Tangled Hearts (Evermore 4 Book Box Set)

by ANDREA SMITH

  “It’s August 10th at our church. But I’d really like it if you could fly in a couple days before that to help me get prepared. I want you to be my Maid of Honor. And Neely?”

  “Yeah Mama?”

  “Merle is a school teacher. But they’re only human. I don’t want you to think poorly of him for having kicked an alcohol addiction, you hear?”

  “Of course. I understand, Mama. I wouldn’t think poorly of anyone with a problem.”

  “Good. And one more thing. Don’t tell your daddy. It’s none of his business or hers.”

  “No problem, Mama. I’ll call you in a day or two and let you know what my boss says about me taking time off.”

  I had no interest in going back and finishing watching the show. I had to play back the phone conversation I’d just had with my mother.

  After three years of no communication, it was hard to believe that she hadn’t asked me anything more about my life. Wasn’t interested in what I did for a living, or if I had a boyfriend, or anything else. It had been all about her good news.

  I picked the phone back up and dialed my grandmother. I had to get her take on all of this.

  After I hung up from talking to Grandma, my suspicions were somewhat allayed. Grandma said while she did have some initial reservations about it being too soon, she couldn’t deny the fact that Mama had remained sober and was going to church twice a week. I told Grandma I’d call and let her know my plans as soon as I knew them. I’d be staying with her, that much I knew for sure.

  Part of me wanted to be happy for Mama, but the other part of me had some doubts as to whether this was going to do it. It was times like this that I longed for the ability to escape to the beach with my blanket and sketchpad and wait for my best friend from down the beach to come down to where I was and sit with me.

  If things hadn’t changed, that’s where I would be right now. And just maybe Seth would be there, too. And we’d talk it out.

  Together.

  But together was ancient history, and maybe more of that blame was now on me than on him. There was no excuse for lying, no matter what the circumstances, but to purposely wound someone because of some selfish need to dish out pain, well, it was inexcusable.

  Chapter 8

  April 18, 1998

  “Neely, you can’t be sleeping with all that pounding on our damn door. Why is Seth Drake here? What the hell happened today?” Jazzy asked, sitting down on my bed where I’ve been laying in the dark since I returned from slapping Tiffany.

  “You didn’t let him in did you?” I ask, wiping my cheek.

  “No, but he knows I’m in here. He saw me peeking out the blinds, now are you going to tell me what happened?”

  “Later,” I say, swinging my legs down from the bed and wiping my face. “First thing’s first. This is my problem and I will take care of it. It’s not fair to you or to the neighbors. We’re not getting kicked out of here because of the racket he’s making.”

  I go downstairs and wrench the door open, using my own Stella Adler technique, because I know I’m going to need it. “What the hell, Seth?”

  He pushes through the door and whirls around to glare at me. “You owe me some answers, Neely. And I’m not leaving here until I get them, do you understand?”

  He is towering over me, his hair is disheveled and my guess is that it’s because he’s been running his hands through it in frustration. Just like he always does.

  He’s never been so formidable as he is right now, and I know that he means every word of what he’s just said.

  I swallow nervously, silently cursing my evil stepmother for opening this can of worms for the purpose of what? Doing me a favor? How in the hell does this constitute a favor? She is a twisted bitch.

  “I’m waiting, Neely,” he says, his voice is cold and devoid of emotion except for maybe anger. But when I think about it, why should he be angry? I’m the one who was knocked up by our little tryst in the rose garden the night of my graduation. And, in all honesty, I don’t know how it even happened.

  “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath, “I was pregnant. It happened that night at the party. I don’t even remember how it happened. You evidently took advantage of my inebriated state and had your way with me—”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Don’t you dare act like I took advantage of you, or like you didn’t want it. You wanted it, Neely, trust me—you wanted it.”

  And that, for whatever reason, angers me. Not the fact that he’d said it, but because he knows the particulars and I don’t. “So, you remember everything?”

  “Every last detail. Want to know exactly how it went down?” he asks, cockiness dripping from his words.

  “No—it’s fine. So, we both wanted it, whatever.”

  “Continue, please,” he coaxes, his voice softer now.

  I shrug. “There’s not much more to say. I missed a period. Felt sick in the mornings, so I suspected I was pregnant. I got a test kit and it confirmed that I was. End of story.”

  He stalks closer to me. He is too close. I can’t say the rest if he stays this close, because his nearness is preventing me from saying what needs to be said.

  His eyes drop down to my flat stomach, and then his eyes are back on mine. “Obviously, it’s not the end of the story. It sure doesn’t look like you had a baby back in February.”

  “Obviously,” I snap.

  He takes a deep breath, and I can tell that Seth is trying very hard to maintain his cool with me. “Why didn’t you come to me, Neely? Why the hell didn’t you tell me that you were pregnant?”

  And his voice has gotten softer, and the anger seems to be dissipating from him. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly, “It was never a consideration. You’d made it clear you’d moved on.”

  There is a moment of silence between us, and I can feel that Seth is trying to choose his next words carefully. I know whatever those words are going to be won’t be enough for me. How could they be? I’m just so close to losing it at the moment.

  Stay strong, Neely. Be strong.

  “You know,” he starts, his voice gentle, “I hate that you had to go through that all by yourself. You should’ve told me, Neely. You should’ve come to me with this. It wasn’t fair that you didn’t. You behaved like a spoiled child with a secret.”

  I’m angered by his words. How easy this is for him to chastise me for not coming to him, when it’s all in the past now. To simply presume that I’d had an abortion. My anger boils over because he doesn’t know me at all. Before I have time to filter it, the words spill out of my mouth with venomous ease.

  “I didn’t want to come to you, Seth, don’t you get that?” I snap. “I wanted to forget the fact that you had ever been part of my life. I wanted no reminder of you in any way, shape, or form. So, guess what?” I scream, “I handled everything myself without having to burden you with the problem. It was no big deal.”

  His face darkens with rage. For a moment, I consider that I’ve gone too far with my words, but there’s no going back now. I see the tic in his cheek, and his nostrils flare as he stares me down.

  “Glad to hear it,” he replies, his voice is strained. “I guess you’re right. Something like that is no big deal for a bitch like you,” he snarls, turning from me and slamming the front door on his way out.

  I release the breath I’ve been holding, and with that, the tears start rolling as well. I cover my face with one hand in shame. It’s then I hear Jazzy’s footsteps coming down the stairs in a rush. She is beside me in a split second.

  “Why did you do that?” she asks, pulling my hand from my face. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

  I shake my head back and forth. I don’t answer her. I can’t.

  She’s giving me a questioning look, while she waits for my response. “It just seemed easier,” I finally sob.

  “Easier? It’s easier letting him think you had an abortion than telling him the truth
? I don’t get it, Neely. You wanted that baby, you told me so. Why couldn’t you have been honest with him about what happened, huh? I could halfway understand it when he didn’t know about your pregnancy. But he knows now. And that makes it different. Did you want to what, hurt him? Is that what this is about?”

  “Stop!” I yell. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. You don’t know everything. You don’t know what happened on the set or what that bitch of a stepmother did today to humiliate me, Jazzy. You don’t know the whole fucking story of everything that has gone down between Seth and me over the years. It’s…complicated.”

  “Then tell me, please,” she begs, putting her arm around me. “Make me understand why you’d lie about something like that.”

  I nod. “I will. I’m so tired and beaten down, Jazz. I’ll tell you everything that happened today. I…I don’t know why I lied, but at the time, it just seemed like the right thing to do. It’s going to be okay now. Seth hates me, and I hate him and maybe that’s the only way I’ll get him out of my head for good.”

  She looks at me warily. I know she’s not convinced. And for the record, neither am I.

  “Okay, Neely. Come on. Let’s go to bed and we can talk. Everything will be okay, I promise. I’m sorry I yelled. You’re right. I don’t know the whole story, and I haven’t been in your shoes. I’m sorry I jumped in your shit like that, forgive me?”

  I nod and gave her a meek smile. “I’m glad I met you, Jazz. You’re really all I have. And for the record? You can jump in my shit anytime you want.”

  And, like the best friend that Jasmine is, she climbs into bed with me and comforts me, as I cry off and on, while telling her all the secrets I’ve kept from her.

  Chapter 9

  Present Day

  July 27, 1999

  Guess who’s getting married?” I said to Jazzy as we were making breakfast. She was leaning over the counter with her mug positioned directly under the coffeemaker so that she didn’t have to wait for the glass pot to fill. Jazzy wasn’t a morning person.

  She yawned, shaking her head. “No clue.”

  “Mama,” I replied, cracking an egg over the pan on the stove.

  “No she’s not,” she said in disbelief.

  “Yep. A teacher she met in her Christian AA group.

  “Are you serious, girl?”

  “I am. And get this, she wants me to be her maid of honor. Do you want bacon?”

  “Forget the bacon, are you going back there?”

  “I told her I would if Jerry gives me time off.”

  “You can’t be serious, Neely. After the hell she put you through? Fucking with your life the way she did?”

  Sometimes I wondered if sharing all of my secrets with Jazzy the way I had done had been a smart idea.

  “She was sick, Jazz. She says she’s better now.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” she grumbled.

  I had to laugh and point out the obvious to my best friend. “You’ve never even met her, so when do you think you will have an occasion to see it?” I asked, giving her a grin and hoping she’d drop the subject.

  “No matter. I feel like I know her, and I see her through you…with what you choose to share with me. I just don’t want to have to help you pick up the pieces again, babe. Just be careful, Neel.”

  “Yeah, I will. And I plan on asking her why she kept Seth’s letters from me, too.”

  “Oh, speaking of which,” Jazz started, “I have something to tell you. Blake called last night. He’s back in LA. Guess where he’s staying until he gets his own place?”

  “You didn’t invite him to stay here with us, did you? You know I have to keep a low profile—”

  “Chill,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Do you see him anywhere around here, girl?”

  I giggled and felt duly sheepish. “Sorry.”

  “He’s staying with Seth and Julia for now. Says he can hardly wait to find his own place. I guess they’re a trip.”

  A trip?

  “What exactly makes them ‘a trip?’” I asked, part of me curious, the other part dreading the answer if it was something like them being so sickening sweet with one another that it gave Blake a sugar rush being in the same room with them.

  “Argue all the time, I guess. Blake says there’s so much negative Karma around them he’s afraid it will rub off on him,” she finished, laughing. “Anyway, he asked if I’d be his date for some party they’re all going to next weekend in Malibu.”

  “Oh? Whose party?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. My paparazzi instincts were kicking in hard.

  “Some rocker. Alan Manzone?”

  Some rocker?

  “Are you freaking serious?” I asked, my voice booming with genuine excitement. “Uh, Jazzy, Alan Manzone isn’t just some rocker, my God! He’s…well, he’s a freaking music genius on a hottie stick, that’s what!”

  “Hmm,” she teased, “Sounds like someone’s crushing on a rock star. I thought Jasper Knight was your wet dream gig?”

  I sighed a bit in pure frustration. It was true. I had been crushing on Jasper Knight ever since my first assignment. There was definitely some kind of sexy pheromone he exuded with his mere presence.

  But, in all fairness, I’d never been that close to Alan Manzone to see if he generated that same pussy-pulsing vibe. Alan was a bit older, way more famous than Jasper at this point, and an enigma of epic proportions.

  As a fan girl, I’d loved to hump his leg if given the chance. As paparazzi? Well, it went without saying, I’d love to crash that party and let my camera tell the story afterwards.

  “So, what exactly put Seth’s crew on that A-List for one of Manzone’s parties?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  She scoffed at my question. “Seth’s crew? Seriously, Neely, don’t go there. There is no crew. Actually, it’s a party to celebrate their newest music video. Blake did the lighting and Julia landed a spot in it. Seth’s just going along for the ride.”

  BOOM.

  Thud.

  “I didn’t realize Julia possessed that kind of talent,” I remarked, knowing just how snarky I sounded, but also knowing that Jazzy wouldn’t give a damn. No love lost there.

  “When you have a daddy as well connected as hers, talent isn’t always a priority. It’s called quid pro quo. Besides, there are enough half naked dolls in those videos that nobody stands out except the band, which is really the point, right?”

  “Mmm,” I agreed, my mind going there.

  “Oh please,” Jazzy said, an evil grin making an appearance. “You’re picturing Manzone’s gyrating hips right now, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. She knew me so well. “And his bulging package too,” I finished, feeling no shame whatsoever. “It’s so sad that he’s still living with Chrissie Parker. Lucky, lucky woman,” I sighed dreamily. “If not for that, I’d totally do him.”

  Jazzy choked on her sip of coffee. “Listen to you!” she chided, laughing now. “You talk a game that you just don’t play, girlfriend. Now when was the last time you did anyone, huh?”

  She was right, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her comment. “You’ll have to tell me all about the party,” I said wistfully. “God, if you only knew how much I’d love to be that close to Alan Manzone. You’re living my dream, Jazzy,” I finished, handing her a plate with her eggs and toast on it.

  “I know what you’re doing, Neely. You want me to offer you my ticket into that party, right?”

  “Well,” I replied, giving her a pleading look.

  “Don’t give me that puppy dog look; I could give two shits about the party. But I am curious, so answer me this.”

  I waited for the question I knew was coming.

  “Is it because you want to get up close to Alan Manzone or is it because you want to watch Seth and Julia in action?”

  I smirked. “Maybe a little bit of both,” I answered truthfully.
>
  Chapter 10

  August 3, 1999

  Malibu, CA

  Alan Manzone’s Malibu Mansion

  “This place is beyond amazing,” I practically shouted to Blake as we made our way through the throngs of people crowding the marbled hallway of Alan Manzone’s sprawling mansion. I was actually referring to the artwork hanging throughout first floor rooms. I couldn’t place the artist and it was driving me fucking crazy.

  “Yeah, he knows how to throw a party for sure,” Blake called back, as he led me by the hand through the maze of hallways and rooms that led to who knows where. He’d obviously been here before by the looks of his familiarity with the place. “It’s a shame Jazzy’s allergies flared up like that. I bet she’s kicking her ass for having to miss this!”

  “Oh for sure!” I answered as we passed a group of young women who were passing a pipe. “Where are we going?”

  “To the patio. It’s where the band is hanging. You want to meet them, right?”

  I nodded and swallowed nervously.

  We finally reached the great room where the back wall was entirely constructed of glass and revealed an epic view of the beach and Pacific Ocean beyond.

  A concrete patio spanned the entire length of the back of the house. There were hordes of people surrounding the sparkling blue pool, filling the loungers and the clusters of chairs encircling the fire pits.

  Blake took me by the hand, and pulled me outside, where my eyes immediately landed on Alan Manzone. He was reclined on a chaise, looking rock star chic, barefoot, flowing white shirt half unbuttoned, wearing snug jeans, and surrounded by people all fighting for his attention.

  My pulse thudded faster with each step closer. Just being near him had infused my veins with heated excitement. I’d seen Alan Manzone before on TV and in magazines, but nothing had prepared me for real life Alan. He was that freaking gorgeous. Shoulder length tousled black hair, mesmerizing black eyes, perfect features, and a totally kissable mouth, walking the earth in six-feet of sexy perfection.