Chapter 12 #2
“So, she latched onto you like a leech until you were no longer her personal ATM machine?”
“Pretty much.”
I shake my head. “So much for stand by your man.”
“After her, I was in and out of rehab, so a relationship was the last thing on my mind.” He shrugs. “That’s why.” He moves his attention to his ice cream.
I do the same, weighing my words. “That was long ago. Now you’re this success story. Women must be tripping all over you. How else would you have earned your player nickname?”
“You have been stalking me,” he says.
“Just a tiny bit.” I pinch my thumb and finger together and squint an eye.
He doesn’t hide his amusement. “In the past, I’ve struggled with challenges and life’s setbacks in the worst possible way because I didn’t know how to cope.
I’d get fucked up real good on drugs so I didn’t have to deal with reality.
That’s how I handled things when my career was being flushed down the toilet and the overwhelming feeling of only being capable of failing.
I refused to accept my dad’s death, so I showed up at his funeral strung out on a cocktail of drugs.
I disappointed my mom and disrespected his memory.
I knew it. I didn’t know how else I was going to be able to stand over Dad’s casket as they lowered it into the ground.
Building SCORE…” His words trail as his pained eyes meet mine.
“You don’t have to continue.”
“No. I want to answer your question.”
“Okay.”
I hate bringing up bad memories, but I’m dying to know.
“Building a successful business felt like climbing Mount Everest backwards. That first year was brutal. It was extraordinarily stressful and overwhelming. Because I was clean, I was aware enough to understand it wasn’t only about me anymore.
It was about making my mom proud, keeping my word to the business partner who believed in me, and not letting all the staff we employed down.
I couldn’t get away from the day-to-day pressures or challenges by snorting cocaine, popping ecstasy, or uppers and downers to escape.
When shit got too heavy, I’d hop on my Harley in the middle of the day and ride up the coast to breathe and clear my head.
This rest stop is one of my favorites… the view and all. ”
“Oh, wow.”
“After Dana, I promised myself I’d never let a woman make me feel like shit ever again. The circumstances in my life made it easy to avoid relationships.”
“Just because she didn’t stand by you when you most needed it doesn’t mean all women are flighty.”
“True, but Dana is one of many. Over the years, I’ve been used by a number of women who wanted to further their careers.
They’d get close, then they’re practicing their vocal cords in the shower, slipping a USB stick in the pockets of my jeans or pants, emailing and texting demos, or bombarding me with links to their videos.
In their mind, one night is sufficient to shoot their fame, fortune, and social status through the stratosphere.
With SCORE, we’re still on the fringes of the music industry, so there’s no escaping the type. ”
“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not. I know the type. Those overnight-stardom-seekers pollute industry events. A guy who looks like you, with your reputation and your colossal success, would attract them like bees to a honeypot.”
“Exactly. It gets old really fast. Thanks to Beckett, I’ve found ways to keep things uncomplicated.”
I arch an eyebrow. Well, that couldn’t be more convoluted. “Care to elaborate?”
“It’s not the kind of thing I can talk to you about.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“You can talk to me about anything.”
“Not this.”
I’m itching to push him to confess, but last night’s blowup is still fresh in my mind. We’re in a good place again, I don’t want to open my big mouth and screw things up.
“Okay,” I say.
A few tense seconds tick by.
“I’ve never invited any other woman into my sanctuary. You’re the first.”
“I’m honored.” And flattered. And giddy.
I guess that gives me a leg up over whomever he partakes in uncomplicated with.
Take that, bitches.
“You should be.” He play-punches my arm.
We laugh.
For a few long minutes, we enjoy our ice cream.
I lift my eyes to the sky.
“It’s still gray. It doesn’t look like it’s going to get any better today.”
“No, it doesn’t. If it starts raining, we’ll head back.”
I nod.
This has been a great day so far. It wasn’t over-the-top crazy, but it was fun. And I get to spend it with him.
“I have a question,” he says.
My eyes lift from my pint to meet his.
“I’m all ears.”
“Why Nepal?”
“A few reasons. I’m not sure if you ever get used to the scrutiny of being in the spotlight.
Just because you’re a public figure, people think they’re entitled to a piece of you.
As if downloading one of your songs or buying one of your albums gives them that right.
” I shake my head. “It doesn’t.” I sigh.
“Add to that the grim reality of being an artist these days—everyone is a photo away from becoming paparazzi fodder. It was suffocating, but I kept reminding myself it was all part of the fame-game. After the tragedy, I felt trapped living in London—”
“Fucking paparazzi,” Rhys says.
“Yeah, that’s the other reason I fled. A bunch of them became my shadows in the hopes I’d divulge how I was coping with the tragedy by hounding me. Bunch of leeches.”
“Fucking paparazzi,” he says again.
After many failed attempts here in the US, my best friend Chelle (Michelle) Camden and I left LA, determined to secure a spot on Superstardom’s UK show.
The number one singing competition television show at the time was turning nobodies into somebodies.
Chelle and I desperately wanted that. We both made it to the top ten finalists on the other side of the pond, but the number one spot went to another singer.
We figured it was over. We were heart-broken.
When the judge declared the top nine finalists were going to audition for a new girl group, we never thought the two of us would make the cut.
Trinity Hughes and Henley Douglas were the other two girls in our group.
Chelle and Henley, died in a car accident while they were trying to get away from pestering paparazzi chasing after them a few days after a scandal involving Chelle went viral. The news was devastating.
“The record label allowed little time to mourn,” I say. “They wanted me to get right back on the horse—”
“But you lost two members of your group, for God’s sake.”
“They felt two weeks was enough. They were ready to turn a girl band of four into a duet.”
Rhys’s jaw drops.
“I couldn’t do it. They kept pushing, reminding me of the contract I signed, but my heart was weeping. I couldn’t sing, let alone perform. Harry Bullard, one of the producers, offered to help me get over the hump by allowing me to seek comfort all over his dick—”
“Fucking asshole,” Rhys says, shaking his head.
“That was my breaking point. I had to get the hell out of London. Coming back home wouldn’t stop the paparazzi. As I was desperately trying to find a way out, I remembered you telling me about Jace’s story.”
“You took a page from Beckett’s cousin’s book?”
I nod. “I wasn’t dealing with the reality of leaving rehab on the heel of a successful career as a rock star like Jace was.
I needed to disappear, so I followed in his footsteps.
Many connecting flights later to trick the press, I ended up in the same monastery he stayed at––the last place on earth anyone would ever think of finding me. ”
“That was brave.”
“In hindsight, it was, since I didn’t know anyone there.”
“Did you get the tattoo on your back in London or in Nepal?”
I sigh. “In London. A couple weeks after the funerals.”
He nods. “It’s a great homage. Tattooing the word unique is powerful.”
“I think so.”
“I like how it runs down your spine.” The praise from him means a lot.
“Thanks.”
“What’s the flower?”
“A lotus sits like a crown on top of the U. It symbolizes self-regeneration and rebirth.”
“Very fitting,” he says. “Did it hurt?”
“Like a fucking bitch.”
He laughs.
“The artist started with the letters as a warm-up. U made me cry. N and I, I bit my lower lip and grimaced the whole time, praying to God it would be over soon. The last three letters were torture, but I was determined, so I didn’t back down.”
“Good for you.”
“I have no idea how you find the courage to have that many tattoos.” I point at his arms.
“You get used to it.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I’m not doing it ever again.”
“Never say never.” He winks.
Sure.
I stare at him for a long beat, unsure if I should ask the question that’s been burning my tongue for over a year.
“What is it?”
“Did you sleep with Chelle?”
Rhys squints. “Wh—what?”
“Did you have sex with my best friend?”
His jaw drops open.
He tries to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Did you?”
“Why the fuck would you ask me that?”
I jump.
I debate how far to push this.
“Chelle said you had sex. Multiple times. And…”
“Spit it out,” Keira.
“And you were the first guy who…”
“Who what?”
I wince. “Chelle bragged about how you were the first one to take her to the dark side.”
“Dark side? What does that mean?”
I clear my throat. “Anal sex.”
His eyes are enormous. “No.” He shakes his head.
“Hell no. Fuck no.” He shakes his head with more vehemence.
“That’s outright bullshit. Maybe there’s a punishment when you correct the lies of a person who’s passed away, but I’m not going to let this slide.
I can’t. I’m not sure of the context of that conversation, but I never had sex with Chelle. Never.”
I flinch, but soldier on. “You wouldn’t lie to me?”
He gives me a pointed look before tossing the pint of ice cream on the blanket, the spoon smearing chocolate all over the place. Anger rolls off him.
“She swore you did.” I add the explanation in a rush.
He draws his eyebrows together. “When the hell did she tell you this?”
“A couple months before her death. Our friendship was strained, and we didn’t speak to each other unless it was related to the group. On that particular day, she was in one of her prima donna moods, and decided to turn me into her whipping girl.”
“Before you left… before the blowup—”
“Rhys…” I shake my head, remorse eating at me. “It was all my fault. I lost my shit and insulted you for being a friend.”
“I warned you. Showbusiness and fame change you. Some people believe they’ll remain unaffected when they make it big, but they’re fooling themselves.
When you become a star, you see the world differently.
The world sees you differently. Chelle was an extreme case.
All the baggage she was carrying didn’t help when you couple that with instant international fame. ”
“No, it didn’t,” I say. “She was unrecognizable and unbearable in the end.”
“So we’re clear, I never slept with her,” he says. “I had zero interest in her. She was your best friend, and that was the extent of my relationship with her.”
“I guess she spat those hurtful lies in my face because I was trying to convince her this douchebag she was seeing was using her. She told me I was jealous and proceeded to rear-end me with her words. She even rambled on about knowing of the placement of many of your tattoos—”
“There are photos of me all over the internet. Not to mention she’s saw me in swim trunks when I had parties at my place before my career went up in flames.”
“Fair enough,” I say.
Rhys places two fingers under my chin and locks eyes with me. “Chelle’s story was fabricated,” he says. “Do you believe me when I say I never had sex with her?” The sincerity shining bright in his eyes is unwavering.
I nod. “I do. Hearing it from you makes all the difference.”
A familiar conflict surges in my chest when I think of Chelle, her sudden death, and how she betrayed our long-standing friendship.
I mourn the girl I left LA with. I have issues with the spiteful, and frankly, bitchy woman she became in London.
Chelle was well aware of my true feelings for Rhys even though I pushed him away and told him to stay away.
After all, she was my best friend and confidant.
She was devious enough to plant the seeds of doubt in my head.
“Good,” he says.
He stares at me, his eyes shifting from mine to my lips.
His gaze is so intense, it ignites something inside me.
The seconds ticking away feel like years.
For a few suffocating beats, I pray he’ll kiss me.
A loud bang jolts us and lightning forks across the sky.
“Oh shit.” Rhys scrambles to his feet as raindrops start to fall. “Let’s hit the road.” He packs everything in a flash.
I stand up on unsteady legs, my mind still reeling, and my body still humming.
Thanks for nothing, Mother Nature.