“Here you go.” The bartender slides the drink across the bar, which I catch and hold up.
However, right before I chug it up, someone clears his throat next to me, so I turn my head. I didn’t notice anyone sitting down, but the man in the seat next to me looks rather scary with his hoodie and his tattooed hands. I swallow away the lump in my throat as I gaze at him, wondering who he is and what he’s doing here. He just gives me this vibe that I can’t shake off, like I’m in danger or something … and he’s the cause behind it.
Or I’m just flipping out over nothing.
I throw back the last drink and throw down a few bills. “See you later,” I say, as I get off my stool, waving at the bartender as I leave the joint.
The cold air washing over me isn’t enough to quell my fear. I feel watched. Followed. Hunted. Everywhere I go, I think people are out to get me. I don’t even know who they are or what they want. Maybe that dude was just there to grab a drink like me, but with his hoodie and tattoos, he looked scary, so I fled the scene because of him. How pathetic. And yet I keep walking. Keep running away from the truth that I’m in deep shit.
The kind of deep shit that gets people killed.
And the worst part of it all is that I knew it was going to happen. I knew I had it coming for me, and I did it anyway. I did something horrible, and someday, I’ll have to pay the price. I’m just waiting for him to come for my head … Phoenix Sullivan, the guy I put in jail.
If only that was the sole thing I did to him.
I sigh as I walk back to my car and direct my driver to take me home. I’m so glad none of the fans saw me here, so I could have a drink at my favorite bar in peace. I really needed that, especially after what happened the day after my birthday. When I rub my face, I can still feel the bruise, even though the mark is no longer there … I’ll always feel it burn a hole into my heart.
When I get home, I wobble a little as I walk in the door. “Hey.”
Arthur just waves and glances at me, and then he returns his attention to the phone. “No, I told you it wasn’t for today.”
I don’t remember ever getting home and him not being on the phone. It’s like he doesn’t live anymore. Ever since he took over Phillip’s company, the one he makes all the movies with, things have been going downhill. He spends more time on the company than he can manage, and the two of us have no alone time. It’s like he’s wasting away in that company … I hate it. It makes me wish Phillip were still alive, just so he could be CEO again instead of Arthur. But that would also mean Phillip was still my husband, and I’d never be able to live with Arthur the way I do now.
I’ll admit that I always preferred Arthur to Phillip. I’m a bitch for not being sad over Phillip’s death, but that’s the way it is. Phillip was a cheating bastard, who couldn’t be loved by anyone but himself. Now, I’m together with Arthur, which is much better. Although, I’m not quite sure that this is what I wanted all along. I just kind of rolled into it.
I walk to him and wrap my arms around his neck, whispering sweet words into his ear. “Let’s go to bed, honey.” The words are a bit of a slur. After all those drinks, I feel a bit tipsy and ready for some much-needed action.
But Arthur pulls himself from my embrace and shoves my hands away. “Not now.”
I reach for his phone, trying to steal it away from him. “C’mon, you’ve been on that phone for far too long. I can tell. Come with me. You need to relax.”
He pries my fingers off and turns around with a deathly stare in his eyes. “I said no.”
I frown. “Well, excuse me for trying.”
“You can see that I’m busy.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “Too busy to love your girl.” I sigh and take my heels off. “Just like every other day.”
He sighs out loud as he puts his fingers on the phone so nobody will hear him except me. “Vanessa … really? Do we have to do this now? I have no time for this.”
“I know,” I say, giving him a fake smile. “You never have time.”
“If this is about the other day, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up another day.”
“That’s what you always say.” I turn around and take the first step up the stairs. “But it never comes true.”
“Stop making everything about us,” he says.
“I wish you’d care more about our relationship.”
“I do,” he says. “Can we finish this conversation another time? This is important.”
“I know. Everything is more important.”
I sigh, glancing at him. He’s already turned around again and the phone is against his ear. “What has happened to us?” I whisper, but I know he won’t hear it.
I don’t mind that he doesn’t. Even if he did, it wouldn’t get through to him anyway. Not even if I shouted in his ears. The man has become blind to affection, just like his brother. Sometimes I wonder if we’re going down the same, dangerous path.
It’s happened before.
It only takes a snap of the fingers to repeat the same mistakes.
No matter what we do, this path always ends in death.
CHAPTER 4
VANESSA
Present
The cameras flashing and people shouting my name have my heart throbbing with excitement. As I walk down the red carpet, I wave and shake hands with eager fans, taking selfies with them as I go. Many of them ask for an autograph, which I’m happy to dish out. I love my fans, and I’d do pretty much anything for them. The spotlight is where I come to life; in the darkness is where my secrets lie. Here, I am something, someone special, someone to admire, and someone they adore. I prefer living a lie to the truth. Keeps me sane.
I squint when the flash aims at my eyes. Suppressing a yawn, I turn toward a different crowd. God, I’m so tired; it’s as if I didn’t sleep at all last night. Not only that, but I felt watched. As if someone was lurking in the corners, waiting to sneak up on me. I could swear I even felt hot air brisk along my chest.
Except, when I opened my eyes, there was nothing. No one. I must’ve been having a freakishly realistic nightmare of some sort, but it sure kept me awake half the night.
I return my attention to the crowd, trying hard not to let anyone notice my fatigue.
“Mrs. Starr! Mrs. Starr! Can I have your autograph?” a fan begs, while others beside her squeal when I approach.
“Of course,” I say, smiling as we take a picture together. Then I scribble something on her shirt and walk to the next in line. A fan up ahead catches my attention. Though not because of the abundance of excitement, but rather, mostly the lack of it. The fan is wearing a hoodie, and from what I can see, he’s facing downwards at the ground, not saying a thing.
As I come closer to this person, my skin begins to crawl. Is this the same person from the bar? Or am I just imagining things?
But the closer I get, the shorter my breath becomes. His hands rest on the fence in front of him, and I can clearly see the distinct tattoos running along the back. Just looking at it gives me the shivers.
My pace slows down as I reach him, unsure what to do. I can’t skip this part; all the fans surrounding him would be disappointed, and I came here just for them. Well, and for the award, of course. But I’m not leaving them without giving them what they want.
So I step in front and pose with a few fans and give an autograph. Only when I lean in too far does he groan.
I stop in my tracks and look at him. There’s a face under that hoodie, but I can barely see it, as he won’t look up. It creeps me out so much that I step back. His grip on the fence tightens the more I back away, fear holding a steady grip on my heart.
I shriek when I bump into someone.
“Mrs. Starr, are you okay?” I turn around and notice it’s my bodyguard.
I nod shakily. “I want to go.”
“All right,” he says, and he signals the others to come.