“Rumor is she hightailed it to Michigan, where she’s from,” said one of the people on screen, some fat bearded guy, melting into his chair. “She was seen at some wedding outside of Detroit.”
“Family wedding?” asked that balding smug asshole host. I was beginning to fume.
“No,” the fat guy said. “She was there with some young chick.”
“Hasn’t Layla Bean been with the same woman for like a decade?” someone else asked.
“She has,” said the host. “An executive at her record label.”
“This has all the makings of the typical pop star romance,” another person spoke up, causing the entire group to laugh.
“First the Grammys, now some secret tryst,” said the host, sipping from his drink with a dumb look on his face. “It’s no wonder the common theory is that Layla Bean is going crazy.”
“Turn it off,” I said.
“You don’t want to see what else they say?” said my Dad.
“Turn it off,” I said again. He picked up the remote and shut the television off.
The story must have just broke at that moment, or Trish would have said something to me on our call. But Daisy, maybe she already knew. Maybe she had been calling to sort things out before it got out of hand. With my head in my hands, I asked my brain what I should do and I just couldn’t come to any conclusions.
“Layla,” said my Mom softly. “You know they’re going to find you here soon.”
“I know,” I said.
“Is there something going on with that girl you went to the wedding with?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “I can’t talk about this right now.”
I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket. When I took it out and looked at the caller ID, it was Daisy again. I had some explaining to do.
“Okay,” I said into the phone. “I’m outside now.” I shut the sliding glass door and walked out onto the back deck at my parents’ house. Either side of the yard was lined with trees, and it was a relatively private place to talk.
“What’s going on?” asked Daisy. “Is this stuff I’m hearing about what you’re doing in Michigan true?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “What did you hear?”
“That you were some girl’s date for a wedding,” she said. “The paparazzi media are making it out to be something more. But I don’t know what to think.”
“I met this girl at LAX,” I admitted. “We ended up getting along, she was also from Royal Oak. Through a series of bad choices, we hung out a few times and I was her date to her brother’s wedding.”
“Okay,” said Daisy slowly. “So that’s it.”
“It’s not,” I said. “I drank too much at the wedding, she started kissing me and I didn’t stop her.”
“Oh Layla,” she said sadly.
“A little bit more happened,” I continued. “She fingered me. But that’s it. Afterward, I just felt like a complete drunk idiot. Like, I don’t know, a teenager. I felt sick. I went home and I cried and felt sorry for myself.”
“Layla,” Daisy said again. “This… it just feels like the end. Can we make it through this? It feels like our trust in each other is becoming completely eroded.”
“I thought coming here,” I said. “Coming to Michigan, taking a break, I thought it would solve a lot of my problems. But they’re still with me,” I mourned. “I can’t get away from them.”
“I just want you to know that I forgive you,” said Daisy empathetically. “I know these last few months have been really hard on you. And it doesn’t seem to be getting better.”
“You forgive me?” I repeated, sighing sadly as I looked up the sky. “I really don’t deserve to be forgiven.”
“Every relationship has its trials,” she said. “And I admit, I’m really angry. I feel helpless. But… I care about you, I love you, and I just want you to feel good again.”
“They’re going to come for me,” I said. “The paparazzi. The photographers. Those assholes. I’ve been able to do some normal stuff here at home, but it feels like that’s coming to an end.”
“Come back to LA,” said Daisy. “Let’s work this out back here.”
“I still have a few things I need to do here.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“I need to see James,” I said with finality.
“Will he see you?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’ve got to try.”
“Then you’ll come back home?”
“Yes,” I said, looking around my parents’ back yard and thinking about where I was. “I suppose I don’t really fit in here anyway. I thought coming back to Michigan would make me feel comfortable, or like I did when I was younger. But that just hasn’t been the case.”
“So come back to LA,” she said again.
“I will,” I said. “You don’t hate me?”
“No,” said Daisy. “I don’t hate you.”
“I don’t know how to navigate any of this,” I said. “There’s no handbook for living the kind of life I’m in.”
“I know,” she said.
“It feels hard to trust people,” I said. “It always seems like they want something from you. Privacy is hard. The expectations are killer.”
“You can trust me,” said Daisy. “I promise you can. The thing with the label, with your career and Cast Party, they made me do that. I was a lot younger then, we were new, I had to think of my career. And I thought I was doing something huge for you.”
“It was huge for me,” I admitted. “I can’t deny that.”
“But I never meant for it to cause all this,” she said. “I just wanted to see you become successful.”
“Thank you,” I said gently.
“So you’ve told me everything?” said Daisy. “Nothing else is going on with this girl?”
“That’s it,” I said. “If they come out with anything else, don’t believe it. I’m being good. Maybe I’m smoking too many cigarettes. But I’m seeing a therapist. I’m trying to deal with this shit.”
“I love you, Layla,” said Daisy. “And I don’t want to lose you over stupid mistakes. We obviously have some hard things to address. But I’m not ready to give up quite yet.”
“Okay,” I said. “I love you, too.”
I heard Daisy let out a long, deep sigh through the phone. I could tell that even though her words were forgiving, she was still quite hurt by what happened. I would be, too. Anyone would be. But relationships are hard work, people are weird and complicated, and you just need to do your best every day to have a chance of success in this world. When you get knocked down, you just have to get back up and try again.
“Come home soon,” she said. “All right?”
“All right,” I said.
“Goodbye Layla.”
“Bye Daisy.”
We hung up. I inhaled deep and shut my eyes, focusing on my breath and trying to steady my nerves. It felt like so much weight was being put on me and it just wouldn’t ever let up. That’s how it all operates when you’re at the top like me. Endless scrutiny. Your most private mistakes made public. If you’re someone who finds themselves reading about celebrities like me, watching our fuck ups like it’s an entertaining train wreck, I beg you to stop. Your attention only gives more power to the people who would walk all over my privacy. I’m human, too.
I got in this all because I felt like I had something to say, because I wanted to entertain and make people happy, and because I thought it could be rewarding to make a living doing something I loved. I can admit that money and success lead me down a path that I didn’t originally plan for. But that doesn’t mean I’m undeserving of my private time to grieve or to work through my problems. We’ve all got similar problems, no matter who we are.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said to Nikki with a smile. I looked at her across the booth, happy that we could meet at the diner like old times. Still, it was strange to look at her because she appeared so different. But her face, her smile, it
always made me feel comfortable. It made me feel not so far removed from my past.
“Of course,” said Nikki with a smile and shrug. “You know, it’s funny,” she said, eyes darting up as she thought. “I remember joking with you a long time ago about wearing sunglasses in here, about hiding out with your hood up. But I get it now.”
“I can’t go anywhere, Nikki,” I said, jokingly jiggling my sunglasses at her. “Like, literally anywhere, without someone recognizing me. It’s torture. You think it might be flattering or something — and it was when it was all new to me — but when you’re as known as me, and all these people come up to you and want something, a picture or an autograph, it gets old fast.”
“I can’t even imagine what it’s like,” she said, shaking her head.
“And it’s like, if you’re mean to someone because you’re having a bad day,” I went on. “That’s their experience with you. That’s how they’ll forever remember you. But, I mean, we all have bad days and get annoyed at times. I’m just not afforded that luxury when I’m in public.”
“Is what I saw on TV true?” Nikki asked, looking slightly embarrassed for asking, gazing down into her coffee mug as she awaited my answer.
“Mostly,” I said. “Yeah. They sorta broke the news to my girlfriend before I was even able to talk to her about it. I made a mistake, I fucked up, and I wasn’t even allowed my time to figure it out and make it right. That’s what I deal with.”
“How did they find out?” she said. “I mean, I just don’t understand. How does news like that spread so fast?”
“They don’t know the details,” I said. “They know I was this chick’s date at this wedding because, most likely, someone at the wedding told someone else I was there, and it leaked around to the trashy tabloid press and they just want to break a story about a celebrity screwing up. They don’t care about my feelings or my life. They just care about ratings and money, and this kinda stuff gets them that.”
“I never really thought about it that hard,” said Nikki. “But it makes sense.”
“It’s one of the reasons why I feel so fucking disembodied,” I said, bringing my coffee to my lips to have a sip. “Like my collapse at the Grammys… this is going to sound so whiny,” I mourned.
“You can say whatever you want to me, Layla,” she said, smiling like the old friend that she was. “I’m not going to run to the press and I’m not going to judge you.”
“It started when I was presenting an award,” I went on. “With Jack Timberline. And Jack, he’s a good friend of mine.”
“You’re good friends with Jack fucking Timberline?” asked Nikki incredulously. “You’re not bullshitting me here?”
“No,” I said with an embarrassed laugh, looking down. “I know, it’s fucking crazy. And that’s what I’m saying. I’m standing there backstage with Jack, and it just starts hitting me. Like… I’m friends with this guy. I know for a fact that you and I have sat in this booth and made snarky remarks about his boy band. And now, Nikki, this dude is my friend. It blows my mind.”
“Yeah,” confirmed Nikki. “I can definitely see that.”
“It was overwhelming for me,” I continued. “I had a panic attack. I felt like I was living someone else’s life. Then I won, and it just… I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“You’re a good person, Layla,” said Nikki with empathy in her eyes. “You always have been.”
“I’ve made some mistakes,” I said.
“We all do that,” she said. “But I’ve always known you to be well-meaning and honest. True of heart,” Nikki said, smiling reassuringly. “And, you know, most people don’t really go for their dreams like you did. Most people don’t have the talent that you do, definitely, but the biggest variable in the equation is tenacity and you went for it… you achieved your dreams.”
“Now that I’m here, though,” I said. “I’m not so sure that I belong here.”
“I couldn’t even get my shit together to do that tattoo thing I wanted to do,” said Nikki. “I got comfortable with being a hairstylist, because it paid the bills, then I met Brian, then… well, it just snowballs from there. Remember my drawing? I don’t really do that anymore.”
“You were great,” I said. “You should pick it back up.”
“One day,” Nikki said longingly, like that day would probably never come. “But you… you did it. And whenever I think about you, or see you on TV, or whatever, I don’t ever think about how you left. I just think about how proud I am of you and how someone I love, someone I know is a great person, is out there with the ability to influence so many other people.”
“That means a lot,” I said.
“I mean it,” she said. “Remember how we used to talk about the world, and how we’d like to see it? Now you’re in a position to actually make a difference. That’s really powerful, Layla.”
“That sounds like a lot of responsibility.”
“It is,” said Nikki. “But it doesn’t have to be oppressive. Just by the nature of you being a lesbian pop star, that’s huge already. You have even greater opportunity than that, though. You can say something and millions of people will listen to you.”
“You’re starting to frighten me,” I said with a laugh. “I mean, I know what you’re saying. And I haven’t really ever used my position to make a grand statement.”
“Whether you like it or not, you are living your life,” she said. “This is Layla Bean. So why don’t you allow yourself to be who you really are? You don’t have to do the typical pop star thing if you don’t want to. People change. Musicians evolve. Do whatever you feel fits best.”
“That’s smart,” I said. “My therapist said basically the same thing.”
“We’ve both matured,” said Nikki with a twinkle in her eye. “Maybe I made fun of Jack Timberline ten years ago because I was angsty and young. Now, well, I can admit he’s pretty cute.” I laughed at Nikki, inspiring a laugh to come out of her as well.
“I was so out of it,” I said, remembering the last time I saw Jack. “Before I came here, I was at my house dying my hair—“
“Don’t remind me how bad that looked,” said Nikki, placing her hand on her chest.
“Right,” I said. “Well, I was so zonked out of it, depressed, zombified, whatever, that Jack came to see me and I was standing there in just my underwear, topless, while this guy you think is so cute looked on.”
“Oh my God,” said Nikki. “Layla, that would embarrass me so hard.”
“It’s not even embarrassing now looking back on it,” I said with a shrug. “He’s my close friend, you know? He’s not a creep, he wasn’t staring at me. I mean, he’s like a brother.”
“Your life just amazes me,” said Nikki. “You’re so lucky. No,” she corrected. “No, you’re just so special.”
“I’m trying to believe that,” I said, looking away with an embarrassed smile.
“I think…” said Nikki, trailing off as she considered what she was about to say. “I think you should go back. Selfishly, I’d love for you to stay here and for us to be like we were. But that’s just the past. I know I can’t really have that again.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” I joked.
“Of course not!” Nikki laughed. “But I’m serious. You belong in that world now, and that’s the place you can affect the greatest change.”
“It’s a hard world,” I said. “That’s whiny, I know, because… the money… but the expectations, all the eyes, it can be demoralizing.”
“I know,” she said. “But we’ve all got our role in this world. And this is yours.”
“Yeah,” I mused, internalizing Nikki’s words. “I guess it is my role.”
“I’ll be cheering you on from back here,” said Nikki. Her eyes were bright, her smile was genuine.
“I’m so thrilled you found happiness,” I said. “It really makes me feel good.”
“You can have happiness, too,” said Nikki. “It’s just a decision.”
> “Right,” I said. I raised my mug up to my lips and took a long, thoughtful sip of my coffee. I could feel a tear develop in my eye, though luckily I had my sunglasses to block it from Nikki’s view. I had needed help, and I was getting it. I was grateful.
Stepping out of my parents’ car, I looked on at the house and smiled to myself. It was a rather large house, secluded, in the ritzy suburb of Birmingham. I had to drive down a long, tree-lined driveway to get here, though there was no gate or anything to stop someone from just driving up as I had. That made me feel good. It made me feel like there was some real privacy around here.
I took a deep breath and wandered along the walkway, making my way up to the door. It was lightly sprinkling out, a misting spring rain, with clouds covering the sky. I reflexively took that as an omen, but the logical part of me kicked that aside and chalked it up to coincidence. With each light step of my boots, I could hear the click of my heel, and the faintest sound of wetness underneath my feet.
I had come this far. There was no sense in running away now.
I rang the doorbell, stepped back from the door, and I waited with a restless heart.
The door swung open, and standing there was an incredibly beautiful blonde woman, her hair long and straight, her body fit and just about perfect if you go by our cultural demands of iconic beauty. She looked like a model, but maybe a couple of years past her prime in that industry. When she saw me, she was immediately skeptical.
“Hello?” she said as she looked on me. Then, her accusatory face morphed into something else. Her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped open slightly. “Oh my God.”
“Hi,” I said with an abashed smirk.
“You’re Layla Bean,” she said matter-of-factly, unable to stop herself from pointing at me.
“I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me,” I said, extending my hand. She took it and we lightly shook.
“I’m Sarah,” she said. “It’s really great to meet you.”
Just then I heard a loud commotion inside of the house, and unable to stop myself from looking in, I saw a boy and a girl, about the same age — probably around five or so — run across the grand foyer, slipping across the tile in their socks. The boy was chasing the girl and they were both screaming excitedly.
Fall Of The Rock Girl: A Lesbian Romance (Revolving Record Book 2) Page 14
