Read Aligned: Volume 2 Online

Authors: Ella Miles

Aligned: Volume 2 (2 page)

BOOK: Aligned: Volume 2
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“Good-bye, Alexa,” he says. I wince at the words. When I hear the door close, I open my eyes. He’s gone. Just like everyone else I have ever loved, but I don’t love Landon. I didn’t fall for him yet, so really, I’m preventing the pain before it starts. This pain is bearable. This pain I will get over. I let the tears come as I use the crutches Landon leaned against the bed next to me to find my purse on the counter in the kitchen. I ruffle through it until I find the little piece of green fabric. The only comfort I will have tonight. I carry it back to bed with me, taking deep breaths, trying to find his scent that still lingers on the silk. No matter how long I lie here breathing in his scent, it doesn’t bring back any new memories. Just the same painful memories of the accident I’m never going to escape.
 

CHAPTER TWO
Landon

It could be the raindrops pouring down your face.

“Twenty minutes to showtime,” the spunky assistant, Samantha, says as she pokes her head into my dressing room and leaves just as quickly. Just like Alex, she entered my life, turned it upside down, and then was gone before I even knew what was happening.
Why does everything always fucking remind me of her?
I have to get her out of my head. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. At least, I won’t have to worry about being jealous when I see her with another guy because there won’t be another guy.
 

I’m fucked up. I know it. I don’t want to settle down and be someone’s knight in shining armor. Unlike her, though, I at least have friends. Well, Drew. At least, I have Drew, and I have women to keep me company at night. Although I haven’t had that in weeks. The appeal is just gone, along with her.
 

I should be thankful. Alex is messed up; I was right about that. I should have just left her alone and found someone else to fuck. Staying in her life would only cause more drama in mine, which I don’t need right now. I should just be thankful her presence got my creative juices flowing again. I’ve basically finished the song she inspired, which has gotten the label off my back. I’ll release the single in a week, and they’ll give me more time to finish the rest of the album now that I’ve proven I’ve overcome my writer’s block. I just need to let her go. It hasn’t been difficult to do that these last two weeks since I’ve been on the road appearing on several talk shows and opening for other musicians. Today is my last show, my last appearance, and then I’ll be back in LA. Back to the same condo building with only ten floors separating us. It will be hard to keep my distance then.
 

The door to the dressing room opens. “You ready?” Drew says as he steps in wearing his usual business suit. I will never understand him. He doesn’t need to wear a suit when he is going to spend his entire night backstage making sure everything runs smoothly. Everyone else is dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts but not Drew. He always looks professional and snooty.
 

I look at myself in the mirror. My hair has been tousled perfectly, and I’m wearing powdered shit all over my face to make my skin look flawless. I have on tight, dark jeans, and a black t-shirt reveals my tattoos on my arms. I’ve warmed up my voice and stretched. I’m ready. I stand from my seat and follow Drew out of the dressing room without saying a word. I don’t have to. Neither of us ever does, we just know. Some people say they feel the same after falling in love. They don’t have to tell their partner anything; a connection exists that speaks louder than words. I’ll never know. Drew is all I’ll ever have.
 

We walk down the long, dark hallway that leads to the side of the stage. My band and dancers have gathered just off stage, and they are ready to run on stage to do our short set. I hear the crowd just beyond the stage. I forget what town we are in. Seattle? Or was it Portland? Everything mixes. It will be much worse when I do my own tour. I’ve only been on the road two weeks; a tour will last months.
 

Energy is flowing through my veins as I hear the crowd in the distance. Each step I take increases the adrenaline. I was meant to do this with my life.
 
I approach my band and dancers, listening as one of the guys starts shouting and tries to get everyone pumped up for the show. I don’t need to be pumped up because I already am. The band runs on stage on cue and starts playing the first chords to ‘I Don’t Need Your Love.’ I wait in the wings with my dancers, a wide grin forming on my face and my eyes sparkling with excitement. Most performers will tell you no matter how many shows they do, they still get nervous — but not me. I live off this excitement. I’m calm, relaxed as I hear my cue to run on stage and take my place in the center.
 

The crowd cheers loudly as I sing the first verse. Most openers perform to half a crowd merely warming up the crowd as they take their seats before the main act. As I look out over the crowd, I see a full house. These people came to see me, not just the act to follow. My grin widens as I continue to sing and perform the song they all came to hear.
 

***

I collapse on the bed in my hotel room. I hate hotel rooms. I’ve lived in enough motel and hotel rooms as a kid to make me value having my own space. Even this luxurious hotel with its bellhops, thousand-count sheets, and mini bar doesn’t entice me to want to stay here. It’s only one night, though, and then I’ll be back in my own bed tomorrow. How I’m going to survive living on a tour bus and in and out of hotels for months on end while on tour, I’m not sure. Maybe that’s why most musicians turn to drugs or alcohol to cope.
 

I glance over at the alarm clock sitting on the dark wood nightstand next to the glass lamp. It’s 1:35 am. Not late by my normal standards. Usually, after the concert is over, we party the night away until we pass out sometime around sunrise, but tonight, my heart just isn’t in it. Two weeks of partying is enough for me. Especially when I’m not getting laid. Sex is my drug of choice, and I’m afraid I’m going through withdrawals. I’m irritable, depressed, and anxious. I swear I’m even having tremors at night from the lack of human contact. There is no reason I shouldn’t be getting laid every night. The band and dancers sure aren’t having any trouble finding someone to keep them comfortable at night.
 

It’s not as if I haven’t tried. I have. I’ve found some of the hottest women on the face of the earth swarming me in the VIP sections of the clubs where we party. We dance. We make out. She tries to take me back to her hotel, and my body doesn’t move. Sometimes, she just tries to find the nearest bathroom or closet. My body still doesn’t cooperate.
Damn Alex!
All I can think about when I’m with them is
her
. The smell of fresh raspberries along with some other fruity shit she always smells like. I didn’t even know a woman could smell like that. Somehow, she always does; even when she’s drenched in salty water, she still smells like raspberries. I not only ache from that smell, but I also miss her snarky banter. How hard she tries to hide her affection for me. No one else tries to hide anything; instead, they throw themselves at me. I miss the chase, the excitement of making a woman fall for me. It’s too easy now that I’m a superstar. They just want their one night to say they banged Landon Davis and hope to be the one who makes the bad boy settle down. That will never happen.
 

I hear a loud knock at the door. I groan not wanting to move from the bed. I thought I was going to be able to get to sleep early today even though sleep hasn’t come easy lately. I pull myself from the bed.
 

“Dammit, Drew!” I shout as I stumble to the door. “When are you going to remember your key?”
 

I throw the door open ready to pummel Drew to the ground; instead, Caroline stands in a skin-tight leopard dress. Or maybe it’s giraffe? I don’t know my animal prints. I’m about to slam the door in her face, but I can see the tears welling in her eyes. I’ve known Caroline since we were kids. We didn’t meet in college as the tabloids had reported. We’ve known each other since we were five. We were the three musketeers – Caroline, Drew, and I. We never left each other’s side. Her family has put her through a lot of shit. Almost as much shit as Drew and I have been through. In all of our years together, I have never seen Caroline cry. She’s never shed one single tear – at least, not in front of me. I know it’s something big from the look on her face.
 

I hold the door open. “Come in.”
 

Caroline walks in never faltering as she moves in her spiked heels.
 

“I need a drink,” she says taking a seat on my bed and removing her heels. I walk over to the mini bar and find her favorite — vodka soda. I hand her the drink, and she gulps it down. I take the glass from her heading back to the mini bar and pour her another. I don’t bother to pour myself anything. Alcohol does nothing for me. She takes the drink from my hand sipping a little slower this time.
 

“I hate them,” she says before taking another long drink.
 

I sit down on the bed next to her. “Who?”
 

She pulls her phone out of her purse and scrolls to a page on her browser. “Them!”
 

I look at the article. Shit, the horror movie she is starring in opened in theaters yesterday. It’s just a small indie film, but I should have remembered. I know she’d directing half of her anger at me, as much as she’s directing it at the film critics giving her a horrible review.
Some friend I am
. She had asked me a while ago to attend the premier with her, but I couldn’t go due to my schedule. I’m an asshole. I could have at least sent her flowers or something. Our relationship is complicated at best, but at the core, we will always be friends. Always be there for each other no matter how many times we have hurt each other. Shit, tonight is about to get a lot more expensive.
 

I stand from the bed and extend my hand to her. “Come on. Forget those guys. We are going out to celebrate.”
 

She smiles brightly, downs the rest of the vodka, slips on her heels, and follows me out of the hotel.
 

CHAPTER THREE
Alexa

I punch him in the face with my free hand. Instead of releasing me, he flips me onto my stomach and grabs my arms tying them together behind my back. I continue to scream and kick trying to get him off me.

It’s been two weeks. Two long fucking weeks without any contact. He hasn’t texted me, called me, run into me in the lobby — nothing. It’s as if he’s disappeared off the face of the earth. I’ve even spent time lingering in the lobby and on the beach on the mornings he usually runs. Nothing. He’s giving me the space I wanted; now, I just need to figure out how to get him out of my head. It doesn’t help that I only have a few months of memories to reflect on while he has a lifetime of women to replay in his head.
 

I never thought he would actually leave me alone without a fight. I thought I had weeks of dealing with his stalker tendencies before I was rid of him, but just like that, he’s gone.
 

“Alexa … Alexa,” Calvin says.
 

I shake my head turning to face him. “Sorry, what did you say?”
 

“You’re hopping again instead of walking smoothly.”

“Sorry.” I try to change my gait as Calvin asks, walking more smoothly. We have been doing therapy every day for the last two weeks. I want to perfect my walk by the charity ball, which only leaves me another week. I’m still a little awkward and trip frequently, but I’ll be ready in a week. I don’t have a choice not to be.
 

“That’s better,” Calvin says as he watches my gait. More like watches my ass as I walk. Ever since he professed his love and requested to take me out on a date, I have felt awkward around Calvin. He, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be bothered at all. He glances at his watch and his face falls slightly, the only indication that he still has feelings for me.

“Time’s up, but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”
 

“Yep. Till tomorrow.” I grab my small purse and walk out of the clinic. Without my crutches, I should feel more free, but I don’t. I still feel trapped and confined by the prosthesis that won’t let me run and jump or do anything right now other than an awkward walk. I walk toward the parking lot with a large grin on my face as I see my silver Tesla Roadster sparkling in the bright morning sunlight. She had been sitting in NYC for the longest time until I decided I wanted her shipped here, but after driving her once with my left leg, I realized it would be more comfortable to have the accelerator moved to the left side. I just got her back from the shop yesterday.
 

I climb into my shiny car, my pulse running faster than usual. I put the car in drive and speed back to my condo. I roll the windows down as I drive, loving the fresh air on my face. This is the only time I feel free. The only time I feel normal. I contemplate turning the radio on, but I’m afraid I’ll hear Landon’s voice. I decide to try a country station and bounce excitedly to the crooning guy singing about corn and flyover states instead.
 

***

“I can’t believe you are walking so well so soon,” Abby says looking at me with awe in her face.
 

“Well, when you have a mother-in-law like mine with high expectations, it’s good motivation,” I say. I adjust the camera again trying to capture a less condescending look from the actress I’m shooting, but I don’t think that’s possible.
 

“Ex-mother-in-law,” Abby corrects me. Smiling, she turns her attention back to the actress, her grin immediately turning to a frown. “Try a smile!” she shouts at the actress, but it’s more of an evil grin than a smile.
 

I capture the look wishing, for once, the magazine would allow a little Photoshop. I have spent a lot of time with Abby over the last few weeks working on ideas for this photo shoot. I felt comfortable with Abby, and I ended up telling her everything. After rambling about Landon for the last two weeks, she insisted on hearing the whole story. So I told her. It was easy after telling Landon.
 

BOOK: Aligned: Volume 2
7.91Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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