The Promise

by River Laurent

  “Who is she? Victoria?”

  “Oh, so you do know.”

  I stare at her in amazement. Her eyes are full of hate and she can barely contain her rage. “I looked in through the window of the house and saw her sunglasses on the table. I guessed they were hers, she wears Chanel and there are not too many women who wear designer sunglasses in Black Rock.”

  “Is this another one of your games, little rich boy?”

  I can’t believe that she would think a man who worships her body the way I do could even look at another woman, but I try to put myself in her shoes. She got a real nasty surprise from that evil bitch and she probably thinks I have form for being disloyal or untrustworthy. I remind myself that she doesn’t know the real story before I say another word. “I don’t know what she said to you, but the last time I saw her was a few months ago at a party where she got drunk and she threw herself at me.”

  “Oh, is that when she got pregnant?” she asks sarcastically.

  My jaw drops. What? This is a surprise I wasn’t counting on, but I shouldn’t be all that surprised. Victoria was born bitchy. The picture is starting to clear up. I can see exactly what happened. Victoria heard a rumor about me and Taylor. It must have riled her up some because she was obviously waiting outside the house. When I left she took the opportunity to go into the house and confront Taylor with a bunch of lies. Since almost everyone in Black Rock knows the way we broke up eight years ago she knew exactly how to hurt Taylor and make her run. Telling her we’re having a baby together. Calling her a homewrecker, and that’s just for starters. It all makes sense now. Victoria didn’t take into account how tenacious I am. I widen my stance. “She’s pregnant? That’s news to me.”

  “Don’t lie,” Taylor snarls.

  “I’m not lying. I have no idea whether or not she’s pregnant, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that if she is, it isn’t mine.”

  “Lying again?”

  “It’s not a lie. She’s the one who is lying! Jesus Christ, Taylor! Why would you believe that bitch who took every opportunity to make your life miserable over me?”

  “Why should I believe you?” she whispers, and there is a thread of hope in her voice.

  “Because I love you.”

  Cole

  She shudders. Actually, shudders. “Love? You? You wouldn’t know love if it sat up and punched you in the face. So spare me that stinking pile of horse dung. What would Victoria have to gain by coming to me and making up a pile of stories? Why don’t you just tell me the truth for once?”

  “I am telling the truth! Everything I’m saying is the absolute truth. You know how my parents always wanted for me to get together with her, but I’ve never been interested. Not in the slightest. I’d rather marry a rattlesnake.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she snarls, grasping on the thing that hurt her the most when we were together. “I was never good enough for your parents.”

  “I don’t care what my parents want, Taylor. This is my life and I want you. Victoria is nothing to me. I don’t know why she would do this wretched miserable thing, but I do know she was always jealous of you. Did you not notice how she would copy your hairstyle or how she—”

  “Stop, Cole. Just stop.” She sits on the couch with her arms still wrapped around herself and rocks back and forth slightly. “I can’t deal with this right now. Not all of this at once. I thought it was bad enough when I got here, but now?” She runs a hand through her hair and it trembles. Hard.

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t have to.” I want her to be able to rest. I want her to relax and not take all of this on her shoulders at once. She doesn’t need, or deserve it. I wish she would let me take care of her.

  Instead of calming her down my words only make her hiss with fury. “Shut up. Just shut up, Cole.”

  It’s like a slap in the face.

  She looks up at me with a coldness in her eyes that I’ve never seen before. She’s like a different person. “Do you know why it’s so easy for me to believe that Victoria was telling the truth about you?”

  “No, but tell me.” Though in the mood she’s in, I almost wish she wouldn’t. She could spit fire right now.

  “Because I have loved you more than anyone else and you’ve let me down when I needed you most.”

  I look at her sadly. “Will you never ever forgive me for that, Taylor?”

  “Right. This is not the time to be sarcastic with me.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t see how one has to do with the other right now.”

  “I’ll tell you.” She stands, and she isn’t shaking anymore. “You broke my heart that day, Cole. You left me with nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing that mattered. And what did you do? You couldn’t just admit that you were in over your head, and you didn’t want what you said you wanted. You had to get drunk to deal with it. Isn’t that right? You were so nasty. It was supposed to be the biggest, happiest day of our lives and you destroyed that for me. How can I ever forgive you for that?”

  I’m stunned into silence.

  She nods and looks at me coldly. “I almost let you get away with it. I did. I was willing to forgive and forget—I mean, it’s not like things didn’t work out. Now I see that I don’t trust you. I would rather take the word of a total bitch over you. If I trust you so little, how can there ever be anything real between us?”

  “Taylor, you don’t understand.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I’m about sick to death of you telling me what I don’t understand. I understand just fine. Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t. Did you ever think of that? Do you ever think about how the things you do affect other people? Do you think about anybody but yourself? Did it ever occur to you that you smashed my heart that day?”

  “That was a long time ago, Taylor.” I know it sounds lame, but it’s all I’ve got right now.

  Her face twists and a harsh laugh flies out of her beautiful mouth. “What did you care, anyway? You were set for life. You didn’t have to perform for a few shekels. You could sit back, relax, and let Daddy take care of things for you. You had nothing to lose by dropping me flat. You didn’t think about that, did you?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Whatever.” She checks the clock on the wall. “I’m boarding soon. You better go.”

  “Taylor, please.” I can’t let her go like this. Not like this. Not when we came so close. I take a step forward and she jerks her hand out to warn me not to get any closer.

  “Go.” Her voice turns my blood to ice.

  “I can’t leave you like this, with things this way.”

  She blinks, and her face goes hard. “It doesn’t matter. I realized on the way here I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. I’m glad I left this god forsaken place. For a while I fooled myself, but in the hard cold light of day, there’s nothing here for me. You’re just wasting your time.”

  All the air leaves my body in one big gasp, like she sucker punched me. She hadn’t said the words, but I thought it was there. I assumed it was. I thought she loved me. I felt she loved me, even if she didn’t admit it. There’s pain in my chest, radiating all through me. She doesn’t love me. It can’t be. I couldn’t have got it that wrong. She picks up her bag and puts it in her lap, in preparation to go. She’s really going to walk out of my life again.

  I won’t beg. I tried my damndest, but I won’t beg. “When you discover the truth in your heart, Taylor, I’ll be waiting here for you. Always,” I whisper.

  She shrugs, looking away, waiting for me to go.

  So I do. I walk out of that room and out of her life.

  Every footstep takes me one step further away from her. I feel like a man walking his last mile to the electric chair. That’s what it feels like. My life stretches out in front of me, a long gloomy road. What do I have to look forward to in life now that I don’t have her?

  Before she came back into my life, I fooled myself into believing I was doing all right. T
hat I had it all figured out. I didn’t need anybody. I was self-reliant, confident, in charge, in control. I had everything I wanted at the tip of my fingers and life was good. Why did I have to go to her house and turn everything upside down the way I did?

  Now, I know the truth. My life is a sham. I can’t even pretend it isn’t anymore. She’s the only thing I want. The happiness, the peace, the connection. She’s everything.

  She’s gone.

  I walk back through the terminal and out to my car. The expensive car I used to think was so important. To the life I used to think was so important.

  Taylor

  3 weeks later

  “Thank you, Pittsburgh!” I wave to the audience one last time and let the waves of their adoring energy wash over me. There are moments like this when it’s good. It’s very good. People spent their hard-earned money to see me perform live, and I gave them the best show I could. As always, I can only hope I gave them their money’s worth—the wall of rapturous applause tells me I did.

  The moment I’m offstage, one of the stage managers drapes a towel over my shoulders and leads me to my dressing room. There are smatterings of applause all around me as the crew congratulates me and the band on another great show. I thank the band too. Without them I would be singing on an empty stage, probably to no one. I gulp down half a bottle of water before I even reach the dressing room.

  There have been nights when I’ve sweat out three, four pounds during a show, depending on the lighting rig that tour and the amount of movement around the stage. This one is a three-sixty design, so I’m playing to the back as well as to the audience in front of me. I’m always running from here to there, all while trying to sing. My trainer would be proud of how well I did tonight.

  One of my strict rules is that I be left alone after a show. I need time to decompress. Sure, there’s a lot of adrenaline flowing—especially after a great show—but I can’t be around too many people. It’s overwhelming after I’ve already left it all out there onstage. How some people party all night with groupies after giving a three-hour show is beyond me.

  The dressing room is a decent size, nicely appointed. I’m used to all sorts of rooms, depending on how nice the arena is. I’ve crammed myself, my wardrobe and my makeup into rooms the size of a small closet, and I’ve had entire suites all to myself. This particular room falls right in the middle.

  Most singers would have an entourage waiting for them, but I don’t like that. Another thing that sets me apart, I guess. I can’t see myself keeping a bunch of hangers-on who just want to get what they can from me so that I can appear to have a huge entourage as befits my status as a big time celebrity.

  It means I’m alone a lot of the time, but I’m not lonely. I like my solitude. Just last week I wrote the best song I’ve ever written. I poured all my pain into it and it’s good. It’s really good.

  I open another bottle of water and take my time drinking this one.

  “It was a good show. You did great.” I stare into my eyes in the mirror and repeat this several times, then smile, but it’s an empty smile. It doesn’t reach my eyes. They look defeated. Empty. I will always pretend to be happy and upbeat for my fans because I appreciate them. I know they don’t have to come out and see me, but they do, so they deserve me at my best. It is hard work pretending and now that I’m alone again, I’m exhausted.

  I feel myself deflating like a balloon.

  I sigh and sit on the dressing table stool. How much longer am I going to feel this way? It’s already been three weeks since the Cole Incident, which is what I’m calling it. Three of the longest weeks of my life. I credit the new tour for pulling me out of it, well to a point, anyway. At least I have an excuse to get out of bed in the morning, and by the time I go to bed I’m too exhausted to do much thinking.

  It was much worse before the tour started. I think I spent the first week in bed, pretty much. I would only get out long enough for the maid to change the sheets and freshen things up. Rachael would bring the food that the chef prepared up to me even though I said I didn’t want any. She even sat with me one time and waited until I finished an amount she thought was enough.

  I know I’m lucky to have such good people in my life. I don’t know if they really do but they seem to care. Maybe because I’ve always tried to be good to them. I didn’t know that would come in handy the way it has.

  Since that week, I’ve been doing everything I can to keep myself busy. Always looking for something to distract myself from my issues. I don’t know any other way right now. My schedule is all that’s keeping me going. I work out to stay in shape so I don’t collapse on stage. I eat well so I have the energy for the punishing hours and the energetic dance routines.

  That’s all I have. My schedule.

  I cling to it like a life raft. Sure, I have my friends, but they’re hi-bye friends. They’re there, but I’m not really sure they have my best interests at heart. I think it’s hard to be friends with someone who is more successful. You can’t help the envy and jealousy. I don’t blame them. If I were in their shoes, I’d probably be jealous of my success too. I forget now, but someone said something very true once. You can have friends or you can have fame and fortune, but you can’t have both.

  I pull out my cold cream and start taking off the layers of makeup. I always feel more like myself after I take it off. Once that’s done, I change out of my show clothes and into sweats, then leave the costume for the costumer to take to the drycleaners.

  I sit back down to brush out my hair, but all I want to do is go to sleep. When I’m asleep, I don’t have to think about him, or how lonely I am. Or how much I was looking forward to another life with him. He made everything sound so good, so perfect that I started to believe him. I wanted it so much.

  Cole Finley created the perfect illusion, but that is all it was. A magic trick by a consummate magician.

  I’m right back where I started, and it feels even more empty than it did before. Even with the lights all over and tens of thousands of people chanting my name, my life feels empty. I feel empty.

  The knock at the door stirs me out of my miserable trance. “Yes?”

  Everybody knows not to bother me unless it’s important. It’s probably Maria wanting to pick up the costume, but when the door opens, it isn’t Maria. It’s not my manager, or one of the roadies either reflected in the mirror.

  “Catherine?” I can’t believe my eyes.

  It’s been eight years, but she doesn’t look a day older than when I last saw her. Just slightly more ‘preserved’. She was a beauty in her day and it is from her that Cole inherited his beautiful hazel eyes flecked with gold.

  I stand and turn around.

  “Hello, Taylor,” she says softly, in that deeply cultured voice of hers.

  “Come in,” I say automatically. I’m just so surprised.

  She closes the door and comes into the small room. Her subtle perfume and her expensive shampoo fill the air, scents I’ve always associated with her.

  “What are you doing here?” I’m not unhappy to see her. I didn’t care for her husband who was openly hostile, but she kept her feelings about me under wraps. So we always managed to have a cordial relationship.

  “I was in town, and I heard you were performing tonight. I couldn’t help but come out to see you.”

  My eyebrows rise. “You saw the show? If I had known you wanted to see it, I would’ve gotten you box seats, or something.”

  “That’s all right. We have a suite reserved for when we’re in town.”

  “Oh. Of course.” I should’ve known. I always forget how well off they are. I should know better. They don’t even live in Pittsburgh but they have a suite reserved for them here. I guess they do a lot of business here. “Have a seat.” I pull up a chair for her. “Would you like something to drink? I could call for some vodka?”

  “Oh, no, honey. I didn’t come here to put you out like that.”

  “You wouldn’t be putting me out. It’s n
o trouble at all.” I go to pick up the phone.

  She shakes her head demurely. “That’s all right. I don’t want to take up much of your time. I know you must be tired after … what’s the saying? Leaving it all out there on the stage.”

  I laugh for the first time in weeks. Ironic how her son broke my heart but she’s the one who makes me laugh. “You got it. Very nice.”

  “Thank you. I still remember some of the lingo from the old days.” She sighs, and her beautiful face takes on a bittersweet expression. “It doesn’t seem like that long ago, does it?”

  “No. It doesn’t.” Did she come to reminisce? I hope not. I also hope she doesn’t want to talk about Cole, but I don’t believe for a second that she came to see me perform.

  She folds her well-manicured hands in her lap, and they rest on top of her crocodile Birkin bag. She always was stylish. “I feel like the two of us need to talk, Taylor.”

  Taylor

  I brace myself. Did the whiny crybaby send his mommy to come talk to me? I wouldn’t put it past him.

  “I understand you and Cole reconnected after your stepmother’s funeral,” she says, choosing her words carefully. I can imagine how awkward it must be for a parent to talk about things like this, so I tell myself to give her a break.

  “That’s right.” My voice shakes,

  “I’m sorry about your stepmother’s passing, by the way. We used to run into each other on occasion. She was always so proud of you.”

  I have to smile at that. Someone is telling a lie. “That’s nice to hear. Thank you.”

  She nods. “Anyway, as I was saying Cole told me that you two got back together … in a manner of speaking.”

  “In a manner of speaking,” I repeat. “But not really.” I feel like we’re dancing together. Stepping carefully, back and forth, trying to avoid each other’s toes.

  “Yes. I understand that, too.” She frowns. “I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.”