by R H Tucker
“You do.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Turning, I move to walk away, but he grabs my wrist. He doesn’t look at me like I hurt him or even like he’s mad. He’s totally at ease, and that upsets me even more. “You do know, you’re just afraid to admit it.”
“What are you—”
“Just say it, Zoey.”
“I don’t—”
“Admit it.”
“What do—”
“Say it. You know the reason.”
“This doesn’t—”
“Say it!”
“I couldn’t get over him!” I finally break, yelling at him. He doesn’t look hurt. Not even surprised. He simply gives me a knowing nod. His nonchalant reaction does nothing to stop the panic-stricken sorrow that takes over me. I slap my hands over my mouth.
“And there it is,” he says.
“Oh my God, Landon. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
My eyes mist over, but I blink, keeping the tears at bay. “You have to believe me. I didn’t go into this thinking I was using you.”
Reaching over, he takes one of my hands, squeezing it. “I know. Thanks for always trusting me.”
I grip his hand tighter. “No. No, what? Are you saying …”
“You already said it, Zoey.” He gazes down at the sand, more water washing over both of our feet. His humor and carelessness finally vanish. “I can’t be a placeholder for lingering feelings you can’t get over. Sorry.”
Offering me a sad smile, he turns around and heads back to our group of friends. I turn and face the ocean, walking a little closer, letting the water come up to my ankles. I honestly didn’t mean to do that. I didn’t even realize that’s what I was doing until this minute.
For some reason, I remember the first time Landon met my mom. It was two months ago, and he picked me up before we went out for our first date. Afterward, I came home, and she asked me what was wrong. She said I didn’t look like I had a good time. I told her it was fine, and I had a great time. And I did. Gazing at me, she offered a small smile.
I remember her telling me that night, “Sometimes your heart makes a decision for you, even if you don’t know it.”
She kissed my head and left the room. I didn’t know what she meant by that. Now I think I do.
31
Derrik
“Derrik! Derrik!”
I squint my eyes, keeping one arm up, trying to block out the flashes from the cameras of the screaming paparazzi. My other arm is wrapped around …
“Sarah! Over here!” a cameraman calls out, reminding me of the model’s name.
“It’s crazy out here,” she whispers over to me, giggling.
“Life of a King,” I joke.
We’re outside of a brand-new club called Grayson’s. It’s the grand opening. Maddox is already inside, making sure everything is set up for a set he’s playing tonight. Jade is supposed to show up, but I haven’t heard from her in a couple of weeks. EJ says she’s mad at me.
Everything that’s happened in these last two weeks blends together for me. Peter tried talking to me again a day after we got back home, but I didn’t want to hear it. I still don’t. I’m eighteen years old and in one of the biggest bands in the world. I’m tired of being the celebrity frontman of the group. I want to let loose and be a rock star. So that’s what I’ve been doing.
“Derrik!” another cameraman calls out. “Have you talked to Danica? Are you gonna sue her for breach of contract?”
Dropping my hand, I find the guy that asked the question. He stares at me, continuing to take pictures, anxiously awaiting my answer. I’ve had to deal with the questions every day since it happened. I think they’re waiting for me to either crack and lash out for asking or throw her under the bus. No matter how many times I tell them the same thing, they keep asking.
“Danica’s a great girl,” I repeat the answer I’ve memorized. “I’m sure Jacob Slater is going to be amazing.”
Jacob Slater is the actor Danica’s show wasted no time in finding to replace me. It makes sense. He’s one of the hottest actors in Hollywood right now.
“Come on,” I whisper to Sarah. “Let’s head inside.”
The pulsing of the nightclub lights is an assault to the senses. Fluorescent greens, blues, and pinks circle around, and the thumping of the bass vibrates my ears. It’s a feeling I’m starting to get used to. It’s abrasive yet addictive. I can see why Maddox likes deejaying in clubs so much.
“Oh, Tabby is here,” Sarah calls out to me over the music. I look over and see she’s pointing to a girl at the end of the bar. “I’m gonna go say hi.”
She scampers away, and when I scan the crowd, I see Maddox up on stage with headphones over his head. Making my way past the VIP roped-off section, I head over to Maddox. He nods to me, before returning his attention to his mixing table, adjusting one of the levels.
“Yo!” he calls out, smiling. “Who’s the girl?”
He glances over my shoulder, and I look back. Sarah’s standing with her friend, Tabby, and waves at me. “Model for Ralph Lauren.”
He laughs. “Gonna try again, huh?”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes, then grab the drink on his table, downing it.
I tagged along with Maddox three times last week. The first two nights, we hit up parties in the Hollywood Hills. Since we had a driver escorting us around wherever we wanted to go, I decided to take full advantage and kind of drink my face off. Okay, not kind of. I did. The third time we went out, I was still drinking, but it wasn’t doing what I wanted it to do. Namely, forget everything I could about how I treated Danica and what I said to Zoey. So, I figured the next step up was to hook up with someone.
We ventured out to a small nightclub on Wilshire Boulevard, and the girl Maddox was meeting had a friend. I thought it’d be the perfect chance to finally bury all of my memories and move on. I was wrong.
By the time I was introduced to the girl, I was already wasted. A couple of paparazzi caught shots of me stumbling into the club. Looking back on it, I know now I was in no shape to try and hook up with someone, but like I said, I’m a rock star, and I’m doing rock star stuff now. Evidently, that includes throwing up on an aspiring actress’s dress, the same actress you were set up to meet, all within five minutes of meeting her. The only good thing was that it happened in the VIP lounge where no one else saw. Well, no one except Maddox and his date for the night.
“Don’t you think you might want to take it easy. Especially with the show tomorrow?” Maddox asks, twisting another knob on his control panel.
Tomorrow is our secret show for our fan club. King’s Court shows are something we all look forward to. They aren’t enormous shows like at the arenas we tour. We pick local spots that hold only a few hundred people. We know not everyone who wants to make it can get a ticket, but for those who can, it feels like a private show just for them. I’ve been dreading it, though. It’ll be the first time I perform since everything happened. After being with Danica and Zoey, the last few shows we had, and everything that I did, getting on stage and playing feels different. I almost don’t want to do it.
“I’m fine,” I call back.
After I finish off the last of whatever Maddox was drinking, Sarah runs over to me, grabbing my hand. “Hey, Tabby knows of this party over in Silver Lake. Want to go?”
“No problem,” I call out, then turn back to Maddox. “You’re cool if I take off, right? It’s not like I haven’t seen you play before.” He gives me a disappointed look. “Come on, don’t give me that. I’ll catch your set next time you play.”
“It’s not about you missing my set, man.” He grabs my shoulder. “Derrik, you need to chill.”
“Okay, King of Bad.” I make a face and move to turn away, but he doesn’t let go of my shoulder.
“I’m serious. You’ve already had too much.”
“Maddox, you know I’m not driving.”
; “And we have a show tomorrow. Even I don’t get hammered before shows.”
“No, you get hammered at the shows,” I yell at him. I know he doesn’t, but it doesn’t stop the drunken insult from flying out. I yank my shoulder free from him. “Listen, I appreciate you trying to take EJ’s role for the night, but I don’t need it. I’m gone.”
Grabbing Sarah’s hand, we follow Tabby out through the club. Making our way outside, screams erupt when the people in line see me, and I’m hit with the onslaught of cameras flashing again. Letting go of Sarah’s hand, I feel the world start spinning and try to hold myself up against the wall.
“Derrik! Derrik, over here!”
“This way!”
“Hey, over here!”
The screaming forces me to squeeze my eyes shut, still feeling the world turn. I think I hear Sarah next to me, asking if I’m okay, but I can’t answer her. I look up, and I’m instantly blinded by more flashes.
“Derrik, when’s the next tour?”
“Who else is playing the festival in Vegas?”
“Did you force Danica to get an abortion?”
I’m jolted from my stupor, but keep my eyes narrowed, searching for whoever shouted that last thing I heard. “What?” I yell. “Who said that?”
“It’s in the latest issue of Teen Weekly,” the camera guy calls out again. This time I find him and stumble over.
Sarah pulls at my hand to try and get me to go with her, but I yank it away and step to the cameraman. “What the hell did you say?” I drunkenly jab my finger into his chest.
“It’s the latest rumor in the magazine. They said that’s why she broke up with you and fired you from the show.”
I don’t know what’s real. The world’s still spinning. I grab his camera, but it’s wrapped around his neck with a belt, forcing him to stumble into me. I trip a couple of steps backward but regain my balance, and I’m able to wrestle the camera loose from him, slamming it into the ground.
“What the hell?” he shouts.
“Put that in the latest issue of Teen Weekly!”
“That camera cost nine hundred dollars, you jackass! You’re gonna pay for that!”
“Oh yeah?” I scream at him, hearing Sarah behind me. Nothing else matters, though. My fingers clench, and I slam my fist across his face.
“Security!” I hear someone else yell, and then I’m swarmed by security and other photographers trying to break up the attack. I get in three more shots before I’m yanked away, then slammed into the cold cement sidewalk, still feeling the world spin.
I’m woken up when someone kicks my leg. Being jolted awake, I look up for the cement bench I’m sitting on, and see Peter standing above me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask through a rough voice. “I didn’t call anyone.”
He chuckles, but it’s not humorous. It’s annoyance. “When you’re a famous rock star, you tend to make the news for getting drunk, smashing a cameraman’s equipment, then attacking him. I didn’t need a phone call from you to know you’d been arrested. It’s all over the internet.”
Unable to think of a retort, I nod and get to my feet. Following him through the police department, I know he grabs my belongings, and I somehow make it back to his car. I’m just not sure about the logistics of how any of that happens. What I do know is I wake up about an hour later, almost home, sitting in the passenger seat of his BMW.
I want to apologize to Peter for what I did. I also want to thank him for getting me and now driving me. But I don’t do either of those things. Instead, I kept my face pressed against the cold window and stare out into the night, seeing the headlights zoom by and the stars above.
Reaching up, I wipe my face, and feel the painful bruise under my right eye. The cameraman must’ve got a shot in. Good for him.
“Derrik, talk to me, man,” Peter says from the driver’s seat. “This isn’t you.”
“I know,” I whisper. Trying to think of where I could possibly start, I take a deep breath. “I had a plan. I was going to get a girl I’ve never gotten over to fall in love with me again. I’d keep Danica at bay, film her show, and that’d be the end of that. And then … it all went to hell.”
There’s a piece of me that doesn’t want him to say anything. I just want to keep my face pressed against the cold glass, feeling lost forever. But I need to know what to do, and as much as I’ve rejected Maddox’s and EJ’s advice lately, somewhere inside, I know I need to listen to him.
“I know your life is hectic,” he finally says, letting out a long sigh. “Not only that, but you’re trying to squeeze in normal relationships that you want to have, or at least, as normal as you can have. But you can’t self-destruct like this. Your family trusts me. You guys are good people, which is why I’ve never tried to restrict any of you. But this stuff? Derrik, this is getting out of control.”
“Yeah.” I nod with my forehead still against the window. “I’ll do better, Peter. We’ll do our show tomorrow, and then we’ve got a few weeks before Vegas. I’ll—”
“Tomorrow’s show is canceled.”
That’s enough to finally get me to look over at him. “What?”
He lets out an unbelieving chuckle. “You’re not performing like this. We’ll reschedule. There’s no way I’m letting you perform when you’re not right.”
There’s nothing I can say. Leaning my head back against the door, I stare out and watch the headlights again, feeling like an even bigger piece of trash than I did five minutes ago. So now, not only can you add Zoey, Danica, and a paparazzi to the list of people I’ve screwed over, but you can also add my fans and my band. My family.
Derrik Tyler: Former King of Hearts. Now, Jackass of all Trades.
32
Zoey
After returning to school for a couple of weeks, Becca and I are back at the beach. Just us this time. Since we didn’t hang out at her aunt’s in Huntington Beach during spring break, she got ahold of Becca and asked if we wanted to housesit for the weekend. Less than two months of high school, and I’ll be on my way to college. Single.
I’ve gotten over the feeling of patheticness. Is that a word? It’s what I’ve been calling it.
After the truth—the real truth—finally came out between Landon and me, it’s how I’ve been feeling. Pathetic. And it’s because of multiple reasons. Asking him out, even though I did do it at the beginning without ill intentions, was still a pathetic move when I should’ve known better. Pathetic for not being able to untangle my head and heart that’s still wrapped up in a relationship with Derrik last year. And still feeling pathetic for lying to Derrik.
Even though the last feelings of patheticness are lessened a touch since I’ve been following the news on Derrik.
I don’t go looking for it, but being who he is, it’s everywhere. It’s an odd feeling because I want to feel bad for him. Going out, getting drunk, partying, and ultimately ending up in a fight and getting arrested. Not to mention, the Kings had to cancel their fan club show. It’s rescheduled for tomorrow night.
Due to all of that, I do want to feel some sympathy for him. During these last couple of weeks, he’s been entirely out of the spotlight, so I hope the arrest finally knocked some sense into him.
Becca’s aunt’s house sits right on the beach. We could walk out past the small fence of her property fifty feet and take in the sun out there, but her house also has a pool. We keep to ourselves, put on some music, and enjoy the clear skies while the music echoes over the pool with the waves breaking in the background.
“This is the life,” Becca says, letting out a satisfied sigh. “I’m so glad I got in Montclair. I’ll be thirty minutes away, you’ll be twenty. We can do this every weekend.”
I laugh, taking another sip from the margarita that Becca made for us. Her aunt keeps instant margarita mix in the house, and whenever we come over, Becca always makes us some. Her phone beeps, and she looks over at it but doesn’t reply to whoever texted her.
I quirk an eyebr
ow and smirk. “JC?”
“I wish!” she yells out. “It’s too bad he won’t be at the music festival with the band. I’d love to get some free tickets and try to meet back up with him.”
“Becca, how would you even get to him?” I laugh. “That party was a one-time thing. Sorry, girl.”
“Dang!” She sits up, pushing my shoulder. “Way to ruin my dreams.” Laughing, she gets up from her chair and grabs her glass. “I’m gonna get a refill. Want one?”
My drink is barely half gone. Taking another sip, I shake my head. “I’m good. Thanks.”
This is nice. Lounging with my best friend, not worrying about school or boys or anything else. Almost as soon as I have that thought, I almost choke on my next sip. Derrik steps through the entryway of the house and the backyard, standing with his hands in his pockets. Giving me a sheepish smile, he offers a small wave.
“Hey,” he says, not moving forward.
My eyes dart around at the windows lining the outside of the house, looking for Becca. She stands at the kitchen window, silently nodding over to Derrik, seeming to urge me to say something.
“Hey,” I reply, returning my attention to him.
His eyes stay on me for a moment, and then he bites his lips. Averting his gaze, he seems to get embarrassed for a moment. I suddenly realize the two-piece bikini I’m in, and rush to grab a towel sitting in the chair next to me. Getting up, I wrap it around my body. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” He peeks over at me with a chuckle. “You weren’t expecting me.”
“What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t answer. Cautiously, he walks over to the small barrier that separates the beach from the backyard. Glancing back, he laughs. “Poolside with the beach right there?”
I smile. “Becca’s been using her aunt’s margarita mix.”
“Nice.” I nod with a chuckle. “How are you?”
