THIRTY
“YOU NEVER LOVED me! You’re a callous fucking bitch—”
“Is that helping?” Roxie interjected, and not for the first time. “This is supposed to be a chance for everyone to make peace. What is it you expect to happen? That by screaming abuse at Sway, she’ll fall to her knees and beg you to take her back? Trust me, buddy, no woman is that desperate.”
Magnus, perhaps foreseeing how this might progress, glided into the space between the groups. “Let’s everyone take a breath, five minutes to cool off.”
Little chance of that when Roman struggled to keep his mouth closed for five seconds.
In a hotel suite, sitting in the middle of a couch against Zane, neither of them had said much at all. Honestly? Pathetic though it was, Roman needed minders. He needed a damn lion tamer, bring out the chair and the whip, then maybe they’d stand a chance. In his arrogance, Roman may think he was performing for an audience. If they were dealing with a petulant child, they’d simply leave him to his sulk and ignore him until he came around. Thus removing the excuse of playing to the crowd.
But he wasn’t a petulant child. Hard as it was to believe, he was a grown man. One with too much latitude to do harm if left to his own devices. The audience weren’t captivated, they were stuck in captivity, forced to witness his hissy fit like they were locked in some kind of medieval torture.
“You’re pissed, brother, we get it,” Logan said. Was a rockstar a good choice for mediator? Sad state of affairs that he was more responsible and reasonable than his non-rockstar brother. Weren’t rockstars supposed to be wild? “But if she’s not with Deac, she’ll be with someone else. You both said this was done. So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is she picks a guy to wave in my face all the time!”
Roman had done a lot of pacing and big, melodramatic arm gestures as he huffed and puffed his way around the living room. All the doors were open to the balcony beyond. The air should be a nice release, the sun was rising, the sky brightening up… yet his presence stifled the room. Already she was growing to resent him and she’d only known him a short time. How did the others put up with him for so long?
“I can’t listen to this anymore,” Sway said, raising her arm in a full wave only to then stalk into another room and slam the door.
“Where does she think she’s going?” Roman barked. “She can’t do that! You can’t do that! Get the fuck out here!”
Roxie hurried over, holding open both hands. “This is our cue.”
“Our cue?” She took Roxie’s hands and with Zane boosting her up, she found her feet. “Girl talk time.”
Okay, Sway she’d known all of three minutes. They’d been in the suite for at least an hour, and no one had even introduced them, now they were supposed to counsel her on this grief? Hmm, could she be qualified? Money and fame aside, a broken heart was a broken heart, and every woman had been there. Plus, secret weapon? Roxie. That damn woman didn’t know the meaning of out of her depth. No matter the occasion, Roxie could plant her feet on the bottom of any ocean and grow as tall as she needed to be. Mrs. Kyst-Lomond could handle anything.
That was the idea anyway.
The boot wasn’t so bad. Yeah, so being lopsided was weird, with no shoe for the other foot, she needed to lean on someone to keep her balance. She’d get the hang of it.
With Roxie’s help, they went after Sway, finding her seated on the edge of a bed, clinging to the mattress at either side of her thighs.
After entering, they closed the door, and the woman still didn’t look up.
“It went to his head,” she said, sounding absolutely exhausted. “He wasn’t always like this. Losing it, the addiction, rehab… There comes a point in a relationship like ours when you have to say let’s do it. When you have to say, ‘I’ll be there for you.’” Now she looked up. “He wasn’t always like this.”
In a few short steps, they got to a wingback chair by the nightstand. She sat there while Roxie went to sit by Sway on the bed.
“We’re not here to judge,” Roxie said, taking Sway’s hand into her own lap. “Yeah, our first question might be why the hell would you hook up with a guy like that in the first place, but we all have our own dating disasters. Only the virgins get to judge us.”
End with a joke. Roxie loosened Sway up enough to get a polite smile.
“I can’t win, can I?”
“If you want to be with Deacon, be with him. You agreed to marry him.”
“Deacon and I went out before…”
“Was there overlap?” Roxie asked and quickly followed up. “Again, no judgment, might be why Roman’s so nuts about it though.”
“If you’ve spent any time with Roman at all, you know he believes what he wants to believe. Whatever he thinks, I never cheated with Deacon. Never. I’ve never cheated with anyone.” Sway sighed. “Unless you listen to the media.”
“God, the press announces Zairn’s cheating on me every week, it’s like, ‘pass the salt,’ you know? It means nothing. I know better than most that what the world sees, and the inside truth are two completely different things. We say what we are is not their business, and we’re not.”
They could play to the media’s penchant for scandal because their relationship was built on such strong and sure foundations. In breaking up with Roman, Sway had been out there on her own. Though she doubted that even during the relationship Roman did much listening and supporting.
“Agreed,” she offered, hoping there might be some comfort in numbers. “You have to make decisions based on your feelings, based on what you want. Don’t make them for the fans or to appease Roman’s ego.”
“Maybe I should just go. Be by myself. Disappear for a while.”
“Whatever you want, we’ll support.”
Switching the angle of her body, Sway’s discernment landed on Roxie almost like suspicion.
She laughed. “She really means that.” Both women glanced her way, but she stuck on Sway. “Roxie is that honest and that supportive.”
“We don’t even know each other.”
“Until a week ago, Rox and I had never met. She sees people, accepts them, recognizes the good, and who deserves her support.”
Drawing in a long breath, Sway slipped her hand free and stood up to wander to the window. “There’s no talking to Roman. None. He doesn’t listen. Even when he thinks he’s listening, he’s not listening.”
“You wanted out for a while,” Roxie said. “That’s what you meant by the ‘I’ll be there for you’ thing. When he’s getting help, in rehab, you have to stick around when they’re sick. You couldn’t walk out when he promised to get help because if you did, he could use that as an excuse to slip back into old habits.”
“And blame that on you.”
Taking no responsibility for himself and his choices. What a surprise.
“Everyone tells you it’s a disease.” Sway held herself in her own embrace. “And it is, I mean there are physical symptoms, and withdrawal is hell, that’s real.” In the silence, neither she nor Roxie rushed her. Letting Sway express herself in her own time, her own way, was a matter of respect. One the woman hadn’t been shown by her ex in the other room. “It’s easy to be understanding when you don’t live with it. There are support groups and doctors and all kinds of help and support available to the person with the addiction. And maybe it’s indulgent, maybe it’s selfish, but for those of us who tolerated it, who forgave over and over again, there’s no support for us.”
“It’s not fair.” Roxie’s sincerity touched her. More than just a pretty smile or a witty tongue, Roxie’s empathy was enviable too. “I can’t imagine what it was like.”
“You don’t try to help,” Sway said, propping herself on the window frame, gazing out. “At first, you ignore the signals, the red flags, you justify it to yourself. Oh, he likes to party, it’s not a big deal. He’s just having a good time. Then when you ask, they dismiss you, or ignore you. If you persist, the gaslighting starts and it’s so…” Her eyes narrowed like she could see into her own past. “They laugh at you, put ideas in your head, until it becomes your problem. No one else cares, why do you? I’m just having a good time, baby. Don’t see you bitching at anyone else about partying. Loosen up! Come on, get with it…”
“Did you talk to anyone about it?”
“Who do you talk to?” Sway asked with a brief glance their way. “People in your life might support you, but they can’t help, they can’t get involved, they have no pull with the addict. And they’ve never lived it, if you say anything, they might tell you to leave like it’s nothing but…”
“It’s never as simple as that.”
“And with us, there was all the extra pressure. We looked so good together, the public loved us, it’s great for the image—”
“Yeah, great for him. You gave him credibility.”
“Not just me.” Sway licked her lips. “If it wasn’t for Struan, Roman would’ve been done a long time ago, probably dead a long time ago too. I lost count of the number of times Struan was slipped in as sub at the last minute, and it was his arm I held on the red carpet.”
“His brother doesn’t deserve that loyalty.”
“But that’s just it…” Rolling against the window frame until her shoulders rested on it, Sway’s hands stroked down her forearms. “He does deserve it. Isn’t that what we’re told? It’s a disease. That means if you complain, you’re unsupportive. If you try to walk, you’re a deserter. You wouldn’t leave someone with cancer, why leave them with an addiction?”
“The person with cancer wants to get better. They go to doctors, get treatments. The addict doesn’t get to throw the disease thing in your face, and cry victim, then pop another half dozen pills.”
“You know he never once said it to me. He’s never once admitted his addiction, not to me. He wouldn’t. Always said he was stronger than that and could quit any time. I was never enough, of course, he had to give the fans what they wanted, the industry needed their star.”
“And all the time you’re drowning.”
“It’s worse than that. There’s a remedy to drowning, you have the ability to at least try to save yourself. Living with an addict isn’t like that. You’re completely at the mercy of the drug, whatever that may be, pills, booze, whatever. And you’re the only one who remembers it all. The addict gets to wake up with amnesia, to minimize what it was. They kiss you good morning and go about their day…”
“You’re left alone with the trauma.”
“Unless you’ve lived it…” Her attention drifted to the view again. “You want to make yourself small, to disappear. You can see it happening, hear it’s happening, even before, the minute you knew… He had stashes, places he’d hide the medication, the bottles, around the house, it would appear and then I would know, or he’d get that look on his face… You learn to smell it, to feel when they’re on something, even before it kicks in.”
“Did you ever talk to anyone about it? You said people on your side had no influence, what about people on his side?”
“The thing is, everyone else can walk away. Magnus wouldn’t see it. I knew that he did, but he didn’t put words to it. Not exactly. It got to the point I only had to ring once and Magnus would know it was time to get Roman out from wherever we were, the party, or the meeting, whatever. I let it ring once and Magnus swooped in to get Roman out before he made a mess; everything is dumped back at the LA mansion. Everything including me.”
“You didn’t have your own place?”
“It was my place.” That startled them both. “One day he showed up and he never left. What do you say to someone like that? When he and his entourage show up with truckloads of his things, and then they’re just… there. I brought it up with Magnus once, that I might move to New York, get a change of pace.”
“What did he say?”
“At first his thing was Roman didn’t want to, right?”
“No one asked him,” Roxie said, picking up on that hint.
“Exactly. Then it became how it wouldn’t look good to the media. If I owned a separate house, lived on the other side of the country…? What would people say?”
“And why should you leave? It’s your house, your things, why give that up to him?”
“It might be yours and you might be there, but it doesn’t belong to you. The addict takes over everything, the house, the air, the energy. So you find yourself a corner and you wait, quietly, hoping to God they don’t come looking for you. Bed, you think will be your friend. You lie there, try to sleep while… And then he comes in. Doesn’t matter if you’re asleep or not, you fake it. Try to just breathe. Not that it matters, if he wants you awake, he wakes you up. Sleep doesn’t slow him down.”
“Don’t think he’s changed much.”
“You just lie there, staring straight ahead. It doesn’t matter, he’ll yell if he wants to yell, no matter what you say. You gave up crying long ago, he got a kick out of that, says you’re pretty when you cry…”
Sway was right, Roxie too, it was unimaginable. How could someone live under such oppression and in their own house? Their safe space was violated, their free will taken away. Just like the way Roman took over the island and commandeered everyone’s separate reasons for being there, he grabbed what he wanted and held on. The cost for others didn’t even feature in his thoughts. He was oblivious to his own insanity, to his own selfishness.
“There are people you can talk to now,” Roxie said. “To get help for that trauma.”
“Do you talk to Deacon about it?”
“No, God, no way. I would never—”
“You’re protecting Roman?”
“I’m protecting Deacon. He’d get mad and want to—he’s passionate. I’ve already caused so much friction in—”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“Thea’s right, this isn’t your fault. Don’t feel that way. Don’t ever feel that way. You talked about gaslighting, you’re gaslighting yourself.”
“Deacon was a comfort. I sold the house when Roman was in rehab.” She scowled at herself. “What a coward. I sold the house and ran the minute he got out.”
“You had reason.”
“He was doing better in rehab. Clean. He couldn’t understand how I’d stay with him as an addict and leave him when he was sober. Too much damage was done. I was still broken. He was fixed and I was…”
“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Roxie said. “Shit, it pisses me off, how guys can manipulate and—”
“He says he loves me and I never wanted to break his heart.” If he had one. “I’m not sure he knows what love is.”
She wasn’t sure he did either. Not when it came to loving anyone except himself. “He broke your heart. Broke your spirit. Did either of you ever acknowledge that?”
Sway’s chin went down; tension weighed in the air. Not aggravating or hostile, the aura was more one of nostalgia tinged with regret.
Roxie got up to go give Sway a hug. “You shouldn’t be going through this alone. Talk to someone. A professional. In confidence.”
“Who could I talk to? Who wouldn’t sell the story to the highest bidder?”
“Anyone who wanted to continue to practice.”
“The media get these things, even without permission, they pay off a secretary or get someone to go into computer files. It gets out there.”
“We’ll find someone, we know people, have connections, if—”
“This isn’t just my career or reputation. Some of the things I might say… it would impact more than just me if anyone knew the full truth.” Fortifying herself, Sway pushed back her shoulders. “I’m okay, I won’t fall apart. I just… thought I was over it, that it was over. I thought we were past it. But now, with this… It won’t ever be over.”
“You have to stop pandering to him.”
“That’s exactly what we did, what I did in ending the relationship,” Sway said, raising her arms. “We broke up. That was it. I was done. It was over. But it was never over, it will never be over.”
“How did—”
“He calls, he texts, I block my number, he gets it again somehow. He calls my agent, my publicist, he calls directors and actors I’m working with. It’s everywhere. All the time. Emails. Calls. He shows up. I thought with him on the island I’d catch a break, but somehow, somehow he still gets through, he still makes my life all about him!”
“Come stay with us in New York.” Roxie took Sway’s hand. “Crimson Palace is a fortress. Tripp can tell you, he lives there too. You can have an apartment, or a suite if you’re not worried about cooking or whatever. We’re full-service there, we’ll feed you, house you, protect you—”
“Why would you do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Roxie asked. “We have the means. And I have a side hustle you’d definitely be qualified to help with.”
Sway looked to each of them. It wasn’t on her, but she smiled anyway.
“I need to talk to Deacon,” Sway said. “I think maybe you’re right. I need to be on my own for a while… Can I just have a minute, please?”
“Sure.” Roxie gave her another hug then came to help her to her feet. “Want to get breakfast with us?”
“Yes. I think that’s exactly what I need… Providing we stop for a shoe.”
“You’re like Cinderella.” Roxie laughed hooking an arm under hers. “Let’s go get your prince.”
Eating with people without drama, but people who could appreciate their bliss. Stability might be a step too far, given her wobbling stance and all. They needed to decompress and then get some sleep.