My ears perked up suspiciously. I thought about all the unusual pleasantness that had fallen my way. Why was everyone being so nice?
“Ominous?”
“Yeah, well I’m still on the email list for the revised call sheets, and when I saw they were filming the adoption scene today, I was worried about you.”
“Adoption scene?” I felt numb. I finally found the ominous tone Cam had been looking for all along.
Someone started speaking to Cam on his end of the line, and he rattled off a few muffled words in reply.
“Look, Ads, I’ve got to go, but I wish I could be there with you,” he said regretfully, coming back to me.
I nodded, which was ridiculous. He couldn’t see me, but words had left me.
“I love you.” His voice was a sigh, as unhelpful as a rowboat during a hurricane.
I nodded again and hung up.
For the rest of the day, I avoided Madeline like she was contagious with a flesh-eating virus. There would be no deep analysis of Adley Adair that day. This was one wound that would never heal enough to pick at. It was an oozing sore, perched angrily on my soul, and I wore it unashamedly. Not because I was proud of it, but because I deserved it.
I’d earned the pain.
Madeline let me be. I thought I’d have to fight her on it. Maybe, she’d even have me fired. After all, refusing her was refusing to do the job I’d been brought here to do. I supposed it was possible that, for once, Madeline didn’t need my input to understand what I’d done. She could read my heartless actions right off the page, without any help from me at all.
For whatever reasons, I was left to my solitude. Shivering and secluded in the back of soundstage three, I watched with vulgar interest as they set the stage.
This was not a set I could critique for being inaccurate. The constructed hospital was as cold and impersonal as the one where’d I’d given birth.
I tried to look at anything other than the hospital bed where a team prepped Madeline, brushing powder over face until she looked sickly pale, and misting her hair so it would plaster around her face. I didn’t want to see, but I couldn’t look away.
The lights and focus sucked me back to the fake Adley Adair again and again. Her body was dwarfed by the bed, making her appear unbearably childlike. There was plenty of room for Declan to climb in beside her when Georgia called for him to take his mark.
I didn’t want to see. More than anything, I wanted to turn away, but my focus zoomed in on them with more intensity than I thought I possessed. And the harder I stared, the more Madeline and Declan disintegrated before my eyes.
All I could see was myself. It was amazing how easily my mind slipped back to that forbidden place I’d never allowed it to linger before. I’d spent so much time making sure the door to that night could never be opened, sealing up every crevice and crack, until I was sure nothing could ever escape.
Except I’d ended up back there again, and it was as easy as falling through a trapdoor.
Cam’s arms clung to me like I was the only thing in the world anchoring him to the ground. His head buried into the scoop of my neck as his tears bled onto me, soaking through my thin, papery gown and seeping down my naked body underneath.
I laid there straight and unmoving, encompassed by a desperate vine. His sobs wrenched free from the depths of his broken heart, and silently sawed into me like waves stealing sand from a beach.
“She’s not ours…She’s not ours…She’s not ours.” The cracked words circled on repeat and I tried to hush Cam, only to realize the voice was my own. “We can’t see her…not ever. She’s not ours, Cam. She’s not ours to see.”
He said nothing, only squeezing my sore body harder with shaking arms. I didn’t stop him. I liked the pain. It made me feel human again. It was the only thing.
“Swear it to me…Or you’ll lose me too.” I was cruel, nothing more than a monster, threatening him with the only family he’d ever known. It scorched a black line across my being that would never fade.
But I would do that for him. Because I’d never loved anyone the way I loved him. I hadn’t even thought that kind of love was possible, only living in the love stories Cam had whispered to my swollen stomach when I couldn’t sleep at night.
I had to do this for him, because he’d give up the world for us if he could. He’d give up everything to keep us. And because he would do it for me, I had to do this for him.
I would be the monster to save him. I made the decision so he wouldn’t have to. He’d never have to choose. He’d never have to give up his dreams. I’d own the guilt so he’d never have to indulge it.
But I was only so strong, and he was even weaker than I was. If I saw her, I didn’t know if I’d be able to let her go again, and Cam would let me keep her.
“Swear it.” The whispered command felt dirty in my mouth, and I spat it softly, hoping to never taste it again.
“I swear.” His voice clogged in his throat, but the vow was spoken.
Cam would always love me. We were family, bonded by something that transcended romance.
He was my soul mate.
But he would always hate me a little bit for what I took from him – from both of us – in that hospital bed.
I felt lightheaded, dizzy, and disoriented as I found myself back in the freezing cold soundstage of present. The scene still played out between actors that were no longer me and Cam.
I backpedaled. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready to face the words Cam had used to tell this part of the story. I could not watch myself turn into a monster through his eyes.
So I did the one thing in the entire world that I was exceptionally gifted at…I ran.
Chapter Seven
Adley
I felt like every bone in my body had been melted down until I was nothing but mush. I hated Cam for bringing me there, and I hated him for leaving me all alone to deal with this…again.
Great! On top of everything else, I was making a liar out of myself too. Cam hadn’t left me after we’d given the baby up for adoption. I’d made it clear that the only way for us to move forward, was to pretend the whole thing had never happened, and that wasn’t something we could do with a walking talking daily reminder haunting us with what we’d done, no matter how much I loved or needed him.
My escape from the soundstage had only brought me so far when I realized that I didn’t have a ride. I could’ve called a taxi, but that would involve talking to someone, and the thought of even hearing another person’s voice made me feel sick to my stomach.
I ended up in a jungle. Or at least that’s what the hanging fabric that surrounded me looked like, from my slumped seat in the back of the wardrobe department. Every color of the rainbow and beyond swung down around me like vines in the form of trousers, skirts, and dresses.
Cam and I had gone back to the loft after leaving the hospital and tried to resume a life that had never really been ours to begin with. Cam went back to Duke to finish his final semester, after withdrawing when I’d shown up sporting an extra ten pounds and carrying unbelievable news. From the loft in Raleigh, it was only a thirty-minute commute, but the distance followed him home. It wore on him, and that, in return, wore on me.
The loft was unchanged. Each night we laid the same spots as before, but the inches that separated us might as well have been a continent. Every morning, Cam had told me he loved me with a dimple-less smile, and then drove away to the dream I’d given back to him. Some mornings his shower had not been enough to cleanse the red tattoos that lined his eyes.
I lay in bed for months, staring at the ceiling for hours, trying to feel something –anything – that would break through the numb I was submerged in.
Cam cried himself to sleep every night, and I couldn’t even summon up enough emotion to return the affection that showed deeply in his brown eyes as he kissed my forehead each night. I didn’t feel shame, regret, or sadness. I didn’t feel anything at all. I was a monster.
Vanity was the
first thing to break through to me. I’d stared into the mirror one afternoon, and all I saw was the weight and pounds of things I wanted to forget.
I left the loft for the first time and stood in front of a dance studio for an hour before I realized that ballet was another thing I’d unknowingly given away forever. I punished myself with harsh,vomit-inducing runs, and eventually, when I no longer saw the fat nor the perfectly thin girl I’d been before, I punished myself again by getting my very first job working as a hostess in the city.
May came, Cam graduated, and when he left for New York with the internship of a lifetime waiting for him there, he signed over the deed to his loft to me. It didn’t even feel like a break-up. In all the important ways, we could never really leave each other. ‘Break-up’ implies the end of something, and whatever had ended between Cam and I had happened months ago, in a hospital room that I kept closely locked up in my mind.
The row of clothing in front of me split open, like Moses parting the Red Sea, and Fran entered my jungle, sitting cross-legged to stare me right in the eye.
“How did you find me?” I asked, picking at a section of my hair that badly needed a trim.
“Madeline had me download an app on your phone that tracks your location.” She shrugged, like she hadn’t just admitted to violating one of my basic human rights.
“What is wrong with you people?” I was flabbergasted, and my tone accusing.
“A bevy of emotional handicaps that we over-pay our shrinks to over-medicate.” This time she smiled, and her dark eyes sparkled with humor. “Luckily, I think what’s wrong with you can be solved with a little fun. Why don’t you go out on the town tonight? We’ve wrapped for the day so you’re free.”
Fun? What insane notion was that?
“Sounds great, except that I haven’t really met anyone since I’ve been here, and going out alone would just be even more depressing.”
“Nonsense. You’ve met me.”
“You’ll go?” Surprise and doubt danced in my question.
“I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman whose life revolves around an eighteen-year-old girl. The only other thing I have to talk about besides Madeline Little is my eight-year-old daughter, who thinks she’s a mermaid. Believe me, I’m doing you a favor by not going.” She paused to give me a calculating look that reminded me of Cam, and for a second, I was convinced she was about to call me ‘Adds’ or ‘Addy’. “Madeline could use a little fun too though.”
“No way.”
But my mind had already buzzed through every alternative I could think of and come up blank. A fun night away from the set, where I could be anonymous sounded painfully perfect…And I could dance.
Ballet was gone. I would never again feel the weightless flight of a saut de basque or the kiss of forever in a fouette, but I could still lose myself in the consuming beat of a song. I used to love that kind of dancing, too. My friends and I would drink just enough to numb the corners of our minds, and then we’d twirl and gyrate until the lights came on. I didn’t know those friends anymore though, and they wouldn’t have recognized me, even if I did know where to find them.
And that realization led to Madeline’s door, selling a night out together as a way of ‘bonding’ that would help her further her understanding of Adley Adair. She’d agreed for the “good of the film”, and then dragged me back to the wardrobe department. Apparently my rubber ducky shorts left her untrustworthy of my ability to properly dress myself.
She and Fran explained our plans to the eccentric man and woman manning the racks, and while the lean, chocolate-skinned man headed into the clothing jungle, the woman eyed me critically.
“Strip,” she ordered finally, when her eyes had feasted on every inch of my body they could inspect.
Fran gave me a severe look, which not-so-subtly suggested that I not argue with the lady who was about to do me a favor. Finding Alfred’s shadow outside the door, I quickly shimmied out of my shorts and t-shirt, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. They were plain, black, uncomplicated, but they could have been a lot worse. The matching set were far more sophisticated than the mismatched floral panties and worn out sports bra I’d almost worn.
I’d never been modest. When you spend half your life in a skintight leotard and rushing through five minute costume changes in front of a company full of other dancers (boys and girls alike), it had a way of curing you of any body insecurities.
“Wow.” Jade’s eyes caressed my abdomen and thighs. “I thought you were definitely hiding stretch marks and a spare tire under all those baggy clothes…But you’re like almost really skinny. I don’t think you can even tell you’ve had a baby.”
Oh yeah, and then there was that. My arms instantly wrapped around my midsection like a suit of armor, covering everything I could. I felt like she’d wheeled out a permanent marker and circled every imperfection.
“Not skinny enough to fit into any of your wardrobe,” the man noted, rubbing salt in my wound, as he slipped a navy dress over Madeline’s equally unclothed form.
“Please,” Fran drew the word out with a sassy flavor that tipped into her Spanish ancestry. “My body didn’t look that good before I had a baby.”
I gave her a grateful grin, but kept my arms where they were.
“Try this. It’s Trina Turk.” The woman reappeared with a silky fabric wrapped around her hands. “The gold will really set off your skin tone.”
I had no choice but to abandon my safety and raise my hands above my head to allow her to slide the slinky dress over my head.
The golden hue blindfolded me, and I wished more than anything I didn’t recognize the disapproving groan that filled the room as soon as I was blind to it. I knew it was Declan Davies getting a full view of what I’d left exposed. My cheeks were tomato red and a startling contrast to the clingy dress, once it was finally pulled into place.
“A gentleman would’ve turned his back,” I snapped, whirling away from him to stare into the three-sided floor length mirror.
“Good thing I’m Australian.” His smirk followed my eyes into the reflection.
“You’re an ass.”
The nameless woman who’d selected the frock puckered her lips in deep thought as she (along with the rest of them) ignored our banter in favor of analyzing the pretty dress that draped off one of my shoulders.
“What do you think?” the woman prompted.
It was brownish-gold that sparkled with sequined chiffon. Its’ one sleeve fluttered down my right arm, and the intricate pattern of the fabric gathered at my waist before carrying on in a strict line to mid-thigh.
I started to answer, but Declan cut me off from his new position, leaned against the doorframe, looking away from me with bored nonchalance. “She should wear something red.”
He was mocking my raging blush, and I glared at him to let him know how much I appreciated it. I was just about to let him know verbally, when once again my chance to speak was stolen away.
“Red would be stunning!” It was the tall man that rushed back into the racks this time.
“What are you sheilas raiding the wardrobe department for?” Declan filled the man’s departure with the same easy carelessness as before.
“What are you even doing here?” I barked. I hated just how much his rejection stung me. I got it – he didn’t find me attractive. There was no reason for him to act repulsed by the mere sight of me.
“Well I got a little tired of waiting for you in the car, so I came to see what the hold-up was.” There were no outward signs of the irritation I sensed hiding somewhere deep beneath his emotionless façade.
Guilt teased my gut. I’d forgotten all about him and the limo waiting for me in its usual parking spot. He didn’t give me a chance to voice my apologies though. He just always had to have the last word.
“Have fun wherever you end up, ankle biter,” he said suddenly, kicking away from the wall like the conversation was too boring to fake an interest in a second longer. He disappeared ar
ound the corner.
The wardrobe man returned almost simultaneously with Declan’s exit, and I was distracted with another dress to try on.
“It’s Valentino.”
My skin practically squealed with delight as it was reacquainted with its long lost love – expensive fabric. The dress’s crew neckline made me feel safe, while the fitted bodice showed off the new envious curve of my breasts. At the waist the formfitting red fabric spilt away from my hips and then stopped gracefully in the middle of my thighs. It was deceivingly modest, and with black heels my legs almost looked sinful.
Madeline had settled on the first dress she tried on, and the stylist paired it with dangerous stilettos that gave her enough extra height to keep her from being dwarfed by my stature.
Once we were clothed, it didn’t take long before Madeline had hair and make-up involved. The girl certainly didn’t do anything half-assed.
Two hours later, we loaded into a black SUV with tinted windows that Marissa Little-Ashford, the mom-ager, had ordered for us for the night.
“She doesn’t mind that you’re going to a club?” I asked, trying to unify the idea of a regular mom and a Hollywood mom in my head.
Madeline shook her head. Outside, a hundred famous sights whizzed by. “Mom is always telling me that I should spice up my public image if I want to be considered for more adult roles.”
With stubborn consistency, the eighteen-year-old starlet called her manager/mother ‘mom.’ Each time she spoke the word with clear, forced enunciation, and in her backwards world, it sounded unnatural. Marissa didn’t act, talk, or feel like Madeline’s mother. Why should she get to wear the title?
“Where are we going?” Some of the street names we passed looked familiar, but it had been so long since I’d driven through Los Angeles and I was clueless as to our location or direction.
“A new club downtown. Fran handled everything.”
I didn’t know what ‘everything’ meant until we arrived at the venue and were ushered through a back door. Loud music pounded in my ears and kept me from understanding what the polite, well-dressed man was saying to Madeline. I gave up trying when it seemed no one was going to ask for my ID, and I took the time to study the insides of the building.
Someone I Used to Know Page 9
