by Melody Grace
I’d never loved a woman like this before; never cared for anyone except my family. If I was already willing to give up this much for her after just a few weeks, then how much deeper would I fall in a month? Two months? A year from now?
I could see it, stretching out in front of me. The two of us together in LA: me acting, her writing. Waking up in the morning to the sight of her sleepy smile, and falling asleep at night in the sweaty heat of our embrace.
It would be magic.
It would break my heart to see it end.
I’m not proud of what came next, how I acted, trying to brush off her protests like they meant nothing. I thought maybe if I could take a step back, skate by on a smile and an excuse the way I always did, then maybe I could make it out OK.
But Zoey knows me better than anyone. She refused to take my bullshit, and fuck, I don’t blame her for it.
The blame is mine. And now I have to live with the consequences.
“They’re waiting on set.” Another assistant gives me a breathless smile. I get up and follow her out to the middle of the massive courtyard. Hundreds of extras mill around; spotlights shine brightly, and everyone’s attention is soon focused on me.
I’m right in the middle of it all. It’s what I always wanted. My dreams are coming true, but it’s a hollow victory now that I’ve lost the one thing that mattered more than anything.
I wonder, is there any way I can fix it. Or is it too late?
Have I lost her for good?
***
Back at the hotel, I head straight across the lobby towards the elevators. It’s been a long day filming, and even though the rest of the cast are planning a night out in the city, I’m in no mood to party. I just want to order in some room service, and spend the night the way I always do: wondering what the hell Zoey’s doing half-way across the world, and why the hell I messed it up so bad with her—
“If the wind changes, your face will stick like that,” a dry voice comes.
I turn to find my brother, Ash, leaning against the lobby desk, wearing a designer suit with his phone surgically attached to his hand and a group of women nearby sending admiring glances in his direction.
Business as usual then.
“What are you doing here?” I exclaim, going to greet him with a hug.
Ash slaps me on the back. “Business,” he explains, stepping back.
“What else?” I smirk. “It’s not like you have a personal life.”
He gives me a look. “An old business school friend of mine has some beachfront land he’s looking to offload. I figured it was worth the trip.”
“And to see your favorite brother, of course,” I add with a smile.
“Naturally,” Ash replies. “I’m booked on a flight back to LA tomorrow, so I don’t have much time. You want to come see the land with me?”
I’m tired, but Ash’s schedule is always so busy; I know that it was a big deal for him to even stop by to see me. “Sure,” I say. “Why not?”
Ash has a car waiting out front; his driver gives me a nod in the rearview window then slides the partition up. I look around at the plush leather interiors and whistle. “Not bad, big brother. I remember when you were rattling around in that beat up old Ford.”
Ash cracks a grin. “Until it gave up on me in the middle of the 405 exit ramp. Caused tail-backs all the way to the Valley.”
“You couldn’t find a tow truck to touch it.” I laugh. “You’ve come a long way.”
“You too.” Ash’s dark eyes flash with amusement. “Girls lining up to throw their panties at you.”
“Not just yet.” I laugh. “These days, I’m still lucky if I get a sweatshirt tossed in my direction.”
“You just wait. Between your future Oscars and Dex’s shelf of Grammys, I’ll be the poor underachiever in the family.”
I snort at that. “We might have the paparazzi stalking us, but with your real estate empire, you could buy and sell the both of us and not even blink.”
Ash doesn’t disagree.
He was always ambitious, but after our parents died, he became a total workaholic. I guess it’s paid off for him: he’s about to turn thirty, and his company has real estate developments all over the States.
“So, you’re going international now?” I ask, as the car turns out towards the coastline. It’s rugged and wild, with the sun setting back across the landscape in streaks of pink and gold.
Ash gives a measured shrug. “I’ve been getting kind of restless, maybe something like this is the challenge I need.”
“Restless?” I echo, surprised. “You mean your empire is getting dull.”
Ash chuckles. “Not just yet. I don’t know, I guess I need another mountain to climb.”
I’m not sure if he’s being metaphorical; with Ash, you can never tell. The guy went and climbed Everest a couple of years back, just because he felt like it.
After driving a few minutes more, the car comes to a stop on an impressive cliff-top by the ocean, and we get out. There are no other houses or buildings nearby, we’re completely alone.
“Give us five, Ed,” Ash tells the driver, who nods and pulls out a dog-eared mystery novel. Ash paces across the open brush towards the bluff with a thoughtful look on his face.
“What are you thinking?” I follow, picking my way along the overgrown path. “Luxury condos? A ridiculous mansion?”
He exhales. “I’m not sure just yet. Great views though.”
Now it’s my turn to shrug. “If you want ocean, just come to Beachwood Bay. That place has miles of undeveloped shore, you know, the whole quaint small-town thing. Plus you could actually spend some time with your family,” I add.
He turns, frowning. “Is everything OK with Tegan and Dex?” he demands.
“Yes, they’re great,” I reassure him. “But you don’t have to just come swooping in for an emergency. Dex and Alicia will start spitting out babies soon, Tegan’s playing house with her guy. It would be nice to all get together during the good times, not just the bad.”
Ash gives me another of his inscrutable looks, shadowed in the dusk light. “Says the guy camped out half-way around the world.”
“This is work!” I protest.
“My work keeps me busy too.” Ash’s lips press in a thin line: his “no arguments” face. I know it well enough from growing up, so I let the subject drop.
“It’s a good piece of land,” I tell him. “Whatever you choose will work out.”
“And what about you?” Ash asks, as we walk back to the car. “What are you going to choose?”
I look at him, confused.
“I may not visit, but I talk to Tegan every week,” Ash notes. “She won’t stop complaining about you screwing things up with Zoey.”
I sigh. “She doesn’t know the whole story.”
“I knew there was going to be trouble the moment I saw you guys together at New Year’s.” Ash looks rueful. “She’s been in love with you for years, you were always going to break her heart.”
“Hey!” Now my tone gets forceful. I stop and glare. “I’m hurting here too. I didn’t mean for any of this to get so fucked up.”
Ash’s expression gets sympathetic, just a little. “So what are you doing about it?”
“I don’t know what I can do!” I drag my hands through my hair, feeling the same guilt and frustration well up again. “I fucked things up.”
“So fix them.”
I growl. “It’s not so simple.”
“It never is.” Ash gives me a measured look. “This girl was the first time you’ve ever given a damn about someone,” he points out. “But you had one fight and suddenly it’s over. I guess you really are a quitter.”
“Will everyone stop saying that!” I explode, feeling a rage building inside. “Dammit, is that what you all think of me? Some good-time guy who walks out the minute things get rough?”
“No.” Ash folds his arms, standing his ground. “I think you’ve spent so long trying not to give a
damn that you have no idea how to handle something real.”
“I could say the same about you,” I shoot back, but Ash doesn’t take the bait.
“I know real.” He glares back at me, stony-faced. “And I know what it’s like to have someone bolt when things got ugly. So if you want to be that person, then fine. I just think you’re capable of more than that. At least, I hope you are,” he adds. “Lord knows Zoey deserves better than this brand of bullshit you’re wallowing in right now. For some reason, she decided you were worth a damn, so maybe it’s time you decided to man up and prove you’re worth that kind of love.”
He turns and stalks back towards the car before I can punch him straight in the mouth.
Goddamn.
If that was his idea of a pep talk, it needs some work. I want to rage at the bullshit he was just telling me. But just as fast as the anger hits me, the fight drains away.
It’s not bullshit. He’s right. Every last word. I am hiding out here, as if the ocean between us could excuse the fact I haven’t picked up the phone, or negotiated a weekend off to fly back to LA.
I could go to Zoey anytime I wanted, but there’s one thing holding me back.
I’m scared as hell it’s too late.
She waited for me. She trusted me with her heart—and her body. She believed in me like nobody else ever has. And how did I repay her?
By running scared the first chance I got.
She believed I was a better man than that, but I just did the same thing I always have done: backed away from anything that could hurt me, regardless of the cost.
And how’s that working out for you?
Ash is right. I have to make a choice. I have to decide to be the man Zoey saw in me, once upon a time—and pray to God she still can, after everything I’ve done.
I trek back to the limo and get inside. Ash is already tapping out messages on his phone; he doesn’t even give me a look as the engine starts and we speed back towards the city.
The silence drags, filled only with my own thoughts, until finally, I can’t stop myself voicing my fears out loud.
“What reason does she have to give me another shot?” I ask, feeling guilty. “I took her for granted. I’ve done nothing but push her away and fuck this up from the very beginning.”
Ash pauses typing. “Maybe she won’t. But at least you’ll have tried,” he adds, looking over at me. “That’s the point, to fight for someone you love. That’s the only point of anything.”
I look at him, trying to remember the last time he had a steady girlfriend. “Have you ever fought for someone?”
Ash gets that grim look again. “Olivia.” he says shortly.
I remember now. They were together all through college. “Whatever happened to her, anyway? You guys broke up when you started business school, right?”
Ash gives a curt laugh. “No, she left right after Mom and Dad died. Said she didn’t sign up to deal with three teenagers and keeping a roof over everyone’s head.”
“Bitch.”
He cracks the ghost of a smile. “No, I get it. I mean, it took me a while to see it her way, but she had her reasons. Still, I fought for her. I did everything I could. And at least I knew it was over. There were no ‘what ifs’ left to play. And I could get over her and focus on what really mattered, building a life for us all.”
I’m reminded again how much Ash sacrificed, fresh out of college and suddenly responsible for keeping it all together for us.
“You know we all appreciate everything you did,” I say quietly.
Ash looks uncomfortable. “It’s fine.” He looks away. “Maybe I had it easy, in a way. I was forced to step up, there wasn’t any choice in the matter. But you, you’ve had nothing but choices,” he says, turning back to me. “Nobody relying on you for anything, nobody needing you to get your shit together. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’ve been able to find your own way. But the Hollywood scene, all the girls and parties… It doesn’t exactly make a guy grow up,” he adds with a wry smile.
“Zoey needed me,” I say quietly. “Not that she was needy or anything, but…I could tell I made her happy. Just, saying she looked beautiful, or kissing her, she would light up.” I remember her face, the spark in her eyes, and feel that hollow in my chest ache for her. “I couldn’t believe it sometimes, that I could do that. Put a smile on her face just by being there.”
“That’s a gift,” Ash says softly. “You don’t take it for granted.”
“I know.” I swallow, feeling a new determination. “I won’t, not ever again.”
“Does this mean you’re going to try and get her back?” He arches an eyebrow.
I nod. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Thank God,” Ash smirks. “Tegan gave me permission to beat your ass if that’s what it took. But I figured your director wouldn’t appreciate you strung up in traction.”
“You mean this was an intervention?” I exclaim. “You were never going to buy that land?”
Ash laughs. “It’s too far from home. Besides, it’s like you said, I might as well set up in Beachwood Bay. In fact, I’m looking at some land there to develop.”
“That’s great. Tegan will be happy to see you.”
“Maybe you and Zoey will want a beach house,” he adds with a knowing look. “Once you get her back.”
“Don’t say that.” I feel a twinge of anxiety. “We don’t know what she’ll say yet. I don’t know if she’ll give me the time of day again. I might be too late.”
But if I’m not?
There’s nothing in the world that can stand between us now. She’s the only one I want, and dammit, I’m ready to make her see.
I love her more than anything.
26.
Zoey
It’s hard to forget your ex-boyfriend when there are billboards of him on every street corner.
I sit in traffic on Sunset Boulevard, staring up at Blake’s face. The Judgement Day premiere is tonight, and I can’t get away from him: towering over the intersection, thirty feet in the air. He’s gripping a machine gun, sweat gleaming on his perfect tanned skin with his mud-stained T-shirt clinging to every muscle.
My heart aches.
He looks incredible, but the real kicker is, I know it’s even better in real life. I can’t help flashing back to the night in the rain, when he came to tell me how he really felt. All his emotion and pain only made me love him more; he wasn’t just pretending to be a movie hero up there on the screen, he was a real, raw human being, capable of so much love and feeling.
Until he chose that pretend world over me.
“I hope the aliens get you,” I mutter, as the lights finally change to green and I drive away.
I turn the radio up and try to shake off the pain that hits me whenever I’m reminded about Blake. It’s been three months, and I’m down to only two dozen tiny heart-breaks a day. I tell myself that soon, this movie will be old news and the posters and billboards will be plastered over with some other handsome face.
Until his next film. And the next.
Crap! There’s really no escaping him, not even with him on the other side of the world. I change the subject every time Tegan mentions him in our phone calls; ignore his face on the newsstand, and try not to remember the time we spent together, but still, I can’t help it.
I miss him so much, even after everything.
My cellphone rings, pulling me out of my wistful misery. I hit my hands-free gadget and answer.
“Hello?”
“I’m running late.”
I laugh. “You’re always late.”
“I know, but this time I’m an hour behind. Bloody hangover,” Dash curses.
“Is it the hangover that’s making you late, or the girl who helped get you there?” I tease. After working closely with him on this new script, I know all of Dash’s many vices.
He groans. “Darlin’, I quit, I promise. Soon as we get this thing wrapped, I’m checking myself into a monastery somewhe
re. One of those places in the mountains where you catch fish and live a simple life. No studio execs breathing down my neck, driving me to a life of sin and debauchery.”
“I’m pretty sure Uber is doing the driving,” I laugh. “Take your time, I’ll be in the usual spot.”
“You’re a doll.”
Dash hangs up just as I pull into the parking lot of the cafe that’s become our regular workplace. It’s already full of people working on their laptops. It’s a running joke in Hollywood that you can’t walk into a Starbucks without tripping over aspiring writers working on their screenplay, but as I nab a sunny table by the window, I feel a surge of pride.
I’m really doing this.
When Dash asked me to collaborate with him on his next movie, I was excited—and scared. I’d only ever revised a few pages for him, writing a whole script was a huge challenge. But he’s been so much fun to work with, bouncing ideas around and genuinely listening to my opinions. The whole process has been a huge learning experience for me, and cemented my determination to try to make writing my chosen path.
“Iced mocha, extra whip.” The drink is set on my table with a thump. I look up, surprised.
“Sophie!” I exclaim, hugging her. “I thought you’d be in class today.”
“I had a free morning, and I figured I’d find you here,” she smiles, her hair pulled up in a casual ponytail. She’s wearing one of her vintage sundresses and red lipstick. “I’ve got a ton of studying to do. Wanna split the table?”
“Of course.” We get settled with our laptops and books. With Tegan back in Beachwood Bay, Sophie has become my closest friend in LA; I hang out with her and Austin all the time, so I know her schedule pretty well.
And visa versa, it seems. “Am I really this predictable?” I ask, as Sophie slides her plate of cookie over to share.
She laughs. “Predictable can be good. Don’t tell Austin, but I love having a routine. It helps me keep on top of all of this,” she nods to the stack of study materials with a rueful look.
“How’s it going?” I ask, sympathetic. Sophie’s in grad school, and her workload is crazy.
