“Ry? What is going on?”
“Huh?”
Crap, now she looks really worried. I’m sure my spacing out has her thinking I’m on the verge of a breakdown or something.
I dump the picnic items on the kitchen table and reach for her hand.
“Let’s sit.”
Leah follows me to the living area, sitting next to me on the huge couch.
“You’re really freaking me out, Ry.” Her gorgeous face is pale and drawn. I feel bad for making her worry about me.
“Don’t freak out, I’m fine. We’re fine.” I cup the side of her face with one hand, stroking the soft skin with my thumb. “I was thinking. You should move in.”
Her eyes bug out but she doesn’t move. I keep my gaze steady, staring at those deep blue eyes. Leah’s mouth opens to say something, and then closes without making a sound.
My heart is racing in my chest, the tension killing me. “Leah, I want you here with me. The thought of not having you, of not waking up to you every day… it makes me sick.” Her eyes glisten with emotion as I try to find the words to make her understand how I feel. “Without you, I’m a fucked up, lonely guy who hides out, afraid of his own shadow. With you, I go to the park and have picnics. I look forward to sharing my crazy day with someone. I dress up in ridiculous outfits that make me hideous and yet, you still kiss me like I’m the only guy you see.”
I inhale a shaky breath, “I love you, Leah. So what do you think? Will you move in here with me?”
The silence probably only lasts a second or two, but it feels like an eternity. Leah blinks, trying to clear her eyes of the tears that have formed.
“I love you too, Ryker. Yes, I’ll move in here with you.”
She smiles and my heart finally stops freaking out long enough for me to tug her to me and crush my mouth over hers. It’s more passionate than our kisses usually are, deeper, filled with… love.
When we finally break apart, I pull her into my arms, pressing small kisses into her hair.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too. Now, get that horrible goatee off and take me to bed.”
Yep, she’s perfect.
“So, Ryker, you seem happier than I’ve ever seen you. Would you like to tell me what put that smile on your face?” Dr. Benton sits back in her chair, regarding me with those sharp eyes of hers. I can see the hint of a smirk forming at one corner of her mouth.
“It’s that obvious, is it?” My smile becomes a wide grin. Shaking my head in amusement, I laugh. “Life, love, everything. It’s gotten a lot better for me, doc.”
“That’s good to see, Ryker. Really good. What’s changed since I saw you last? It’s only been a few weeks.”
I scratch at the short stubble I’ve had to grow for my role in Drew’s movie, Breaking the Truth. It’s the first non-Orion role that I’ve taken. We’re filming it during the break between the completion of the second movie and the start of production on the third.
“A lot has happened. Mostly, it was Leah’s friend Sydney that helped me get past some stuff.”
“Sydney Tannen, you mean,” Dr. Benton clarifies.
“Yes, that’s her.”
“How did she do that?” She tilts her head, listening to everything I say.
“Well, uh, I’m sure you saw the news over the last week. The stuff about her,” I feel my face heat up, “the photos.”
“Yes, I did. It’s a terrible invasion of her privacy.” She pauses, tapping her pen on the notepad. “I would have thought that incident would make you feel worse, not better.”
“Normally, yes. It would, but… but the way Sydney handled it? I decided that if she could deal with everything that’s happened to her and not let it stop her from living her life, then I could do the same.”
Dr. Benton’s brows come together in confusion. “The way she handled it? Care to explain?”
“She refuses to let the media bother her. She said she couldn’t live her life worrying about all that shit. She’s right. I can’t let the crap that follows me get in the way of being happy.” I look out the window at the grey autumn sky. “I’m moving on,” I tell Dr. Benton, meeting her eyes once more, “and I need your help.”
Chapter 15
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Leah squeezes my hand as our driver, Paul, pulls into the driveway of a small house in Reseda, a part of Los Angeles where some of the less wealthy people in the city reside.
“Yes, without a doubt.” I smile at my girlfriend. She looks nervous for me, hell, I’m nervous. This is something I have to do, though. I need to move on. Dr. Benton coached me through it, gave me the confidence to be here.
“Okay, Ry.”
The car stops and Roman, one of our security guys, gets out of the front seat and opens the door for me.
“I’ll be right here for you.”
I lean over to give her a quick kiss. “I know.”
Roman walks with me up to the front door. It opens before I can knock, the owner obviously waiting on us. A middle-aged man with a receding hairline stands on the threshold.
“Mr. Kowalski thanks for meeting me.” I hold out my hand and he takes it, shaking it with a firm grip.
“I have to say, half of me thought this was a joke. I’m not sure I believed you’d actually show up.” He steps aside, “Please, come in. Call me Bill.”
I follow him into a cozy living room, motioning for Roman to stay in the foyer. A small, dark-haired woman sits on one of the floral patterned sofas. She stands when I enter the room.
“Mrs. Kowalski.” I shake her hand. “Thanks for this. I appreciate it.”
She smiles weakly, “It’s nice to meet you, Ryker, and it’s Sheila. Call me Sheila.” Guilt knots my stomach like a punch to the gut.
“Please, have a seat. Would you like anything?” Bill asks.
“No, Bill. I’m good, thanks.”
The Kowalski’s take a seat on the sofa. I sit across from them on one of the mismatched recliners.
“I understand that this is difficult.” I look at the couple. Their hands are intertwined as the wait for me to continue. “I just, I wanted to apologize for what happened to Brooke at the premiere. It wasn’t right that no one saw her.” I swallow, a lump in my throat suddenly making it difficult to speak.
“Ryker. You didn’t have to come all this way to apologize,” Bill says.
“I feel responsible…”
Sheila Kowalski cuts me off, surprising me with a firm, unwavering voice. “Ryker, the media was wrong in laying the blame at your feet, at the feet of the studio. Brooke was a very sick girl. She…” Sheila’s breath hitches, but she regains her composure quickly. “That wasn’t the first time she attempted suicide.”
I gasp, shocked by this news. “What?”
Bill leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Brooke had some serious issues, ones that we were trying to work through with her. She had only been home a few weeks. She was at an inpatient psychiatric hospital the previous three months.”
“No one ever mentioned that,” I say, stunned.
Sheila seems tired. I’m willing to bet she’s much younger than she looks. These people were affected by this tragedy more than I was. They lost their daughter, their youngest child. I’ve never lost sight of that, but seeing the Kowalski’s in person, seeing their grief… it’s sobering.
Bill’s expression becomes angry. “Those damn reporters didn’t want to listen. They were so fixated on the celebrity angle, on blaming you, that they didn’t care what the truth was.”
“I guess not,” I say miserably. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
Sheila and Bill stare at me for a moment before Sheila speaks. “Ryker, we’re sorry this happened to you. You had nothing to do with Brooke’s decision. Not a thing. She was…” Sheila struggles to hold in tears, “she was a very sick girl.”
Tears stream down her face. Bill puts an arm around his wife and pulls her close.
“Why don’t you tell me something about the Brooke you remember. Something good.” I wait for a response, holding my breath as I hope I haven’t crossed a line.
Sheila smiles, her first real smile since I got here. “We would love to.”
“Okay guys, you’re next. You know the drill so I won’t bother you with details,” Brittany says. She presses a hand to her ear, listening to instructions being fed through the tiny earpiece she wears.
“You good?” Leah asks, her eyes searching mine for any signs of anxiety.
“I’m great. I love you.” I lean in and run my nose up and down her neck, pressing small kisses to the delicate skin behind her ear.
Leah giggles and squirms, trying to get away.
“Oh no you don’t.” I bring my hand down on her thigh, keeping her next to me. “You’re not leaving me to face those sharks alone.”
She gasps in mock horror, “Would I do that to you?”
I laugh, “Yes. You would.”
Britt smiles, “Yeah, you would, Leah.”
“See.” I smirk, watching her fake anger turn to amusement.
“No way. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Okay, we’re up.” Britt says. “Get ready.”
I take Leah’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Here we go.” The door to the limo opens and I step out, the cacophony of screams increasing to a decibel level that can’t possibly be healthy for human ears.
Leah steps out behind me, taking my hand as I help her from the limo. “Jesus,” she mutters.
“I know.” I smile down at her. She looks up at me, that vibrant personality of her shining in her eyes. “Sure you’ll still want me after you run this gauntlet?”
Leah looks down the red carpet, taking in the crowd, the frenzied fans, the popping flashes of the paparazzi’s cameras, the huge signs depicting all manner of things girls want to do to me.
“Yeah, I will. This is the last one of these movies. The insanity will die down after it’s over,” she says confidently.
“Thank God,” I tell her, “because I don’t know if I can handle this again.”
“Good thing you won’t have to,” she says, “and if you do, I’ll be right next to you.”
I grin, relishing the thought of always having Leah by my side. She’s the yin to my yang. The spark to my tinder. Without her, I’d have quit acting and become a hermit.
With her… I have everything.
“Let’s go.” We turn and walk towards the entrance to the theater, and for once, I’m not worried about a thing.
Random End of Book Stuff
Anyone who reads my books knows that I like to delve into the ugly side of fame. Interestingly, I don’t find celebrity all that fascinating on it’s own. I can’t think of a single famous person that I would get all ‘fangirl’ over if they walked up to me on the street. Well, maybe Michael C. Hall, but even then, I’d still act like a human being around him.
Most of us don’t realize, but beyond the money, the beauty, the fancy clothes and parties, there are real people. People with problems and neuroses just like you and me.
I’ve read some reviews of my books that include complaints about my characters. “How can they be unhappy, they have everything?” or “Sydney is so spoiled, why is she so whiny?” My friend, if that’s what you think, then you’ve missed the point entirely.
The point is, that on the surface you can have EVERYTHING, and still be miserable. Rich and famous people have problems too. Sometimes their issues are very deep and damaging. You can’t look at a photo in a magazine and assume that because the person in the picture is smiling, their life is just fine and dandy. The gifted and brilliant Robin Williams proved that quite sadly when he took his own life.
Normally, I would thank everyone who helped me through this book. List the people and friends that supported me and my writing. Instead, I’d rather have you think about the trauma of mental illness, and how it can destroy someone’s life. From panic attacks, to PTSD, or even suicide, we’re all human and we’re all susceptible to the darkness that mental illness can bring upon us and our loved ones.
Rich, poor, tall, short, mental illness crosses all races, genders, and social classes. If you or someone you know is struggling with mental illness, get help, get help for them. You are not alone.
Okay, I’m climbing off my soapbox now.
Find more books by Heather Leigh or sign up for updates and releases at http://www.heatherleighauthor.com
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Coming soon:
Incite- A Sphere of Irony novel. Adam’s story.
Suddenly Famous: A Famous Novella (Famous Series Book 5) Page 9
