Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
To the Rescue
Signs are everywhere.
A friend canceling on a Friday night.
Turning on the radio at the perfect moment to win concert tickets.
Holden Strauss’s name appearing on my phone like a damn skywriter.
In the chaos of noises, I filter through the clashing sounds of EDM music and loud voices to make out his words when I answer his call.
“Nobody cares about me anymore.”
No hi. No hello. No how are you. We are headfirst into his drunken state. Every word of his collides into the next.
Holden is sipping his drink loudly and crowds of people are overshadowing his voice. I press a finger to my ear, leaning into the speaker.
“Hello?” I repeat.
“Charlotte, what’s going on?” Aidan snaps. The rush of heat hits my face as I turn to shush him.
“Are you okay?” I say into the phone, fully knowing the answer to my own question. Nobody goes from being totally fine a few hours ago to confessing that.
“I… wouldbeifyouwerehereeee.”
“Where are you?”
“At home…”
“Which house?”
Just like that, the call drops. A second later, I see his text with a pinned location.
“I got to go, Aidan. My client needs me.”
“At eleven thirty at night!?”
“Yes” I say flatly, taking one last look at him and his puppy-dog eyes. The same eyes that have always won me over in the majority of our arguments.
I linger for a moment before I give him a tight-lipped half smile and rush out the door, requesting another ride from Calabasas to Burbank.
My hand sticks out the car window as the driver makes their way to San Fernando Boulevard, where the neon signs mix together with the streetlamps.
Holden was sloppy for doing this. For all the talk and endless thought we just had a few hours ago, reviving his career, just to become another headline—
Washed up. Blacked out. Spotted stumbling out of a black alley.
My whole body clenches at the thought of any of these descriptions making it to print. The breeze rushes across my skin as soon as I step out of the car in front of the gigantic house when we finally arrive.
“He couldn’t stay away for a few hours…” Her snarky voice interjects as the pendant returns to life.
The pinned location has brought me to a gutted home that could’ve once been in Architectural Digest. It belongs to everyone for the night, with the words “Welcome to the Party” displayed in graffiti with an image of a blunt right next to it.
I’ve never seen so many people squeezed into one confined space. Thousands, probably for however long the house stretches out. From the living room to the infinity pool, I make my way to the back of the house.
My eyes lock in on the heads bobbing in the crowd, desperate to find his Chicago Cubs hat in a sea of people in which I’ve lost all sense of my surroundings.
“I am so sorry!” I say, running into someone I don’t recognize.
His large hands hang onto me as I steady myself. Inches from the Jell-O shots sitting on the table.
“Can I get you a drink?” The man shouts at me.
“What!!” I yell back.
I must’ve nodded, because a drink with unknown liquid is handed to me. My ability to have no sense of my surroundings has landed me in an unwanted conversation with a stranger.
I’m twenty minutes deep into the story of how he booked his latest project.
“Yeah, I am the runner-up for this huge project. I can’t say who the director is, but think ‘blockbuster.’” His hands go out large to emphasize the impact of his statement.
I feign a smile. “That’s so cool. What’s your part?”
His hand goes on my shoulder as he leans onto me. “I will be a stand-in.”
I look at where his arm is and say, “Oh…”
“Yeah, it’s really cool. I get to stand-in for a really famous actor and learn from him. I hear he is at this party…” I nod as he tells me about his audition process.
“They called me in like three times. I tried crying, falling to the floor and even just blankly staring at them. Eventually, I nailed it.”
The man proceeds to show me his monologue from start to finish with his favorite version, the crying one.
My eyes try to look anywhere else but at him.
I pretend to take a quick sip from the solo cup, but hearing more of his “process” only makes me take a real swig of it, dulling the pain of this conversation as “Mr. Brightside” plays in the background.
Each lyric transports me back to my first kiss with Aidan.
A night out with friends where we sang every line of this song, off-key. Deliciously high on life. As he finished singing the last lyric of the song, he dipped me into the crowd, leaning in for a kiss.
When the song ends during my conversation with this complete stranger, I down the whole cup of punch, which tastes like peach schnapps and vodka.
“Well, well… she makes it,” another voice says from a distance and it’s the same low timbre in his tone that I could recognize anywhere.
He slides an arm around my waist, pulling me away from Mr. Stand-In like it’s second nature. I melt into his side without thinking, losing sense of our surroundings.
“Am I interrupting something?” Mr. Stand-In says, looking visibly annoyed as Holden physically pulls me away.
“Yes.”
The man walks away. Holden slips his hand into mine.
“Are you okay?” he whispers, pulling me away through the crowd.
“Are you okay?”
I return the question back as he drags me to a random door on the side of the house. Holden knocks before stepping into a lilac bedroom that looks untouched. Nobody is inside.
It’s a sanctuary from all the noise.
“It’s so much easier to talk in here,” he says, caressing my shoulder with his fingertips.
“You seemed off on the call earlier.”
He inches closer with an eyebrow raised. “I am totally fine. You’re here now.”
I pull back. “Why did you call me? I was at Aidan’s.”
“Who’s that?”
“My boyfriend??”
“Ahh, that guy. Well, I am sure he will appreciate you helping out a client.”
“What am I helping you out with, exactly?”
He seems familiar with the ins and outs of this room, because he is now getting up and gliding to the dresser in front of the bed.
Pulling out a brand-new bottle of brandy from inside of it.
“My image.”
“You sent me your location. You seemed like you needed help.”
He rubs the back of his neck, looking hesitant. “Chris is lucky to have you on his team. The press release is definitely what I needed to catch people’s attention.”
“Whose attention do you want?”
He gives me a slight smile as he unscrews the top of the bottle.
“Want one?”
I don’t answer. He doesn’t wait for me to answer, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a large swig. He doesn’t seem to notice her presence lurking behind him, chanting, “Duas almas incompletas” as the soft blue light radiates from my neck.
Ghosty is here. Ready to weigh in.
“Why don’t you guys play a game of truth or dare. I’ll go first, Charlotte. Truth?”
Before she can ask the question, I already know.
The truth is, no matter what I do, Holden Strauss is always on my mind.