Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
But all I say is, “I guess so.”
“You guess? I swear to God, I should never have let you go to college. Listen to me, and listen good. You have a golden opportunity right now and we’re not wasting it. Everyone is going to know your name by the end of this.” Coming from her lips, it sounds like a threat.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stop being so difficult. I’m doing all of this for you, remember. We’re in this together.” She pulls up in front of my apartment building and a valet approaches to open the door for me.
It’s one more expensive thing she arranged without asking, making me completely reliant on both her and the show’s success. I already hated living here, but up until last night, nobody but the two of us had seen the inside so it didn’t matter how sad my apartment is. They were right. I’ve been here over a month and I haven’t even bothered moving any of my things from the old place I share with Mom. What’s the point if I can’t stay?
I nod as the valet reaches to open the car. “I know. Are you sure you don’t want to move in here with me? At least then we’d save—”
“No, you need to look the part if we want this to work. Now smile in case anyone’s watching and I’ll see you tomorrow when I pick you up to go see Roger. Make sure to send me a picture of your outfit. You can’t just wear jeans and—”
“I know.” I slam the door and walk away before she can finish.
Clarke opens the door, greeting me as I go inside. “Hey, Ms. Callahan. Glad you’re feeling better. You looked pretty exhausted last night. How’d the interview go? I’m going to watch it later with my daughter.”
It’s creepy to be reminded of my missing memory, but at least I didn’t seem to do anything too embarrassing. “Thanks, it was nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix. I think I did okay today. You’ll have to let me know what Vanessa thinks.”
“Will do!”
As soon as I’m inside the apartment and the door is locked, I kick off my shoes and do a full body shake. Then I let out a little frustrated scream. “Blaaaaaaaah! We’re in this together,” I mock. “I’m doing it all for you. Don’t forget to be marketable.”
I hate how small she makes me feel. How weak and reliant I get when I’m around her even though I’m the one that’s been paying our bills since I was too young to sign my own contracts.
Some days I understand why Dad walked out.
How much easier would life be if I could just not care about the people who love and depend on me? It would be so simple to pack a bag and just… leave. Get a new phone number, change my name and start over. But I can’t do it. I can’t forget what it was like to live in our car that summer when I was thirteen. I can’t forget how much Roger has done for me. It would kill him if I disappeared.
We might be messed up and co-dependent, but Mom’s probably right. I need to capitalize on my fifteen minutes of fame.
So in the meantime, I’m stuck here, living alone in a mostly empty apartment in one of the only fancy high-rise buildings in town. Eating peanut butter sandwiches because she cares about me looking the part, but not that I have nothing to cook with and I’m sleeping on an air mattress. I slide open the balcony door and sit on the bare concrete floor. The view of the ocean is worth the wind.
“I saw Heath,” I whisper to Axel like he’s in the room with me. “He’s a biker now. Crazy, right? I think I might still have a crush on him.”
I talk to him sometimes when I need to vent, and after the interview, he feels closer than usual. We didn’t just watch movies together. We had a plan. He was seven years older than me and saving up money. Once he was eighteen, he was going to rent an apartment and I’d live with him.
It was the sort of plan kids dream up. I don’t know if it could’ve ever happened, but we never found out because he died a month after his birthday.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the newest messages. More of the same. A few people reach out to share their own stories of losing loved ones. Those I take more time with.
A blurry picture of me at the nightclub with Sinner, Priest and Colt taken from a distance. I’m holding my drink, about to take a sip. What would your brother think?
A chill slides down my spine. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I respond.