Spiral (27 page)

“Oh, a lot of people, huh?” I hear the sarcasm in her voice, as if she’s aware I’m hiding my feelings and is resigned to play along. “Well, I’ll be fine. Promise. Maybe I’ll just go for a run later.”

I shake my head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

The hint of a playful smile softens her face. “Maybe. You can be a pretty tough nut to crack, too.”

Frustration and fear tornado inside of me at once. I could tell her right here, right now, how much she is really starting to mean to me. I could just lay my whole heart out there and hope it means enough to make her stop being so careless with her life. I risk her stomping all over my feelings, but I also risk never knowing whether or not she gives a damn about me.

“Truth or dare?” Cherie swallows hard and blinks rapidly. I take another deep breath and say, “Well? Truth or dare?”

She is silent for a moment, as if she never expected me to continue her dumb game. “Um, truth, I guess.”

I nod. “If I asked you to, if I told you it mattered to me, would you go and get real help with a therapist? Would you stop drinking and all that other dumb shit?”

“That’s really more of a request – ”

“Maybe; you just have to answer honestly,” I say, finally raising my gaze to hers. She quiets and presses her lips together. I add, “You can say yes or no, but it has to be the truth. Would you stop all this and get help – for me?”

She thinks about the question carefully and silently. My skin is chilled and my knees sort of quake. It’s as though the world has stopped spinning on its axis as I cross my fingers and hold my breath and wait for an answer, hoping she will say yes, hoping she cares about me just a fraction of how much I care about her.

At last, she shakes her head and murmurs, “No.”

My world explodes. I can’t look her in the eye, I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I have no real meaning in her life; she’s just using me to make it through the night, so she doesn’t have to feel so alone. She didn’t even want our family to know we are hanging out together today. I can’t believe I thought for a millisecond that I mattered to her as anything more than a fill in for when she’s lonely.

Crushed and defeated, I don’t even have the strength to pull myself out of the water. I sigh and slowly slink around her to the stairs of the pool.

“Where are you going?” she asks as I curl a towel around my waist and walk toward the casita.

I point over my shoulder to the house. “They’ll probably be home soon – wouldn’t want to ruin our little secret here.”

“Oh.” She smiles sadly, knowing I’m lying, probably knowing she just punched me in the gut, too. “Well, thanks, Jack.”

“For what?”

She shrugs. “For letting me in.” She says it as if she knows I won’t ever let her in again. I even want to tell her that it’s never going to happen again, physically or other. She is spiraling out of control, and I don’t want to be sucked in any further than I already am.

But I just nod and close the door gently, wishing I had never left myself so open in the first place.

“T
hat’s right, that’s right!” Mica shouts, greeting me in a parking garage off of Hollywood Boulevard with a quick embrace and a laugh. He appears annoyingly impressed with my clothes. “You look like a pimp, Hansen!”

“Thanks, I think,” I reply, looking down at my shirt and pants. Mica’s accompanied by an entourage of big dudes and tall girls, and I feel underdressed despite his approval. I count eight others, maybe two or three years older than us. There are about five girls, all wearing glittery dresses and high heels. They are trying much too hard to look older than they are, and a few of them are successful.

One girl is a modelesque brunette, with long, tan limbs and eyes rimmed with thick, black lashes. Her hair is long and dark, cascading down her bare back in waves. Her full, rosy lips smile at me shyly when she catches me staring.

I look away immediately and step closer to Mica.

“Who are all these girls?”

“Some friends of D’Shawn’s cousin. They in college,” he says with a wink. “Can’t be bringin’ too many playas to the party, if y’know what I’m sayin.’”

Mica introduces me to D’shawn and his friends, and I feel my cheeks growing red when he begins to tell them about how we met.

“My man here’s got crazy girl problems, yo,” Mica laughs. “Lives with a bunch of nasty stepsisters at home. You should see ‘im in the ring, swingin’ all wild like a rabid animal!” His friends laugh, and I grit my teeth, stealing a glance at the beautiful mystery girl with the hopes that she isn’t listening.

But she is, and she purses her lips in playful sympathy. I immediately find myself comparing her to Cherie, like how her smile has that same brightness but her eyes are smaller. She’s seems taller, but Cherie is always wearing those ridiculously high heels, so it’s hard to tell.

Mica follows my gaze and summons her closer with a flick of his wrist. “Carly, meet Jack Hansen,” he says with a broad smile. I cringe hearing my name out loud, thinking this just might be the moment Mica finds out who I am. But when the girl seems not to recognize my name, I relax a little.

He murmurs loud enough for her to hear, “Jack, this is Carly. She got an ass that’ll make you forget all about Miss Trouble, and she likes younger men.” My jaw drops and my cheeks burn at the embarrassing things he says.

I try to smile politely and shake her hand. “Hi.”

She says, “Hello,” in a sultry voice and rolls a dirty look in Mica’s direction. She does not want to be presented like an escort he’s providing for me.

“I apologize for him,” I say quickly, shoving my hands deep into my pockets.

She giggles and says, “It’s okay. I’ve hung out with Mica a few times. He’s got no filter.”

“That’s for sure.” Mica urges all of us to start walking toward the club, and I fall into step beside Carly, feeling out of place both in this group and among the other people on the boulevard.

“You look familiar,” she says, squinting at me.

Here it comes
, I think nervously.

“Have you come out with Mica before?”

I nearly sigh with relief. “No, we just met last week,” I say, directing my gaze to the concrete at my feet and staying mum about Cherie. If she can’t place me, I won’t help her. “I just moved here from New York.”

“New York?” she asks. I nod. “Why did you move out here?”

I smile tightly. “It’s a long story. What about you? Are you originally from California?”

“No, Las Vegas, actually,” she says, laughing when my eyes widen.

“Vegas? That’s so cool.” She nods and flashes me a shy smile. “Why’d you come here?”

“I was discovered by an agent, and he convinced my parents to move us out here,” she replies with the touch of modesty that Cherie definitely lacks.

“So you’re a model?”

My guess is flattering but wrong, so she laughs. “No, but thank you. I’m a singer,” she tells me. “I’m working with a producer right now.”

Before I have a chance to feel embarrassed or ask what the hell she’s doing hanging out with us, our group stops at the front of a crowded club. There is a line of people waiting behind a long stretch of red velvet rope. D’shawn walks right up to the doorman, and they exchange a quick hug and some friendly words. Soon, the rope is pulled aside, and our group is ushered inside.

Mica is at my side, practically bouncing with excitement. He hears a song he likes playing through the club and is already dancing, moving his feet deftly and grinning from ear to ear.

“He’s crazy!” Carly shouts over the music, her eyes reflecting the colored lights of the club as she watches him. I can only nod in agreement, my words lost because I’m watching her, captivated by her smile.

As we follow D’shawn through the club, the scent of incense mixes with sweat and smoke and devastates my sense of smell. It smells like Cherie, and I suddenly feel bad about my attraction to Carly.

It doesn’t last long.

“Stay close, hun,” Carly calls over the music. She grabs my hand and weaves in and out of the crowd. A buzz shoots through my veins from my fingertips to my gut. She glances over her shoulder, just to ensure I’m still at her heels. I force a blank stare, like having her hold my hand didn’t set off a thousand alarms inside.

Bodies dance around us, bumping and sometimes slamming into me as we walk through, linked tightly. It is easy to get unhooked from someone in a crowd like this, so I make sure to keep up and not get distracted.

Until I
see her
.

Unexpectedly, Cherie is before me, dancing – no, writhing – like a stripper on a table in the club’s VIP section. There are people cheering her on, and a few have the wherewithal to catch the moment on their phones’ cameras. She is dancing with another girl, who stops her and turns her around. The girl tugs on her hair so that her head snaps back, and she quickly pours a shot into Cherie’s open mouth. The crowd goes berserk.

As much as I feel like pretending I have no idea who she is, I can’t help the horror and jealousy and urge to protect her that simultaneously explode in my chest. I’m drawn closer and closer like a magnet until I am on the perimeter of the crowd she’s attracted. I stop and stare up at her, debating whether I should drag her down from the pedestal by her hair or punch the guy who’s trying to get his camera under her tiny dress first.

Suddenly she sees me, double takes, and then waves emphatically. “Jack!”

She uses the people beneath her like stepping stones and finds her way to the floor amid a chorus of boos and protests. She loses her footing and almost crashes, and I quickly thrust my arms out to catch her. I get a wave of déjà vu because I’ve been in this situation a few times now.

“Jack!” she shrieks excitedly, wrapping her arms around my neck in what is probably the most extreme show of affection she’s ever displayed in public since I’ve known her. She stumbles again, but this time I already have her in my grasp. She giggles maniacally as I help her stand upright.

“Jack, what’re you doing here?”

In my swirl of astonishment and anger, I forget why I am even at the club. “What are YOU doing?” I demand. “You’re wasted!”

“I’m fine, Jack,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “Come! I want you to meet my friends–”

“Wait, Cherie. You’re drunk. People are taking your picture,” I tell her, holding up my hand to block someone who is recording us with their phone.

“Who cares?”

“You should! This is going to be all over the news – you’ll get in trouble!”

She laughs at me and pets my cheek adoringly. “Oh, Jack, you’re so sheltered. I won’t get in trouble for any of this – the club might, though!”

“I mean with Jim and Mom,” I say, squinting from the flash of a different person’s camera. I finally recognize that I’ve been holding her close to me this whole time, and now I’m in every picture that’s been taken for the last thirty seconds. The headline
“Cherie’s New Beau Sneaks into Nightclub with Her”
flashes through my mind, and I shudder.
Great, now I’ll be in trouble, too, and it’s not even the truth
.

I release her and take a step back, glaring at the photographers. Two girls come bounding up by her side.

“Hi, I’m Amber,” one says, and I recognize her as Amber Stiles, another beautiful star from Cherie’s network. The other girl looks familiar, too, and is also pretty hot, so my mind starts running through all of the Kidz Channel starlets to come up with her name. It takes me a minute to recognize this scantily dressed vixen is Danika, who looks more like the real Danika’s evil, whorish twin.

Danika watches my jaw drop and smirks. I immediately remember the dare I made Cherie pull on her earlier, and I can tell by the look on her face that she is now in on the joke and doesn’t find it funny.

“Oh, hey there,” I say, forcing a smile.

“Hi,” she says too cheerily. “Have a nice afternoon?”

It almost hurts to look her in the eye. “Yes, it was fun. I – I’m sorry about the, um – ”

She waves her hand in the air flippantly. “Oh, don’t give it a second thought. Sounds like it was all in good fun. This – ahem – BITCH can take a good joke now and again.” Suddenly, her eyes are steely and burning through me.

Before I can feel an ounce of regret or fear, Amber grabs my chin and studies me like a show dog.

“Wait – are you Jack?” Amber asks, a secret-knowing gleam flashing through her eyes. She’s not fettered when I pull my face from her grip. She purses her lips and adds, “I’ve heard about you.” By the way she winks at me, I can tell she doesn’t mean from the gossip news.

Cherie talks about me? To her celebrity friends?

Cherie shoots her friend a warning glare and shoos both her and Danika away. She turns and looks me over, switching back to her more playful persona.

“You sure do clean up nice, Hansen,” she comments, twisting the collar of my shirt between her fingers. “Here, this will make it better.” She undoes the top button of my shirt so that it reveals part of my chest.

“That makes me look like a tool,” I complain, but I don’t dare change it. If she thinks that looks better, then I’m okay with it.

Unexpectedly, her hand is in my hair, and she’s messing it. “Too much gel,” she says with a scrunch of her nose. Usually, this is a cardinal sin to me, but I’m too distracted by the feel of her fingernails against my scalp to pull away. I stand still and let her do whatever she wants to it.

“So, how did you get in here? Who are you with?” she asks again.

My mind snaps back to attention. I look around, realizing I’ve lost my group completely. Finally, I see Carly and Mica coming back for me.

“I’m here with some friends,” I say, gesturing to the duo as they approach.

Cherie looks over at Carly and noticeably stiffens. “Who is she?” she asks in her signature snotty tone.

I stare down at Cherie, who suddenly looks like she’s taken one shot too many of a mean potion. Carly approaches her with a friendly, unsuspecting smile while I’m inwardly cowering, sensing the worst.

“Hi, I’m Carly, Jack’s friend,” the poor, innocent girl announces, extending a hand. “I’m a big fan!”