28. Sienna
Sienna
Iarrive at Beverly Hills in the early hours of the morning, just in time for sunrise. And it’s super disappointing. I’m not high enough, even at the top of the hills, for the colors to pop.
I watch it from my window, taking sips of coffee as I stretch out on my designer couch, the one imported all the way from Switzerland. I was twenty-two. Wanted all of my furniture to be one-of-a-kind. Like me.
I cringe at how insufferable I was.
Palm trees sway in the distance. Seeing those used to make me feel better. Today, not so much.
I used to associate the trees with this place when I was young, dreaming of the day I would get to drive down roads lined with them, like in the movies. Top down. Music up. Hair blowing in the wind.
Except I did that this morning as I drove up here, and in an attempt to make myself feel better, I now feel worse.
I feel further away from Grammy, from the guys, and from myself.
Being in this house isn’t helping. I cringe just looking around. There’s too much space. It’s highly unnecessary.
But I used to love the idea of a lot of space. Grammy and I didn’t have any back in Michigan. Our house was tiny. I couldn’t even dance in the kitchen without running into the table.
All this space is useless. I forgot about dancing, just like I forgot about Grammy the second I moved here permanently.
I pour the rest of my coffee down the sink, hit with another wave of sadness when I peer out into the kitchen and see only my reflection in the shiny cabinets. Nobody else. Just me. I used to enjoy my own company, up until two weeks ago.
I drag myself upstairs. I have a big day ahead of me, and I need to spend some time prepping.
I take a shower, lathering my hair with my favorite shampoo. I used to love the smell of it, but now it just smells way too sweet to me.
I shut my eyes and rinse my hair and imagine I’m back in the mountains again, smelling the boy’s shaving cream. I’m stepping out of the bathroom, and Cash is there looking like a god in the hallway.
When I open my eyes, disappointment crashes over me.
I untwist my wet hair from the towel and blitz it with the hair dryer. I should probably do something with it, run a curling iron through the ends—make myself somewhat presentable. But it feels like too much effort. I’ve got no energy left in the tank. The anxiety has zapped it all.
I apply BB cream to my face, some blush, bronzer, and call it a day. My favorite mascara is sitting on the counter, calling my name. But I really can’t be bothered with doing my lashes.
Besides, the whole world has already seen me at my worst, makeup-free, hair a complete mess. I’m here to do something about the career I’m still on the fence about keeping. I’m not here to model for Vogue.
I secure my hair back with a clip and throw on a black matching knit top and pants. It’s respectable. I might be able to salvage some of my dignity in it, since it shows very little of my body.
Not like wearing modest clothing is going to make much of a difference.
The entire world has already seen my ass.
I decide I can do better than a boring black outfit. Trying to cover things up and make amends will only make things worse because it shows that I’m bothered.
And if there’s one thing worse than having your ass out, it’s being embarrassed.
Own it, Sienna.
I rifle through my closet and pick out something that feels more like me.
I find a white mini skirt and pair it with some killer stiletto boots. Because if I’m actually doing this, resigning for good, I’m making a statement and going out with a bang.
I wear black tights under the skirt and, for the top, choose a black turtleneck sweater to match the knee-high boots.
I grab my favorite bag, do one final check in the full-length mirror, and jump into the Bentley.
Who cares if these people see the real me? I’m out of here before the day’s over. Nothing will matter.
My phone immediately starts ringing. I accept without looking to see who’s calling as I drive through the gate, assuming it's Jules wanting to meet up for coffee.
Instead, I hear a male voice. One I know much too well.
“I hear you’re back in LA.”
Holden.
Fuck.
I roll my eyes, winding down the streets as I head toward the city. “Who told you that?”
“I have connections.”
Of course. I forgot how much Holden gossips with our nutritionist. Jules must have told Stacey that I was coming home.
“Meet me for a coffee on Rodeo Drive.”
I adjust my Miu Miu sunglasses. We just talked yesterday. Was that not enough for him?
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“You’ve got quite a day ahead of you, I hear. Where are you going now?”
“Why?”
“Just tell me.”
I hesitate as I make my way around a tight corner. I haven’t really thought this morning through.
I need to show my face, redeem myself, whatever, but LA is only just waking up.
So what do I do now?
I’ve been repeating the same things for so long that I now do them without question. Green juice, Pilates, shopping. Like I’m on autopilot.
I never used to be a routine kind of girl before I started acting.
“Sienna.”
“Ugh. Let a woman wake up first before you start bombarding her with questions.”
“I asked you where you’re going.”
“To get a green juice. Chillax.”
Holden always wakes up with the sunrise. He was the same when we were together. But he usually stays off his phone for the first hour—some dumb circadian rhythm thing.
And now he’s calling me—twenty minutes after sunrise, breaking his rule. Lucky me…
“Okay,” says Holden. “I’ll meet you there.”
“No, I don’t want you meeting me there. I’m going alone.”
“You have less than two hours before people start work. They’ll be checking their emails, finding out you’re back, and hounding you before you have time to hit the shops after your green juice. Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know what the fuck I want, Holden, other than for you to leave me alone and let me deal with this. By myself.”
“Sure, I can do that. But let’s make sure you start the day with your best foot forward.”
“I’ll start my day by drinking my green juice. In peace.”
“You don’t mean that,” sighs Holden.
God, he sounds upset.
Like he doesn’t have a fiancée at home waiting for him.
“Look,” he takes another deep breath, slowing down his words. “Love me or hate me, the fact still stands—I have way more experience in this industry than you do. I can help you.”
“I’d rather throw myself off a cliff.”
“Hear me out, at least. I know a way we can turn this around for you.”
My heart clenches when he says that small, two-letter word.
We.
That’s all I ever fucking wanted. Holden and me. Two peas in a pod. We used to be a we.
Ugh. Maybe I should get over myself and hear him out. It couldn’t hurt. Plus, I look so fucking good in this outfit. If Holden has been missing me, he’s going to miss me even more.
“Fine,” I sigh. “You have twenty minutes. Meet me at the coffee shop. You know the one.”
I end the call in a huff and switch on the radio, deciding I need to blast some music. I burst into song and lose myself in the lyrics until I pull into a space on Rodeo Drive and pay the horrendous parking fee.
I open the car door and step one stiletto heel out onto the sidewalk, the other following.
No matter what the world throws at me today, this is temporary.
I’ll be back in the mountains before I know it.
I walk over to the coffee shop, leaving my sunglasses on as I order my juice.
“Sienna?” says the woman behind the counter, startled.
Sunglasses aren’t gonna hide the fact that your ass is all over the internet.
I place the Miu Mius on the top of my head and offer a smile. “Hey.”
“Oh my god!” The woman’s eyes grow wide. “It’s really you. You’re back.”
“It’s me.” God knows what possesses me to do jazz hands, but I’m doing them. “The Golden Goddess juice, please.”
Holden can get his own.
“Coming right up.”
They still don’t charge me, so I stick some cash in the tip box and take a seat far away from everything, keeping a close eye on the door.
Holden should be here any minute. He doesn’t live far from Rodeo Drive, which I used to love.
Being within walking distance of the shops, I thought at the time, was one of the best things ever.
It’s crazy how meeting three men in the mountains can change almost everything I used to believe.
My phone buzzes. It must be Jules.
But it’s not. Instead, it’s an email. I don’t recognize the email address, but I open up the message and instantly feel a rush of blood to my face.
“Please tell me you’re coming back—K.”
“Here you go, Sienna.”
“Thanks.” I take the juice from the server, and she smiles at me and walks away.
Guilt floods through me. Looking back, I should’ve waited until morning to leave the cabin. But I lose total control over my body when none of them have shirts on and they’re standing inches away from me.
Guilt and sadness wash over me. I hit reply and start typing out a sentence, rewriting and deleting, unable to find the perfect words. In the end, I settle for trust me, but the glass door swings open before I can hit send.
Holden Gray in the flesh.
He waves to the woman at the front as he enters, then beelines toward me. The good thing about this place is the staff. They mind their own business and don’t try to sneak pictures of you without your permission. Holden and I are safe.
He sits down opposite me and just stares at me.
“So?” I hold out my hands because he still hasn’t said anything after a full thirty seconds. “Are you gonna talk, or are you more interested in having a staring competition?”
“You look good,” he says, raising his voice at the end. Like he’s confused.
“And you look…” I note the heavy bags under his eyes. “Like you need more sleep.”
“As I said on the phone, I’m worried about you, Sienna.”
So much that he’s losing sleep over it?
“Cut the bullshit, Holden. Tell me what I need to do to turn things around.”
“Have those men been drugging you?”
I narrow my eyes at him and shake my head. “That’s completely ridiculous, Holden.”
“Right…” he sighs, rubbing at his perfectly stubbled jaw. “If I’m honest, Sienna, things aren’t looking good for you. But there’s a way we can earn back people’s respect.”
That two-letter word again. We.
Damnit, I hate the way my heart skips a beat. My body remembers the effect he used to have on me. Hope, followed by paralyzing despair.
It was the most agonizing pain I’d ever felt. But I kept allowing myself to feel it, over and over. As soon as the pieces of my broken heart were welded together again, Holden would do something to shatter me.
Each message reply, each sidelong glance he would give me on set, fused those pieces back together one at a time until I was whole again.
And then the process would start over.
He’d raise my spirits higher, bring me closer to where I wanted to be. And then he’d hurt me. The fall felt more catastrophic each time, and it’d take twice as long to repair.
I’d stare into his eyes and feel myself falling for his charm. That’s all my body had known how to do. For years.
But like this conversation, I’d get trapped in a cycle with Holden. Round and round I’d go, grasping at every last breadcrumb. Living for the dopamine rush of being worth his time again.
And the second I move on and stop paying attention to him, he’d want me again.
“Let’s get back together.”
I bat my lashes, blinking myself back into reality. Did he really just say that?
I lean in a little bit closer. “What?”
“You heard what I said.”
I take a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. I will not lose my shit in this coffee shop. “Holden.” I look him dead in the eye. “You. Are. Engaged.”
“What Valentina and I have isn’t love.”
I toss my hands into the air. “What is it then? You’re getting married.”
“Business with mutual benefit.”
I frown. “Are you sure about that? Because from where I was standing on the red carpet, the girl was crying tears of happiness, completely in love with you.”
“She’s young.”
Holy hell.
“You’re a liar and a cheater.” I narrow my eyes. “Valentina is totally out of your league.”
“Come on, Sienna,” sighs Holden. “What we have is special. You know that.”
I raise a brow. “It’s only special now because I’m fucking other guys.”
He clenches his jaw and looks away, revealing a horrendous side profile. I swear his hairline wasn’t always this bad.
Looks like a fucking isosceles triangle now.
“Think about this for a second. It’s the only way to save your career.”
“What?”
“I don’t have any drama attached to my name. People used to like you when we were together. You were respected. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
“It was,” I say. “Up until I lost Grammy last year.”
Holden bows his head, pretending to give a fuck. He didn’t say much when I told him about Grammy’s passing, other than, “It’ll get better with time.” Classic, narcissistic response.
“Think with your head for a moment, Sienna. You’d be clean again. All of the drug allegations would disappear.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Why are you so desperate to get back together? What’s in it for you?” I study his eyes. God, I used to love looking into his eyes. But not anymore. “All you care about is your precious image.”
“You’re the world’s biggest star, Sienna. Good press? Bad press? It all means the same thing in the end.”
I sit back in my chair and take a victorious lap in my head. I never thought I’d see the day when Holden Gray was begging to be worn like a purse.