Breaking Hollywood

by Samantha Towle

A tear runs down my face. I brush it away with the back of my hand.

  I want to beg him to listen, but my dignity won’t allow it. So, I take a fortifying breath before I speak again, “Then, I guess there’s nothing more left to say.”

  “No, there isn’t. Only that I want you out of my home and out of my life.”

  With my heart in tatters, shredded at my feet, I turn and run back to my room. As soon as I’m inside, a sob breaks from my mouth. I press my hand to my mouth to catch it. Tears run down my face as I grab my handbag and shove a few items of clothes into it. I’ll have to come back for the rest. I just need to get out of here now. I grab my car keys off the dresser, and I go back through to the living room.

  Gabe’s still there, back to me, staring out the window again.

  I pick my cell up from the sofa and scoop Gucci up in my arms. She presses her face into my neck, comforting me, like she understands what’s going on. Her comfort makes me hurt so much more.

  “I just…I can’t believe this is happening.” My quiet words echo around the room.

  Gabe slowly turns to me.

  I watch him with pleading eyes. “I didn’t do what you think I did. You’re making a mistake.”

  His mouth tightens. Eyes darken. “The only mistake I’ve ever made was trusting you.”

  I thought he couldn’t cut me more. I was wrong.

  I close my eyes against the pain. Tears run from the corners of them.

  He says my name.

  I open my eyes to him.

  “I don’t ever want to see you again. Understand?”

  I nod my head because it’s all I can do. Words have failed me.

  And, using every ounce of strength I have, I turn and leave his apartment for good.

  Ava

  I climb in my car and put Gucci on the passenger seat. I throw my bag into the footwell.

  For a moment, I just sit here, hands on my steering wheel, staring out the window in disbelief.

  I can’t believe what just happened.

  Tears run down my face and onto my lips. I wipe them away with my hands.

  “Baaahhh.”

  I glance over at Gucci. “I know, baby. I just…I don’t know what’s happening. I’m as confused as you are.”

  I pick her up and set her in my lap, hugging her to me. I bury my face in her soft fur. Tears start to soak her coat.

  “Sorry, baby girl.” I dry her fur with my hand and wipe my eyes dry.

  I don’t know what to do. I could call my brother, but he’s in Japan at the moment, and I don’t want to bother him. And I know, if I call Mom and Dad, they’ll want me to come home to New York. Stupidly, I don’t want to leave here. Because Gabe’s here.

  I know; I’m a fucking idiot.

  But he’s alone, and he’s hurting.

  He might hate me and think I’ve done an awful thing. I might be angry and hurt as hell that he thinks I could have done that to him, but I love him, and I don’t want him to be alone when this story hits the press.

  I think about calling Tate because I know Gabe won’t, but I don’t know his cell number. I don’t want to call the hospital.

  Then, it hits me.

  There is one person I can call.

  I lean over and grab my cell from my bag. I take a deep breath, steadying my breathing, and press her number.

  “Hey, stranger.”

  “Hey, Charly.”

  Charly is a good friend of mine. I’ve known her for years. I’ve not spoken to her in a few months, but this is how we’ve always been. And I know I can call her whenever I need help.

  “I know it’s been a while since I last called, but I really need your help.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “Are you in LA at the moment?”

  “No, I’m in Oregon.”

  Charly lives there with her boyfriend, Vaughn West, who’s a famous movie star, and he also happens to be a close friend of Gabe’s. That’s the reason I’ve called her. I know Gabe has just been a world-class asshole to me and has hurt me like no one has before, but I also know he’s hurting over the fact that the whole world will soon know about his past, and I don’t want him to be alone when that happens. I know it’s killing him that this will be getting out.

  “Oh. Okay. Just…could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Could you have Vaughn call Gabe?”

  “Gabe? As in, Gabe Evans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. But why are you asking me to get Vaughn to call Gabe? I didn’t think you guys knew each other well. Or at all.”

  I take a deep breath. “We didn’t. But we do now. It’s a long story. I just really need Vaughn to call Gabe.”

  She picks up on the urgency of my tone. “What’s going on, Ava?”

  An unexpected sob bursts from me. I press my hand to my mouth.

  “Shit, Ava. What’s going on?”

  “Just Gabe and I were together, and now, we’re not because he thinks I did something that I didn’t. And, now, something’s about to be made public and it’s going to really hurt him and I don’t want him to be alone and I would have called his brother, but I don’t know his number, and I know Vaughn is a good friend and I thought he could call him—”

  “Okay, babe. I’ll get Vaughn to call Gabe. But, first, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me everything from the start.”

  So, I do. I tell her everything—from the moment I hit Gabe with my car to what just happened in his apartment. The only things I leave out are the details of Gabe’s past. It might be public knowledge soon, but I made a promise that I wouldn’t ever tell a soul, and I’m keeping that promise even if Gabe thinks I didn’t.

  “Jesus, Ava. I don’t know what to say. I just—”

  “It’s fine, Charly.”

  “No, it’s not fine. He blames you for this when you haven’t done anything wrong.”

  My heart swells because she believes me at my word, which is more than Gabe did.

  “And the first thing you do is call me, so I can have Vaughn check on him. Guy doesn’t know how lucky he is.”

  “He’s hurting.”

  “He’s an asshole. I’m sorry, Ava, but he is.”

  No, he’s in pain. He thinks I’ve betrayed him.

  But I don’t want her to think I’m making excuses for him, so I say nothing.

  “Will you just have Vaughn call him, please?”

  “He’s calling him now.”

  “Oh. Good. That’s great. Thank you.”

  There’s a brief pause, and then Charly says, “So, what are you going to do now?”

  I let out a sigh. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you have anywhere to stay?”

  I look around my car and at Gucci, who climbed back onto the passenger seat while I’ve been talking to Charly.

  “Well, I can try to get a hotel room, but I don’t know of any hotels that’ll take Gucci.”

  “Who the hell is Gucci?”

  “She’s my pygmy goat.”

  “You have a pygmy goat? When—actually, never mind. What about Logan? Can you go to his place?”

  “He got a job in Maine. Went there a few days ago. But I’ll be fine, honestly. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Yeah, of course I’m not going to worry.” I can practically see her rolling her eyes at me. “Look, I’m gonna call the hotel where Vaughn and I stay when we’re in LA. I’ll get you a room there.”

  “What about Gucci?”

  “They’ll take you and Gucci, or they’ll lose business they don’t want to lose.”

  Her confidence makes me smile.

  “It’s really kind of you to offer to do this, Charly, but my bank account won’t stretch to the kind of hotels that you and Vaughn stay in. I’ll just try and get a motel. And, if not, I’ll sleep in my car.”

  “The hell you will. I’m calling the hotel now, and I’m paying—”

  “Charly, no.”

  “Ava, I’m not taking n
o for an answer. I’m booking you a room for you and your goat. And then I’m catching a flight to LA first thing.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t. But I want to. You’re my friend, babe. And I know, if this were reversed, you’d do the exact same for me.”

  “Of course I would. In a heartbeat.”

  “So, it’s settled then. I’ll text you with the hotel details in a few minutes. Call me if there are any problems when you check in. And I’ll see you in the morning.”

  A tear rolls from my eye and down my cheek. “Thanks, Charly. I’ve missed you.”

  “Missed you, too, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

  “See you then.”

  I hang the phone up and hold it to my chest. Then, I rest my head back on the headrest and stare up at the roof of my car, praying that Gabe is okay up there, in his apartment, alone.

  Gabe

  I pick up the bottle of scotch that I’ve spent the night with and drain the remains.

  I glance out at the morning creeping into the dark.

  Foo Fighters’ “Best of You” is playing on a loop. It’s been playing for hours. It’s stuck on repeat. But I can’t be fucked to get up and change it. And, honestly, it’s pretty fucking apt for me at the moment, so I’ve just left it playing.

  My cell starts to ring. I glance over at it on the coffee table.

  Tate.

  I leave it to ring out.

  My cell’s been ringing all night. Vaughn. Julian. Gil. Donna. My publicist. And a bunch of other people I don’t give a shit about.

  This is the first time that Tate’s called though.

  He must’ve just seen the news.

  Jesus. The thought of my baby brother knowing what I used to do to make money…

  I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe through the pain.

  I should have called him to give him a heads-up, but I just couldn’t bring myself to call him.

  Well, he knows now.

  The whole world knows.

  My cell starts to ring again.

  A number I don’t recognize.

  “Fuck off!” I yell at my phone, like the person on the other end can hear me.

  I should turn it off.

  But Speedy might call.

  Pathetic, right?

  She’s betrayed me. Fed me to the sharks in return for a cash bonus. And I won’t turn my phone off in case she calls.

  Not that I would answer. I just want to have the satisfaction of knowing that she called.

  She sold you out, you pathetic piece of shit.

  I laugh out loud. The sound echoes around my empty apartment, reminding me that I’m alone.

  And alone is how I should be. It’s how I should have always been. I should never have gotten involved with her.

  I can’t believe how fucking stupid I was. I told her everything. Spilled my guts out like a little bitch. When what I should have done is gotten rid of her. I should have tossed her out on her ass the second I fucked her.

  Needing a smoke, I grab my cigarette pack off the floor, but the box is empty.

  “For fuck’s sake.” I crumple the box in my hand and toss it aside.

  Then, I drag my sorry ass off the sofa and go in search of some smokes. I think there are some in the kitchen drawer.

  I go into the kitchen and stop dead, hit with a barrage of memories of her in here, cooking.

  I can almost see her here, at the counter, cutting up vegetables for that fucking goat. And that time when she was making pizza, and I moved behind her and slid my fingers inside her—

  “Fuck!” I roar.

  I shove everything off the counter with my arms, the items crashing to the floor. Then, I’m grabbing anything I can get my hands on. The cups on the rack go smashing into the wall. The pan sitting on the stove goes flying across the room. I pick up a kitchen stool and start smashing it against the wall until only pieces of wood are left in my hands.

  “Fuck!” I grip my head in my hands and slide down the wall to the floor as I start to cry.

  I’m fucking crying.

  I haven’t cried since…it’s been so long that I can’t remember. And, now, here I am, bawling my eyes out like a pussy because of her.

  I fucking hate her.

  And I love her.

  I want her.

  I didn’t know it was possible to feel such strong conflicting emotions for one person, but Ava’s shown me that I can.

  The first and only woman I’ve ever fallen in love with, and she guts me like this.

  Why did she do this to me? How could she do this to me?

  I thought it hurt when my parents were taken to prison, leaving Tate and me alone. But this feels so much worse. Ava took my trust and used it against me.

  And for what?

  Money.

  Fuck, if that was all she wanted, I would have given it to her.

  I would have given her anything.

  Done anything for her.

  But it’s all just so fucked up. Because she’s never been about money. She’s never seemed to care about it.

  So, why sell me out for cash?

  It just doesn’t make sense.

  But then maybe I didn’t know her at all. Clearly, I didn’t.

  And it’s not like I’m known for having a good judge of character. I didn’t know my parents were murdering psychos, and I’d known them for seventeen years.

  I laugh out loud at my own fucking stupidity, my head thudding back against the wall.

  It just…fucking hurts so much.

  I loved her.

  I love her.

  It hurts too much, and I need it to stop. I need to stop feeling.

  I rub my hand over my face, drying away my pussy tears, and get to my feet. Stepping over the mess I just made, I go to the freezer and get the bottle of vodka from there.

  I unscrew the cap and take a long drink. The liquor calms my pounding pulse, chilling my veins.

  I retrieve a cigarette pack from the kitchen drawer and go back into the living room.

  That fucking song is still playing.

  I go over to my iPod system and turn the repeat off. I click forward a song. Fall Out Boy’s “Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down” starts to pump out of the speakers as I flop down on the sofa.

  I get a cigarette out, put it between my lips, and light it up. I inhale a long pull of smoke.

  I screw the cap off the vodka and take a long drink, letting the smoke out through my nose.

  Fuck, that’s better.

  This is all I need in life—cigarettes and alcohol. Wasn’t it Oasis who sang that song? They had it right. I don’t need anything else but these two things in my hands right now.

  Fuck Ava. And her lies and deceit.

  I don’t need her. I never did.

  And fuck the rest of the world, too.

  I don’t need anyone.

  Everything I need, I’ve got right here.

  Ava

  It’s early morning. I’m not sure of the time. I only know it’s morning because the sun is up.

  Miley is on the TV, swinging on a wrecking ball and singing her little broken heart out.

  I feel your pain, Miley. I really do.

  Men are assholes.

  Maybe I should get a wrecking ball to swing around on. It might make me feel better.

  As you can probably guess, I haven’t slept all night. My eyes are swollen and puffy, and I’m mentally drained. I’ve alternated between bouts of crying and then feeling angry and confused to eating my body weight in chocolate to make myself feel better. I’m an eater when I’m sad.

  And I’m definitely sad right now, and this song is not doing anything to help my mood.

  But I don’t turn it off. Clearly, I’m in the mood to torture myself.

  I look over at the box of chocolates.

  Empty.

  I sigh.

  I clamber off the bed and go over to the mini bar. There are bars of chocolate in it.
But the prices are astronomical, and I can’t afford to waste my money on overpriced chocolate, no matter how much I might want it.

  “Looks like another trip to the store,” I say to Gucci.

  She’s asleep on the bed. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even hear me.

  I put my hair up into a messy bun. I pull on my hoodie and push my feet into my flip-flops.

  Then, I look down at myself.

  I’m wearing my Little Mermaid pajamas.

  I consider this for a moment.

  Screw it. I’m going out in them. It’s not like I’m out to impress anyone right now. And, honestly, I don’t give a crap what people will think.

  I can just be the crazy lady in her pajamas.

  I’m just about to get my wallet and room key when someone knocks on the hotel door.

  Gabe.

  Don’t be stupid Ava. He doesn’t know where you are right now. And he hates you.

  I go over to the door and open it without checking the peephole to see who it is, and I find Charly standing there.

  “Nice pajamas.”

  I open my mouth to speak, and I burst into tears.

  “Oh, hell.”

  She wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight, and I sob into her shoulder.

  “It’s going to be okay.” She soothes me, rubbing my back with her hand.

  “I’m sorry.” I sniffle. Pulling away, I wipe my face with the sleeve of my hoodie.

  “Don’t be.” She closes the door behind herself and drops her bag to the floor. She takes her jacket off and tosses it on top of her bag.

  “I know, but you’ve just gotten here. You don’t need me bawling on your shoulder.”

  “Bawl away.” She lifts her shoulder in offering, forcing a smile from me. “That’s why I’m here. So, you can cry, scream, and do whatever you need to, to make yourself feel better.”

  “Thanks,” I say, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  Gucci gets up, wanders over to me, and climbs in my lap.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.” She tosses her cell on the bed and comes to sit by me. “This Gucci?” She reaches out and strokes her.

  “Yeah.” I smile.

  “She’s super cute. Aren’t you, Gucci?”

  Charly scratches behind her ears, and Gucci, the attention whore, climbs off my lap and onto Charly’s lap where Charly continues to lavish attention on her.