Someone I Used to Know

chapter Six

Adley


“I’ve been thinking about something.”

Declan was already sprawled across his spot in the limo when I climbed in, slamming the door behind me and slumping against the darkly tinted window. I made no acknowledgement of the movie star or his statement.

I’d been getting rides with him to and from work for the past week. Our time together was the nightmarish bookend to my already draining days with Madeline.

“You’re really unpleasant in the morning,” he noted, his tone transforming into one with a more conversational tilt.

I didn’t bother wasting the energy to open my eyes. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and I shouldn’t have been either. God, I hated everything before noon.

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about?” I asked incredulously to the backs of my eyelids.

“No,” his reply was short, making it clear he’d simply come across a subject that was currently more interesting to him than what had been his original point of torture on the agenda. I could feel his eyes inspecting me. The heat of his eyes left chill bumps I fought to suppress. “Why are you so tired?”

“Why do you care?” I murmured. My cheek was plastered to the glass. I would have been slobbering if he would have shut up and let me have the few extra minutes of sleep I yearned for.

“Because I do twice as much as you every day, and I manage to start the mornings off bright eyed and bushy tailed, while you drag about until its nearly noon.”

“Bright eyed and bushy tailed?” I chortled with weak laughter, opening my eyes to stare at him pointedly. I didn’t bother to get riled up at his comments anymore. Half the time his remarks were made with the sole purpose of getting a reaction out of me. By not giving him what he wanted, I smugly considered each brushed off attempt a personal victory. “I could point out that you don’t have a deranged actress calling you at all times of the night demanding answers to the most inane questions you’ve ever heard. Like how am I supposed to remember what the common themes of my dreams were four years ago? Last night she called me at midnight and wouldn’t let me off the phone for three hours while I related to her every birthday party I had between the ages of five and twelve in graphic detail.”

Declan tried to stop his amusement with a guffaw, but he caved soon enough, cackling loudly at my expense. His gray eyes sparkled as he threw his head back and accepted the moment fully. There weren’t many people who laughed like he did. There was freedom in it. It was thrillingly unabashed.

It was also unbelievably sexy. I’d been fighting my attraction for him tooth and nail, and most of the time Declan did a nice job curing me of it himself, just by opening his mouth.

“You know you wouldn’t be doing twice as much as me if you hired people to help you keep up with things? It’s the only way Madeline survives,” I said, hoping to distract him. I needed a second to get my panties back under control.

“Madeline doesn’t pay those people to do things for her.”

There was no question of my disbelief. It was written all over my face. I saw those people wait hand and foot on the eighteen-year-old princess every second of every day with my own eyes. They did everything for her.

“Okay, well they definitely help, but that’s not the real reason she keeps them around.” His fingertips tapped a tune I didn’t know on the expensive wood detailed inside the car.

“Why don’t you tell me the real reason then, Dr. Phil?”

“I’m going to ignore your obviously American reference that you’re perfectly aware I will not understand,” he informed briskly. “Madeline is really paying those people to pay attention to her.”

“Pssh.” I blew my long, blond bangs out of my face. “She doesn’t need to pay anyone to do that. All of America gives her plenty of attention for free. If anything she gets too much attention.”

He shrugged and looked away, not putting up near the fight I was expecting.

His sudden disinterest threw me off, and I was left grappling back to the original subject. “I’m just saying, if you had an assistant, you wouldn’t have missed that meeting with the reporter from Variety yesterday.”

“How’d you know about that?” His eyes cut to me sharply.

“I pay attention,” I brushed him off, not resisting a little dig, leftover from our last topic of conversation. It wasn’t like I was stalking him. When he was sitting next to me – yammering away on the phone in his slanted English – it was impossible not to eavesdrop.

“I don’t need to pay people to hang all over me all day. I’ve played out that whole bit before and I don’t need another lesson in how fame ruins people.” His words were clipped, reverting back to the scowl I was so familiar with. He slipped it on smoothly, like an old favorite sweatshirt. His legs and arms inched inward, until his back was stiff and his arms crossed over his chest resolutely.

It was clear it was a sore subject, and I wasn’t as curious as I was disconcerted by his mood swings. I knew how to handle snarky-Declan, but the scowl was something I’d never get used to. The silence ate at me until I was about to blurt out something pertaining to the weather, just to scare off the space growing between us, when he saved me.

“I just remembered what I wanted to ask you about.”

In the short seconds I’d been distracted, he’d easily reverted back into his slouching position that would have surely given my old ballet teacher a coronary. His bad posture wasn’t what was making me nervous though. It was the dirty smirk pointed directly at me. I really wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.

I swallowed down the thickness in my throat, and steeled myself for what was to come.

“You hate The Girl in the Yellow Dress.” He held up a finger to me, letting me know it wasn’t my turn to refute his allegations before he continued, “You act like the world found your diary, and the rest of us are just going out of our way to taunt you with it.”

I bit my tongue to keep from pointing out that Declan did go out of his way to taunt me with it.

“Do you have a point?” I demanded instead.

“I’m so glad you asked because, yes, in fact, I do.” Beautiful or not, he was evil. I was sure of it. “Cam could have never printed your name or told the story without your expressed legal consent. I’ve been sued enough times to understand a little bit about the American judicial system, and I’m pretty sure you lot have pretty strict laws on slander and all that codswallop.”

My lips glued together in a thin, unyielding line. He didn’t seem surprised at my lack of comment. In fact, I daresay he looked perfectly smug at the absence of a rebuttal.

Delving into my personal life was nothing new. His never-ending curiosity had become a theme of our drives. Unlike Madeline, he didn’t just focus on my life according to The Girl in the Yellow Dress. If anything, it felt like he was trying to disprove things about me he could have only found in Cam’s book.

“If you never wanted anyone to know, then why let your name be written on it?” His tone shifted, turned into genuine interest, and I knew we’d moved beyond the territory of him just trying to get a rise out of me. He really wanted to know.

Like a startled hermit crab, I quickly sank back into the comforts of my shell. His question was more complicated than he could ever know, and the answer was far too personal to share with the likes of Declan Davies.

It was far too easy to forget exactly who it was sharing the seat beside me in the decadent limousine. It wasn’t just that he was movie star. It was the fact that he was an internationally recognized celebrity, who managed to chip away at the numbing cocoon I’d spent four years erecting around myself. Declan might have bated me with teases and tortures, but that didn’t make his ability to spark such vivacious emotions in me any less scary.

“Can you just shut the hell up for five seconds, or do you really enjoying hearing yourself that much?” I snapped with the bite of a pit-bull.

Whether he had a reply or not was irrelevant because as the car had barely drawn to a halt, I made my swift escape, slamming the door behind me as I charged through the back lot.

Walking away, I knew he wouldn’t follow me today, and I thought about how ironic it was that I hadn’t realized that we’d made any progress forward until we took such a monumental step backwards. It was easy to distract myself with the routine I’d fallen into, once I had officially become a part of Madeline’s entourage. My momentary lapse in judgment had sealed my fate. The vulnerability Madeline had tricked me with might have been long gone, but I was far from being dismissed from her services.

Predictably, Madeline was still in her daily morning session with Ms. Louna when I arrived at her trailer. I didn’t bother entering. The strange sounds and shapes they made with their mouths during what Ms. Louna deigned ‘diction exercises,’ had been amusing at first. They both looked like complete idiots, but getting spit on one too many times during the P’s, had put me off of that.

Alfred gave me the procedural glance before completely ignoring my best smile which was usually reserved for recitals and winning dance competitions.

“Still playing hard to get?” I joked, nudging him with my elbow and finding him so solid that it was my body that was moved by the motion.

His black expressive eyes stared down at me, yet offered no hints to the emotions within. “Ms. Little wanted me to tell you that there have been some alterations to the call times, and you should go wait for her in the wardrobe department. She’ll join you momentarily.”

“Thanks, Al.” I cringed when the nickname only made the huge man frown at me harder.

The usual colorful personalities that filled the wardrobe area were absent, and even though Madeline’s assistant Fran was already there, she was dialed into her cell phone with a look of fierce concentration, leaving me practically alone.

The long rack of clothing sporting Madeline’s name caught my eye, and I drifted closer to it, running my hands gently down the soft fabrics. I could barely even recall a single item of clothing Madeline had worn when she was in character besides the hospital gown she’d first greeted me in. Her beauty and overwhelming personality had a way of distracting from something as trivial as clothing or accessories.

My eyes took the time to digest the clothes. They were far from what I would have ever worn, not because they were ugly or unstylish, but because they were all selected to accentuate Madeline’s shorter body type and unique coloring. Next to Madeline’s rack, there was another one with just as many hangers shoved along the metal bar. I bit my lip nervously before taking a step closer to Declan’s rack. It felt like I was doing something naughty, and I was thankful to be deserted as I ran my hand along leg of a pair of jeans I’d seen him wear a few days before. Declan’s wardrobe was much more on par with what Cam would have actually worn.

“It’s almost sinful for a boy to fill out a pair of jeans the way he does,” Fran said conversationally. She’d snuck up behind me.

I squeaked, whirling around to face her. I knew I looked guilty as hell too. There was no telling the density of the red shade my face was painted.

She wanted to laugh at my reaction, but I was thankful she didn’t. Fran officially became my favorite person in California. Her deep brown eyes contradicted the fake gleam that shined in Madeline’s mom’s gaze. They were welcoming, brimming with sincerity.

“How’s your daughter?” I instinctively wanted to connect with her, to accept whatever warmth she could give me.

“A brat…but she’s eight so she’ll grow out of it.” Fran laughed at her own joke, endearing me further. It was hard to believe she was even old enough to have an eight year old. She couldn’t have been older than mid-twenties. “Actually, right now she’s become obsessed with getting me to bring her to work so she could meet the famous Declan Davies.”

I fiddled with my hands. Just what I needed, another reminder of the boy who was already taking up far too many of my thoughts.

“She seems a little young to be a fan. Doesn’t he usually stick to more mature projects?”

My innocent act was a total scam. I knew for a fact that Declan hadn’t made a movie suitable for audiences under thirteen since he’d been old enough to drive. Thank you, IMDB.

Fran smiled mischievously, like she was about to share a secret. “Oh, Maria’s not interested in Declan. She’s convinced he’ll be able to introduce her to his sister, Brittany Davies. She stars in some television show about a mermaid princess set in Australia…I’d be a little more worried about her obsession, but it got her to stop complaining about going to swimming lessons.”

“I didn’t know anyone else in his family was in the business,” I said thoughtfully, digesting the new information.

She stared at me oddly.

“His whole family is in the industry. They practically are the business in Australia. The Davies are like their own miniature empire down under.”

“Like the Kardashians?” My interest was piqued by the idea. On the rare occasions my dorm mate Hannah and I were home at the same time, her little television was always tuned to the goings on of the Kardashians. Hannah obsessed over reality TV, and apparently the Kardashians were reality royalty.

“More like the Kennedy’s, only with actors, writers, and pop stars instead of politicians. Their pedigree is unmatched. We’re talking going back to silent films here.” Fran’s voice was lowered to an appropriate volume for gossiping. “They tend to be more scandalous than tragic, but with about as much press coverage.”

Alfred’s easily identifiable, lumbering footsteps alerted us to Madeline’s arrival, and we moved away from the clothing racks.

I was immediately sequestered to Madeline’s side as she was fitted for a fake baby bump. It was supposed to represent around six months of pregnancy. She kept her interrogation to general questions about what it’d been like to be pregnant and all the little details she thought she might have missed while reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting and three other pregnancy books. I hadn’t even done that much research, and I’d actually had a fetus growing inside of me for nine months.

In comparison to the root canals that she usually administered, it was relatively painless.

After she was dressed in a maternity dress off her rack, I prepared with the rest of the entourage to head to set, but Madeline stopped me.

“With the call time changes, no one’s been able to get in touch with Declan. He’s probably just passed out in his trailer, but someone needs to go fetch him before he throws off the whole schedule for the day.” Her brownish-green eyes met mine expectantly.

My only reply was a blank stare.

“Great!” She smiled brightly as if I had actually agreed. “I’ll let Georgia know you’re on it.”

Quickly shuffling past me, Alfred was the first to follow, and there was no way I could get to her through the 400 pound Hawaiian. I huffed, resigned to my fate, and stomped off to do the little witch’s bidding.

I banged on the door. My blood boiled. I’d been downgraded to Madeline’s private messenger.

After what I deemed an appropriate amount of time (ten very long seconds) without getting a reply, I barged into the trailer. If Declan didn’t want people coming in, then maybe he should have hired people to keep them out like I’d suggested.

“They need you on set!” I didn’t move further than my first step inside. My irritation made me brave, not stupid. I didn’t want him attacking me or anything, thinking I was an intruder.

The shower running in the bathroom muffled his reply, but at least he knew I was there – or at least that someone was.

A familiar accent caught my attention, it wasn’t coming from behind the closed door of his bathroom but from the flat screen television that was almost as big as the wall it was mounted on. The scene that played out between a group of Aussie teens was as melodramatic as any Spanish telenovela I’d ever glimpsed. I identified the backdrop of Sydney by the signature Harbour Bridge that stood as majestically as a white topped mountain over the city. The young actors and actresses were costumed in leotards and point shoes, and my soul shivered at the reminder.

The dancing immediately drew me into the show, and I didn’t notice the water had cut off until the door snapped shut behind him.

“Adley?”

His chest…his chest was bare, tanned, and glowing in post-shower warmth. It was all I could see, and all I wanted to look at for the rest of my life. And then my eyes found his distinctly V’d hip bones….

“What the hell are you watching?” I snapped trying to shake his glistening from my mind, and focus back on the TV. I pointed at the ballet-themed teen soap with an accusing finger.

It was the first time I’d ever seen him blush, and much to my surprise, my attraction for him hit whole new heights. The little flush that scarred his cheeks was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

“How should I know? You’re the American. I have no control over what pollutes your airwaves.” He bristled, and I had to look away as he shook his dark hair free of any remaining water droplets, leaning with unintentional seduction against the counter in the small kitchenette. His fingertips tapped out their favorite nervous tune on the marble.

I made a doubtful face, walking to the DVD player and raising not one, but three box sets that were covered with the same characters that still chatted on screen.

He took a posture of mock surrender, his smile endearingly abashed. “Okay, so I might have a slight addiction to Australian teen soap operas.”

“Um…Why?”

Declan was the king of independent films that no one else wanted to touch. He made films that were dark, gritty, and controversial. The Girl in the Yellow Dress was one of the first mainstream projects he’d worked on. His looks and talent got him attention, not his box office numbers. So what could possibly intrigue him about clichéd teen soap?

His fingers continued their dance as he struggled reluctantly to find words. “It’s mindless…I like to just relax into it. Every hardship, every dilemma, every challenge; all solved within twenty-four minutes. There’s something peaceful about it.”

He could have left it at that. There was more honesty in his explanation than I could’ve ever expected, but Declan wasn’t done. His gray eyes flickered with something unreadable, and all I wanted to do was to tell him to stop. Do not pass go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars. Because whatever he was about to tell me was about to make it very hard for me to view him how I needed to.

“I never attended school a day in my life. I was already riding my father’s coattail by the time I could speak, taking bit parts in whatever blockbuster he was filming. I had a tutor just like my sisters, and I didn’t feel like I was missing out on something a single moment when I was traveling the world, getting to have grand adventures.”

He looked at me sternly, as if daring me to feel sorry for him. “I don’t regret it. Haven’t ever. But sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to just be a teenager. I wouldn’t want to trade lives, but it would’ve been cool to get to have both…So I like teen soaps. They remind me of home, and let me experience a different life.”

I didn’t know what to say. He’d shared something personal, and I was uncomfortable with how comfortable I felt hearing it. It set me on edge.

“You know that’s not what being a teen is really like either, right?” I tried to grin. The mood lightened considerably.

“Like you’d know anything about having a normal teenage experience, Ms. 16 and Pregnant,” he scoffed.

I responded to his dig with an arrogant smirk. “Oh and by the way, you were due on set like an hour ago.”

With a little wave, I left him cursing behind me.

***

The next morning was the earliest call we’d had during production. They really were trying to kill me.

It was a miracle that I made it out of bed, and if one person said a word about my rubber ducky shorts, they were going to be in for a rude awakening. Everyone was just lucky I’d taken the time to brush my teeth even if I hadn’t changed out of my pajamas or brushed my hair. I made it halfway to the sleek limousine before I realized I was barefoot and had to backtrack to retrieve my shoes. The clock on the oven glared the hideous time at me. It wasn’t even four AM yet.

When I finally slid into the seat beside Declan, I didn’t bother with pleasantries, instead shoving one of the items I was holding at him.

“What the hell is this?” He was holding the innocent piece of food like it was a live grenade, and eyeing me like I’d sprouted a second head.

Was it that hard to believe that I could do something nice?

“A muffin. And don’t forget about that club opening you told your agent you’d attend tonight.” I’d already begun the process of curling my body into a tiny ball so I could try and pretend I’d never left the comforts of my bed.

I could feel his penetrating gaze burning the back of my head that I’d presented to him.

“Shut up,” I commanded though he hadn’t said a word. “Just eat it.”

“Oooh, I see now. This is just a ploy to keep my mouth otherwise occupied. Entice me with chocolate chip muffins, which you know are my favorite, and expect me to keep quiet. Well, let me tell you, I could think of much more beneficial ways to keep my mouth occupied…” He kept talking, but his sweet melodious voice became nothing more than a lullaby.

I didn’t wake up until we arrived at the studio. There was nothing left of the muffin but the wrapper.

Madeline was oddly reserved throughout the day, which was a welcomed rarity, and even Alfred barked out a hello to me in greeting (I viewed this as a huge step in the right direction). For lunch, Fran drove all the way to Pasadena to get take-out from my old favorite organic restaurant. And no one even said a word about my rubber ducky shorts.

All around it was turning into a great day.

I was sure it couldn’t get any better when I checked my vibrating phone and found “FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS DRINK AND SEXT” calling.

“Cam!” I answered cheerfully. He’d be gone for a little over a week, but with the time differences and his newly hectic schedule, the most we’d managed to communicate was through a few texts.

“Why can’t you always greet me like that?” He pouted.

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” I spiked the end of my statement up until it was a question.

“I was just expecting something a little more…ominous,” Cam admitted, on top of the busy city noises I could hear in the background. A taxi honked, and someone faraway was screaming in a language I couldn’t understand.

My ears perked up suspiciously. I thought about all the unusual pleasantness that had fallen my way. Why was everyone being so nice?

“Ominous?”

“Yeah, well I’m still on the email list for the revised call sheets, and when I saw they were filming the adoption scene today, I was worried about you.”

“Adoption scene?” I felt numb. I finally found the ominous tone Cam had been looking for all along.

Someone started speaking to Cam on his end of the line, and he rattled off a few muffled words in reply.

“Look, Ads, I’ve got to go, but I wish I could be there with you,” he said regretfully, coming back to me.

I nodded, which was ridiculous. He couldn’t see me, but words had left me.

“I love you.” His voice was a sigh, as unhelpful as a rowboat during a hurricane.

I nodded again and hung up.

For the rest of the day, I avoided Madeline like she was contagious with a flesh-eating virus. There would be no deep analysis of Adley Adair that day. This was one wound that would never heal enough to pick at. It was an oozing sore, perched angrily on my soul, and I wore it unashamedly. Not because I was proud of it, but because I deserved it.

I’d earned the pain.

Madeline let me be. I thought I’d have to fight her on it. Maybe, she’d even have me fired. After all, refusing her was refusing to do the job I’d been brought here to do. I supposed it was possible that, for once, Madeline didn’t need my input to understand what I’d done. She could read my heartless actions right off the page, without any help from me at all.

For whatever reasons, I was left to my solitude. Shivering and secluded in the back of soundstage three, I watched with vulgar interest as they set the stage.

This was not a set I could critique for being inaccurate. The constructed hospital was as cold and impersonal as the one where’d I’d given birth.

I tried to look at anything other than the hospital bed where a team prepped Madeline, brushing powder over face until she looked sickly pale, and misting her hair so it would plaster around her face. I didn’t want to see, but I couldn’t look away.

The lights and focus sucked me back to the fake Adley Adair again and again. Her body was dwarfed by the bed, making her appear unbearably childlike. There was plenty of room for Declan to climb in beside her when Georgia called for him to take his mark.

I didn’t want to see. More than anything, I wanted to turn away, but my focus zoomed in on them with more intensity than I thought I possessed. And the harder I stared, the more Madeline and Declan disintegrated before my eyes.

All I could see was myself. It was amazing how easily my mind slipped back to that forbidden place I’d never allowed it to linger before. I’d spent so much time making sure the door to that night could never be opened, sealing up every crevice and crack, until I was sure nothing could ever escape.

Except I’d ended up back there again, and it was as easy as falling through a trapdoor.

Cam’s arms clung to me like I was the only thing in the world anchoring him to the ground. His head buried into the scoop of my neck as his tears bled onto me, soaking through my thin, papery gown and seeping down my naked body underneath.

I laid there straight and unmoving, encompassed by a desperate vine. His sobs wrenched free from the depths of his broken heart, and silently sawed into me like waves stealing sand from a beach.

“She’s not ours…She’s not ours…She’s not ours.” The cracked words circled on repeat and I tried to hush Cam, only to realize the voice was my own. “We can’t see her…not ever. She’s not ours, Cam. She’s not ours to see.”

He said nothing, only squeezing my sore body harder with shaking arms. I didn’t stop him. I liked the pain. It made me feel human again. It was the only thing.

“Swear it to me…Or you’ll lose me too.” I was cruel, nothing more than a monster, threatening him with the only family he’d ever known. It scorched a black line across my being that would never fade.

But I would do that for him. Because I’d never loved anyone the way I loved him. I hadn’t even thought that kind of love was possible, only living in the love stories Cam had whispered to my swollen stomach when I couldn’t sleep at night.

I had to do this for him, because he’d give up the world for us if he could. He’d give up everything to keep us. And because he would do it for me, I had to do this for him.

I would be the monster to save him. I made the decision so he wouldn’t have to. He’d never have to choose. He’d never have to give up his dreams. I’d own the guilt so he’d never have to indulge it.

But I was only so strong, and he was even weaker than I was. If I saw her, I didn’t know if I’d be able to let her go again, and Cam would let me keep her.

“Swear it.” The whispered command felt dirty in my mouth, and I spat it softly, hoping to never taste it again.

“I swear.” His voice clogged in his throat, but the vow was spoken.

Cam would always love me. We were family, bonded by something that transcended romance.

He was my soul mate.

But he would always hate me a little bit for what I took from him – from both of us – in that hospital bed.

I felt lightheaded, dizzy, and disoriented as I found myself back in the freezing cold soundstage of present. The scene still played out between actors that were no longer me and Cam.

I backpedaled. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready to face the words Cam had used to tell this part of the story. I could not watch myself turn into a monster through his eyes.

So I did the one thing in the entire world that I was exceptionally gifted at…I ran.