by Anna Bloom
It rings three times. "Dad?"
"Sophia?"
Tears slip down my face, chasing one another as they roll to freedom. "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry." And I am, I’m sorry for every wrong choice I’ve made, every moment that has gone past when I’ve allowed Erica to steer my entire life away from those that I need.
"Where are you?" I haven’t spoken to this man in the longest time, Nearly eight years have passed but his voice still sounds exactly like I remember it. I should have wanted to hear it more, should have fought harder for him to be in my life…
Oh my god.
It hits me.
I hadn’t fought for it because I hadn’t needed to. Blake had stepped into the role my father vacated.
It isn’t Blake with the messed-up obsession. It’s me.
"I’m in Wales, Dad. Everything is such a mess."
There’s a pause and I watch the waves churning up the sand.
"I made such a mistake walking away, Sophia, and I feel like everything that’s happened to you is my fault because I couldn’t stand up to your mother and protect you."
"Don’t stress it, Dad. No one can stand up to her, she’s a nightmare." I pause, my eyes scanning the horizon. "Why didn’t you come back when I got into so much trouble though?" A solid lump blocks my throat but somehow, I manage to squeeze my words out around it.
"I wish I had. I’m sorry Sophia." He makes a half laughing sound. "Sorry doesn’t quite cut it, does it?"
I smile and dash trembling fingers at the tears on my cheeks. "It’s a start. I’m in England, Dad. For the first time in years for longer than a day."
"I saw you at your last premiere you know? You looked beautiful in the black."
"You saw me?" I frown and sit up a little straighter.
"From the crowd."
Shit. My dad watched me from a crowd? This right now is my very lowest moment.
"Blake’s back. It’s why I’m in Wales, some nut job is sending me mail."
"Blake will protect you from anything."
I swallow a sob. "I know. Did you know he’d walked out on everything for me when he first came to work with us?"
Dad pauses. "He was torn when he arrived but when he saw how scared you were it’s like it reprogrammed his brain, nothing else mattered to him." He hesitates again. "Do you want to see me?"
I can’t even remember my dad in my life, he’s just a vision from old memories, someone who I used to know. But I also know from tomorrow I will have nothing and if you have nothing, then you have to start from somewhere.
"Yes. I could come to you if you like?"
Another pause fills the air. "That would be great, Sophia."
"I’ve got to go, I need to make more calls."
Now I’ve reached out, a sense of fulfilment boosts my confidence. Dad and I can build up to meeting. Slowly I can fill my life with the love I want.
I dig the heels of my boots into the sand, watching the wet sand seep and refill the space as soon as I move my feet away. With a snap decision I call the next number.
"Erica?"
"Darling, I’m so pleased to hear from you, when are you coming back?"
That’s it. She can pretend that nothing has happened, but I can’t. "I’m not coming back, Mum. I don’t want to. I don’t want Hollywood anymore."
An extended silence meets my words. "You don’t understand, Sophia," she says, eventually. "You have to come back. You have to finish this film, otherwise you will be fined."
"I don’t care." And I don’t. "Erica, tomorrow mine and Blake's relationship is going to break. Things are going to get messy."
A beep interrupts our call. A message arriving.
"You can’t have a relationship with him, Sophia." She sounds almost bored.
"Why, mother? Is he too old for me? Are you concerned over my moral wellbeing now?" I snort with derision. She’s never had a moral bone in her body. She would have pimped me out for fame. I know that now.
"No, what I mean is five years ago I signed a contract with the studio that you would maintain an exclusive public relationship with Johnathan Fairweather for the duration of the sagas marketing release.
My mouth flops open like a fish in the sea. "You did what?"
"Yes." There’s no remorse. "I got you the best publicity deal I could. You deserve to be a star, Sophia."
I offer a dry laugh. "No one deserves what you signed me up for." Inhaling a shaky breath, I try to force my brain into action. "What happens if I break the contract?"
"Then you will lose millions."
I watch the tide wash away. "They’re your millions to lose, Erica."
And they were, that woman had sold us to the devil for the money and fame she craved.
I have nothing. But nothing is what I want. I want it more than I have ever wanted anything, ever needed anything.
This is my chance for a fresh start and I know who I want by my side, no matter the headlines, no matter the gossip. The man who’d been there at the start.
"Don’t be foolish, Sophia, it’s just a few more months."
"Goodbye, Erica." I hang up the call ready to go and find my own rose garden to share.
A large shadow looms across the sand and I blink into the wintery sun. "Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?"
My eyes fall on the text message which had arrived and I gasp. Blake is centre of the screen, me kneeling at his feet. In capitals the message reads. WHAT WILL YOUR FANS THINK OF THIS? SOPHIA THE DRUGGIE AND WHORE.
I drop the phone into the sand, my stomach sucker punched as everything slots into place.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Blake
"Where is he?"
I'd left Shayne a giggling wreck when I’d gone back to find Sophia at the church. How he managed to afford his high was now very clear. He’s a useless twat and I can’t believe he’s sold us out.
"He can’t help it." I round on the woman who’s protected him, always given him what he wants. "You know how disturbed he is. He’s broken after what happened to Erin."
"Disturbed? He sold Sophia out. He’s no idea what she’s been dealing with." I pull at strands of my hair. "What happened to Erin was years ago, and yes it was tragic but he can’t let it ruin everything for all of us."
Mam sighs and drops her head into her hands. "You boys are such bloody hard work, do you know that?"
"Yes, yes, I know, you wish we were all perfect like Amanda." I pull a face. I love my sister but she’s the goody-two-shoes out of us. Even Darren has more dirt, and he’s a sodding Vicar.
"He’s just jealous, Blake." Mam sighs again as if she’s explaining something exceptionally simple to a young child. "He’s always been jealous because you’re the one who got out."
"Oh my god, Mam, that is such crap. He could have got out too, but he didn’t want to, he wanted to wallow and make us all feel like shit. And anyway I’ll be out of his hair in no time, because we won’t be able to stay here, not now." My tone is laden with the heavy irony of the situation.
Mam raises her eyebrow, scoring the old kitchen table with her thumb nail. "It’s we now is it?"
"You know that, it’s always been a we."
"All I’ve ever known is you waste your life on that girl, and she is a girl, Blake. She’s twenty-two for God’s sake. What happens when she wants to go partying with her mates, but you can’t be bothered because you want to stay in as that’s what people in their thirties do?"
"Not all people," I grumble under my breath before adding slightly louder. "She’s not like that."
"Now." Mam’s face is set, her expression immovable. "And when she’s bored of that because she craves the limelight, or she needs something new, are you just going to trail after her, carrying her coat and bag?"
"That is not what I do."
"No? Your dad always said he spent too much time carrying around other people’s shit and not enough time actually doing any work."
"Dad was too bloody kind then, clearly." I fe
el like shit trash talking the old man but my day is plummeting from bad to worse at an incredible rate.
I hit a reporter. I mean who actually did that in this day and age? Now I was going to get sued, and I’d make Sophia’s name all the worse.
Bloody Shayne. "If we are talking about wasting a life over a girl, at least mine’s been over one that’s alive." It’s a fucking awful comment to make but I’m so mad I want to tear the house down.
A flash of anger burns in the pit of my stomach. He isn’t going to get away with ruining us all with his crooked ways, not anymore.
I run for the stairs and Shayne’s room, the last door on the left of the landing. Mam always imposes a door open policy. Always has since Shayne was a teenager and his dicey relationship with weed began. I still don’t think he knows she used to clear out his room on a weekly basis, removing the hidden empty beer cans, scraps of foil and empty money bags which had never been used for counting coins.
I don’t knock. I barge straight in. The wind puffs from my sails when I find the room empty, the bed made with an almost military precision. I so expected him to be there smirking about the mess he’d made for me.
How had he called the razzers? How did he even know how to do that? What had he made by selling his older brother out? Enough to get as high as a kite that much was apparent.
I pull on his cupboards, sliding out his clothes as I look for evidence of what else he may have been doing. Who knew? He could have a meth lab in his closet and we wouldn’t know because he’s such a sneaky bastard.
The bottom drawer floors me. It takes a moment to make sense of the things I see.
Pictures of Sophia, most of them defaced, are spread along the Ikea furniture. Pictures of her on set before she’d gone to rehab. Pictures of her with Johnny Fairweather, him kissing her neck, her eyes glassy. My fingers tremble as I rifle through them, lifting at the edges. There are more than I can count. A splash of red catches my eye and with my tentative fingers I lift it, tilting it to the light. Sophia lays at an odd angle, red droplets dripping down from her wrist into her upturned hands.
Holy fuck. It’s the night she’d cut herself and overdosed.
Had someone been there taking pictures and not helped?
I'm sick in my mouth and it takes all my restraint to swallow it down and not puke on the floor.
Does Shayne know who’d been taking the pictures?
I grab at a folder, spilling the contents out onto my lap. Letters, all the same as the ones Sophia had been receiving since before rehab. How did Shayne know about these, have copies?
A silver digital camera is on the top of the chest of drawers. Standing from my crouch, my knees creaking with the strain, I grab at it and switch it on. I want to puke. It’s last night, in all its bare, exposed detail. Sophia and me.
I know the papers aren’t going to be focusing on the story of me hitting the reporter tomorrow. They have something far juicier and more lucrative to print. Sophia Jennings in a sex tape.
How had Shayne got these? He’s never been to America in his life.
It all makes so much sense.
I’ve always known Shayne resented me leaving when he endured his first rehab, but did he hate me and the girl I’d left him for so much that he would try to destroy us ten years later? What price was he willing to exact?
My eyes fall on another flash of silver and the frigid chill that steals the oxygen from my chest leaves me gasping for breath. Sophia’s security bracelet.
I’ve been thinking that the blackmailer was close to her home. It’s home alright, just the wrong one. I slip my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and hit Sophia’s number. It goes to voicemail and a tight band spreads across my chest.
I try again, my palms beginning to slick when it clicks through to my own grouchy voice telling callers it’s a number that can’t be reached.
"Mam!" I holler so loud my lungs resemble overblown balloons. "Mam." I pace from the bedroom, sliding down the stairs and clattering into the kitchen. Mam hasn’t moved, but as I come charging through the door, I see a glimpse of her I’ve never acknowledged before. An older lady with greying hair sat worrying her rings on her fingers as she tries to keep her family together. "Mam." I lower my voice a little. "Mam, where do you think Shayne is? I think he has Sophia. I need to find her."
My pulse beats erratically. Her eyes are filled with water when she turns. "He’s sick, Blake. I’ve been trying to help him, trying to get him to move on."
The bottom falls out of my world. She knew.
"Did you know he was threatening her?"
"It’s just his way of exacting revenge for taking you away. He loved it when the papers found out she was an addict. He laughed about it for days, said it was God’s way of paying her back." Her head shakes slowly.
"Mam." I lock my teeth and shut my eyes, rubbing my hand against my forehead. "Mam, he’s dangerous. He’s been spying on her, taking it too far." How he had done this, God alone knew. How did a boy from Wales end up stalking one of the world’s most famous women? How did his brother not work it out? I don’t have time for these thoughts. I beseech her with an imploring glance.
"He only ever wanted what you had, that was all."
"He can’t bloody have her, she’s mine." The words roar from my throat and I grip the back of her chair to stay upright.
She nods vacantly. "He’ll be at the beach, he’s always at the beach. He’s always where he lost Erin."
I start to run, my head still reeling, as I shout back. "Call the police and an ambulance." But I don’t know if she’s heard, or even wanted to hear so I hit the screen on my phone, and shout at Amanda when she answers. Someone will call the police, I hope.
It doesn’t matter how fast my legs run, they don’t seem to go quite fast enough. I slide onto the wet sand, my feet sinking as I scan the space wildly. It’s nearly empty, just a few dog walkers wrapped up against the out of season elements. I start to run heading east along the beach. At the end of the day it’s a fifty-fifty decision to make: east or west. There’s no other way apart from into the sea itself.
He’s always where he lost Erin.
Oh god, no.
Running on a reel in my mind is a film of what my life would be like without her. If I really was without her, unable to own her, to hold her. Even before, when I left, I kept a piece of myself remaining there with her—my heart. If she didn’t exist, then that connection would be gone.
"Shayne." I scream his name, the veins in my neck ache with the ferociousness of my call. "Sophia?" I run harder, my breath stinging in my windpipe as the harsh cold air slips a burning path down my airways.
This is useless. This desolate beach goes on for miles. I force myself to stop so I can concentrate, so I can pull myself together and actually think.
How can I think? How can I think anything apart from the fact my brother hates me and he has the woman I love at his mercy?
Think, Blake.
I bend down, catching my winded breath and then I see it, drag marks in the sand leading to the water’s edge. I move. How I move I will never know but I do, one foot in front of the other, each step taking me to the end of everything I know.
It will come down to the wire and I won’t be able to protect her because I love her. It’s the one thing I fear above all others.
I see him then, his dark head out in the frigid water. She isn’t there. I splash in, the cold not even registering as I power towards Shayne. "Shayne, please, stop."
His eyes meet mine but they aren’t the eyes of my brother. They are the wild stare of a madman. "Shayne, where is she?" A bubble of water erupts from next to him and he laughs as Sophia’s head surges from under the surface, coughing and spluttering, her skin a deathly pale.
"Let her go, Shayne, please." I want to step closer, but freeze when he lets out a maniacal laugh and lifts his other hand from the water. Clutched within his grasp is a syringe filled with a dirt brown liquid.
"Please don’t."
My pleas become more of a sob. "Please don’t give her that." Last time heroin had entered her veins she’d overdosed, tipping over the edge. It had led me back to her, but then so had Shayne and his letters.
"Do you even realise you’re the reason I’m back in her life?" I edge a step closer, trying to keep as still as possible so as to not disturb the ebbed tide. "If you hadn’t sent those letters I would never have gone back to her."
Sophia is dangling from his hold almost as pallid as the sea.
He laughs, and it’s a horrific squall of emptiness. "So funny, that she turned out an addict too, yet you didn’t hesitate to help her did you? You ran straight back."
I shook my head, somehow attempting to claw in some calmness. "That wasn’t how it was. I didn’t go back, not straight away. It’s only when the letters arrived that I went."
"You still would have, eventually. You wouldn’t have been able to fight your obsession."
Maybe he’s right—but it didn’t change the way things had been.
"Who misses their own father's funeral, Blake, for a girl?" Shayne’s teeth chatter with the cold. Sophia’s eyes meet mine and a dark flicker of regret burns within their depths.
"I’m sorry," she mouths, but I ignore the communication, not wanting to give Shayne any other triggers to send him over the edge.
"It wasn’t like that, and Dad understood, Shayne. I spoke to him, he told me not to leave her unprotected."
Shayne’s dark eyes meet mine at this. I carry on now I have his attention, the whole time edging closer and closer. "Dad and I, we said our goodbyes. We aren’t like you and Mam, we just walk away."
Did he think it hadn’t hurt me? Did he think as I’d sat outside a sleeping young girl’s bedroom I hadn’t thought about them all that day; that I hadn’t missed Dad every bloody day since?
I can’t say this though. I can’t argue with him. This isn’t about us, it’s about Sophia. It will always be about protecting her.
Though I’m close enough to grab her I hold on, still not wanting to make the wrong move and fuck it up. "I never thought I’d have to protect her from my own brother." I lower my voice. "Shayne, this isn’t you. How did you do it, did someone make you?" I’m grasping at straws and I know it.
