by Mira Bailee
I don’t bother arguing. For all of us who came into this bizarre, luxurious life as former outsiders, we carry a number of preconceived ideas. So far, most of my own have been proven wrong. The few celebrities I’ve talked to—and the one I’ve been sleeping with—have seemed like nothing more than normal people living extraordinary lives. I used to daydream of being a little starlet, having everything handed to me, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade lives with them anyway. We all have our demons, and they aren’t excluded.
Devon takes my hand and pulls me toward the back VIP rooms. We pass through a velvet curtain and find a quieter space—dark, more private. A couple couches are filled with people talking and laughing and drinking. I consider the fact no one’s doing lines of coke in the middle of the room and decide this is a massive step up from the club Devon brought me to in San Francisco.
“What about Lex?” I say, looking back. Did she see us come in here? I don’t want her to think we ditched her.
“What about her? She’s a big girl. She can find us if she wants to, but I’ll put money on it. The first movie star she recognizes, and she’ll be like any other fan girl coming to this city for the first time.”
He falls back onto a couch rubbing one hand over his forehead.
“Still not feeling great?” I ask, sitting next to him.
“You could say that.” He pulls me closer to him and kisses the top of my head. “You look sexy, by the way.”
I feel my cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
He traces his fingers down my bare arm, and I shiver. I turn his way and kiss him. The warmth of his mouth, the taste of him, relaxes me and makes me wish this room were even more private.
I pull away and take his hand in my own. Softly, I trail my index finger from his fingertips to his palm. I can’t help but notice a tremor in his hand. He’s shaking. Is he sick?
“You want to leave? We shouldn’t have gone out if you’re coming down with something.”
He smirks and shakes his head. “I’m not sick, Olivia. I’m just…dealing with stuff.”
What does he mean by that?
“Let me get you a drink, okay?” I say. Clearly, he needs to relax. Something’s bothering him.
He nods and I go to the VIP bar. A quick glance to the other end of it, and I recognize an actor leaning against the back of a barstool.
“A whiskey, dry. And a cranberry-vodka. Please.” I wait for our drinks, trying to be subtle as I pinpoint who the actor is. Then he catches me looking, and I divert my gaze to the liquor bottles on the top shelf behind the bar. Too late. He walks over.
Once he’s closer, his name pops into my head. Nolan Aries. Of course.
“Olivia, right?” he says.
It’s so weird having these people know who I am.
“Yeah, and you’re Nolan?” I shake his extended hand.
“I saw your TV spot you did for the YOUTHelp Foundation. Good work, but sorry I put you in that situation. I was stuck in New York.”
“That’s what Nat—” I about choke on my words. My drink’s ready and I take a quick sip, trying to act casual. “That’s what Natalia had said.” Just saying her name, even her fake name, makes me want to vomit. “You had meetings or something?”
“Always.” He laughs and asks the bartender for a beer. “I’ll let you get back to your evening. Just wanted to introduce myself. The foundation is important to me, so maybe we’ll have a chance to work together in the future.”
“That would be great. See you around.” I take my drinks and walk back to Devon, handing him his and settling in next to him again.
“You hitting on movie stars now?” he asks, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“Oh yeah. You know me.” I’m really pleased with that interaction though. For one, I didn’t come across as a total idiot. And, it was the first time I’ve gotten to talk to someone in a professional way. They claim Hollywood is all about connections. Well, so’s the fate of my career, and it’ll be great to have someone like Nolan in my network. “He was talking about YOUTHelp and working on projects in the future.”
Devon rubs my back. “Sorry he brought it up. I know that whole thing is still bothering you.”
What? No, I’m excited. Why would the foundation bother me? It wasn’t the nonprofit’s fault Nat attacked me. Or was it?
Is the foundation a fraud too?
My heart breaks a little at the idea. Now that the thought’s crossed my mind, there’s no un-thinking it. Would they really take advantage of me—of Jared—like that?
Oh man, I need to regroup. This is supposed to be a fun night.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick, okay?”
He leans his head back against the couch. “I’ll be here.”
“Are you sure we don’t need to leave? You look pale. What’s wrong?”
There’s the smirk again. What’s the joke I must be missing?
“We’ll talk when you get back. I’m okay. I promise.”
We’ll talk? Those are ominous words. I head to the bathroom with a million assumptions running through my head. No, we promised no more assumptions. We’re honest with each other now. Everything’s fine.
I push through the bathroom door and almost plow right into Lex.
“Sorry. There you are. I was wondering—”
I survey the scene in front of me. The women’s bathroom opens to a small sitting area, the walls covered in mirrors for unlimited access to makeup touchups. The bathroom stalls and sinks are separated by a glass partitioned wall.
Lex is nearest the door, and another woman sits on one of the armchairs, a small vile in her hand.
“Hey Livi. Look! I just met Mara. She was an extra on that show Werewolf Chronicles. Cool, huh?”
This is the same girl who was critical of all of Hollywood earlier, but I can see the inspiration for her new opinion. A small tray sits on the table between them, and on that tray, a small line of coke waits.
I shake my head, “Really, Lex? You couldn’t stay sober for one night?”
Mara laughs and Lex joins her. Screw it. I walk passed them to the furthest stall with the intention of getting out of here as quick as possible. Forget my hopes for a fun night of sibling bonding. As I wash my hands and leave the bathroom, Lex starts to speak, but I let the door swing shut, cutting off her words.
Doesn’t she get it? Hours ago, she describes her mother and everything they went through. And here she is, making the same mistakes? What the hell is it about these dumb drugs that people can’t make rational choices?
I find Devon, and before considering my words, I say, “Your half-sister’s snorting coke in the bathroom.”
I don’t know which makes me feel worse—my disregard for everything we’ve been through about drugs or the look of sheer hunger that crosses his face.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up.” I sit down next to him and comb my fingers through his hair. “Sorry. I wasn’t even thinking.”
“Want me to go stop her?”
Are you kidding? I don’t want you anywhere near free drugs. “No, no. I just don’t know what to do about her. How can she act like that after watching her own mother die from the same behavior?”
Devon’s quiet, and I know he’s taking this personally. He should. I saw the way he practically drooled when I told him what Lex is doing. It’s so unbelievably frustrating that I can’t get through to anyone, but I’m also not in the mood to fight.
I grab my drink from the coffee table in front of us and finish it off. This night’s a bust. I pull out my phone and figure I can distract myself on that until it’s time to leave.
Ten missed calls.
Five unread text messages.
“Devon, something’s wrong with Maddie.”
I swipe across the phone’s screen, hurrying to get to the texts.
I need to talk to you.
Answer your phone.
O, this is an emergency.
I need you.
The fucking
bar caught on fire.
My heart sinks and I jump up. “We have to go. Now.”
“What is it?”
“There was a fire at Maddie’s work.”
He follows me out of the VIP room and we stop by the bathroom to grab Lex.
I grab her arm and yank her away from her new friend, Mara. “We’re leaving.”
She resists, but she’s too high to do much about it. “I’m staying,” she says, her speech excited and hurried. “I want to dance and get up on the stage and—”
“Come on,” I say again, this time with force, and she pouts as she follows behind.
Keeping my grip on her, we wade through the sea of dancing bodies until we’re out front again. Devon’s got Mark on the phone and he’s pulling around now.
He hangs up and looks down at me, genuine concern on his face. “Is she okay?”
“She didn’t say.” I try calling her but it goes to voicemail this time. “She just left a bunch of messages.”
Mark pulls up and we pile in. I tell him to go to Brecken’s Sports Pub.
Fifteen minutes later, we pull up to a hectic scene. I’m already a nervous wreck, but seeing all the police tape and fire trucks and smoke still billowing up from the bar’s roof, a real panic sets in. Where’s Maddie?!
Devon and I get out, but Lex is curled up on one of the seats with no intention of leaving the limo. That’s one good thing that’s happened tonight. At least she won’t be out here causing a scene or getting into trouble.
We’re barely halfway through the parking lot when I hear, “Olivia!”
Maddie’s standing next to an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around her and an EMT checking her vitals.
“Oh my god, Maddie. I’m so sorry I didn’t see my phone sooner.” I throw my arms around her, disregarding the medic trying to work. “Are you okay? What happened? Was anyone hurt?”
Maddie’s makeup is smeared like she’d been crying. “Everyone got out. They said it was started in the kitchen. Someone dropped a towel on the grill or something, but this night’s been…weird.” She looks at the EMT. “Can I go?”
He nods an approval. Maddie tosses the blanket in the back of the ambulance, grabs her purse, and we walk back toward the limo—which, by the way, looks horribly out of place next to all the emergency vehicles. We get back in, this time with Maddie. She gives Lex a quick glance and looks at me, eyebrows furrowed.
“Don’t ask,” I tell her. Lex isn’t a priority right now. “Are you really okay?”
“Not really. I think the bar’s destroyed. That’s why the whole thing doesn’t seem right.”
Devon pours Maddie a shot of whiskey, but I intervene. “She might need to give a statement or something.”
Maddie takes the glass and swallows it all in one gulp. Never mind.
“How does a towel, accidentally catching on fire on the grill, lead to the entire interior of my workplace being scorched?”
“No one was around to witness it?” I suggest.
Maddie shakes her head no. “We had staff back there. They extinguished the towel really fast. But there was something on the floor—all over the floor. That’s what ignited the whole place.”
“So grease? Oil? What?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. We’re really particular about keeping the floors clean. We just had an inspection. It doesn’t make sense unless…”
Devon finishes the thought with a tone of amusement in his voice. “…It wasn’t an accident.” He says it like he’s doing a suspenseful voiceover.
Maddie glares at him. “Exactly, smart ass.”
Devon straightens up. Only he can find a way to joke right now. “So who hates your boss? A disgruntled employee?”
“Funny you should ask.” Maddie pulls out her phone and shows us a message. “I got this right before it all happened.”
A text message that includes a photo, just like what Nat sent me the other day at the Stone mansion. It’s a photo of the bar taken earlier tonight, I assume. And the message:
Have a nice night.
“You know who sent this,” Maddie says to me. “Just like she sent the message to you. She’s trying to threaten us—all of us.”
The look on Devon’s face is one of hate and fury. “She? Natasha? She’s messaged you?”
“Hey,” Lex speaks up from her side of the limo. “Is she the reason your car crashed today?”
And now I have three sets of eyes on me, waiting.
I avoid eye contact with Devon as I come clean about everything. After showing him my text from Nat, I tell him about the flowers that had been waiting for me in my room.
“I thought she was just being creepy. It’s not like a message or a bouquet would kill me. And if she wanted to kill me,” I think back to waking up in that maintenance closet, “she already had the chance.” And would she? Would she go so far as to kill for Devon?
“That photo,” Devon points to Maddie’s phone, “is proof she did this.” He motions out the window to the bar. “But why? She doesn’t even know Maddie.”
“No, but…” The message Maddie left Nat plays back through my head. “Maddie called and threatened her, telling her not to mess with me anymore. I think it made her mad.”
“You think?” He looks to Maddie. “How very bold of you. And what was that about your car?” We all check on Lex who seems to be asleep. Granted, I hadn’t thought she was listening in a few minutes ago either.
“The mechanic called me earlier. Said the accident didn’t appear to be an… accident. My brake lines were punctured.”
“And you told Lex but not me?”
I can’t tell if he’s angrier at me or the crazy woman who did all these things to us.
“No. She was in the car when the brakes went out. I didn’t tell her what they found out with my car. That was just a good guess on her part.”
Devon glares at me as he tries to process it all.
“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about all this right when it happened. It didn’t seem like a big deal until my mechanic called, and by then, my priority was on you and Lex and—”
“Don’t do that. You really think us going out to some club—where she could’ve been, by the way. Did you consider that? Did you really think that was more important than telling me you’re getting threats from her?”
It sounds ridiculous when he says it out loud. “I was going to talk to you about it in the morning.”
Devon sighs and pulls out his phone. “Mark, take us to Olivia’s.” We start down the street, and Devon makes a phone call. “You need to find Natasha … Mhmm …. She’s at it again, this time going after Olivia … I want her in cuffs. She violated the restraining order, attempted homicide, and committed arson. I want the highest charges pressed. Got it? … Call me back once you have her.” He hangs up, watching out the window, not looking me in the eye. “I’m staying with you tonight. My guys will find her.”
“The same guys who didn’t find out about Lex before we did? Are you sure—”
“They’ll find her. I want you to stay out of it. And I’m the first to know next time. Got it?”
Devon ditched his button-down shirt and is lounging in my bed wearing only his jeans. This view of him makes me forget all my troubles. Maddie’s asleep. Lex is passed out on the couch. It’s just me and Devon, and I have him all to myself. Staring at me as I climb into bed next to him, he hardly flinches when I lean over him and kiss his collarbone.
I move down to his chest, trailing kisses past his nipple and down his stomach. When I reach the top of his pants, I trace my finger along his skin, drawing an invisible line from one hip bone to the other. His muscles are hard, his body warm. Ready for me to consume him.
Unbuttoning his pants, I look up at him, unable to keep a flirty smile off my face.
“Can you not?”
My mood instantly deflates, and I fall back onto the pillow next to him.
“I told you I was sorry, okay? I didn’t know she
’d take it that far, and—”
“It’s not that. That’s done with. She’ll be found and arrested.”
I prop myself up on an elbow facing him. He takes my free hand and holds it in his.
“Why do you think forcing a relationship between me and Lex is so important? More important than your life being threatened?” he asks.
“I lost the only sibling I had. And I know you have Kaidan, but…who does she have? She’s in a bad place, and I feel like we’re the only ones who can help her.” And I’m the only one who can help you.
“She’s an adult.”
“She’s your sister, and it’s more obvious by the minute.” My hand rests against his chest, and I try to focus on his heartbeat rather than how hard it is to let the truth come out.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I can’t help him if I can’t be open about everything, right? “She’s a drug addict. She doesn’t consider anyone else when all she wants is to get high. Her entire life is a mess because of it.”
“So you think she’s another version of me? That my life is a mess?”
“No…yes…I don’t know. I watch her, and it scares me. Last week, you showed up here in the same state I’ve had to see Lex in. I believe in us. I think what we have matters. And I wish you felt the same. I wish you’d see yourself the way I see you and just try to get better—to get help.”
Devon closes his eyes, and I’m afraid I’m annoying him rather than reaching out and letting him know my honest feelings.
Then he laughs. Now I’m confused.
“Migraines, uncontrollable shaking, constant exhaustion, feeling like shit. Yeah, I’m not trying. That’s why I’m fucking going through withdrawal.” He opens his eyes and looks at me, a mix of sadness and sincerity in them. “I’m doing it for you. For us.”
“I had no idea.” I lay my head on his chest, feeling like a jerk. He isn’t just sick. He’s not using. Did he get rid of his stash? That stupid little tin box?
Instead of interrogating him, I let his confession fill the room with a new hope. How do I support him through this? Just trust him to take care of himself on his own? That doesn’t seem fair. Just because it’s his battle—
