“I have to go.”
“Blair, please let me explain.”
She holds out her hands in defense. “Please let me go.”
I drop my hands and watch as Blair gathers her purse and walks out my apartment and my life.
All I want to do is run after her and ask her for a chance to explain, but what will I say? It’s all fucking true, and I don’t deserve her. I bang my head against the door until I’m convinced she’s in a cab and miles away. I can’t believe it never crossed my mind Blair would ever think she didn’t deserve her spot in the show. She has more talent than anyone there including all us judges together. Blair McKenzie is the best thing to hit the music industry in years, and I ruined it for her.
29
Blair
I try my best not to cry when I leave Dean’s apartment, but the moment the elevator doors close, tears sting my eyes and spill down my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands and allow the emotions I’ve kept pent up for days to release. I know I should wait until I’m someplace private to allow myself a crying jag, but it’s so good to let it all out.
In no time at all, the elevator dings and the doors open. I wipe my hands over the tears, trying my best to dry my face and inhale a few deep breaths before I head out of the elevator. I keep my head down and speed-walk to the exit. I’m relieved when I don’t see the elderly doorman at his spot at the front desk and think I’m home free from doing the tear-stained walk of shame when I see the kind old man appear from the room behind the reception desk.
“Excuse me, miss, are you all right?”
I want to pretend I didn’t hear him so he doesn’t see my puffy eyes and red nose, but I just can’t bring myself to be rude.
I turn and laugh sardonically. “I’ve been better.”
“It certainly seems that way. Would you indulge an old man and come into the back room for a cup of tea?”
I hesitate, because all I want to do is get as far away from here as possible, grab a bottle of wine, and sink into the tub, but then I remember I have no place to go since all my stuff is at the house and facing everyone there right now would be too much to bear.
“My wife would clip my ears if she knew I’d allowed you to leave when you are so upset.”
I smile sadly at this stranger who has probably been kinder to me than a lot of people lately (excluding Kade and Jeremy, of course) and nod. “I’d love a cup of tea.”
He beams at me. “I believe I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Clarence.” He extends his hand and I shake it.
“Blair. Although, you already know that,” I say, remembering his conversation with Dean earlier. He walks into the office and I follow him. There are about thirty screens, all with different camera views. One is a view of the elevator. I glance over at him. “I guess you saw my meltdown.”
He heads over to the tea station and starts boiling water. “My dear, my wife tells me a good cry is balm for the soul, and she also tells me she’s never wrong.” He winks and I laugh a little at his joke. “She reads at least two novels a week that bring her to tears, and I often find her curled up at the bay window, surrounded by tissues.” He stirs the tea bag in the warm water and looks over his shoulder. “Do sit, my dear. How many sugars?”
I sit in one of the two office chairs in front of the console and turn my back on the screens. I don’t want a reminder that I made a fool of myself. “One please.”
Clarence adds the sugar and stirs, then hands me my tea. The tea bag is still in the mug, and I curl one hand around it while I wrap the string around my finger and dunk the bag in and out until the liquid gets darker. It gives me something to do with my hands and my eyes since I can’t seem to make myself look at Clarence. I don’t know why I’m here—this is so stupid—but at the same time, he reminds me of my papaw, if only a bit more sophisticated and polite.
“I’m a quite good listener, if you’d like to talk. I think years of practice never getting a word in edgewise with my wife helps.” He winks again, and his eyes are so full of love for his wife that I know she must be an incredible person.
I don’t know what makes me spill my guts, but one minute I’m taking a sip of my tea and the next minute I’m telling Clarence everything. I tell him that Dean paid the fine so I can stay on the show and I can’t live with that. I interrupt myself midsentence at times to take a sip of my tea, and Clarence stays true to his word that he’s a good listener. He never once interrupts me, just nods and clucks his tongue, but that’s about it.
When I’m done, he sets his own mug down; it has flip-flops of every color printed on the ceramic and makes me smile.
“Can I tell you something personal, Miss McKenzie?”
“Sure. I’ve pretty much dumped my whole life story on you.”
He chuckles but grows serious. “My wife and I lost a baby. She was in her last trimester and developed a heart infection. They had to deliver our son early, but after three days, he died.”
I wheel my chair over to Clarence and take his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It was very traumatic for both of us. We had to register his birth and death and have a funeral for a baby we’d only held once. It took us years and years of fertility treatments to have another baby, and every single month I watched Meryl, my wife, go through absolute hell. Month after month she did what she needed to do to prepare her body for a baby, and month after month I watched as she became more and more despondent. I never once told her we could stop trying if that’s what she wanted because I thought I was doing the best by her. Things became strained between us, and she withdrew, thinking the only thing I cared about was having a child. It nearly destroyed our marriage and certainly took a huge chunk out of the foundation we had until one night, it all cracked and she told me how she felt. Never in my wildest nightmares did I think she would believe I only wanted her so I could have a child. See, we weren’t communicating, and I thought I was doing what was best for her.” He swipes under his eye, and I don’t know why but I’m suddenly less embarrassed about my earlier emotional display.
“What this old man is trying to tell you is don’t let a mistake someone made out of good intentions steal the foundation from under you. I know this silly story isn’t the same as coming to a foreign country, falling in love with a man, and having your dreams yanked out from under you, but I hope you can take the moral of the story away.”
“Wait. How do you know I’m in love with Dean?”
“Well, because you wear the same desolation that he does when he isn’t with you.”
I set the cup down. “If you’re thinking Dean loves me, you’re wrong, Clarence. I was just in the right place at the right time.” He looks like he’s about to argue with me, but I stand. “Thank you for the tea. And the chat.”
“I hope it helped, Miss McKenzie.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, did you guys give up on your dream to have a baby?”
“Oh no, once we talked things out, we came up with a solution to manage the situation better. Meryl got some of her control back. We have five wonderful children. Three boys and two girls. Giving up on your dreams is catastrophic. One would never quite be the same. One would lose oneself.”
I leave Clarence feeling more confused than ever. What if having your dreams means losing yourself. What then?
30
Blair
I curl my legs under me on the huge domed porch swing at the bottom of this exquisite garden and sip my tea. It’s just after six, and I’m thankful I missed the dawn. I just can’t seem to bear watching a sunrise anymore; the memories of my last morning with Dean have ruined one of my favorite times of day. I got in around two in the morning, I ended up heading to a 24-hour diner that sold okay coffee and terrible croissants, so I thankfully avoided the inevitable questions I’m going to have to deal with today when I tell everyone I’m leaving. I’m reveling in the peace the morning offers, and despite wanting to avoid any confrontations, I
refuse to hide. I need to face the music, and the sooner the better.
I take a sip of the already cold tea and wrinkle my nose. Placing the mug on the table, I lean back and close my eyes. I’m exhausted. I haven’t been able to switch my brain off, and I keep replaying every moment since I met Dean over and over, trying to figure out where I went wrong.
I fight the doubts swarming in my mind and try my best not to give in to them, but as time goes on, it’s hard for me not to overthink everything that happened after Dean pushed the button for me. Is Clarence right and things aren’t always what they seem, or did Dean give me preferential treatment because he wanted to sleep with me? Whenever I think of how he confessed he was about to tell me we couldn’t be together until after the show, but he had sex with me anyway, it makes me sick to my stomach. He didn’t respect me enough to control his hormones and spare me the pain. He didn’t respect me enough not to ruin my reputation and my career. All he wanted was a warm body to get off with. I hated him. I hated him with everything I had. I also loved him with it too.
“You’re back!” Jeremy’s cheerful voice puts the first genuine smile on my face since I ran off the stage last night, and I open my eyes to see a still very sleepy-looking Jeremy beaming down at me. “Scoot,” he orders as he climbs onto the swing. It rocks from side to side, and he nearly lands right on me as he scrambles to get on and turn around. He leans on my hair, and a few strands tug at the temple.
“Ouch! Clumsy, you’re going to make me bald here.”
He rubs my head and apologizes, then settles back down, gazing up at the leaves of the oak tree we’re swinging from. “How you holding up?”
“Eh, I’m okay. Minute by minute, I guess.”
“What happened last night? I heard you pulled out?”
“You don’t know? I figured Danielle would’ve spread the news like wildfire by now.”
“I’ve been rehearsing like a madman. I haven’t seen anyone in days. I wouldn’t listen to Danielle, anyway. She’s a bitch. What’s the news?”
“The news is that Dean paid for me to stay on the show. I can’t live with that.”
Jeremy sits up so fast the swing rocks violently, and I grab on to the wicker. “What?”
“Three million. She told me right before my performance.”
Jeremy whistles.
“Yeah, the world’s most expensive one-and-done.”
His forehead scrunches. “I dunno. That’s a pretty epic thing to do for a one-and-done.”
“What’s epic about ruining someone’s reputation over a one-nighter, Jer?”
He turns and the small space gets even more cramped as he tries to get his knees into the basket. “Just think about it, Blair.” He takes my eye roll and silence as a go-ahead and speaks. “We all know Dean is a man-whore. I mean it’s pretty obvious he is, and there’s nothing wrong with that if he’s safe.”
“How is this supposed to help?”
“Shut up and hear me out.”
I pout. I know I’m not acting very mature, but there you have it.
“You’re gorgeous, Blair. Like off-the-charts gorgeous, and you’re also not a conceited bitch, which is very attractive. You have crazy ridiculous sex appeal and a natural talent that I’m pretty jealous of, if truth be told.”
“Jeremy, I swear to God if you’re hitting on me, I’m going to break your nose and send the pic to Emerly.”
He raises his hands—well, tries to since we can hardly move in our wicker cocoon. “I’m not, I swear. Will you just listen, already?”
I sigh and he continues.
“You have it all, the full package, but unless you have a golden pussy, I don’t see any guy flying nine thousand plus miles just to have an orgasm. I also don’t see that same guy forking over millions of dollars to put you back in the competition. Not even you are that special, no offense.”
I punch him lightly on the arm and then snuggle my head into his shoulder. I appreciate all Jeremy is saying, but he’s missing the point. It doesn’t take long for the tears to come in earnest, and Jeremy does his best to comfort me in our weird little seat with the limited tools guys have to deal with emotional girls. He mutters “it’s okay” over and over while I cry out all my tears. When I’m done, he doesn’t try to rush me or rally me, and he doesn’t try to change my mind. After lying next to Jeremy for the longest time, my stomach rumbles and reminds me I haven’t eaten since my croissant for dinner.
“Can I make you french toast to make up for crying all over you?”
“Damn straight you can. It’s the least you can do.” He winks at me to let me know he’s kidding, and I’m going to miss him so damn much when I leave for South Africa.
“Hey, how did it go?”
Jeremy gives me a sheepish grin.
“You got it! You got top five?” I squeal and jump on him, hugging him with all my might. This is the best news ever and just what I needed to hear.
“I’m sorry, Blair.”
I extract myself from my friend. “Don’t you dare feel bad for getting what you deserve, Jer. I’m crazy happy for you.”
His beam could find a cheetah in tall grass. Linking my arm through his, we make our way into the house and head toward the kitchen. We almost reach the door when Jeremy stops. I frown but then realize the voices are talking about me.
“If you ask me, that little emotional display she put on was just to get sympathy votes.” Danielle’s snide voice permeates the walls like gas.
“Right? Isn’t she ashamed of herself? Dean actually paid for her to stay here. I mean, it’s practically a bribe.”
“Never mind that. Did you see how she was cozied up next to Jeremy just now? That girl will spread it for anyone, apparently.”
I shrug out of Jeremy’s grasp and push the kitchen door open. They can say whatever the hell they want about me, but they do not get to talk smack about Jeremy. I’ll be dammed if Danielle is going to ruin his life and his girlfriend’s by spreading false rumors. With an insurmountable effort, I walk straight into the kitchen and head for the fridge. Danielle and Hannah stare openmouthed as I take out the eggs.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account. Do carry on—this is better than watching the Kardashians.” I reach for a bowl, then walk to the kitchen counter where the bitches were mouthing off.
“Anyone want some french toast? I was going to make some for Jeremy for being there for me when I needed him. You know, a friend?” I crack an egg a little more vehemently than I intended but luckily don’t get shells in the bowl. “I guess neither of you knows what real friendship looks like, or you wouldn’t be standing around talking shit about stuff you don’t know jack about.” I reach for the milk and beat it together with the eggs while Jeremy tries to hide his smile. “Here’s a little tip for you: stop being bitches and keep your damn noses out of other people’s business and maybe you’ll find out.”
Both of them open and close their mouths like trout on a boat deck. I ignore them and dip the bread into the mixture. Danielle folds her arms over her chest and huffs, but doesn’t say a word as she storms out the kitchen, and her little duckling follows her.
Jeremy chuckles when the door slams shut. “Damn, you served them up good. I’d high-five you if you weren’t all covered with that egg mix.”
I raise my hands out the bowl. “This stuff?” I wiggle my fingers. “You scared of getting your hands dirty, ranch boy?”
He backs away. “Raw egg gives me the heebies, man. I can’t think about it.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “Really?” I take a menacing step forward.
“I mean it, Blair, I’ll upchuck all over this kitchen floor, and Macintyre will kill me.”
“I guess you better run, then.” I take a few more steps forward.
He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I totally would.”
He turns and hightails it out the kitchen. We run past some of the other housemates as we go.
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Dan appears at the top of the stairs. “Hey, I want in on this.”
I call over my shoulder. “You hold him while I smear him?”
“You’re on.”
I know in ten minutes, the reality of my situation is going to hit me like a boat anchor falling to the sea bed, but I’m allowing myself this moment. The one where I’m not the girl who lost everything in the span of ten days. My phone rings, and I call out to Dan. “Don’t let him get away. I’ll be there in just a sec.” I wipe my hands on my sweats and, retrieving my phone, hit the Answer button. “Hello.”
“Miss McKenzie, this is Roger Eastwood from DMW Records. We represent Amanda Stinson and would like to offer you a recording contract with us. We’d like to make music with you.”
31
Dean
I’ve barely had time to dump my bags on the floor and plug my phone into the charger when Isiah calls me from the front desk. It’s Clarence’s week off when he and his whole family go on the Disney Cruise every year. Clarence’s whole life is a celebration that I know I’m not going to have.
“Hey, Isiah.”
“Mr. Carter, I have an Amanda Stinson here to see you.”
Shit!
I’d gone off the grid to Joshua Tree for three days to watch the wildflowers bloom. Call it running away, call it hiding out, I don’t care. I just needed to get away from the constant reminders of Blair and how I fucked up her life. I guess I couldn’t hide forever though.
“Let her up.”
I take my bag to the bedroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I haven’t shaved in days, and my usual rough-around-the-edges, purposeful stubble looks like an untidy mess. My eyes are red-rimmed and underlined by black rings from lack of sleep, and not even the desert wildflowers could give me the peace I crave right now.
Instead of ringing the doorbell, Amanda bangs on the door like a narc cop on a drug bust. I open the door and she pushes past me. She spins around, glaring at me while she fists her hands on her hips. “Where the hell have you been?”
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