she’s a whole new woman. Someone that I really don’t like or need to be around. I guess I don’t know her either.
“Well that’s fine, you don’t want me to go to the cops about Dad because it might take your house and your wardrobe away from you, that’s fine, but I strongly suggest that you do something to stop him from killing. People like him don’t get away with it forever. His lifestyle will catch up with him eventually. And I’m not going to be around to see it.” Determination floods me, I know now more than ever that I need to get away. “By this time next week I’ll be gone, and I don’t want any blood money to do it with.”
Mom sneers at me. “And how do you think you’ll cope without it? You think you’re so much better than me but you’ve been living off that money you’re whole life. You’ve benefitted so much and I really don’t think you’ll last.” She screws up her nose in disgust at me. “Look at you, you’re so lazy you haven’t even bothered to get a job yet. How will you cope when you have to? When you need the cash to pay bill?”
“I’ll get a job,” I insist. Tears fill my eyes but I don’t let them fall. I will not allow this woman to see me cry no matter what. “Even if it’s waitressing. People do it all the time. I can do it too.”
Mom laughs loudly as if the idea of me succeeding is ridiculous, which make my blood boil and my body burn. “You can’t do anything, Tia. The sooner you learn that the better. Maybe you’ll go and you’ll try but you’ll soon be back, begging for Daddy to pay everything again.”
“Get out,” I spit angrily. “Get out, Mom. I don’t want you here, I don’t want to speak to you again.”
“Yeah, sure.” She rolls her eyes and flicks her hair back. “Whatever, Tia. Honestly I can’t be bothered with you anymore. I came in here to try and look after you but clearly that’s not what you want, so whatever.”
As she leaves I feel a tear rolling down my cheek. I don’t even bother to brush it away I just leave it there, reminding me that everything is falling apart. If I thought things were bad when college ended then I had no idea what was coming for me. Everything is a billion times worse now. My shitty family has fallen further apart, my friends are even more distant, Stephen is still nowhere to be seen…
I think it’s time to accept that my dreams are never coming true. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about my life in a much more realistic way.
Chapter Ten - Stephen
Right, police today, interview tomorrow.
Those words keep circling my brain as I move forwards. Police today, interview tomorrow. Put the past me right now and start on my future tomorrow. It’s not a bad plan, but something about it keeps twisting around in my gut. It’s almost as if I’m scared of it, but I don’t know why. Sure, I can still feel the prickles on the back of my neck as I move, but I’ve come to the conclusion now that it’s all just my paranoia. I’m sure once I’ve unloaded this weight, all will be done. I can go back to normal and reclaim my life.
As my feet continue to go I try to plan what I’m going to say. I need to make it very clear to the cops that I’m not crazy so that they take me serious. I also need to find a way to ensure that my identity remains a secret, that part is vital. I’m sure the cops have some sort of policy where I can tell them things in secret. Right?
“Stephen?” I hear a female voice call out from behind me, and for some reason my instincts tell me that it’s Tia. Even though I’ve tried to push her to the back of my brain as just another one night stand I can’t. She keeps coming back, no matter what I do. My heart lifts in my chest, excitement courses through me. If Tia has found a way back into my life then that will be a sign that everything is going to be okay. “Is that you?”
But as I spin I realize that I’m wrong. It isn’t Tia at all, it’s the red head from the dive bar. I can’t remember her name, I don’t even think I know it. All I can remember, and the memory is admittedly very vague, is a quick shag in the stock room.
“Oh right.” I shake my head to try and rid it of disappointment. “Hey.”
“What’s going on?” she purrs, moving closer to me. “I haven’t seen you for a while. How was your trip?” I shrug, not trusting myself to speak. “I thought you were going to come and see me again afterwards.”
“Oh right, I… I’ve just been ver
y busy.” I’m stammering, I can barely string a sentence together. The only thing I can really concentrate on is getting to the police station and sticking to my original plan. “Sorry about that. Maybe at the weekend…”
“Why don’t you come now?” She hooks her arm into mine and tugs me towards her. “I’m about to go and open up. We can have a good hour to ourselves if you like.”
The old me would have jumped at the chance, but that me died on the ferry along with the man who got shot and thrown off the edge. “Oh I can’t, I have to be somewhere I need to.”
“Where, baby?” she asks, leaning in close so her breath tickles my cheek. “Where you got to be that’s so important?”
I don’t answer her because there’s no way in hell I want to get into the story with someone I barely know. Instead I shake my head and keep my lips squeezed tightly together.
“Why don’t you come with me then?” She tugs on me harder, which suggests to me that she’s never going to let me go. “We don’t even have to do anything. We can just have a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink at this time of the morning…” My words trail off as I realize that actually I do want a drink. Just to steady my nerves. It isn’t the best idea in the world, but it feels good to think about. I even lick my lips in desperation.
“Come on.” The red head senses my weakness and she yanks me until I can’t help but follow her. I’m not really thinking much, I’m just going with the flow because I know it won’t really ruin my plan. Police today, interview tomorrow. That still stands. I’m just having a little moment first, some time to myself.
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