Chapter 24
chapter
twenty-four
THREE DAYS LATER
“You never forget the sound of your worth being ripped apart by strangers.” – Haven
HAVEN
To add insult to injury, I called Charles after I got home from the disastrous dinner to find out that he’s at a work, golf thing for two days. So he can fly to Florida to play golf, but can’t find the time to visit me for a weekend.
Great.
Of course, Cyrus loves the idea of us pretending to be more than what we are, which is—hell if I know. I sent Charles a text letting him know that if he sees anything, not to believe it, but he didn’t respond. So now I don’t know if he is angry, busy, or ignoring me.
I’ve managed to avoid Cyrus for the most part over the last three days. I can’t even figure out who I don’t trust at this point…me or him.
I’m only around for the concerts and when I need content. The rest of the time, I stay locked up in my room, or I drive around like an insane person running away from myself, only to remember I have nowhere to go.
Escaping and hiding out is exactly what I’m doing today. The guys are working on new songs, and sitting around with them all day sounds like trouble.
The Utah sun is unrelenting, but at least the air inside the mall is cool.
I wander through a boutique tucked between a high-end shoe store and a juice bar.
My hands are already full. Three shirts.
Two pairs of jeans. A leather jacket. Jean shorts.
A cute dress. Six pairs of lacy underwear, which is probably a terrible idea, and a silver necklace that just so happens to have a red guitar pic on the end.
I don’t need the necklace but can’t leave it behind.
I don’t shop often, but when I do, it is because I need something to anchor me. Something normal.
The cashier smiles as I approach, but the cheerful moment is crushed when a cluster of voices echoes behind me.
“Oh my God, is that her?”
I turn and wish I hadn’t. Three girls stand near the dressing rooms with their phones out, recording me. Their eyes are wide with glee…the mean kind. Not fans. Mean girls. I know their type all too well.
“You’re Haven Gaillard, right,” one asks with a sneer. “The leech who’s sleeping her way to the top.”
“Yeah, must be nice to have a daddy who owns a billion-dollar company, and gives you access to poor Cyrus in his time of need,” a second girl chimes in.
Poor Cyrus? Poor Cyrus?
You have got to be fucking kidding me. Poor Cyrus, my ass.
“Eww, you don’t think she’s fucking her father, do you?” They all laugh.
That is a whole new low.
“She’s not even hot. What do you think she’s buying?”
At this point, the voices have blended together, and I can’t tell one snotty bitch from another.
“Confidence, maybe,” one says, eyeing the jeans in my hand. “Good luck fitting into anything sexy with those thighs. I don’t know what Cyrus sees in you.”
My grip on the clothes tightens. I want to lash out, stand up for myself, and tell them all to fuck off and go to hell. But one glance at their cameras stop me. Anything I say will land on the band and LG Records. So, I bite my tongue and turn back to the cashier, pretending they aren’t there.
They obviously don’t like that and swarm around me like little fruit flies, and I’m the rotting fruit.
“I saw a video of her online. Acting as if she belongs with the hottest band on earth.”
The girl leans her hip against the sales counter.
“Tragic.”
Another girl picks up the black and red bodice top I chose and grimaces.
“Sweetheart, you’re not a rockstar. Get over yourself.”
She tosses it back down onto the counter.
Heat floods my chest, the kind that has nothing to do with shame and everything to do with fury. But beneath that? The echo of something deeper. Another voice from years ago.
Junior Year
The cafeteria reeks of mystery meat and desperation, a typical teenage combination for any high school, I presume.
It’s Friday, and all I want is for school to be over so I can go shopping for Dad’s birthday present.
His big day is three weeks away, which doesn’t give me much time to find the perfect gift.
I look around the noisy room as I stand in line waiting for my high-calorie, low-quality food, and spot Sherry and Tina.
My smile falls. The cheerleaders aren’t exactly my biggest fans. Sherry used to be my friend, but like everyone else, she has decided that I’m toxic waste now that Cyrus has arrived.
I sigh, wishing I could go back in time to when things were simpler. My mom was alive. I didn’t know Cyrus, and the biggest issue I had was what movie marathon to watch on a Saturday.
But that’s not happening.
I step forward and grab some fruit, a chocolate pudding, and a hamburger before trying to decide where to sit that won’t be near…well, anyone.
Usually I go outside, but it has been raining all day, and I have on a new dress.
One that I spent way too much time picking out and even more money buying, but I love it.
More importantly, I love the way I feel in it.
The cherry-red color matches my hair, and the cinch at the waist and unique cut speak to me.
My mother would’ve said that it makes my eyes pop. She always loved me in red.
Also…Addison, the transfer in from Westminster, England, who I have a crush on, just smiled at me. My day is looking up.
Or it was until Cyrus walks in with not just one, but two girls hanging off his arms. He laughs at something the one on his left whispers.
Shit. The last thing I want is a confrontation with Cyrus. I try to retreat and end up trapped in his path with the football team goofing off right behind me. I struggle to push through them.
“Hey, watch it. Can’t you see where you’re going?”
I look up at the quarterback and swallow hard.
“Sorry.”
Ugh, why me?
The guys move out of the way, but it’s not fast enough, and Cyrus’s gaze flicks to me. He stares, eyes cold and calculating, then he smirks.
That one look says it all, and sweat instantly trickles down my spine. What crap is going to come out of his mouth this time?
He saunters over with bimbo one and two. At this point, I’m considering just calling them the Borg and giving them numbers. One hive mind of stupidity that does nothing but pant all over Cyrus like he is God’s gift to the world.
Pathetic.
“Looks like Haven’s auditioning for an upgrade from roadkill today,” he says.
The girls give me that ‘I pity you’ look.
“I think the outfit is cute. It’s almost like she belongs among the living,” the one on his right arm says.
“Oh, look, you have two new fuck toys. Do they know you got tested for genital herpes last week and it came back positive?”
I scrunch up my nose and look pointedly at his crotch.
Cyrus’s smile falls, and the girls share similarly disgusted expressions as they cover their mouths.
“Or was it crabs? No, that was the last time. I guess at this point it could be HIV. It’s so hard to keep up.”
“Ugh…gross,” one of them says, letting go of his arm. Both girls step away from Cyrus, and it feels like a massive victory.
People are now eagerly tuning into the Cyrus and Haven show. We have one of these little showdowns at least once a week. It always takes place in a public spot for everyone’s continued amusement.
“She’s lying,” Cyrus drawls and rolls his eyes. “I mean, isn’t it obvious that the little virgin is jealous that no one will fuck her?” He practically yells across the room.
The cafeteria is dead quiet. I glance around as all eyes focus on me. My heart pounds harder, but my stomach sinks when I spot Addison standing near the entrance.
“Did you really think a new dress would make you less of a loser? Get it through your head…” Cyrus steps closer. “No one likes you, let alone wants to touch you. You’re a freak, a loser, and a nobody.”
Laughter ripples around us.
I suck in a deep breath.
“I’d rather never be touched than become a whore like you with a revolving door on my bedroom.
I actually understand the meaning of emotions and connection with others.
Something you, dear stepbrother, continue to fail to understand.
Then again, I’m not surprised since you fail every class.
If it wasn’t for your mommy paying off teachers, you wouldn’t even be graduating. ”
I put every ounce of snarky attitude behind the insult, and those closest gasp. Whispers start, but I hold my ground. Cyrus’s eyes narrow, and his lip pulls up just enough to look like he’s snarling.
“It’s called being popular. Try it sometime.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh yeah…you used to be, then I arrived, and everyone realized what a loser you actually are. Oops.”
“Fuck you, Cyrus. You’re the loser. You are no better than a used-car salesman selling your sad life as cool. If it wasn’t for my father and his money, you’d be nothing but a low-level wannabe talent begging for someone to listen to his shitty songs.”
“What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.”
My heart is in my throat. I’m never this mean, and I hate these showdowns, but they are always worse when we have eyes watching.
In one fluid motion, he snatches my chocolate pudding off my tray and pulls the wrap off the top. My eyes go wide, and I manage to take one step back, but it is too late. The bowl is already sailing straight for my chest.
The pudding explodes outward like I’ve been hit with a shit patty.
I gasp and look down, shock just settling in when Cyrus smacks the entire tray out of my hand, and the rest of my lunch goes flying with a crash.
The roar of laughter is immediate.
“Oh my god, you look like someone shit on you,” one of the girls with Cyrus says, pointing.
The bowl falls to the floor, and I just stare at the brown all over my new dress.
“Aww, are you going to cry? Poor, worthless little Haven,” Cyrus says, pouting and pretending to cry.
“What the hell is going on in here?” A teacher yells, but tears cloud my eyes. I don’t stop to see who it is as I run out of the cafeteria.
Even though it’s over five miles home, I push through the outside doors into the rain and keep on running.
I blink back to the present.
“Maybe she thinks dressing like a groupie makes her one.”
I swallow the bile rising in my throat.
“That’s enough,” the cashier says. “I want all of you to leave. We don’t allow harassment of other customers in this store,” she says, pointing to the door.
“Ugh, whatever. The stuff in here is shit anyway,” they mutter before stomping out in a huff.
“Thanks,” I say, my hands shaking as I put the last of the items in my arms on the counter. “Just these.”
The shaking refuses to stop. I bite my lip to focus on the PIN pad and punch in my code. Stepping out of the store, I clutch the bags and look to see if the mean girls are still here. Thankfully, they are gone.
My chest aches as I practically run to the parking lot. It feels just like high school all over again, and everyone is staring. Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck, and my breathing is erratic.
Jumping in my car, I toss the bags on the passenger seat and lock the door.
“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s just words, they can’t hurt you unless you let them.”
I close my eyes, but a tear slips free.
There are so many things that I thought I was over. I’m older, wiser, and stronger. But here I am hiding, shaking, and crying all over again.
“No, I’m not doing this again. I refuse.” I smack my hand off the top of the steering wheel.
Opening my eyes, I stare through the windshield, trying to gather the pieces of myself. Needing to speak to someone, I pick up my phone and call Charles.
He picks up on the third ring.
“Hey,” he says, but he sounds out of breath like he ran for the phone.
“You okay? You sound like you were working out.”
I glance at the time. It’s two in the afternoon on a Wednesday.
“Yup, just finished a round of golf,” he says.
“I thought you were back yesterday from your trip.”
“Haven, it’s a business trip. If the bosses want to stay longer, what am I supposed to do? Say no? What’s up?”
I nibble my lip.
“I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you.”
His silence is somehow laced with annoyance. It is all I ever seem to do. Annoy him.
“That’s it? That’s why you called and interrupted my trip?”
“Yeah. I’m having a bad day, and I want to speak to my fiancé. I didn’t realize that was a crime. Besides, I thought you were already back. Remember?”
He takes a deep breath like he needs patience.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I had to step away from the table, and the guys are staring at me. I’m sorry you’re having a crap day.”
“Thanks. Can we talk tonight? I can FaceTime, and we can pick some of the wedding stuff together.”
“No, I’ll be out late. We have a dinner meeting, then drinks after. You know how it goes.”
I rub my forehead as another headache threatens.
“Charles, do you even want to marry me?”
“Haven, of course I do. It’s just not that simple, and I’m sick of you pulling this guilt trip crap on me,” he growls. “I can’t make any major decisions about our wedding right now, so stop asking. I’ll get to it when I get to it.”
Right.
“I need to go. Rehearsal’s about to start,” I lie.
The silence between us is telling. It’s over, but neither of us says it out loud. It only took weeks for him to decide I’m not worth the effort.
“I’ll call you when I get back, Teddy Bear. I promise.”
Click.
“Sure…whatever,” I say to the dead air.
I set my phone down and decide that I need to make a change that’s just for me. The fancy hair salon down the road seems like a good place to start.
When I embarked on this trip, control was in my grasp as much as the wheel in my hands. But in a blink, my world is crumbling. My heart is aching with old wounds and new bruises, while my head tries to sort it out, and—
The worst part is…I have no idea how to fix any of it.