chapter 18
CHRIS
5 Years Earlier
London
“Jesus. What the f*ck? They expect people to walk on this shit?”
I glance down at the black and white tiles, which are arranged in geometric lines and shapes. The beats from the club are still pounding out a conflicting pattern in my head. I should have just taken another pill and kept dancing. That movement, unlike walking, was doable.
“It’s just some floor tile, Jensen.”
Marcus has his arm around me, but I throw it off.
“I can f*cking walk, asshat.”
He lifts his arms. “I never said you couldn’t.”
I stumble slightly.
“What kind of an a*shole agent are you? The club was open for at least another hour or two. I’m supposed to be celebrating right now. I’m done with the f*cking movie, and you made me enough money that I can pay thousands of dollars to stay in your SHIT HOTEL.”
I yell the last words at the night clerk. He looks at me like I’ve just defaced a portrait of the queen before immediately picking up the phone on the desk.
“Chris. Shut. The. F*ck. Up,” Marcus hisses, before rushing over to talk to the guy at the desk.
“What are you saying? You better not be apologizing right now. They’re the ones who should be apologizing for this f*cking ugly ass floor,” I yell, the sound of my voice echoing loudly through the lobby.
Marcus gives me a vicious death stare, but I choose to ignore it. F*ck him. Seriously. He talks to the clerk in hushed tones before coming back to my side.
“Get your ass upstairs, Chris, before they call security and kick us both out of here.”
I give him a little salute. “Aye, aye, captain. I was just going to do that. I need to see Hallie. Where the f*ck is she? Why didn’t she come out with us? What’s the point of having a girlfriend if she won’t even come out dancing? Useless.”
Marcus grabs my arm and shoves me into the elevator and pushes the button at least a dozen times.
“She did come with us. Don’t you remember?”
I remember dancing. With a girl in a red dress. Who may or may not have been Hallie. F*cking hell. The music is starting to pound its beat again.
“Sure.”
“Sure.” Marcus takes a long, even breath. “Chris, I think you should stay with me tonight. There’s no use in waking Hallie up right now. The two of you are supposed to fly back to the States tomorrow, and I’m sure she would appreciate a little sleep.”
“You know what I think Hallie would appreciate?” I try to remember what my next words are supposed to be, but my head is fuzzy and I’ve lost my thought, so I frown at Marcus instead.
“Chris, it’s not a good idea.”
“Since when were women ever a good idea?” I lean back against the cool metal of the elevator and let it linger on my skin for a minute. Bile is starting to rise in my throat and I manage to choke it down again. I feel like shit. And I need Hallie.
“Except for Hallie. Hallie is always a good idea.”
“Fine. Hallie is always a good idea. Just like it’s a good idea to let her see you like this. But what do I know? You’re just going to do whatever it is that you want to do anyway. Just like always.”
The elevator doors suddenly open to a dizzying array of enormous plants and an endless series of doors with numbers. I look to Marcus for help.
“It’s 1235.”
“I knew that.”
“Of course you did. You know everything, right? You’re perfectly aware of your limits.”
“Are you trying to say that I can’t handle myself? F*ck you, Marcus. And your little dog, too.”
Just as the elevator doors start to close on his face, I realize that I have no idea where I’m going.
“Hey! Where’s my room?”
“1235. I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to actually get your ass to the plane on time. Not like last time.”
I shove my middle finger in his direction and try to make myself stand up straighter. Hallie. Where’s Hallie?
I tap each of the doors as I pass them. 1234. 1236. What the hell is the number again? And where is my f*cking key? I dig through my jeans, and I can’t even find where my wallet is supposed to be, so I knock again and again on the door that seems like the right one.
“Hallie. Open the goddamn door.”
I hear a click. Hallie is standing in the middle of the door frame, curly puffs of long hair floating all around her face. She looks pissed. Very, very pissed. She moves aside to let me in before shutting the door behind us. With a slightly disgusted look, she takes a step back and then another.
“Hallie. My love.”
I cross the distance between us, pick her up and swing her into my arms. I start to cover her face with kisses, but she’s wriggles against me. I’m knocked off balance and she sways precariously in my arms.
“Chris. Put me down. Put me down now.”
“Nope. Not until I get what I came for.”
“Chris. Now.”
I lock my arms tighter around her body and push my lips into her hair.
“You smell like honey. Why do you always smell like honey?”
“It’s called taking a shower. You should try it.” She manages to free herself and the lack of weight in my arms throws off my equilibrium. I stumble backwards and she flicks the light switch on.
“You’re drunk.”
“Good guess! Twenty points to a Miss Hallie Caldwell for being such as astute judge of drunkenness.”
I kick off the shoes I’ve been wearing and toss them in the trash can. I never want to see those goddamn shoes again.
“I’m glad I get points for being such an astute judge of your particular kind of drunkenness, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess that you would come home drunk. You’ve come home drunk every night we’ve been in London. And we’ve been here for almost three months.”
“You got to give the people what they want, baby.”
“And tell me, how exactly is you being drunk every night giving the people what they want? What exactly is that supposed to accomplish? Enlighten me.”
“I’m living the dream. Just living the dream. The people want to see someone who’s doing that. And I am.”
I flop onto the bed and try to forget that the world is not actually rotating. I mean, it’s rotating, but my world isn’t. Something like that.
“Is this what the dream is supposed to be? Tell me, Chris. When exactly did this, you drunk in some hotel room, become living the dream? I thought…” She bites her lip and looks away from me. Instead of actually telling me what she wants to say, she picks up the jeans that I threw on the floor and folds them neatly.
“Never mind what I thought.”
“No. Tell me what you thought. You’re going to say it anyway, so tell me what you really think.”
She turns to me with her hands on her hips. Everything is spinning and her face is slightly out of focus.
“I think you’ve been drinking too much. No. That’s an understatement. I think you’ve been drinking so much that you need to get help before it’s too late. I think you’ve let the James Ross and the Ecstasy success go to your head. You used to laugh about being a big movie star. Remember? You told me that you were afraid that this,” she motions around the hotel suite, “was going to change you, that playing all of these different characters was going to make you forget yourself. You were afraid that maybe you wouldn’t like the person that you were becoming.”
“Well, I was f*cking wrong. I f*cking love this. I f*cking love me. Who wouldn’t?”
“I don’t. I don’t love this. This isn’t a movie. You’re not playing a character right now. It’s just you and me.”
“This is me. This suite, and this life, those things are all me. I’m sorry if you can’t accept that, if this is too much for you to handle. I should have thought about that, really. I mean, with your background, this is all new for you.”
“With my background? My little Midwestern, small town, small life, small dreams background? That’s what you really want to say, isn’t it? That this isn’t my world. That this was never going to be my world. Well, maybe you’re right.”
“Maybe I am. You’re jealous. You’re totally and completely jealous. What is it? Are you still mad about the fake girlfriend thing? That was all Marcus’s idea. And the James Ross people. That’s Hollywood bullshit, Hals. I’ve told you that a million times. We had to make it look real, so I kissed her once for the cameras at the premiere.”
“This has nothing to do with some fake date that you took to a premiere. It doesn’t even have anything to do with the fact that we can’t be seen in public because some producers that you’ve never even met are afraid that having a girlfriend would make you less desirable to the preteen set. I’m not jealous. You’re an a*shole, did you know that?”
She’s looking at me like she’s never seen me before.
Part of me wants to fall at her feet and take back everything I said, and pretend that this hasn’t been festering between us for too long. But I can’t. I’m too angry with her, and maybe even with myself. I feel myself falling further into the hole, but I can’t stop it.
“Oh, who’s the a*shole? Of course you’re jealous. What are you doing in London, Hallie? Besides taking advantage of the free room and board, that is.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here. I really have no idea what I’m doing here.”
She bites her lip again and turns so that only her back is visible to me. I can see her start to shake. I should want to comfort her, but the fact that she’s turning away makes me even angrier.
“You need to get your own dreams, instead of hanging around me like some stupid puppy dog. You need to figure out who you want to be in life, because I can tell you right now that I don’t need a nursemaid, or a mother, or another person trying to tell me how to live my life. I mean, really, don’t you think it’s time that you figured out how to have a life outside of me?”
She spins around suddenly and faces me head-on. “I think you’re right about that. I do need to figure out how to have a life that involves something and someone other than you. Because you know what I don’t want? I don’t want to keep doing this. Because you do need a nursemaid, or a mother. Someone needs to tell you how to live your life, because you sure as hell aren’t doing a very good job of that right now. I’ll tell you right now, though, I didn’t apply for the position of personal assistant to a movie star.”
“No. You applied for the position of my girlfriend. I don’t see you turning down any of the perks of that, though. That’s probably what you wanted all along, to get a taste of what it would be like to be rich and famous. Isn’t it? How was it, Hallie? F*cking a movie star?”
She takes a long breath and her eyes narrow into slits.
“You once told me that you were never going to turn into your father. I have to say that I think you’re doing a pretty fine imitation right now, except for the fact that your father realized his mistakes and he tried to atone for them. But you’re not sorry about anything. And you never will be.”