Yeah, I am definitely going to be sick. I fucked up far worse than I ever have before and there is no coming back from this. This is the end of Seven and Star and the twenty eight years we’ve shared.
I grab my black coat off the chair, pick my stilettos up in my hand, and stagger for the elevator. I don’t know where I’m going to go, or what I’m going to do, but I need to get away from everyone tonight.
I slowly walk past the kitchen as my nose runs from a mixture of my tears and the drugs from earlier in the night. I hate this feeling. I hate fucking feeling, period. I turn and try to walk to Seven, but Levi stops me. He stands in between us as Seven clutches the counter. I try and push past him, but he continues block my path. It pisses me off.
“Who do you think you are?” I yell at him. I try and push past him again, but just like every other man in my life, he is way fucking stronger than I am. I want to hurt him. I want to hurt them both.
“She’ll walk away from you just like she walks away from everyone else in her life. She’ll leave you with nothing. Broken and alone. That is what Seven James does. She doesn’t love. She destroys.”
I suddenly feel exposed. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and now that I’m losing Seven again, to whomever this uptight fucker in a business suit is, I am bitter.
He starts laughing. Laughing at me. I meet his eyes again, just as he begins to speak.
“Well, I guess if she walks away from me, I will be bitter and heartbroken. But one thing I won’t do is betray her like you have.”
Ouch. That hurt. I don’t think as my body reacts on autopilot and I slap him as hard as I can. The echo of my bare palm meeting his face echoes through the kitchen, and Seven’s head snaps in my direction. If she could move, I have no doubt she would be pounding my face in with her fist.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” she bellows as her feet give out from under her. I want to run to her, to pick her up and hold her. But that’s no longer my job. It’s his.
I make my way to the elevator door and punch the button for the lobby.
As soon as the door closes, I fall to my knees and cry. Not your Hollywood sob, either. This is a full on ugly cry. I cry so hard that my body starts heaving for air, and I gag and vomit all over the floor just as the doors open into the lobby.
CHAPTER 2
It’s fucking bright in here. The sunlight of a new day beats down on my face, and I have no fucking idea where I am. I blink my eyes repeatedly, hoping the world will come in to focus. But it doesn’t.
My head is pounding and I feel like I jumped in front of a subway car last night. I always tell myself, the morning after, I will never do it again. I will never go down this road again. But I do. Because I would rather physically feel like a giant bag of ass than deal with my own fucked up emotions.
“Is sleeping beauty awake?”
My manager, Katy, appears from behind a closed door, and everything starts to come into focus. I’m in the guest room of her Greenwich Village brownstone. It looks like Martha Stewart Living vomited all over the pastel-colored room. The antique furniture is all refinished in white and turquoise paint, and vintage print ads line the walls in thick black frames. I hate her décor, but she totally gets two points for the bed, even if it is covered in paisley print. I feel like I’m floating on air, despite my need for a bottle of Motrin.
“Ughhhh… whastkababblehapp?” Nope, I don’t think I am conscious enough to start communicating in English yet.
I push myself up on the bed, as Katy hands me a couple of pills, and a giant glass of water. It looks refreshing, but I know the moment it hits my stomach it is going to come flying back up. Never fucking again, and I mean it this time.
“You took a cab here last night. I want to say it was around ten. Typically early for you to come knocking so fucking shit-faced. What set you off this time, Star?”
It’s true. Besides Seven, Katy is the only person in my life I can trust enough to clean up the monstrous messes I repeatedly find myself smack dab in the middle of. This time, I couldn’t turn to Seven. I don’t think she will ever talk to me again. It should hurt more, but the more time that’s gone by, the more emotionally void I become. I can own that I’m a shitty friend, though.
“I fucked up. I gotta go see Seven. What time is it?”
I turn my head, looking for a clock, and realize how unstable I really am. I slump back against the down pillows and close my eyes.
“A little after eight. Go back to sleep for a bit. I’ll wake you up at ten and bring you to see Seven. Whatever you did, you have to make it right with her. For your own sake.”
Katy slowly shuts the door. She’s right. I have to do whatever I can to make shit right with Seven. She’s all I have.
****
What the fuck is that buzzing? Something in here is buzzing. Buzzzz, Buzzzzz, Buzzzz, Buzzzzz. What the fuck? Shut up!
I open my eyes and realize the monster headache I was nursing a while ago is better. Not completely gone, but I’m well on my way to feeling halfway human again. It’s going to be a while before I get back to normal. But that’s okay, because this time I am not falling back into my old habits.
Buzzzzz, Buzzzzz.
I find my cell phone vibrating across the hardwood floor. I miss the call before I can grab it. I try my best not to fall off the bed as I reach for it, but my efforts are completely in vain. My body falls onto the floor with a thump, and I lie there, phone clutched in my hand, laughing at the simple misfortune my life is always full of. I often wonder if it is payback for the bad choices I’ve made.
I scroll through the call log; there’s a missed call from an unknown number. I continue to scroll through my call log and text messages, realizing I harassed Seven for most of the night. I don’t remember a single second of it, but I can’t help but wince at the words, the pleas, and the lack of answers on her part. I really fucked up this time.
For a few moments, I continue to lie on the floor and stare at the perfectly painted white ceiling. I wonder if Katy heard me fall to my doom. The brownstone duplex isn’t large, and noise travels through these old buildings like the wind whips through them on a cold New England winter day.
“Katy?” I yell, as I start to stand. My legs don’t give out on me. That is a fucking plus. Walking to the mirror, which stands atop the white dresser at the end of the sleigh bed, I stop and look at my refection.
I still have on the same red halter dress. The matching heels lay next to the bed where my purse is spilled out. Surely Katy went to town looking for the source of this week’s epic meltdown.
My eyeliner has run down my pale cheeks, and the red lipstick is rubbed off, leaving only the slightest tint of color surrounding my mouth. My hair is a rat’s nest. My body looks exactly like I feel. Like a whole lotta hot fucking mess.
That’s when I notice them. The bruises. I can see the subtle hint of purple around my neck, but there are more, so many more. One takes up almost my entire upper thigh. I wear a handprint across my right cheek. The bruises around my neck are clearly handprints as well. A small black and blue mark is clear at the corner of my eye. Someone tried to do some damage, and I don’t remember any of it.
Only one person has ever hurt me like this. Him.
The bathroom is mere feet away, and I make quick work of washing the leftover makeup off my face before heading back to the bedroom for my purse and shoes. Katy clearly isn’t here, and I don’t have time to wait. I need to make it to Seven. I need to explain everything to her. I’m sick of running from the past, and if I am truly going to become free, there is something monumental I need to get off my chest.