I’m so done with that lifestyle.
And Kent needs to learn to compromise better if we are to continue to live together.
Lifting my head, I open the door and step into chaos. The room is teeming with bodies, and a blast of noxious, odor-filled heat hits me in the face. The stench of weed permeates the air as I step over a drunken couple dry-humping right in front of the door. I push through sweaty bodies jumping around the living space, glad to see Kent at least had the foresight to remove the large cream rug from the room and to push the blue velvet couch back against the wall.
I spot my brother leaning against the end of the kitchen counter. His body is pressed between a pair of slim, tan thighs, his face buried in the blonde’s barely concealed tits. Her head is thrown back, and she’s moaning, wrapping her legs around Kent’s waist while she grabs his hair, tugging roughly.
I yank a fistful of Kent’s shirt and haul him away from the slut grinding on the place where we eat.
“What the hell?” Kent slurs, raising his fists, ready for battle.
“End this now or I will,” I snap, having used up all my patience reserves earlier.
Kent stumbles a little as he turns to face me. “Da fuck happened to your face?” he asks, prodding his finger into my swollen, discolored cheek.
I swat his hand away. “Got into it with a couple assholes at the show. Got kicked out and took the first flight out of JFK.”
A pair of small, warm hands curls around my stomach from behind. “Hey, Keanu. I was hoping you’d be here.”
I turn around, groaning. Fuck. Will this day from hell ever end? “Casey.” I give her a curt nod as I remove her arms from my body.
Undeterred, she steps into me, pushing her oversized fake tits into my chest as her hand lands on my butt. “Fuck me, baby. I’m so wet for you.”
I step sideways, shucking her off me as I shake my head, my frustration growing. “It’s not happening. That was a onetime thing, and it was months ago. C’mon. You know that.” God knows I’ve told her enough times, but the message is not getting through.
“I’ll fuck you,” Kent says, reeling her into his body.
“Hey.” The blonde on the counter pouts, glaring at Casey.
Kent pulls her down, tucking her into his other side. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll fuck you too.” He slams his lips against hers while keeping his arm firmly around Casey on the other side. She levels me with a seductive look as she glides her hand over my brother’s stomach, slipping it under the band of his jeans. If she thinks I’m jealous, she’ll realize quickly that I don’t give a flying fuck.
“Get everyone out, Kent, or I’m calling the cops,” I warn, and I’m just pissed enough to do it.
“You’re no fun anymore, bruh,” Kent complains, dragging his mouth away from Blondie.
“You don’t need me for fun,” I reply, pointedly looking at the two girls draped around him. Casey’s hand is pumping hard behind the denim of Kent’s jeans, and she’s done me a favor because now he’s horny as hell and raring to go, so he wastes no time getting everyone out of the place.
The girls titter as they follow Kent up the stairs. Casey shoots me a longing look over her shoulder. “You can join us if you like.”
I grit my teeth. “Hard pass,” I say, shaking my head. My days of threesomes and foursomes with my reckless brother are a thing of the past.
“Your loss,” she says, pouting as she traipses up the stairs after Kent and Blondie.
I survey the mess with tired eyes, deciding it can wait until morning. I grab a fruit bowl from the fridge, along with a bottle of water, and head up to my room.
Although my bedroom is on the second level, along with the guest room, my study, and the guest bathroom, and Kent occupies the master suite on the third level, unfortunately, I can still hear sounds of his rowdy sex session.
Locking my door, I strip out of my clothes and then stand under the pelting hot shower for ten minutes before drying off and getting ready for bed.
I crawl under the covers, popping my earbuds in, and scroll through the music collection on my cell. I quickly pick one of my Selena-inspired selections, because I’m in the mood for some self-inflicted torture tonight. Removing the photo album from my bedside table, I lie on my side, pulling the covers up under my arms as I flick through pictures.
I haven’t looked at this in a while because the pain is like a red-hot coal imprinting on my skin every time I take a trip down nostalgia lane.
There are literally thousands of pictures of me and Selena, from our KA modeling days, but this album is the one I’m drawn to time and time again because it depicts our personal journey.
I flip to my favorite photo. It’s from Christmas three years ago, and it was taken at the Boston Common Frog Pond. I’d taken Selena ice-skating for the first time. I’d booked out the rink and paid to ensure this area was cordoned off from the public, so we had complete privacy. Sel doesn’t do well in crowds so I usually had to be creative.
I run the tip of my finger over the picture, lingering on the wide smile on her face. We were both bundled up in puffy jackets and wool hats. I’m holding her in my arms, her back is to my chest, and we’re both smiling at the camera. Our cheeks are red from the biting cold, but I remember I’d never felt warmer.
Because it was the first time I’d ever seen her laugh like that. It was a guttural, belly-deep, unrestrained, joyous laughter that came straight from her soul. Her radiant smile melted my heart, and I knew in that instant that no other girl would ever match up to the girl in my arms. I remember wanting to freeze-frame the moment. Because some innate part of me must’ve known those precious moments were drawing to a close.
I snap the album shut and close my eyes, fighting the onslaught of tears. A slicing pain makes mincemeat of my heart, and a heavy pressure sits on my chest. I don’t know how much longer I can continue pretending everything’s okay. Like I’m not utterly destroyed on the inside.
I can’t exist without my angel.
And I want to fight for her. For us.
But I don’t know how to do that with the demons Selena is still battling.
And I can’t do anything to undermine her recovery.
I curl into a ball, hugging a pillow to my chest, wishing it was the woman I love with every part of my being.
Begging someone for some divine intervention.
Only I never expected anyone listen.
3
Selena
“Okay, ladies. See you same time next week,” the yoga instructor yells out as she brings the class to a close. I stand, rolling up my mat and heading to the changing area. A couple of the girls smile at me, and I smile back, but I don’t engage them in conversation.
I’ve only been coming to this class for five months. Denise helped me locate it. It’s a small class with only ten participants and it’s held in a beautiful old building downtown. The room is massive with high vaulted ceilings, and it’s light and airy with plenty of space so I don’t feel claustrophobic or scared.
Exercise has been very beneficial to my mood, and between yoga and my daily swim in the private pool around the corner from campus, it helps keep my anxiety at bay.
After I’ve showered and changed, I make the fifteen-minute walk alone to the bijou restaurant where I’m meeting Kelly and Todd.
They are already seated in a booth, snuggled up together looking like the cutest couple in the world, when I arrive.
I smile at two of my favorite people as I slip into the seat across from them. “Hey, lovebirds.”
Kelly beams at me. “Todd just informed me that he’s taking me to Vermont for the weekend.”
“Lucky girl.”
“She’s worth it,” Todd replies, staring dreamily at his girlfriend. “And we need to do something special to celebrate our two-year anniversary.”
Sometimes, it’s hard to be around Todd because he’s a sweetheart and a diehard romantic and he reminds me of my ex so much.
Kelly s
woons at her man, and I don’t blame her. “Love you, babe,” she says, planting her lips firmly on his.
I glance down at my menu even if I already know what I’m having. Vegetarian ravioli. Like I have every time we come here, because it’s absolutely delicious. I’m not a vegetarian, but I don’t eat a huge amount of meat, preferring fish and vegetarian options with the occasional chicken dish.
Kelly giggles, and I look up, watching her snuggling close to her boyfriend.
I’m happy for my best friend, truly happy she has love in her life, but it only serves to highlight how empty and alone I feel without my one true love.
“Don’t worry,” Kelly says in an overly cheery voice. “I have time to fit in the open casting call before we leave tomorrow.”
“Gee, great,” I deadpan, as the waitress approaches our table. We place our orders, and I’m praying Kelly drops the subject.
But no such luck.
“It’ll be fun. I bet they offer you a part.” She wiggles her brows before puckering her lips around her straw, slurping noisily.
“They are only casting for extras,” I say. “And I still don’t know how I let you talk me into this.”
Kelly had spotted the sign pinned to one of the bulletin boards outside the lecture hall, recruiting extras for a hot new TV show, and somehow coaxed me into putting my name down with hers. Denise was thrilled when I told her, and she has encouraged me to attend the meeting tomorrow.
“It’ll be fun.” She’s practically bouncing in her seat, her dark-blonde hair swaying with the motion. Todd is grinning at her like she hung the moon. “Imagine if we got on that show! It’s all everyone is talking about.”
I must live under a rock because I’d never heard of it. Apparently, some hotshot director has recently opened a new production studio in Boston, and his company is producing a show which will go toe to toe with The CW’s Riverdale. That series I have heard of, and it’s become my secret guilty pleasure. This Boston version is set in college, and they are looking for extras of a similar age.
I can think of nothing worse than being on a production set with people milling about, the director barking orders, and all the hustle and bustle that comes with that world. The craving to ditch the session tomorrow is riding me hard, but I’ve gotten used to stretching myself out of my comfort zone, and I won’t let Kelly down. Unlike me, she actually wants an opportunity to be part of the show. Even if she ends up on the cutting room floor.
So that’s how I find myself at The Grand Imperial Hotel the following afternoon, joining a long line of men and women waiting to sign in.
After we’ve registered, we are shown to a large ballroom which has been fitted out with rows of chairs. I drag Kelly from the top, forcing her to sit in the back row, on the very edge, in case I need to make a dash for it. There are way more people here than I expected. Sweat is already gliding down my spine and sticking my palms to the front of my jeans as I nervously swipe my hands up and down my legs. My foot taps off the floor, and I stare straight ahead as the room fills, avoiding eye contact with anyone.
I’m not aware I’m trembling until Kelly points it out. “We can leave,” she blurts, pinning pained eyes on me. “I’m sorry I made you do this.”
I shake my head, drawing a deep breath, attempting to ignore the nausea swimming up my throat. “It’s okay. I can do this. And you didn’t force me.”
“You sure?” Her hesitant tone speaks volumes.
“Yesss,” I stammer, rubbing a hand across the tightness in my chest. “If it gets to be too much, we can leave, but I want to stay.”
“Do your deep breathing,” she whispers, looking around to ensure no one is listening. “And I’m right here with you. You say the word and we’ll go.”
I nod as I inhale and exhale, focusing on feeling the motion deep in my belly, chasing the sensations, and using it to distract me from my growing anxiety.
After a couple of minutes, I’ve regained my composure.
But it doesn’t last long.
A stunning woman with long blonde hair calls for quiet, explaining the setup for today. As there are a lot of us, we don’t need to audition, she explains, and a layer of stress lifts off my shoulders. They will perform some background checks as part of the processing procedure, and everyone is asked to upload some recent photos on the casting app. The link is in the paperwork in the A4 envelope they gave everyone at registration. Then she invites the director onto the stage to talk about the show and the opportunities for those selected for the extras pool.
All the blood drains from my face as the director comes into view. My heart slams against my rib cage, and intense pain races through me. I almost choke on the nausea clogging the back of my throat.
His hair is different than I remember, not quite as long, more sleek and professional looking.
But it’s the same man.
As long as I live, I will never forget his face. Those piercing navy-blue eyes roam the crowd like a vulture looking for its next feed.
I duck my head as panic lashes me on all sides. I need to get out of here before he spots me. It should be relatively easy to do in a crowd of this size, but I’m fearful if I make a move that I will draw his attention. So, I’m forced to sit here and listen.
“Do you want to leave?” Kelly asks, noticing how I’m shivering, clutching my arms tightly around my middle as if that will hold me together.
I shake my head vigorously, not uttering a word and not lifting my head. I slowly rock back and forth, uncaring how those around me perceive me, willing the asshole to finish talking so I can get the hell out of here.
The crowd laughs at his pathetic carefully planned jokes while bile coats my mouth.
A few catcalls ring out as he unashamedly flirts with the unsuspecting audience, and blood rushes to my ears while I grip the edge of my seat tight, fighting the murderous urges rampaging through me.
It seems like it takes forever for the meeting to draw to a close, but when it does and everyone gets to their feet, giving the pervert a standing ovation, I grasp the opportunity, stumbling out of the room without uttering a word to Kelly.
I dash through the hallways of the five-star hotel, bumping into strangers in my panic to flee. Shouts chase me down the corridor, but I don’t hear them over the screaming in my head and the furious pounding of my heart.
I crash through the entrance doors, slumping against the wall, panic sucking all the air from my lungs as I struggle to breathe. The anxiety I was battling inside charges to the surface, and I bend over, expelling the contents of my stomach at the bellhop’s feet. My heart is beating so fast I fear I’m having a coronary, and I can’t pull enough oxygen into my lungs. I clasp on to Kelly when she appears at my side, shaking as tears cascade down my cheeks.
Flashbacks assault my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut, crippled in pain, crying out and screaming. “No! No! No!”
Heated conversation carries on around me, but I don’t hear it. I can’t hear over the panic drowning my system, threatening to pull me under.
Kelly keeps a firm hold of me as she tries to lead me away, but my limbs won’t cooperate, and my legs give out. Todd jumps to the rescue and scoops me up into his arms before I slide to the pavement. My initial instinct is to scream and push him away, but my body is weak, my mind spiraling, and I cling to him instead, needing something solid to help keep me grounded because I’m floundering.
I’m being sucked back into the dark abyss.
My tears and cries dry up as a resigned sort of numbness overtakes me. I’m vaguely aware of being placed in the back seat of a car. Of Kelly talking to me, holding me, crying as I rock back and forth, shivering, barely holding myself together.
She cups my cheeks gently, turning my face to hers. “Selena, you’re scaring me. What happened back there? What’s going on? I’m so sorry I made you do that. This is all my fault.”
It’s not your fault. That one clear thought rings out in my mind, but I can’t force the words from my
mouth. I can’t do anything but cling to the person I was becoming even as I’m dragged back to the girl I once was.
“We’ll stay,” Kelly says, helping me out of the car door. I glance up at the familiar sandstone building I call home. The brown painted double doors look the same. The stone porch with two potted plants residing on either side of the doors is as it was when I left earlier today.
The only thing that has changed since this morning is me.
I shake my head, gripping her arm tight as I experience a second moment of lucidity. I don’t want her to stay. She can’t help me. I need to process this myself, and I don’t want to ruin my best friend’s weekend plans. Although it’s only Thursday, they are planning on leaving tonight.
Kelly and Todd help me walk up the steps. My bestie takes my house keys from my bag and opens the front door. Todd talks in hushed tones into his cell.
They settle me in my room, but when Kelly takes off her shoes and pulls back the comforter, I attempt to pull myself together. “No,” I whisper, shaking my head and holding back tears. “Go. I’ll be okay,” I lie.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” she protests.
“Sandrine is on her way home,” Todd announces, hovering in the doorway.
“Take her.” I beseech him with my eyes. “I’ll be fine until Mom arrives.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Kelly implores, but she’s wavering, thoughts of her romantic getaway no doubt at the back of her mind.
“I … I need to be alone.” I raise my red-rimmed eyes to hers. “Please, Kelly. I just need to be alone.” Conflict rages across her face. I slip my hand in hers. “Please go. Enjoy your weekend. I will talk to you on Monday.”
“But—”
I shake my head, pinning her with a warning look as I sink deeper into my bed.
Eventually, after persuasion from Todd, they leave.
I remove my cell with shaking hands, tapping out the text, hoping Alex replies quickly.
Releasing Keanu Page 3
