“I have every right. I’m tired of watching you self-destruct. I was there too, Elle. I almost lost my sister as well, but you don’t see me drowning myself night after night, with people who don’t care about me, who won’t protect me if something were to go wrong.”
“No, you’re perfect, right? You don’t let anything affect you. You don’t drink, do drugs or attempt to live life! You sit in your room, and write your songs, day after day and play them night after night at whatever bar or coffee shop will let you, until you get your big break. You sing to people who don’t care about you, who won’t rescue you if something were to go wrong. Seems we’re not much different in the way we’re coping.”
Quinn shakes his head. “I’m not coping, Elle. I’ve moved on. I’ve come to terms with the fact Peyton almost died. It took me months, but you, it’s… this has to stop. No one’s saying you can’t go out and have fun, but night after night drunken escapades have to come to an end. We are all in agreement, things have to change.”
“Who’s we?”
“Mom and Dad. Peyton and I. Ben.”
“Ben?” My eyes divert to Quinn’s, and he nods. I shake my head, wondering when my best friend decided to betray me. He’s supposed to be my ride or die, but lately, he’s been distant, standoffish. Maybe this is why. Could it be he’s had enough of my crap and is trying to put some space between us? No, I don’t believe it. If anything, he’s got his nose to the books and is preparing for our upcoming finals.
“He’s worried about you. We all are.”
“None of you knows anything about me.” My hands push into my hair as I grunt. I want to scream, to shove Quinn against the wall and yell until he finally understands what it’s like to be me, if only for five minutes. Be Elle Powell-James, sister of Peyton who is engaged to Noah Westbury, and living their happy little life on social media for everyone to see. I shouldn’t think this way when it comes to my sister because she’s my lifeline, my best friend. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her, and if she knew how I felt, she’d crumble. The last thing she would ever want to do is hurt me.
Quinn sighs and rubs his hands down the front of his legs. He’s dressed like our dad, khaki shorts with combat boots with some random band shirt, likely a group from the seventies when ‘music was real’ and made with instruments and not computers.
“Dad received a call earlier tonight. He called me looking for you because your cell was going to voicemail.”
“It’s dead.”
Quinn nods. “Anyway, I’m sure you know how your night went, but Mom and Dad received an eyeful when some journalists sent them pictures of you. I had to talk Dad into staying home, but he’s angry, Elle.”
“Well, his sister didn’t almost die, did she?”
“At some point, Peyton’s accident can no longer be your excuse. You used it to ditch out of a semester of school. You’ve used it for your grades and now this.”
I turn away when I feel unshed tears threatening to escape. My throat tightens, and my body starts to ache. The impending onslaught of tears makes it hard to speak.
“These people you’re hanging out with are making sure everyone knows everything about you. Every night they post videos of the person we love, falling down drunk, hanging on strange men, and almost passed out in random clubs, for our viewing pleasure.”
“I haven’t seen anything like that. How do I know you’re not making this up?”
“Why would I? Why would I stay up until after three a.m. to have this talk with you if I were making any of this up? I value my sleep, Elle.”
“My friends wouldn’t do this.”
“They’re not your friends. They’re leeches, using you for your connections. They’re using you for the star power that comes with saying they’ve hung out with you. They don’t care about you, no more than you care about them. How do you think Mom feels when she sees her daughter like that? Or Dad? Or the industry? You want to be a manager, but who’s going to bring you on staff when they can Google you and see what your lifestyle is like. Like it or not, we’re expected to act a certain way, behave as respected adults in the community. I don’t think our parents are asking too much of us.”
“And what if I don’t want to, huh?” My tone is defiant and harsh.
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Says who?”
Quinn adjusts in the chair. He pulls out his phone, and by his movements, I’m guessing he’s thumbing through his apps. He clears his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. James, We’re writing to let you know our facility can accommodate Elle Powell-James when you see fit to admit her. Please note, this is an intense ninety-day treatment and visitors will not be allowed unless family counseling is needed. We will restrict all outside communications as well. We have a strict paparazzi rule, and our guards will ensure that all photographers are kept off the property to protect Elle’s privacy. Once you have your legal affairs in order, please let us know.”
I swallow hard as I try to understand what Quinn is reading, and am unable to hold my tears at bay any longer. My parents aren’t messing around, but what they don’t understand is, I’m an adult, and I can make my own decisions. If I want to party, I can. If I want to drop out of school, I can. If I want…
“As you can see, Mom and Dad have had enough.” Quinn interrupts my thoughts. “And I think you know this, which is why you’ve been ignoring their calls, not going home to see them and dodging their visits.”
“I haven’t--”
“You have. Before Peyton’s accident, you and Mom spoke daily. When’s the last time you spoke with her? When’s the last time you’ve been home? If I had to guess it was when Peyton was living there, but you haven’t been back since.”
“Texting is easier.”
“Only because you can avoid the elephant in the room. You need help, Elle.”
“I’m not going to some celebrity rehab center, Quinn.”
“Then stop!” His voice echoes off the walls. “Grow up and start acting like someone who has a future instead of the Hollywood cliché.”
“I’m not--”
“You are. That’s what gets me the most, Elle. This person you’ve become is the same person you’ve mocked since you moved here. All our lives, you’ve said you’d never become the socialite who uses her name to get into clubs or restaurants, and now look at you. You’ve become the epitome of someone you despise.”
“You don’t understand.”
Quinn nods. “I know, Elle. Peyton almost died. You’re twins, you felt it. I’ve heard every excuse you can come up with, blaming whatever it is you have going on, on Peyton and the accident.” He adjusts in the chair and leans forward with his arms resting on his legs. “Peyton’s healed. She’s moved on. She’s planning a wedding, finishing college and trying to make peace with her life. If she can do that, then so can you.” He taps my leg before getting up and leaving the room. I glance at the empty space Quinn’s left behind. The bright light blinds me, causing me to turn away. As soon as I hear Quinn’s door shut, I let the tears flow and the anger build. No one is going to tell me what to do with my life.
For More Information visit
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Sneak Peek of Fired Up
By Amy Briggs
Josie
I can’t find anything appropriate to wear to my own dad’s funeral. Everyone is going to be there, wearing their Class A Uniforms, which is totally appropriate, he was a Fire District Chief, but I’m not wearing mine. I haven’t worked at his department in over a year, and it just doesn’t seem appropriate at all. My aunt also said that my father’s only daughter shouldn’t be dressed like a boy the day he’s laid to rest, so there’s that too.
At least my best friend Matt will be there, and I also know his brother Brian is going to be there, he was actually appointed into my father’s position when he died last week. Brian and I have a history. We had a moment really; a hot, steamy moment that I’ll never be able to get out of my head apparently.
I felt a moistness between my legs thinking about his beautiful green eyes, his well defined muscles and the tattoos that couldn’t be more perfectly placed on his chest and arms..., Jesus Christ its your dad’s funeral, get your shit together Josephine Meadows. That was a one time thing, it was just kiss, a really great kiss, and this is neither the time nor place for these thoughts. And Brian was a cocky asshole anyway.
Matt was picking my aunt and I up, she was my only family left now and my dad’s older sister. My mom died when I was three, leaving me and my dad to fend for ourselves. He never dated, or married again; he was more or less married to the fire service anyway. That’s how he ended up dying, on a fire call, of a heart attack. It was no secret that the stress of firefighting made heart attacks the number one killer of firefighters, but their shitty diets certainly didn’t help either.
“Josephine!!! Matt is here, let’s go!” Aunt Molly yelled from downstairs. I finished putting on my favorite red lipstick, grabbed some black heels that were probably a bit too high for walking around all day and took a deep breathe as I went downstairs. This was going to be a long day, but these were all of the people that cared about my dad, really, they were our family.
Roman (The Clutch Series Book 1) Page 21
