13. Callie
thirteen
Callie
My feet float above the carpet like I’m walking on air as I saunter down the hall towards my apartment. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.
I can still smell the clean scent of Eli’s shampoo lingering in my hair from wearing his hat.
The butterflies in my stomach swirl as pieces of our dinner replay in my head.
Tonight was a step forward for us. Maybe not in the way I would like for things to go, but still forward. For the first time in years, I talked to someone about my dad. I shared stories about him and my childhood. Stories that would have once brought pain to my heart brought joy and healing. I’m pretty sure it was Eli being at the receiving end of my words that made me feel those things.
With a sigh, I reach into my purse. My fingers graze my cellphone—which I haven’t thought about checking since Eli arrived at Ricochet lounge this afternoon—and the supple leather of my journal.
A smile pulls at my lips.
After dinner, Eli walked me out the front door of the restaurant and straight into the idling car parked at the curb, where my driver was waiting. We shared nothing more than a wave goodbye as I handed him his hat, but in a sense, it was also more.
While I didn’t want to say goodnight, my fingers itched to write. As soon as I grabbed my pen, the words floating around in my head spilled across the pages, inking themselves into the parchment and into my soul.
I grab my key and insert it into the lock, eager to lie in bed and finish what I started. The living room is dark as I step into my home and close the door behind me. I slide the deadbolt and make my way down the darkened hallway leading to the living room.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
I jump at the nasal voice of my unexpected guest.
A soft light clicks on, illuminating the dark room, and my senses go on alert. The voice, the cloying perfume in the air… It all registers. My insides bottom out, and my body tenses. Nausea and fear sour the food in my stomach.
Silla.
I hadn’t bothered to look at my phone all day, and that was my first mistake. I know when I check it, there will be a slew of messages and missed calls. My second mistake was thinking I could have a life that didn’t involve Silla boring her fingernails into it and destroying any shred of happiness I might have.
“Christ, Silla, you scared the crap out of me,” I mumble, gripping my chest. Adrenaline spikes, and my palms sweat.
Silla stands from the couch with a wobble, and it’s not from the four-inch red soles she’s wearing. She’s been drinking. With slow, deadly steps, she approaches me. “Answer me, Callie. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
Don’t let her see you squirm.
My heart pumps faster, making it harder for me to keep my voice as even as possible. “About what? I didn’t do anything, Silla. I’ve been doing everything you said.”
“Liar,” she hisses into my face. Her eyes are wild and glassy, and I can smell the liquor on her breath.
My stomach plummets. Silla is erratic at best on a good day. When she’s drunk, she’s downright volatile.
“You’ve been fucking Eli, haven’t you, you little whore?”
“That none of your business,” I snap in irritation.
How dare she? If anyone is a whore, it’s her. She pimps herself out to anyone willing to give her something in return. She’s the one who throws herself at men to feel wanted and powerful. I refuse to play this game with her. It’s not my fault Eli has turned down her advances and it pisses her off.
“Everything you do is my business, little girl,” she sneers, making me scoff.
“How I make you money is your business. Nothing more.”
“Wrong. I know everything. Like, tonight, I know you finished the album and left the studio early with him.”
My stomach plummets. She has someone watching me? Who? My skin crawls, wondering who’s in her pocket this time. Mike? Someone on the crew? Eli?
Never. He would never betray me.
An evil smile spreads across Silla’s surgically tight features. She gets off on knowing she has one on me. “That’s right. I have people watching you, even when I’m not there. Now, tell me. Where did you go? Or did you even bother making it out of the parking lot before you spread your legs for him? I always knew you were a slut, just like your mother.”
Hearing Silla talk about my mom with such disdain makes anger soar through me like wildfire. “Do not talk about my mom like that,” I grind out, clenching my fists.
Silla throws her head back and laughs like an evil villain. “I can talk about the sad sack of shit any way I want. She wasn’t even strong enough to take care of you after Andrew died. Pathetic.”
Her cruel words about my parents are deep stab wounds with a serrated knife to my bruised heart as she continues to spew hate. Her cruelty knows no bounds.
“Enough!” I shout.
In a flash, Silla’s palm strikes my cheek like a whip. My face burns, but I don’t dare move or wipe the warm trickle of blood slowly sliding down my cheek where her nail scratched me.
“Remember who’s in charge, Callie.” Her voice falls deathly low, and the unspoken threat is supposed to remind me of my place.
Once upon a time, that slap might have worked, but I refuse to keep letting her win. I have been what she has wanted me to be for too long. I am fucking done being her personal ATM.
All the anger I have suppressed over the years bubbles up and finds its way out. “Fuck you, Silla. You don’t own me.”
She raises her hand again, but I’m faster, expecting the blow. I catch her wrist and squeeze. Her blue eyes widen at the extraordinary strength in my grip.
That’s right, bitch. I’m stronger than you think.
“You will not lay your hands on me again. Do you understand?” She wants to play with me. I’ll show her just how cut from the same cloth we really are. “I may pretend to be your little puppet, but make no mistake, Silla, I am not. So don’t do something you’ll regret. And this?” I wave between us with my finger. “This little power dynamic with you on top will not last forever. The time will come when I walk away from you, and there will be no more money for you to live the life you are used to. Now, get the fuck out of my apartment.”
I twist her wrist, pushing it—and her—away with as much force as I can, and step back, putting space between us before either of us takes this fight further.
If that’s what she wants, I’m ready. But I know Silla. She prefers manipulation and mind games.
Silla rubs her wrist as hatred burns her eyes. “I’m going to make you pay, Callie. Your mother too.”
“Go near her, and you’ll be the one paying.”
Silla laughs. “Silly girl. Do you really think you could keep me away from her? I’ll be sure to say hi for you when I visit her again soon.” She pauses, waiting for her words to sink in.
The world around me crashes, and I fall back a step. It was her. She’s why Mom had that set back. I look up to find Silla gloating.
“No.” I whisper, my body shaking. My anger is long gone, replaced with utter terror.
How?
“That’s right. Now you’re getting it. I’m in charge. The judge agreed, and you have no say. If you’re not careful, I’ll move your mother out of Malibu and someplace you’ll never find her.”
I watch, stunned, as Silla marches to the door, triumphant in yet another win in her column.
She turns, giving me one last scathing look. “Don’t test me, Callie. You do as I say. Stay away from Eli and keep your fucking legs closed. We can’t have people thinking America’s princess is a whore, now, can we?” With one final blow, Silla walks out and slams the door, the sound reverberating off the walls.
A flood of emotions hits me like a round on the Teacups at Disneyland, and I rush to the bathroom, sick to my stomach. I fall to my knees, puking up my dinner, as I relive my fight with Silla.
I went from floating on air after sharing dinner with Eli to this. Maybe I am pathetic?
Hell no. Silla can’t win, my brain screams at me, reminding me I’ve come too far to give up now.
When my stomach finishes emptying its contents, I wipe my mouth with a scrap of toilet paper and flush the toilet. I catch myself in the mirror as I turn on the faucet to wash my hands. I’m a freaking train wreck. My mascara is smeared, and I look like I’ve aged a hundred years. The blood from the scratch on my cheek has mixed with my tears and streaked down the side of my face, making it look like I’ve been in a bloody battle.
In a way, I have.
Placing my hands on the sink, I lean over and drop my head. What the fuck just happened?
Silla has always been cruel, but slapping me is next level, even for her. The smug look she gave me when she admitted to paying Mom a visit pops into my head. I can only imagine what vitriol she spewed to make Mom feel scared. Helpless.
My anger reappears, and I grip onto that feeling with everything I’ve got. I will not let her hurt my mom. Silla can treat me anyway she wants, but she knows better than to go after my mom. What the hell is she playing at?
A million possibilities flit through my head, making me angrier.
Fuck this.
Either way, I’m done waiting for the clock to count down. It’s time for me to take action. If this is how Silla wants to play it, then I’ll ruin her any way I can.
Even if it means ruining myself in the process.
Revenge is the only thing on my mind as I open the medicine cabinet and grab the face wash. I scrub my face clean before reapplying a new layer of make-up, going heavy on the smokey, purple eyeshadow and drawing a dramatic cat eye with the black eyeliner. I finish the look with a dark-purple lipstick before marching into my closet.
Stripping down to only my undies, I stand in front of the sea of dresses I’ve never worn, searching for one in particular. I rip the lavender bejeweled mini dress off the hanger. I slide the silky material up my body, push my arms through the thin straps, and zip it up.
I grab the crystal-encrusted stilettos and slip them on. For the second time tonight, my eyes catch the woman in the mirror. Instead of seeing the broken, hopeless girl staring back at me, I see a strong, confident woman.
A woman determined to break things instead of being broken.
A woman ready to fuck shit up.