I’d have never believed it of her. Ever. Last person to do drugs in this world, that’s what her face said. You couldn’t trust one single person in this sick, crazy world.
The thought of her in that toilet cubicle, all fucked up, was too much for me. Putting those drugs in her arm or up her nose or God knew what orifice. Maybe even giving him a blowjob to pay for it. My blood pounded. My head pounded more. I put my hands over my ears, trying to hold everything in.
I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I told myself over and over. She was nothing to me.
But I cared. Fuck knows why, but I did.
I jumped up, knocking my chair over. People around stared. Screw them. I rushed to the bathroom. It was probably too late now but I rushed all the same. The creep walked out as I got near the entrance. My fist ached to slam into his face. Give him an even bigger beating than the one Tex and I had. My vision went black. I’d kill him. I’d take him out forever.
Then I stopped myself. Something inside me said no. Crazy, I know, but all of a sudden, I started thinking about consequences. I had my court case coming up soon. The last thing I needed was to punch some jerk in front of a thousand or more witnesses.
Instead, I ran to Daisy.
She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking numb. Of course she looked numb. We had to get out of there.
Could I trust anyone? All she wanted to be was 100% Daisy. Getting herself fucked up was not being 100% Daisy, it was 100% stupid. First thing was to get her in the car, then the plane home. Once I got home to my apartment, Pete could come over and deal with the mess he’d made. Terminate her contract and whatever else needed doing.
While we waited for the car, she giggled. Of course she giggled. It was even worse standing outside the venue, fans calling out to us. Her being wasted in front of people inside was hard enough, if she did something stupid in front of the fans, everything would fall apart. She said herself, she was their representative. She said a lot of things but most of them must’ve been lies.
“What’s the problem?” she asked when we were in the car, away from prying eyes.
I sat in the opposite corner to her, arms folded and legs crossed. I didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t want to look at her, even.
We drove in silence. We were almost to the airport when I glanced over, wanting to check she was okay before we got on the plane.
She looked different. Really different.
“Have you put on weight since this morning?” I asked.
She’d bloated. I had no idea what that meant but it had to be some reaction to the drugs. I’d have to get her to hospital. It’d be all over the media. She might be really sick. Hell, maybe I should get the driver to take us straight to the emergency room.
I glanced at her again. Other than looking a bit bigger, she looked mighty healthy for someone who’d just gotten fucked up. Her eyes were clear and sparkling.
“Don’t be so fucking rude,” she said. “You try sitting around for hours stuffed into one of those things. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I dunno why you’d get so mad about it. What’s it to you if I have shapewear on or not.”
Huh? The woman was definitely on drugs. She made no sense at all.
“Shapewear? Is that what the kids call it nowadays?”
“That’s what the ‘kids’ have always called it. Anyway, it cost me a few hundred bucks and I left it stuffed behind the toilets. What a waste. But then, breathing beats the fuck out of being thin.”
Suddenly, it dawned on me. “You weren’t doing drugs?”
“Drugs? What the fuck are you talking about. You’re on drugs if you think I’d be doing drugs. Weirdo.”
I should’ve yelled at her for calling me a weirdo. I should’ve reproved her with my silence but, instead, I jumped over to the seat beside her and put my arms around her.
“You are one of a kind, that’s for sure. Definitely 100% Daisy.”
Happiness seeped through my body like the rising of the sun. I’d been a damn idiot, jumping to conclusions. She wouldn’t do that kind of thing. Not my Daisy.
But why? I didn’t care about her. I didn’t care one tiny bit.
Chapter 19.Daisy
Devon and I got called in to a meeting with Pete. Well, it was more like coffee than a meeting. We had to discuss the plan. I’d worn a cute top that showed off my curves. Even though I was being 100% Daisy, didn’t mean I had to be 100% frumpy. Pete and I sat together in awkward silence, waiting for Devon.
I asked him about Devon’s court case, just to make conversation, but nothing new had developed. It all seemed routine according to Pete.
“It’s not even a criminal case, just a civil one. The guy’s suing for damages.”
I knew when Devon arrived because the atmosphere of the cafe became more charged. I watched him stride through the place, heads turning.
When Devon sat down, Pete got right down to business.
“My analysis shows that the photos of the two of you in domestic situations have the best response. We need to do more of that.”
Devon shrugged.
“And Daisy, those photos you’ve been posting are fantastic.”
I looked away. “They’re nothing. Just a few snapshots I took with my phone, that’s all.”
“So when do we have this domestic date?” Devon asked.
“Are you busy now?” Pete asked.
“Yes, actually I am. You might not know this but I have an album to work on.”
“I meant with other stuff.”
Devon glared at him. Pete glared back. I stayed silent because they could work this out themselves. I was free any time. My entire life now was devoted to being a fake girlfriend.
“Okay,” said Pete. “It’s settled. You go back to Daisy’s place and do some shit. Just an hour or so. Snap some pics and upload them, then you can go back to your album stuff, whatever it is you’re doing.”
Wow, sick burn there, Pete. I wondered what Devon did too. He wasn’t recording and he wasn’t writing. It seemed like a lot of it involved staring into space. I guess there was stuff going on under the surface.
We got in the car and headed to my place.
I hoped I’d cleaned up before I’d gone out. If I had dirty knickers on the floor, I’d die of embarrassment. And shit, I had those Devon posters up in the bedroom. Some in the living room too. My whole apartment was a Devon shrine! And now Devon was visiting. I had no idea what he’d think of that. Would it look creepy? It would definitely look creepy. Would he wait outside while I cleaned up?
I glanced over at him. He’d definitely not do that. If I asked, he’d just be more determined to look inside. He was like that, I’d discovered. Full of impulses and vague decisions.
I gave the driver my address and thought about getting Meadow to run over and sort shit out but she’d never make it in time. I’d just have to suffer. It’s not like Devon didn’t know I was a massive fangirl anyway. Now it was just the dirty knickers to deal with.
“So, any ideas about what kind of domestic situation we need to get into?” Devon asked. His voice had an edge of suggestion that got my insides fluttering.
I had a few ideas about domestic situations myself but none of those could be posted on the Internet.
He smiled. His smile could charm the panties off a nun. It was a roguish smile. I was a lost cause.
“You look so cute when you blush like that,” he said.
“I’m not blushing.”
“You are. You blush when you think dirty thoughts.”
Hell, now I blushed even more. He knew too much.
“Anyway, I’m starved. What about you?”
I nodded like crazy.
He put his arm over the back of the seat. “So, when we get back to your place, you can cook me dinner.”
“Me? Cook?”
“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just something homemade and easy.”
“Like an omelette?”
Omelettes were the only thing I
could cook with any success. And I was pretty sure I had the ingredients to make one. Eggs, cheese. Maybe even some bacon, if I’d not eaten it all.
“Yep, exactly like that.”
“You sure?”
“Even rock stars can’t eat out every night. I want something simple. And you can’t get more domestic than cooking dinner.”
“Okay.”
When we got to my place, Devon told the driver not to wait. That surprised me. He followed me inside.
“I used to live in a place like this,” he said, as we walked up the stairs. Nothing fancy like elevators in my building.
“That would’ve been a long time ago.”
“Yeah, when I still lived at home. My parents still live there.”
“You never bought them a fancy mansion?”
“They never wanted one. They don’t like taking things.”
That seemed sad to me. One of the things that would be awesome about being rich and famous, surely, would be buying things for your family and friends. If I hit it rich, I’d buy my parents a nice house and I’d buy one for Meadow too. We’d have a row of fancy houses just for us. I’d never be happy if that happiness didn’t include everyone I knew. I didn’t want to probe into Devon’s family situation though. Even though I knew so much about him, there were things he never discussed in interviews. His family was one of them. Another was that name – Julie.
I opened the door and then paused.
“Do you want me to wait outside while you clean up a bit?” he asked. Again with the mind reading.
“If you don’t mind.”
“I’ll give you five minutes.” He grinned. I knew that meant he’d be timing me.
I ran inside and did a quick sweep of the bedroom, gathering up the dirty clothes off the floor. Really, I should be neater just in case of situations like this. Because the possibility of Devon coming to my house was so likely!
There was no way I could remove all the posters and fan merchandise in time. Even if I did, there’d be marks on the walls and he’d know what I’d done. I ran into the bathroom and gave it a quick tidy then grabbed the laundry basket and topped it up with every bit of clutter I could find.
I had 30 seconds left so did a quick scan to make sure I didn’t have tampon packets or other girlie stuff sitting around. Thankfully, no.
The door opened.
“Time’s up.”
I smiled. I really could’ve used that five minutes to freshen my makeup but the housework had seemed more important. I mean, the guy had seen me wrapped in a towel. But then, I’d seen him take a piss in a hallway, so we were about even. Hell, why had I even worried about the tampon boxes?
“What do you want to eat?” I asked. “I have to warn you, I’m not much of a cook.” I opened the fridge to see what I actually had. “I really do think an omelette is the most likely thing.”
I had eggs, cheese, bacon and a few vegies.
“Sounds good to me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it sounds 100% Daisy.”
My heart fluttered at that. It was like we had a thing now. The “100% Daisy” thing. It was so coupley and nice. I was slowly but surely chipping away at his heart.
“Do you want me to help?” Devon asked.
“Not really, the kitchen is way too small for two people. You can take a few photos of me cooking though, and then I can take some fake ones of you.”
Once we’d done that, the omelette was ready to cook.
Devon wandered around my apartment.
“They made socks with my face on them? You are kidding me. When did they do that?”
“Back in 2013. They were big sellers.”
“It seems gross, people walking around with my face on their feet. I’d get covered in smelly foot sweat.”
Ha, good one. I’d never thought of that. I flipped the omelette. It kind of fell apart and became a mess but it smelt good.
I hoped he didn’t find the Devon underwear because I had worn that.
I dished up the food and we sat on the sofa with our plates balanced on our knees, since I had no dining table. I normally sat up at the counter in the kitchen but that only had enough room for one. Before we ate, I took a ton of snaps with my phone.
“So, what is this secret dream of yours?” he asked after he’d finished eating.
God, I’d thought he’d have forgotten that. It was surely a good sign that he remembered but I didn’t want to discuss it.
“Nothing. Nothing at all really.”
“Right.” He stared up at the poster on the wall. “My hair looked better then, don’t you think?”
“Huh?” I looked at the poster, then back at him. “I like it now. It’s not so harsh.”
“Maybe you’re right. Hell, I can’t even remember half these photos being taken. My life’s a mess.”
“It’s been a long time for some of them. What was it like back then? You guys were pretty young when you hit it big.”
“Tell you what, you tell me your secret dream, Daisy, and I’ll let you ask me any question you want.”
He still stared at the poster. He must’ve been only about 18 or 19 when it had been taken. He’d been trying so hard to look hardened but he still had traces of boyhood about his face. A chubbiness to the cheeks that had long been replaced with hard angles. He didn’t need to try to look world-weary now. Life had done enough.
“Okay, deal. You have to promise you’ll answer honestly though.”
He nodded. Sincerity shone in his expression. I believed he would. There was one thing I wanted to know.
I didn’t want to go into my history but I had promised him. I gazed around the room, looking for a distraction, but everything was so quiet. I couldn’t get out of this.
There was an easy way to explain. I got a glossy pamphlet out of one the drawers in the dresser. I’d never thrown it out. It was a stupid dream and he’d laugh at me but it was worth the humiliation to find out his secret in return. The pamphlet was one of those school booklets, for the most prestigious photography school on the coast.
I handed it to him and then poured him a glass of wine. It was cheap no-name wine I’d had in the cupboard for a while. Probably not even drinkable but, if he didn’t need a drink, I sure did.
“You’re applying to study photography? Why is that such a big secret?”
“I’m not applying. I applied. I applied. Four times.”
He leaned toward me. “You didn’t get in?”
“I didn’t get in.”
That was my secret shame. I’d not told anyone about applying except Meadow. That way, when the rejection came, it didn’t hurt as much. Even telling Meadow I’d been knocked back had been difficult. The first few times I’d gotten my hopes up so high.
“You’ll get in for sure,” Meadow had said. “You’re so talented.”
I’d made life plans based on getting accepted. Then I’d been turned down. No explanation. No reasons. Just a form letter, saying the selection process was highly competitive and wishing me luck. I wasn’t even worth an explanation. People said I had a talent but it was a tiny talent. Not big enough for anything good.
Maybe it’d been a tough year though. I was still hopeful that I could try again. The fourth time though, I’d just gone through the motions. One final time before I gave up altogether.
“Don’t look so glum,” Devon said. “It’s just one school, one opinion.”
I toyed with my hair. It hurt to talk about this.
“It’s not just one school. It’s the school. They’re the best. If I’d gotten in there, I’d have learnt so much. I’d have made connections. I’d have a career. No other school would give me that. They’d just be second best.”
I hoped that’d be the end of it but he thought about what I’d said, then started again.
“It’s not that important. Wait, listen to me. Do you think I’d be where I am today if I’d been discouraged every time someone called me a no-talent chump? I’d be in my bedro
om, crying like a little bitch. But what do I care for their opinion? I do what I want, regardless of what anyone says. And those critics, they mean nothing because the fans love my work. They are the ones that matter, no one else.”
“What about that reporter you punched? If he didn’t matter, why did you punch him?”
He took a sip of the wine, then made a face, but still drank it.
“I didn’t care what he said. Well, I did, a bit. He was a total dick. But that was a fleeting moment of caring. I didn’t put my career on hold. I didn’t decide to quit. I just punched him and moved on.”
“So you’re advising me to punch people?”
“No, I’m telling you to move on. Who even needs to go to school to take photos? It’s not all that hard. Just start with it.”
This was all easy for him to say. He’d been successful since he was young. He hardly knew the kinds of failures I’d known.
“There’s a guy who does most of the band photography. I’ll give him a call and see if you can get some assistant work. You’ll learn heaps more with him than in some lame classroom.”
“I can’t get a job just because I’m your girlfriend.”
He held his hand up. “Stop right there. Get your head around this. No one gets work because they are talented or the best at what they do. Not at the beginning. You get your foot in the door with who you know or who you bribe or who you bug until they just give you a chance so that you shut up. Getting in is easy. Once you’re there, you stay there because you’re good. If you can’t do the job, these people won’t spare your feelings. They can’t afford that. They have a job to get done. Anyway, it’s assistant work. You’ll probably just be fetching coffee and all that boring shit.”
I gulped. I wasn’t sure I believed all he said but I couldn’t find a flaw in his logic.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Screw thinking about it. You’ll do it. I’ll make the call now.”
“You’re missing the point. I’m not good enough. I’ll always fall short of the mark.”
He ignored me and stayed on the phone. The whole thing was organised. I wanted to throw up. I’d never wanted his help. Surely, if I lacked the talent, it was better to just give up.
Bad for You (Fallen Star Book 4) Page 9
