Chapter 24 Derrick #2
She’s right. While I’ve been pining away waiting, hoping that Chance would eventually see that I’m worth it, he was keeping me from finding the right person for me.
“Fuck him!” I squeal, grabbing the bottle of tequila and chugging it back, making all my girls squeal.
It’s not long until we’ve moved onto the bottles of wine and I’m bawling my eyes out, confessing all my sins with Chance.
I tell my girls how I’ve been indulging in threesomes with Chance and women.
They were understandably shocked, and I was embarrassed.
Hearing myself say it out loud to my besties solidifies how stupid I am for dating this guy.
“I’m turning thirty soon. Sienna is happily married with a baby and it probably won’t be long till she’s knocked up with number two.
And then there’s you, V. You’re married and are trying for a baby with Christian.
I never thought I would want a marriage or family because, well, mine sucked, but seeing the two of you so happy after such heartache makes me want to find my own Prince Charming,” I confess to the girls.
“I make a great uncle, but I want to be a daddy, too.”
“Aren’t you already a daddy?” Stacey teases, which has us all bursting out laughing, because wine.
“You know I am.” I wink at her.
“You would make a wonderful dad one day, D,” Sienna says.
“Just seems further away right now.” I sigh.
“Chance was never going to be that for you. I think maybe he was a crutch you used to protect yourself from putting yourself truly out there. He was easy for you to date because you weren’t truly committing,” Isla states. The entire room goes quiet. “What?” she asks, looking around.
“That was kind of profound,” Stacey tells her.
“Oh.” She giggles.
“I think you might be right, Issy. Chance was never going to commit to me, and because I’ve been too scared to put myself truly out there since moving to LA for fear of not being good enough, I settled for a man who was never going to give me what I wanted.
Fuck.” I rake my hands through my hair. “What a breakthrough.” I grin.
“That’s it. I’m about to turn thirty soon.
My business is gradually building. I have the best girlies around me.
Have a gorgeous home. I’m going to embrace my thirties.
No more negative thinking. I’ve got this.
If I start putting positive energy out into the universe, then maybe, I’ll attract the right person instead of the wrong one. ”
“Exactly!” Sienna squeals, she loves all that new age kind of thinking, and maybe I need to embrace it more because it landed her a rock star.
“You’re still young, Derrick, you have plenty of time to find a husband and have a family,” Issy reassures me.
“You’re right. Dirty thirties, here I come!”
“Not sure if the world can cope with Derrick in his dirty thirty era.” Vanessa giggles.
Urgh.
Drinking tequila on an empty stomach and a hangover is not a good idea, but I did it and I’d do it again because I had the best time with my girls.
We spent the night drinking, singing, and dancing until Evan and Christian came and collected their women and took the other two drunk ladies, Stacey and Isla, home with them too.
I needed it. My stomach turns remembering why I drank myself into a stupor.
Picking up my phone, I check to see if Chance messaged me after yesterday’s press release.
Nothing.
In our drunkenness, Vanessa drafted my own release, and we sent it out into the world, basically just saying that gay men can hang out with straight guys, and it is not anything else.
How shameful and ignorant it was to post an article like that.
I double down on the whole we are friends, and he’s also a client.
I received wonderful messages from people in support, and the article was taken down by the media outlet, which was good until I saw another in its place by the same mob.
Does the rock star protest too much?
And then images of Chance out last night hooking up with groupies.
The article talks about how Chance went wild at a club and was seen hopping from one groupie to another when he had been suspiciously quiet on the clubbing scene over the past couple of months.
Because he was with you. And they think he was trying to make a point that he isn’t into men, but the article thinks he’s trying too hard.
They are right. He is trying too hard to be someone he’s not. When I look at those images of Chance, all I see is a scared little boy trying to prove he is something he isn’t. And I’ve had enough, so I decide to send Chance a message.
Derrick: Please don’t contact me ever again.
And then I block his number.
I let the tears fall down my cheeks, mourning the loss of what we had, and as much as I don’t want to feel it, I know what we had was real, or aspects of it was, and those are the moments I will mourn.
Hours later, there is a knock at my door. I check my camera and see it’s Chance. I suck in a deep breath and open the door.
“What do you want?” I say, not letting him in.
“Please, D, we need to talk.”
He looks like a disheveled mess. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a mess, and he smells like a brewery. “I think you said everything you needed to say in the press.”
“Derrick, please,” he pleads, and like the sucker that I am, I let him in.
“You have five minutes and then I want you gone,” I tell him coldly as I cross my arms.
“Please, let me explain.”
“Four minutes, thirty seconds.” I count.
“Derrick!” he screams at me. His eyes are wild as he tugs at the ends of his hair. I take a step back from him. “You know I didn’t mean those words I said. I had to say them. I thought you understood.”
“I understood them. What I don’t understand is the going out and fucking groupies all night long,” I say with a sneer, he disgusts me.
“They meant nothing.”
“Just like I did to you.” I scoff angrily.
“Please, D, don’t do this. I love you. I know I fucked up, but … I had to prove a point. I can’t have the media digging around about us,” he says, bursting out crying.
“If this is your brand of love, I don’t want it.”
“You don’t mean it. Please, I can make it up to you,” Chance pleads as he drops to his knees and tries to undo my pants.
“Get the fuck away from me,” I yell at him.
“You don’t mean it,” he begs.
“I do. I want nothing to do with you. You need to leave,” I tell him.
“Derrick, please.” He continues to beg.
“We’re over.”
The tears instantly dry up. Was he faking them? His green eyes burn red from whatever the hell drugs he’s been taking, and his lip curls. “You’re breaking up with me?” He scoffs coldly. The change in his demeanor is unnerving. “Good luck trying to find someone who will love you like I do.”
“I’d rather be single than put up with your love,” I spit at him. How dare he talk to me like that.
“You’ll regret this,” he tells me.
“Doubtful. The only person who will have regrets is you when you realize you’re the one who let the best thing that ever happened to you go.” My hands are shaking.
“Maybe having some space is good, we both need to cool down.” He turns and starts to walk out of my home.
“Whatever. I don’t care what you think, now get the hell out of my house.” I slam the door as soon as he steps over the threshold and lock it. I don’t know what drugs he is on, but I want no part of it.