Flirting With Fame (Flirting With Fame) (15 page)

With a tap of the lamp beside me, he flickered out of my sight. I tried to chastise myself in the dark for the things I’d said. I tried to cry out that I was sorry to him, to Reggie, to Clint, to Annie. But my body and my eyelids were like lead, dragging me down and pulling me into a darkness deeper than the one in the hotel bedroom.

•   •   •

I awoke with the cloud tumbling around me. My body slammed into something hard and I groaned as it burned across my arm. Someone seriously needed to make the world stop spinning. I felt like I was riding a merry-go-round set at quadruple time. My stomach thumped against my esophagus, pressing into my rib cage.

“No,” I mumbled into the hard surface I’d landed on. I needed to get away from the ground and the cloud to be sick. I needed to move and—

I didn’t have time to finish the thought before my stomach made the solo decision to empty its contents then and there. My throat burned and my chest heaved. Tears burned the corners of my eyes. Even as a kid with the stomach flu, I couldn’t remember throwing up so violently.

Someone grabbed me by the shoulders and hauled me off what I now determined to be a carpeted floor. One I’d ruined. My toes didn’t even touch the ground as I flew across the room and was deposited on cold white tile. My head was shoved in front of a toilet in time for my stomach to decide it was ready for another round of pummeling my throat.

When it finally and mercifully ended, someone reached above my head and flushed the toilet. Then their hands fumbled for the buttons of my blouse.

I tried to bat them away, but my hands felt weighted at my sides from the exhaustion of hurling everything I’d ever eaten at the floor and toilet.

Fighting the sting in my throat, I managed to gurgle out a word resembling something of a protest.

The hands moved from my blouse to cup my face. Gavin’s face swam into view. God, he was pretty. Even with his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed in frustration, he was so freaking pretty. I thought about telling him that, but I was afraid I’d barf all over him. Instead, I shimmied closer to the wall.

“Elise,” he said, moving his hands to my shoulders to prevent me from wiggling. “Stop. You’ve thrown up all over yourself. I need to clean you off. You can’t sleep like this.”

I willed my mouth to say it was fine. To leave me like this. That I couldn’t bear the thought of someone as beautiful as him seeing how ugly I actually was. But my mouth felt fuzzy and numb, like I’d gone to the dentist and endured major surgery. And the darkness called me back with its happy arms. I could trust it. It would take me away from the awful embarrassment, from the vision of Tanner’s repulsed features that, despite my best efforts, no amount of alcohol could dilute. So, as Gavin’s hands left my shoulders and moved again to my blouse, I ran to meet the dark.

W
hen I was a kid, years before my accident, my mother had taken me to a drum corps competition. I was six years old, and we sat in the first row so I wouldn’t have anyone’s head blocking my view. I remember bouncing in my seat as I spotted the band members entering in their matching uniforms, instruments at the ready. The excitement hummed around me as they took their places and waited for their cue. Then came the noise. Beautiful and perfect and loud. So loud I could feel the drums vibrating alongside my heart, thudding through my body and pumping blood to my head.

That feeling was nothing compared to the pulsing inside my head when I awoke the morning after the party. It was as though those bands marched across the expanse of my skull and slammed their mallets into my brain.

I groaned and raised my palm to my face. I never would’ve thought moving my arm could make me feel worse, but the shards of pain shooting through my face seemed determined to prove otherwise.

I buried my head in the pillow, hoping the softness would somehow absorb even an iota of the throbbing pain. That’s when I noticed how much softer it felt than my pillow in my dorm room. I rolled over in bed, ignoring my body’s attempt to tell me that was a bad idea, and I felt for the edge. I started when it wasn’t at the end of my arm like I was used to. Slithering across the mattress, I reached until I found where the bed ended.

It was huge, and definitely not my bed. The pounding in my skull made it difficult to sift through muddled memories and figure out where the hell I was.

I eased into a sitting position and looked around. The room was unfamiliar. White walls with pale purple stripes running vertically met a carpet with matching pale purple shades. A large TV hung on the wall in front of me, and a round cherrywood table took up the corner on the left.

The uniformity and blandness suggested I was at a hotel. I furrowed my brow and traced my memories back to the party last night. I’d gone into Tanner’s room and— Oh God, I hadn’t slept with him, had I? No, his room was smaller than this. And he’d kicked me out the moment he’d opened my shirt.

My cheeks grew warm at the memory and I blinked away the threatening tears. The last thing my pounding head needed was me crying right now.

Okay. Not Tanner. I ran away and Veronica gave me drinks. Lots of drinks. Dancing. A cowboy. Oh, crap. The cowboy. And Reggie. Reggie calling me a bitch and running away in tears.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin and cursed into it. I was a horrible, awful human being. I’d hurt one of the few friends I had. She hadn’t deserved that. What was wrong with me?

Drinking with Veronica after Reggie left was where my memories ceased. Like my favorite cartoons as a kid, the corners pulling into a circle and the words
The End
scribbled across the screen. That was it.

So, not my dorm. Not Tanner’s room. It had to be another cast member. I directed my gaze to the end table near the bed. A red glass bottle sat beside an alarm clock. The neon numbers told me it was almost noon. I picked up the bottle, pulled out the stopper, and sniffed. Cinnamon hearts.

My breath whooshed out of my lungs.

I knew whose room this was.

There was no way I’d spent the night with Gavin. He was with Veronica. And I was, well, not her.

I threw off the covers and hissed in surprise as the air-conditioning hit my bare flesh. A deep seed of panic gripped my stomach as I realized I was clad in only my new bra and panties. My insides lurched. I slammed my hand over my mouth and ran to the door I assumed was the entrance to the bathroom.

I was wrong.

But I was also too late.

I heaved into the closet, trying to avoid the expensive-looking shirts and jackets and managing to make a mess of a pair of black shoes.

When I’d collected myself, I stared at what I’d done in horror and slammed the door shut as though the barrier might rid the world of the evidence.

The room was large but sparsely furnished, which should’ve made finding my clothes easy. Except they weren’t on any of the chairs or the table. They weren’t on the desk under the television. And they certainly weren’t anywhere in the bathroom I eventually discovered.

I used the facilities and splashed cold water on my face, wincing as I spotted my reflection. Makeup rimmed my eyes with black. My face was pale from being sick, and my hair plastered itself to my forehead and neck.

I peeped out of the bathroom door and, to my horror, a maid stood at the bed, fluffing the pillows.

Oh my God. What if she looked in the closet?

I had to get out of there before that happened.

Two white robes hung on the back of the bathroom door and I wrapped one around me, grateful to at least have something covering my goose-bump-ridden flesh. I tied the robe closed and slipped out the door, nodding at the maid as I passed through another door I hoped led to the exit and not another closet.

The door exited into a hall that, in turn, brought me to an expansive living room. Gavin lay on the couch, shirtless, one arm slung across his eyes and mouth open. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of someone who had settled into a deep sleep. I wondered if he snored.

As if he knew what I was thinking, his hand fell from his face and his nose crinkled like he was snorting. I jumped away from him and ran to the entrance, grabbing my purse from the table beside the door as I went.

I flew down the hall in my robe, forgoing the elevator and choosing the stairs in the hopes I’d be alone. It wasn’t until my feet hit the cold tile of the stairwell that I realized I’d left without shoes.

Thankfully, the hotel had grown accustomed to guests leaving the hotel under secrecy since the
Viking Moon
cast and crew had taken residence there. The manager took one look at my messy hair and robe-clad form when I reached the lobby and called for a town car. The driver took me to my campus without a word, and I wandered barefoot across the lawn, barely noticed in my ensemble as many others stumbled home in their own walks of shame.

•   •   •

I braced myself for Reggie’s anger as I cradled the doorknob to our room. She had every right to scream at me, or hit me if she needed. I’d been a class-A bitch, and I was ready to admit it and beg for her forgiveness. The knob twisted in my hand and I pushed the door open. My eyes swept the room and I froze in the entrance.

Reggie was still sleeping, curled in her bed, hair covering most of her face. And curved beneath her, chest rising and falling under her cheek, was Clint. Their clothes decorated the floor in front of the bed, and I grinned when I noticed Clint still wore his hat.

I tiptoed to my closet and grabbed some clean clothes and my shower kit. As I left for the bathroom, I eased the door closed behind me, hoping it was quiet.

It being early Saturday afternoon, the showers were crowded with hungover girls scrubbing off last night’s makeup and debauchery. I finally snagged an empty stall and hung the hotel robe on the door. The water was ice cold. It stung, but it was what my body needed to wake up from its alcohol-induced haze.

I reached for my peach bodywash. As the fruit-scented soap dripped down my body, I followed its foamy path with my fingers, pausing at my scars. A long mark, similar to the one on my face, snaked down my left breast, just over my heart. My hand slid lower. I knew, from seeing it in the mirror far too many times, the one covering my stomach resembled something akin to a spiderweb; a deep white scar in the middle bursting into pink and white beneath my breasts and below my belly.

The doctors said I was lucky. The blast should’ve killed me. If the shards had been only a few inches higher, they might’ve pierced my heart. It was fortunate for me I’d walked away with only a few scars and the inability to hear anything ever again.

I hated those words.

Fortunate. Lucky.

Tell that to the beautiful music I’d never get to listen to. Tell that to the boys who were too disgusted to touch me. Tell that to the child I hoped to have one day when I didn’t come running at their cry. Tell me, again, how lucky I was. I brought my palms to my face and sobbed.

Gooseflesh covered my body and I was shivering by the time I turned off the faucets. I wrapped a towel around my hair and one around my body before heading to the main bathroom area. I found a square of mirror and brushed my teeth.

When a toilet stall opened up, I went in and changed in privacy, relief flooding my body as I pulled on my favorite pair of jeans and a green sweater. I ran a brush through my hair and wandered back to my room.

Clint was sitting on the edge of Reggie’s bed by the time I opened the door. Thankfully, he’d already pulled on his pants and shirt. He looked up as I walked in and gave me a half smile. Reggie didn’t stir.

“Hey,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry about last night. I acted like an ass. I—”

He held up a hand to shush me. “It’s all good, darlin’, as long as you’re all right. Are you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. My head wants me dead and my stomach is screaming for something greasy, but I’m okay.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He drifted across the room and laid a hand on my shoulder. “You were pretty determined to drink something away last night. You wanna talk about it?”

“Naw,” I said, adopting his accent. “It’s fine. It’s over. As long as you and Reg don’t hate me.”

“Well, I can’t talk for her, but I certainly don’t hate you. Though I’m sure you’ve figured out my bad news.”

“Bad news?”

He gestured to my still sleeping roommate. “Well, me and Regina are kind of a thing now. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to take you on that date once you’re done with your show. I’m a one-woman kind of guy.”

Despite the pain in my head, a grin erupted on my face. “Are you kidding? I’m so happy for you guys. Really. I think you’re a perfect match.”

A movement from Reggie’s bed drew my eye as my roommate propped herself up on her elbows. “What’s going on here?” she asked, rubbing her eyes while glaring at me. So finally landing Clint hadn’t erased her anger at me for last night. I couldn’t really blame her. I’d been such an ass.

“I was just congratulating Clint on his choice of woman,” I said. “I’m so happy for you two.”

Reggie seemed to realize at that moment that she was naked beneath her pink comforter. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and sat with her back against the wall.

“You are? Really?”

“Yes.” I sat on the end of her bed, watching her leg for any indication she might kick me off. “And I’m sorry I was such an asshat last night. I don’t know what got into me.”

“Besides a crapload of vodka?”

“Besides that. You’re one of the few friends I have, and I’m such an idiot for doing anything that would ruin that. Please say you’ll forgive me.”

She played with a loose thread on the comforter, pulling it taut and releasing it. It took her a few moments to answer. “You won’t do anything like that again?”

“I swear,” I said. “Friendship first. Besides, Clint isn’t even my type. No offense, cowboy.”

“Only a bit taken, darlin’.” He grinned.

Reggie dropped the thread, and her face lit up into her usual cheerful smile. “Okay, I forgive you.”

She threw her arms around my neck and I was grateful for the blanket between us, ’cause it would’ve been weird otherwise. Scratch that. It was still weird.

I gently pushed her off me and smiled. “Thank you, but maybe you should get dressed first?”

Her nightshirt lay at the end of the bed and I tossed it to her before Clint tapped me on the shoulder.

“You said you need some greasy food?” he asked. I nodded. “Leave it to me. I’ll let you gals catch up and I’ll be back soon.”

By the time he closed the door, Reggie had slipped on her nightshirt and a pair of shorts. She pulled her legs to her chest and scanned me so intently I almost felt the need to cross my arms over my torso.

“What?” I asked.

“Now that he’s gone, you can tell me what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Last night. You were fine. Last I saw, you had one glass of wine in your hand, which you seemed disgusted by. Then you disappeared for a bit. By the time you returned, you were determined to win the title of ‘biggest drunken whore at a celebrity Halloween party.’ ”

“That’s a pretty narrow category.”

She didn’t return my grin. “Well, you won. I’ll even get you a trophy, if you want. Now, spill.”

I sighed and shifted on the bed so my back was pressed against the wall. From there, I couldn’t see her face or watch her speak as I told her what happened with Tanner. Shame burned up my neck to my cheeks as I explained his reaction to my scars and the way he’d discarded me like a piece of trash.

When I finally got up the nerve to look at Reggie, her face was as red as I imagined mine to be. Her eyes flashed with anger.

“What a douche bag!” she said. “I mean, even douche bag isn’t harsh enough. Douchiest douche bag of them all? First of all, he’s like ten years older than you.”

“Six, actually.”

“Okay, whatever. He’s a jerk. You should just quit. No point in staying on set.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and pressed the back of my head into the wall. “I don’t want to quit over this. I’m needed there and I like my job. I can see him again and not lose it. It really isn’t about that. It was just . . . he wasn’t the first guy to react that way when they saw my body.”