There You'll Find Me (28 page)

“I thought she had this
amazing
date already lined up.” Beatrice said each word as if it was embarrassingly beneath her to talk to me.

“Maybe she changed her mind.” Girls marched up and down the hall as they escaped Sacred Heart for the day. Some lingered nearby to listen to a conversation that was more interesting than anything waiting for them at home. “What are you saying to these guys to get them to turn her down? They’re her friends.”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Surely between the two of you, you can manage to scrounge up a date for Erin.”

“Erin is kind and has a heart of gold. She would never hurt you. Why do you want to do this to her? Do you even care how much it hurts her feelings? No matter what you believe of me, it is the lowest of lows to attack her for no reason.” It made me sick to even look at Beatrice. “You are seriously messed up.”

“Like you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

At the appearance of that feline smile, I suddenly knew how girl fights got started. “There’s so much interesting information out there on the Web, isn’t there? Like details of your exploits. Your wild nights in the clubs.”

“That was a long time ago.” Not long enough. “Everyone knows about that.”

“You’re playing with the big leagues now. I warned you if you messed with me, you’d be sorry.”

“What do you want from me? An apology?”

She tossed her dark hair and laughed. “We are so past that now. I wouldn’t take your apology if you served it to me on a silver platter. But I see the worry in your eyes. And you
should
be worried. Because what’s the use of having information . . . if you don’t use it?”

Anger trembled in my limbs as Beatrice took three steps away, then stopped and turned back around. “You might check your phone. I sent you a link of your
crush
. Not that you delude yourself into thinking you’re anything but disposable to Beckett, but I knew you’d want to stay up-to-date, so.”

I waited until she was out of sight, then I whipped out my phone and pulled up my e-mail. In three clicks I followed her link to a page on the
Entertainment Tonight
site.

Beckett Rush spends Saturday night in the arms of three Irish beauties partying the night away
.

I zoomed in on the picture beneath the heading and saw Beckett in the middle of a girl sandwich on the dance floor. Their hands were all over him, and his lips were pressed against a girl’s cheek. Reading the rest of the article, I frowned.

Then read it again.

“That snake.” I could not believe him. “That low-down, dirty, lying snake.”

Running outside, I hopped on my bicycle and pedaled as fast as my legs would go.

Because it was time to report back to work.

And time to give Beckett Rush a piece of my mind.

“Open up.” I pounded on Beckett’s trailer door, not caring who was watching. “Open this door!” This was getting me nowhere. I yanked on the handle and it pulled easily in my hands. I all but leaped inside.

“You . . .” I edited myself and picked words that wouldn’t make Sister Maria blush. “You dishonest, manipulative, user of a weakling.”

Holding a thick history book, Beckett sat in a chair in full costume and sipped a mug of coffee. “Do shut the door. I suddenly feel a draft.”

I pulled the door so hard the trailer rattled, then advanced on Beckett again. “How can you just lie like that?”

His face was as neutral as Sweden. “You’re going to have to be more specific. So many possibilities.”

I drew my phone from my pocket, punched a few buttons, and shoved it toward him. “Does this look familiar?”

He studied the website for only a second. “Looks like I had a good time.”

Irrational laughter bubbled to the surface. “So this is you? In the picture?”

He blew on his coffee. “Looks like it.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you had so many talents. Not only are you America’s favorite vampire, but you can also be in two places at once.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “I need to get back to work.”

“Why not let someone else do it and digitally enhance it with your face?” My lips curved into a rueful smile. “How long has this been going on?”

He slapped his book shut. “You’re not even making sense.”

“You couldn’t have been in Limerick at this club Saturday night. You ate dinner with us. You followed me to the castle ruins.”

“Then maybe I went out.”

I shook my head. “You stayed up for three hours playing video games with Liam. Sean told me.” He had been singing Beckett’s praises yet again, just like Nora and Erin.

“Maybe after that—”

“You’re lying. Why can’t you just tell me—”

“Because I have nothing to do with it.” Beckett jumped to his feet and towered over me. “You couldn’t possibly understand my life, Finley. I tried to tell you it didn’t belong to me, and I meant it. I have a whole team of people who organize every minute, every detail.” He gave a soulless laugh. “I’m not even there for half of it.

And I’m certainly not allowed to refute it.”

“You didn’t get in a pub fight last week, did you?”

“Last fight I had I was still in braces.”

“Last year’s scandal with the trashed hotel rooms and outlandish demands to the director?”

Beckett sat back down and cradled his head in his hands.

“Never touched so much as a bag of hotel peanuts.”

“Are you dating Taylor Risdale?” I had to know the truth. This boy had kissed me, held my hand, made promises with those movie star eyes.

He tilted his head back onto the chair, his gaze tired and weary as he took a moment to study the ceiling. “The first movie opened in limited release, and it was dying. Reviews were awful. Everyone had so much on the line. So they decided to create reports of a relationship between me and Taylor. It happens all the time.”

“Who decided?”

“Does it matter?”

“I think it probably does to you.”

Beckett rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “My manager.”

“Your dad.”

“One and the same.”

“Beckett.” I was suddenly filled with the desire to call my parents and tell them how much they meant to me. How lucky I was to have them in my life. People who cared about me and helped me. Instead of turning me into some puppet for their own gain. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” He stood again and went to the kitchen, bracing his arms on either side of the sink. “You should understand that better than anyone.”

Pity could be such a cruel tormentor. “Why do you let it go on?”

“It just spun out of control. It started with one story, then half a dozen, then me da’ started fabricating things way beyond a few dates between me and Taylor. He created this whole different persona . . . and you want to know the really terrible thing?” Beckett looked right through me. “It worked. The movie spread like wildfire and everyone was saved. And now we’ve all got producers and directors knocking down our doors.”

“And fans.”

He nodded. “Ticket-buying fans.”

“But you’ve sold yourself in the process.”

Beckett closed the distance between us, and his hands curved around my upper arms. “I’ve never been anything but myself with you. You . . . are real. You’re honest. You’re . . . you.”

The reverent look in his eyes made me want to confess every sin and tell him I wasn’t who he thought I was. I was the girl who got up at 3:00 a.m. to practice. The one who had to have her underwear folded in fourths, who didn’t like her food to touch on her plate. Who had nightmares about her audition. Who sometimes Googled Will’s name just to see if there were any new pictures.

“Just tell your dad how you feel.”

“It’s not that easy.” He ran his hands up and down my arms, and warmth flooded my veins.

“You don’t want to sign those contracts he’s been throwing at you, do you?”

“I just . . . need some time. To figure out who I am and what I want to be. See that history book there?” He jerked his chin toward the table. “I’ve been taking a few online classes. Me da’ doesn’t even know.”

“Do you want to be an actor?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I don’t know what I want to do. It may sound stupid, but I’ve been praying about it.”

“It’s not stupid.” It didn’t seem to work for me, but I’d heard it did wonders for others. “Talk to your dad, Beckett.”

He shook his blond head. “I have the entire cast relying on me to do the next two movies. I can’t just walk away from this.” He reached for my hand, his eyes on me. “And I can’t seem to walk away from you.”

My heart flapped dangerously in my chest.

Beckett Rush, Mr. Cover Boy of
People
, liked little Finley Sinclair from South Carolina? It was the most impossible thing ever.

“I’m not like those other girls,” I said. “I don’t look like them or act like them.”

“You’re better.” He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek, his lips a whisper away . . . then only a breath.

“You’re so much better.”

The trailer door flapped open, and Beckett and I broke apart.

My face flamed red as Montgomery Rush stepped inside, his eyes missing nothing. “You’re wanted on the set. We do still have a movie to make.”

Beckett watched me. “I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t keep us waiting, Beckett.” His dad stepped outside.

“You have a lot of people depending on you.”

Had I just become one of them?

Chapter Twenty-Five

• Hours of practice: 3

• Hours of sleep: 5

• Hours listening to Mom gush on about Alex and Lucy being preggo: too many

W
ith more than an hour left, I waved good-bye to the girls at our usual picnic table in the courtyard, tossing my uneaten sandwich in the trash. I hopped on my bicycle, my violin in my basket, and turned toward the familiar path of the nursing home. The sun warmed my skin through my light jacket, and after days of dreary rain, I found myself grateful for the change. I would never grumble about the tropical Charleston weather again.

I knocked twice on Mrs. Sweeney’s door, then walked on in. The room was dark, and a vague sadness hung in the air like a cloud ready to spill rain. Nurse Belinda gave me a small wave and a grim smile.

“One last pill, Cathleen. You can do it. Sit up for me.”

“Too tired.”

“I know. You’ve had a rough day. But this will help the pain.”

I stood, frozen by helplessness, and just watched the nurse ease Mrs. Sweeney up enough to safely swallow the pill. Belinda held a cup of water to Mrs. Sweeney’s dry lips, then lay her back down. The breath whooshed from Mrs. Sweeney as if she’d just expended all the energy she had left for the day.

“Finley’s here to see you. Looks like she brought her violin.” Belinda’s voice came out songlike, and I knew it must’ve grated all over Mrs. Sweeney. “Are you up for a visitor, then?”