Chapter 14 Lex
Lex
I’m late. It’s been hours since the show ended. Hours before I was able to force myself to walk over to another shallow mansion a few blocks away from my house, even though this is the last place I want to be.
But she said she’d be here.
I glance around the expanse of the crowded estate as new age music pours from giant speakers and classmates guzzle down room-temperature beer.
I haven’t slept more than an hour or two in four days, always going, going, going, putting every ounce of myself into rehearsals and practices.
The only way I can stomach being here is by stepping out of my own body. It’s just a meat suit. A disguise.
I thought maybe this party would be a reprieve, as it’s often the quiet moments that throw me off-balance. I crave noise, the steady thrum of chaos. Bright lights, booming voices, rapid-fire motion. That’s what keeps me from stumbling off a steep ledge and splattering across concrete.
But I should have known this wasn’t what I needed.
It’s too loud.
Too crowded.
Too…triggering.
My wild eyes bounce from face to face in search of Stevie. The one girl in the world who sees past the holes in my smile and the ghosts in my eyes.
“Lex, you came!”
A shrill voice reaches my ears, and I turn to see Natalie skipping over to me in a neon-yellow party dress. When she grabs my arm, I pull away sharply.
“Sorry.” Her expression wilts. “Um, I’m really glad you could make it. Can I…get you a drink?”
I blink away from her dark-brown eyes in search of light green. She’s just a background actor in my one-man show, and this life is a piss-poor stage. I can’t muster the energy to respond. My nonreaction frazzles her, and she backs away like she’s in a scene she’s not supposed to be in.
My eyes continue to search and scan through tunnel vision as I trudge down hallways and peek into rooms. There are people everywhere, none of them her. I scratch at the back of my neck hard enough to leave angry nail marks behind.
Everything’s a blur, a smog.
I need coffee, a nap, a new life, and at least ten dozen cigarettes.
“Lex!”
“Great show!”
“Oh my God, I didn’t think you’d come.”
“You were amazing tonight.”
I scratch harder. So many voices struggle for dominance, for the barest reaction.
Hands reach out, needy and intrusive. Nodding my acknowledgment at a slew of foggy faces, I shoulder through crowds and small groups, wondering if Stevie has already left.
She told me she wasn’t staying long. Maybe I’m too late.
As I’m making my way back to the main living room, another hand latches on to my elbow.
I think it’s her at first. A breath of fresh air before I suffocate.
But when I whip around, it’s an older woman staring up at me with golden-brown eyes and a waterfall of black hair.
I blink a dozen times, wondering if the insomnia has altered my reality and I’m straight-up hallucinating at this point.
She looks so much like Bianca, it steals my breath.
The woman takes my freeze-frame as a compliment, as if her beauty has captivated me. A smile hikes up her manufactured lips. “Lexington Hall.” The hand lifts in greeting, her bony fingers tipped with nails the shade of freshly spilled blood. “My daughter has spoken so highly of you.”
Daughter.
My eyes slant through the disorientation.
She looks like…Natalie.
“Uh…yeah.” Begrudgingly, I accept the limp handshake and promptly let go, then shove my hand into my pocket and scrape it along the lining of my pants to remove the itch. “Thanks.”
She steps closer. Too close.
Oxygen dwindles.
Lungs shriveling, I skate my gaze across the room, looking for an escape. Her hand reaches out again, fingertips grazing down the length of my arm.
I stiffen. Fold in half.
“Natalie, I mean,” she clarifies, oblivious to my discomfort.
“You’re quite the showman. I couldn’t help but watch your television series when she told me you’d moved into town.
” She chuckles under her breath, giving my bicep a squeeze as her thirsty eyes continue to undress me.
“Such talent. Do you plan to return to Hollywood?”
“Hey, Lex!”
“Look. Lex is over there.”
“We should go talk to him.”
Whispers, googly eyes, flirtatious giggles.
The background noise assaults me as I blink back to the woman, only half hearing what she asked me. “I don’t know. No. Probably not.”
I need to dissociate.
Dissociate, dammit.
“Such a shame. Not that we’re opposed to having you here.”
She grins in a way that invokes a landslide of memories. All I can feel is her hand on my arm. Still squeezing, stroking, appreciating something not meant for her.
Bianca’s eyes flash across my vision—deep brown with hints of gold, a deceptive sunny glimmer that masks true darkness.
I trusted her.
She was like a mother to me.
I fucking trusted her.
Natalie’s mother sighs, closing in on my flimsy bubble. “You’re very handsome, you know. It’s no wonder all the girls are smitten.” Her head slopes as she bites her lip. “It’s a pity I’m too old for you.”
A jolt of panic stabs me. She’s got to be in her midforties, over double my age. Queasiness sinks into my gut as I lurch back, disengaging from her touch like she’s a live wire.
“Oh…my apologies.” The woman flinches, pulls away, her long lashes fluttering with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to be so bold.”
My skin feels like it’s crawling with a swarm of stinging nettles. I want to claw the feeling out of me, jump under a scorching stream of water until the blisters cleanse away the itch.
I fucking hate this.
Even as a little kid, it was only ever about my looks. My face, my hair, my pretty blue eyes, my bone structure. I could own a scene, command a room like a damn virtuoso, but all I’d ever get in return was “He looked so good doing it.”
I’m nothing but a mannequin in a store window.
Natalie’s mother backs away, fluffing her hair and smoothing out her champagne dress.
And I nearly put my fist through the next person who touches me.
Warm fingers tangle with mine before I’ve fully managed to compose myself, followed by a slight tug. Whirling around, I’m this close to combusting when I come face-to-face with green eyes and a brilliant smile.
Stevie.
Fuck—it’s Stevie.
I deflate like a popped balloon and squeeze her hand as though she’s my only lifeline.
She holds a tumbler of pink liquid, likely filled with booze. Her smile slips as she studies me hard. “What’s wrong?”
I part my lips to speak, but all I can offer is a stiff headshake.
I feel like a fucking freak show.
Teetering slightly, Stevie unlinks our fingers and wraps her hand around my wrist, guiding me away. “Come on.”
As the adrenaline peters out, my eyes close with relief. My heartbeats slow to a steady pace, and I blindly follow her down one of the endless hallways into a quiet room where I can shake off the last five minutes and let the tension drain from my useless body.
She can’t see me like this.
I need to keep going, keep pretending.
I’ll keep acting the part until I finally land my dream role:
Peace.