Beyond Famous (Famous #3) (47 page)

Cade, please let me explain. I’m begging you.

He ignored text after text. He wouldn’t answer when I called. Time dragged, and I wanted to die. It was like he didn’t exist; except in my mind.

You know I’d never cheat. Please.

I’ll never do another movie with him again. I won’t. It’s not worth it.

Cade, PLEASE CALL ME! PLEASE. I love you, so much!

This is killing me!

After a hundred and fifty unanswered text messages, I was a sobbing, inconsolable mess. I didn’t even know if he’d replaced his phone. My mother and manager came over, picked me up off the floor, and hauled me into bed.

“Pick her up,” someone said, and two sets of hands began grabbing at me.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted, crying. “Just… leave me alone!”

“Brooklyn, we’re here to help you.”

I heard my mother’s muffled words as if I was underwater. My head throbbed, my eyes were swollen shut, and there was so much snot running down my throat I started gagging. I gagged until I crawled to the edge of the bed and heaved the contents of my stomach onto the floor. The vomit got in my hair and on my face on the way out. I didn’t care if I lived or died. Lucky whined from somewhere behind me.

Cade was gone. He left me, and I’d lost him. I coughed and gagged on more mucus, the tears still seeping from my tightly clenched eyes. It was like a black hole sucking me in, and I was helpless to stop it.

“Oh, Jesus!” Jeanne said.

My mother was next to me pulling my shirt over my head and using it to wipe off my face.

I turned from her, and curled into a ball; the pain inside threatening to kill me. “No one can help me, except Cade!” I sobbed. “Oh, God!” My body racked and heaved as I clawed at the bed covers, still filled with the scent of us, and of him. “I hate myself!”

I’d find out later Jeanne had called my mother while I was running through the house with my heart in my throat as I searched for Cade; praying I’d get to him, to explain before anyone else called him, but I was too late. He was frozen, crying, and broken when I’d found him in our bedroom. At the sight of me he’d gotten up and immediately started throwing shit into a bag.

“What am I going to do? He won’t talk to me!” I gasped for breath between sobs, finally sucking in enough air to scream. Maybe if I screamed loud enough, the pain would stop.
What had I done?
What price would I pay for five fucking minutes that meant nothing? The press, the haters, all of it had been worth it because I had Cade. This shit storm would only get worse, but it didn’t matter. Only Cade mattered.

“Jeanne, can you call Denise?” my mother asked. “Maybe Cade called her.”

“I’ve spoken with her. Cade isn’t taking any calls. We don’t know where he is. She said… he sobbed like a baby when she told him. I can’t believe this is happening.” She sighed heavily and sat on the bed opposite my mom. I barely registered any of it; the pain in my heart ate me alive. I just wanted to be alone.

I listened to them talk as my sobs lessened. I was exhausted. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but I must have been crying for hours. My eyes were sore and beginning to get heavy. I’d lost him. It was unbelievable. I couldn’t wrap my head around it and my heart refused to accept it.

My mother stroked back my tangled hair, despite the puke still clinging to it. “Brook, you should take a long bath in the whirlpool, and wash your hair. You’ll feel better.”

How could she think anything would make me feel better? My eyes slammed shut again as another wave of pain seized my chest. We made love in the tub the night we moved in. How many times had he whispered how much he adored me in the candlelight? The thought was more than I could bear. How could I have let this happen? Nothing meant more to me than him. I was so fucking stupid! I’d never wanted to die before, but I did now. Every breath felt like a red-hot knife slicing through my soul.

Jeanne’s phone rang and my heart jolted; hope it was Cade making me pause.

“Hello?” she answered. “What? No! I don’t think we should address it. It’s best not to say anything.” I sat up and watched Jeanne get up from the bed and pace around the room, agitated. “That would be like professional suicide. Can’t he just handle it privately?” Jeanne ran a hand through her short hair and met my eyes. “Okay. I’ll advise my client. Just keep him the hell away from her. No phone calls, nothing! If I have to, I’ll have Joel slap him with a restraining order.”

She hung up the phone and shot me an angry glance. “Want to tell me what the
hell
you were thinking, Brook?” she railed at me. “We’re in a world of hurt right now! Sheldon Richards is threatening to give a statement, which will only makes this nightmare more real in the eyes of the public. Goddamn it!”

“I
wasn’t
thinking!” I yelled back, wanting to share the pain. “He called and wanted to talk. He said it was about a movie he was producing, and he wanted to discuss it.” I shook my head and ran my hand through my sticky hair. Normally, it would have grossed me out, but I fucking deserved it.

“In a park? You do that in a meeting with your agents and managers in tow!”

“I
know
!” I reached for a tissue, loudly blowing my nose. Resentment rose up inside me. I didn’t want to talk about this with anyone but Cade. “It was stupid, but I seriously thought he was serious about a movie role.”

“Baby, what happened?” my mother asked. Her eyes were sad, but also disapproving. I glanced between her and Jeanne, who was now standing with her arms folded across her chest.

“It doesn’t matter! All that matters is that I get Cade to listen to me! I just need the two of you to trust me. Why does the whole world assume the fucking worst about me? Even you two!”

I scrambled off the bed and grabbed my phone again, furiously typing out a text, my face crumpling.

Cade, please. I can explain if you’ll give me a chance. I LOVE you so fucking much! You know me. You know I’d never hurt you!

“What is Cade going to see when those pictures break, Brook?” Jeanne asked harshly.

I threw the phone down and turned furiously toward her. “He’s going to see that asshole plastering me up against a tree and trying to kiss me in my fucking car!” I screamed at her and then fisted both hands in my hair, pulling hard. If only the physical pain could end the ache in my chest.

“What was he doing in your car?” she asked accusingly.

“Jeanne, is this necessary?” my mother asked

“Sorry, Diane, but yes, it’s necessary. I’m the one who has to clean up this mess, so let me do my goddamned job!” She turned back to me. “
What
was he doing in your car?”

“When I got there, he didn’t have a ride! He said he got in a fight with his girlfriend and she left him there.”

“His girlfriend? Sheldon Richards doesn’t have a girlfriend. He has a harem.” Jeanne’s eyebrow shot up. “How convenient.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, and walked to the window. “That’s what Cade said.”

“Then why didn’t you listen?”

“I told you! Sheldon said it was about a film. He was fine on set. I had no reason to expect this.”

“When did this happen?”

“Three days ago.”

“Before the awards. And you didn’t tell Cade? If it was so innocent, why not?”

I turned on my heel away from her. “No. I didn’t tell him.” It was a simple statement and I’d be damned if I was going to explain. I didn’t want to hurt him over something that meant nothing. I thought I’d handled it. I’d pushed him away, kneed him in the balls and left him there. If there were pictures of the kiss, then there had to be pictures of the rest, too.

“Why?”

“Look, I’m fucking dying right now and Cade is the only person I want to talk to about this.”

“It’s a little late, Brook,” Jeanne spat out.

“No, it isn’t.” My chin jutted out in defiance. We love each other to the point of pain; he’d eventually listen. I had to believe that or I’d die on the spot. I knew how badly he was hurting because of the night I’d seen Wendy in his apartment wrapped in a blanket. I grabbed my phone again, willing the blank screen to light up with his response. Its silence caused my fragile heart to shatter again.

“I hope you’re right, but he just said he didn’t understand cheating in a public interview. Do you really think he’ll listen? If he forgives you, it will hurt him. Everyone will call him a pussy, and stupid unless he leaves you flat on your ass.”

“I didn’t cheat, Jeanne!”

“It won’t matter! You know how it works, Brook! The paps will use anything they can to sell a picture, and the rags don’t give a damn if they print the truth. All they care about is selling copies and racking up clicks online. You’ll both be labeled. We’re screwed. If Cade is smart, he’ll lay low for a while and let the heat fall on you. Sorry, but that’s the truth. If he were my client, that’s what I’d advise.”

I closed my eyes as more tears welled, a sob caught in my throat and I pressed the heel of my hand to my eyes. “He can stay away from me, but Jesus, God… I need him to listen.”

I WASN’T SURE
what day it was. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been here in this dump, how many of Brook’s calls I’d ignored, or how much scotch I’d consumed. Somehow, Davina heard I’d taken off and called offering me her house while she was away on holiday. It seemed a good decoy; the press would never look for me there, but if I were discovered, it would only trade one scandal for another. And, it would hurt Brook.

What a joke! I’d never have peace again and I wasn’t thinking about those fucking photographers. What did I care if I hurt her? She destroyed me. The thing about cheating is that it can never be undone. It would always be there, hanging between us, ripping my guts out…
as long as we both shall live.

I laughed bitterly, through the errant tear that rolled down my cheek. I wiped at it with the back of the hand holding the glass of scotch. How quickly the meaning behind those words changed. Even drowning in alcohol, I was still miserable. I threw the glass at the wall, grabbed the bottle by the neck and stumbled to my feet. I wasn’t angry anymore. I was dead inside. Now if only the pain would stop…

My phone rang for the ten-thousandth time in an hour, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at the screen. It was new because my other one lay in pieces on the floor of my house. As it rang, I chastised myself. I shouldn’t have gotten it. It made me sick how much I wanted to talk to her; like the sound of her voice would somehow fix everything, and I’d wake up and to find it was just a bad dream.

I couldn’t show the world how broken I was; I couldn’t show Brook the damage she’d done. I had no clue how I managed to make it out of the house and through the pack of press at our gate, without completely losing it.

My heart was pounding so hard it made the blood thunder in my ears, and I felt like I was drowning. I was drowning, only now, when no one could hear me, I let myself scream and pray the sickening thumping in my chest would stop.

Thank God I found this motel in the middle of nowhere where the owner didn’t know who I was. He was old and out of touch with Hollywood and front-page news. I threw down a wad of cash and told him I’d take every room he had, and all the others as the guests left. I hoped I’d get it together before I had to promote my movie, but as days passed, it wasn’t looking good. I’d anticipated its release for so long; now I dreaded it with everything I had. The timing couldn’t be worse. I was just thankful it wasn’t one of the Remembrance movies on deck to promote. I could put on a stone face and muddle it through, but not if she were close.

They say that your life passes before your eyes right before you die… well, every moment of our relationship was flashing in fast forward, then slow motion misery as I relived each precious and heartbreaking second. When I didn’t think she’d ever be truly mine, when we had to sneak and hide to find time together, when we were half a world apart for months on end and the rags planted nasty rumors designed to sell copies… I never thought this would happen. I never for once considered she didn’t love me. But now everything I believed about Brook, about myself, and about how nothing could touch us, lay in shambles because I’d seen it with my own eyes.

How could she do that? I thought we were solid, unbreakable: un-bloody-touchable. A broken sob rose up in my throat. I fell on the bed and curled into myself, crying harder than I’d ever cried. The bottle fell from my fingers, the liquid soaking the covers and into my jeans as it seeped out. I let it all out in a torrent of pain; my body shaking violently. I slapped at my head hard; over and over again, trying to displace the pain in my chest. I begged God for death; for my life to rewind so I could stop that bastard from touching her.

The pictures were everywhere now. In magazines, on the TV gossip shows, online. They flashed behind my closed lids in merciless torture. I wasn’t strong enough not to find them online after I’d thrown the TV on the floor in a crash of broken heap when I’d heard the first mention of it. I couldn’t bear to break my phone again. I wanted to. But it’s like wanting to commit suicide and not being brave enough. I wasn’t strong enough to destroy the connection completely. I justified it by telling myself that it was so my family or Denise could reach me. But the hell it was… it was because I needed to know Brook was trying to get me back.