She looks up from her lap and nods.
“Good.” He slides his hands over his stretched-out shirt. “I’m glad to see that we’re all on the same page. Go grab a couple of meals together off set, make sure the press can easily snag a couple shots, and the rumor mill will start.”
Adelaide and I are silent as he walks past the kitchen to the door of the trailer.
The sun streams in as he stops on the first step, looking at us over his shoulder. “This does mean that any fucking you two do with other people needs to be behind closed doors.”
My thoughts go to Lilah. Old habits die hard, I guess. I still hope she’ll get her shit together so that we can be a couple.
“Understood.” I nod, and the door slams behind him.
Moments later, a production assistant pops his head in the door. “You’re both needed on set.”
“Coming.” I step in front of Adelaide and offer her my hand.
She accepts it with a small smile, and I lift her from the chair.
Once we’re out of the trailer and walking back to set, I look at her. “You were quiet in there.”
“He gives me the creeps. You know how he is with women. I prefer not to be on his radar.”
It’s true. Bernie does have a reputation for being a misogynistic ass. I’ve been at parties and heard the way he speaks. He openly talks about hooking up with various women, even though he’s married.
“Gotcha. I think it’s best to stay off his radar—man or woman.”
“Agreed. What do you think of his plan?” She stops walking and looks at me, her big hazel eyes wide with uncertainty.
“If I’m honest, I don’t like it.” Her expression falls, and I’m quick to correct my mistake. “I don’t mean because it’s you. It has nothing to do with you. I just don’t like pretending for the press. Lies always catch up to you.”
That fateful night on a Virginia mountain gnaws at me and I suppress a shiver.
“I get it. I mean, how do you think I feel? I have to pretend to be involved with James Crawford.” She rolls her eyes playfully.
I push her shoulder gently. “Imagine if Gregory Fox was the one costarring with you.”
Gregory is a rough-looking actor in his late fifties who’s well-known for being a little too handsy with his costars.
Adelaide throws her head back and laughs. “Yeah, I guess it could be worse.” We stare at each other for a minute before she looks away and gestures to the large building in front of us. “I guess we should go.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’m sure we’ll find some way to stand being around each other even more than we already are.”
“I hope so, or these next few months are going to be hell.”
She punches my shoulder. I grimace and grip the spot in mock pain.
“Let’s go, you.” She pulls me forward by my hand until my feet start moving.
I follow her through the door, and a small part of me feels guilty that I enjoy how easy it is to be with Adelaide.
Chapter Twenty-four
Lilah
Jimmy’s been spotted around town with his costar. The press snapped pictures of them eating together. They were even out dancing together at the Regent.
Jimmy.
Jimmy.
Jimmy.
He’s all I can think about. It’s been two months since I’ve seen or spoken to him, but he’s still on my mind every day.
Wondering what he’s doing. Who he’s doing. Wondering if he’s falling in love with his costar and agonizing over how easily he replaced me.
I toss the stupid tabloid on the table in front of me and grab the half-full bottle of vodka.
I’ve been crashing with Derek since Jimmy kicked me out of his life. It’s not that I can’t afford a place of my own—I can. As much of a mess as I am, the House of Carlisle pays well, and I’ve managed to book another couple gigs too. We’ve shot the spring campaign, and we’re due to shoot the summer one in a couple days.
I’m at Derek’s because I don’t want to be alone. Jimmy was such a huge part of my life and then—poof—he was gone. Being alone leaves me too much time to think, too much time to spiral.
My grip on the bottle tightens and I chase my desperate thoughts with another punch of vodka to my system.
“Hey, what’re you doin’?” Derek steps into the small living room from the bedroom.
“Getting drunk.” I offer him the bottle.
He snatches the bottle and downs a healthy swig, but instead of handing it back to me, he puts it on the table. “I’m gonna chase the dragon, you in?” He tosses the tinfoil and heroin on the table.
I read online that Jimmy and Adelaide are walking the red carpet and presenting an award together at the Oscars tonight. It’s not atypical for actors of what is expected to be next year’s big hit to present at this year’s awards ceremonies, but I know it’s more than that. If I wasn’t such a masochist, I wouldn’t watch, but I have a sick fascination with torturing myself. And I want to see Jimmy, so I know I’ll watch.
I glance at the instruments of my destruction on the table, desperate for the oblivion they’ll give me from this empty feeling inside me. It won’t ever leave. If you scrape through one layer of the black sludge that coats my insides, there’s only another waiting. “Sure, why the hell not?”
Derek sets up everything, spreading out the piece of aluminum foil with a slight curve to it. He places the heroin on top and passes me the straw. He flicks the lighter and heats the bottom of the foil while I wait with the straw. When the heroin bubbles and vapor wafts off the top, I use the straw to chase it around, sucking hard to inhale.
I pass the straw to Derek and grab the lighter, moving it around underneath the foil. He sucks in a hit. When the heroin is burned off, the straw and the foil drop between us onto the old couch. I toss the lighter toward the coffee table, but I miss. I fall back into the cushions and close my eyes, letting the dragon consume me.
My head feels light and my limbs tingle. My chest is heavy, and I feel as if I’m floating on a cloud. Finally, peace.
Sometime later, I feel hands on me and I stir, cracking open one eye. Derek’s hands are on either side of my leggings, pulling them down my legs. I shift and attempt to pull my legs up and away from him, but they’re heavy and my arms are as useful as Jell-O.
Derek’s glazed eyes soak me in. “C’mon, let’s have a little fun. I love fucking when I’m high.” His gnarled teeth peek out with his smile.
I lift my hips so he can slide my leggings and underwear down my legs.
“Condom,” I rasp, my eyes closing as another wave of oblivion crashes over me.
“You got nothing to worry about,” he says, unbuckling his jeans.
I manage to get my arm out to place a hand on his chest. “Condom.”
He glares at me with narrowed eyes for a moment before standing and almost cracking his head on the television. He walks a few steps to the bedroom door, and my eyes close again.
Jimmy and I aren’t a thing anymore, but it’s still the one promise, probably the only one, I won’t break.
I must have passed out, because the next thing I know, he’s pushing inside me. Panic flares inside me for a moment but retreats when I feel a condom between us.
I’m in the same position on the couch as I was before, my legs spread wide, my ass at the edge of the cushion. I look at Derek as he moves in and out of me, and I close my eyes, waiting for it to be over. I lay there, limp and numb, while he uses me for his pleasure. He squeezes my breast so hard I cringe.
I let him use me. My body is all I’m good for anyway. All I’ve ever been good for.
He finishes with a disgusting groan and one final thrust. Derek stands, pulls the condom off himself, and chucks it in the garbage.
My eyes drift closed again, trying to find the place where nothing matters, where my loneliness lives.
“I’ve gotta do a pick-up. Be back later.”
Derek’s voice stirs me, and I open my
eyes. He’s dressed again, standing by the apartment door with his hand around the handle. I’m still on the couch with my legs spread, bare from the waist down.
“Do what you gotta do,” I say.
He leaves, and I lay there for another minute, coming down from my high. Eventually I sit up and pull on my leggings, not bothering with my underwear. I spot my phone between the couch cushions and check the time.
The red-carpet event for the Oscars already started. I reach for the channel changer and click on the TV. It’s seen better days, but it works, and I flick through the channels.
I grab the bottle of vodka that’s still on the table and nestle into the corner of the couch. Ten minutes go by as the usual celebrity A-listers and their dates stop to talk to the interviewers about what they’re wearing and how they’re here to support blah-blah-blah.
I chuckle when an actor everyone adores steps out of his limo, because I know for a fact we shared a dealer at one point.
The bottle tips to my lips when I spot him in the background. The air rushes from my lungs. My heart shrivels. My eyes sting.
Jimmy looks so good. Healthy and happy. A part of me is glad he’s doing so well, and another part of me rages over the fact that he can so easily move on without me, while I sink further and further into a black hole.
I am nothing.
I am no longer anything to anybody.
He was all I had left, and now he’s got the girl of his dreams.
I chug gulps of vodka as the realization hits me. My stomach churns at the invasion of alcohol, but I ignore the choking reflex, my gaze transfixed over the shoulder of the woman being interviewed. My grip on the neck of the bottle tightens while I watch Jimmy lead Adelaide along the red carpet, his hand on her lower back.
I stalk the area, begging cameramen who can’t hear me to turn one way or another, watching for a glimpse of Adelaide’s red dress in the background of every interview.
Eventually, the happy couple walks past the man interviewing everyone and stops for their turn. She smiles at Jimmy as though she’s had him. Of course she has. They’re a couple. He’s waking her up with kisses to her shoulder blades. Making her eggs. She’s the deserving one.
I hold my breath and tears prick the corners of my eyes.
“Everybody, I’m excited to get to talk to James Crawford and Adelaide Sheridan, the costars of The Regulator, which is set to release next year. How are you both?” the host asks.
“Good,” Jimmy says with the most charming of smiles. “A little overwhelmed.” He glances behind them at the throng of people and chuckles. “But excited to be here.”
“How about you, Adelaide?” The host puts the microphone in front of her.
The camera zooms in. She’s stunning in her red gown and large diamond drop earrings. Her hair flows in soft waves down her back, and her smoky eye makeup is sexy and alluring.
And she’s the one standing beside Jimmy, being interviewed on the red carpet.
I always thought it’d be me.
I lift the bottle to my lips. Alcohol slides down my throat.
“This is my first time attending, so I’m a little nervous. I think I need a drink.”
The three of them laugh.
“Well you don’t look nervous. In fact, you look gorgeous tonight in this dress. Tell the viewers at home who you’re wearing.”
Jimmy’s face lights up with pride as he holds her hand above her head, and she spins before she tells the host about who fashioned her look for the night.
“Doesn’t she look stunning?” Jimmy replaces his hand on her lower back.
She’ll survive without your touch for two seconds, Jimmy.
The host nods while Adelaide lovingly stares at him and smiles with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Speaking of…” the host says. “You know I can’t have the both of you here without asking the obvious. There’re rumors out there about an on-set romance between the two of you. Can you confirm for us here tonight whether or not that’s the case?”
Adelaide smiles and defers to Jimmy.
I stand with the vodka clutched in my hand, waiting on tenterhooks to hear his answer.
“Nice try.” Jimmy winks. “I prefer to keep my private life just that—private.”
The host waves him off. “Okay, okay. You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Jimmy smiles. Even drunk and stoned, I don’t miss Adelaide looking at him as though he’s a god.
“How’s filming going? I hear you guys are almost ready to wrap it up?”
“We’ve got a few weeks left before everything will move to post-production,” Adelaide answers.
“And how has it been working together? This is the first time you’ve worked together, am I right?” the host asks.
“It is,” Jimmy agrees. “Working with Adelaide has been fantastic. She’s a complete professional and treats everyone on set with respect. It’s been a great experience.”
The host moves the mic in front of Adelaide. “I agree. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I signed on to this project but working with Jimmy is a dream come true.”
The bottle slips from my hands and clatters against the floor.
She called him Jimmy. Only I call him Jimmy! Only I have ever been allowed to call him Jimmy!
I bend over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
I assumed they were sleeping together, but I didn’t realize, didn’t even bother to think that they were serious enough that he’d let her call him that.
He was always insistent that it was our thing.
I can’t.
I can’t handle this.
Hate, rage, pain, shame swirls inside me, forming a toxic cocktail until I vibrate with the need to stop the pain.
I grab my purse and riffle through it, desperate for anything. I dump it over, my lipstick, wallet, and tampons scattering to the floor. I glance at the empty bottle of vodka.
I cry out and scratch my nails down my face, desperate to push it all away.
I only have myself to blame. I can’t be who he needs me to be. I’m the one who pushed him away, who drags him down. And now he’s happy… with someone else.
How long until Derek gets home?
However long it is, it’ll be too long.
I rack my brain for the nearest dealer when it dawns on me that I know where Derek keeps his stash. Maybe he has something in there. I’ll pay him back. He’ll understand.
My body ricocheting from one wall to the other, I stumble to the bedroom. I drop to my knees in front of the beat-up bedside table. I pull out the bottom drawer, the one with the false bottom, and work the thing until I figure out how to access the bottom part.
When the wood lifts, my panic dissipates. He has a few rocks of heroin, along with a few needles and a baggie of weed. Weed isn’t going to cut it for me right now, and neither is the vapor. I wrap one hand around a needle, second-guessing myself. I may be a fuck-up, but I’ve managed to stay away from needles so far.
What the hell do I care? I have no one. No one truly cares what happens to me.
I snatch the needle and the heroin and stumble around the apartment, scrounging up the other instruments I need. I may be a newbie with needles, but I’ve watched enough of my friends.
The heroin is in the needle and my shirt sleeve is rolled up when the overwhelming urge to reach out to Jimmy and admit my feelings becomes too strong to ignore.
He once did the unthinkable for me. He deserves to know how I really feel before I do this and set myself on a path I’ll never be free from.
Setting the needle on the table, I turn over my phone, type in the password, and hit his number, pressing the speaker button. The call goes straight to voicemail. After the beep, I plunge the needle into my vein.
“I really did love you.”
A rush of white heat envelops my body and my eyes drift closed. I fight against the pull to get out my last few words.
“As much as I was able to.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Jimmy
Our presentation at the Oscars goes well and Adelaide and I are at an after-party, sipping on drinks and making small talk with some industry insiders. They’re filling us in on some of the drama going on over at one of the big entertainment agencies in the city.
I observe how Adelaide gives each person her undivided attention. In spending time with her these past couple of months, I’ve come to realize that she has the unique ability to put people at ease and make them feel important because she grants all of her attention to whomever she’s talking to.
She catches me watching her and smiles with a blush in her cheeks. It warms her face, and without thinking, I brush my thumb over her soft skin. The man who’s speaking clears his throat, and I drop my hand.
“Sorry, gentlemen. Would you mind if I stole Adelaide for a moment?” I say to the group.
“Of course, you two young things go have fun,” one of the older executives from the studio says.
I nod my thanks and lead Adelaide away by the arm. When we reach the corner of the room, I stop her, strategically blocking us from view with a large gathering of helium balloons rising up from weights on the floor.
“You know earlier when you called me Jimmy?”
Her eyes crinkle. To her it’s probably nothing.
“To the reporter on the red carpet.”
“Oh.” She nods.
“Could you stick to James?” How do I word this without offending her?
“Okay,” she says, but it’s clear in her tone she doesn’t understand what the problem is.
“It’s just… Jimmy’s my past and it’s a childhood name and—”
She places her hand in the air and smiles. “You don’t have to explain. James it is.”
“Thanks.” I release a breath, thankful she took the news so easy.
I step closer to her. “I think we did a pretty good job up there tonight. What about you?”
All We Were Page 13
