Camera Shy (29 page)

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She drank until she was sick again, she was sick until she cried, and then she drank until she couldn't cry anymore. She threw up again, and she cried again, but she couldn't remember why. All she knew was how badly she hurt. And the more she drank, the more she hurt, until she couldn't remember where she'd left the bottle, even when it was still in her hand. She couldn't remember why she was drinking, but couldn't think of a reason not to.

So she drank.

Chapter Fifty-Three

The next morning, Simone heard herself groaning before she was even aware of the pain slicing through her skull. Opening her eyes to the blinding light of day, she realized she'd passed out on the retina-searing orange carpet with the empty bottle still in her hand.

The room spun around her, but she managed to pull herself to her knees and slump against the wall. For a long time, she just sat there, waiting for the nausea and the headache to recede.

It was no surprise when reality sliced its way into her consciousness and rattled through her skull. She should have known by then, should have known long ago, that she couldn't drink away her sorrows: she could just drink enough to ensure she faced her sorrows with a bitch of a headache.

"So this is what rock bottom feels like," she muttered. Her voice snapped painfully against the insides of her head.

She looked at the phone on the night table. Swallowing a wave of nausea, she pushed herself to her feet—a herculean effort—and stumbled toward the bed. She stared at the phone a while longer, waiting for the numbers to stop blurring. When at last she could focus, she picked up the receiver. She hesitated, trying to decide who to call first.

She dialed.

Ring
.

Ring
.

"Hello?"

"Gregory, it's Simone." Silence. "Please, I need to talk to you." Her voice cracked. There was a lengthy pause. Finally, he said. "Okay. Talk."

"I just wanted you to know I'm sorry."

"For which part?"

I deserved that
. "For everything." She took a deep breath. "Everything during our marriage, the way I've treated you and Cecily, the way I've behaved in the public eye."

"You've been drinking, haven't you?"

She winced. "Last night. I'm sober now."

He laughed, but there was no humor in his voice. "Funny. You usually only grovel when you're drunk."

"I'm not groveling, Gregory." She closed her eyes and ran an unsteady hand through her hair. "Listen, about Cecily—"

"If you think for a minute—"

"I'm not going to fight you this time."

"You—what?"

She forced back the emotion that rose in her throat. Her voice quivered in spite of her best efforts. "I think it would be best if you had full custody. At least for a while. While I get myself straightened out."

She heard him exhale. When he spoke, his voice was still hard. "This isn't so you can spend more time with your ‘boy toy', is it?"

She flinched. She deserved that, too. It wouldn't have been the first time. "No. Not this time."

"What are you going to do, then?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"Rehab?"

She rubbed her aching neck. "The press would have a field day with that, wouldn't they?"

"It might be the best thing for you."

She looked at the unopened bottle of Smirnoff on the night table. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I think this morning is enough to get me off that shit forever."

"You've said that before."

"My head didn't hurt this bad before."

Gregory sighed. "I'm worried about you, Simone."

Simone choked back the emotions that tightened her throat. "I know."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

No. My God, how could I be sure? I'm a long way from 'all right', Gregory, a long, long
way
. She took a breath. "I'll be fine."

"Just, at least consider getting some help. Even if it's just a therapist. Something."

"I will."

There was a heavy pause on the line. "I want to hear it from you. What's
really
going on with this guy?"

Simone let the tears fall then. "Nothing, now. He wants nothing to do with me." She wiped the tears and tried to pull herself together. "I don't blame him, I guess. But . .

. ." She put her hand over her mouth as the sobs overtook her.

"What
was
going on with him?"

"More than what the press said." The words were bitter on her tongue. "
Way
more. I swear to you, I was trying to get myself put back together. When I went to Canada the first time, I didn't expect to meet anyone." She paused, what was left of her composure dangerously close to breaking. "And after I met him, I, I was happy for once.

I was going to tell Cecily. I just needed to talk to him again first, and then I was going to tell her. I swear to God, Gregory."

Gregory said nothing for a moment. Then, "Are you serious about Cecily? About giving up custody?"

"Yes," Simone said without hesitation. "I'd still like to see her."

"I know," Gregory said. "I won't keep her from you." Guilt flared up in Simone's chest. He had every right to keep Cecily away from her, but he still had faith in her. Somehow, after all she'd done, he still had some faith in her. "Thank you," was all she could say.

His voice was gentler now. "I'll have our lawyers talk on Monday. For now . . . ."

"Tell Cecily I love her."

"I will. I promise." He paused. "If you need anything . . . ."

"I have to handle this one myself, Gregory."

"You're not going to do anything rash, are you?"

"What? Like kill myself?"

He hesitated. "Something like that."

It didn't sound like a bad idea right then, but she wouldn't. She was through with being selfish. "No. I won't." She rubbed her forehead and took a breath. "I'll be fine. I promise."

He was quiet for a moment, as if digesting her words. "Okay, then." He took a breath. "You'll take care of yourself, right?"

"Of course."

"Good-bye, Simone."

"Good-bye, Gregory."

The click of the receiver on its cradle echoed through her with a note of finality. She exhaled heavily and put her head in her hands for a long moment. She was definitely out of the running for Mother of the Year, but she felt considerably better knowing Cecily was in Gregory's care, surrounded by stable, mature adults who could take care of themselves enough to take care of her.

After she hung up with Gregory, Simone gritted her teeth and dialed AnneMarie.

"Anne-Marie Bates," her agent answered.

"It's Simone."

The line fell silent. "You haven't returned any of my calls."

"I know. I'm sorry."
Christ, I'm going to be saying that a lot for a while, aren't I
?

"What the hell is going on, Simone? One minute you're telling me you've got it together, you're not going to fuck up; the next moment I'm doing damage control with Henry Wall and the press."

"You're probably not going to believe me, but it's not what the press made it out to be."

Anne-Marie paused. "I know. But—Christ, how did you let this happen?" Simone rested her elbow on her thigh and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "Carolyn found out—"

"You told
Carolyn
?"

Simone winced. "It was stupid, I know."

"Jesus, babe, what did you expect?"

"Evidently I thought she was actually willing to be my sister for once."

"Shit. What now?"

"I'm not sure."

"Has Gregory found out?"

"
Oh
yes," Simone said. "I found out from
him
."

"Oh shit. That must've been a pleasant conversation."

"Delightful." Simone rubbed her forehead. "I told him I'm giving him full custody of Cecily."

Anne-Marie sighed. "Probably a good call. What about your man?"

"Jason?" Simone bit her lip. "He didn't take it well." She hesitated. "I'm going back to his place this afternoon. Hopefully he'll talk to me, but . . . ."

"But?"

"I doubt he will. He's furious."

"I would be too."

"Me too." She laid back on the bed and rubbed her eyes. "I really fucked up this time."

"Yeah, you could say that." Anne-Marie was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer. "Listen, I'm not going to lie; this isn't looking good with the brass."

"As if I'm the first actress to make an ass of herself in the tabloids."

"No, you're not," she said. "But an actress with bad publicity is a liability these days. People don't think it's quite so cute anymore."

"What can I do now?"

"You may want to think about rehab—"

"I don't need rehab."

"So says damn near everyone who
does
need rehab."

"Look, I know it's fashionable to do a stint at the Betty Ford Clinic, but I don't need it. I'm not going to do it just to pacify the press."

"Simone, your drinking—"

"Trust me," Simone said, eyeing the unopened Smirnoff bottle warily. "I think this morning has done more for my drinking than any rehab could ever do."

"I'll take your word for it," Anne-Marie said, in her,
we'll talk about this later but
you
will
do things my way,
voice
.
"I have to go; I've got a meeting with my boss."

"Okay. I'll be back in L.A. in—" She paused. "Soon." Anne-Marie sighed. "Take care of yourself, Simone."

"I will. I promise." Simone hung up the phone and rubbed her eyes. She would do more damage control on her career when she got back to Hollywood. She wasn't the first actress to go off the deep end, and she certainly wouldn't be the last. It might take a while to shake the stigma of a tarnished reputation, but that was a wound only time—

and a complete one-eighty on her part—would heal.

Besides, she had one more thing to address before she went back to California.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Jason's house came into view. Simone gritted her teeth against the tears that thickened her throat. This was going to hurt.

The Jeep was in the driveway. That was a good sign. She swallowed. Hopefully he hadn't gone out walking on the beach. She didn't know how long she could sit and wait for him before she lost her nerve.

No. No backing out. She had to do this, no matter how much it hurt to see him hate her.

The sound of her own fist knocking on his door sent cold dread through her veins. He glanced out the window at her; judging by the hardness in his expression, he knew it was her even before he saw her.

He opened the door and stood in the threshold, arms folded across his chest. His unshaven skin rippled with the fierce clenching of his jaw. His eyes were red around the edges. Maybe he'd had too much to drink. Maybe he'd been crying over what she'd done to him. Hell, maybe he just didn't sleep. She supposed finding oneself naked on the cover of a tabloid could cause someone to lose sleep; she was practically numb to it now.

"Are we just going to stand here?" he asked, his tone arctic. Her heart pounded. "I just want to talk."

"Whatever it is you came to say, just say it and be done with it." There were no contradictions in him anymore. His expression, his voice, and his body language were all in perfect agreement now.

In spite of the pain and the fear, she forced herself to look into his eyes. "I just came to say I'm sorry."

"Funny, you mentioned the same thing last night."

She dropped her eyes. "Jason—"

He shifted his weight. "Is that why you never could tell me how you felt?

Because it was just another fling?"

"It
wasn't
just another fling."

"So you're telling me the reporters just made it all up. That you never told anyone I was just another notch on your bedpost. You know, I was under the impression that even reporters still had some ethics left." He raised an eyebrow. "They leave the fiction to the actors."

She winced. "I know who told them that," she said. "I didn't think it would get leaked to the press."

His eyes narrowed. "So you did say it?"

"I said it because I didn't trust the person I was talking to with the truth."

"But you didn't mind making up a lie?" He rolled his eyes. "Then again, I suppose lying comes naturally to you. You certainly had no trouble convincing me."

"Look, I never should have said anything to her. I know what a conniving, evil bitch she is, and I should have known this would happen. But I . . . ."

"You what?"

"I didn't even know how I felt at that point, Jason," she said. "I was so giddy every time I got back to L.A., from being with you; I needed to tell someone about you. I just—I didn't want her to know how I
really
felt."

"Apparently you didn't want
anyone
to know how you really felt, whatever the hell
that
is." He fidgeted against the doorframe.

"I didn't even know. Not until a few days ago."

"Pity you didn't figure it out before you let the rest of the world find out." He ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I suppose I should be used to being the last to know about these things, but I guess I thought you were different."

"I am different, it's not—"

"Why did you hide everything from me? Your entire life? Even your name? What did you think I was going to do? Throw you out because you're a fucking movie star?"

"No, not at all," Simone said, struggling to keep her composure. "That's just it, though: you were the only man who ever loved me because of
me
, not because I'm

‘Simone Farrell, the Movie Star'." She wrung her hands and avoided his eyes. "I didn't want to lose that."

"And you thought I'd keep loving you after you lied to me?" His voice was unsteady.

She turned away, her shoulders slack. The weight of his glare was leaden on her back. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Then what
did
you mean to happen, Simone?"

Simone put a hand to her mouth as the tears threatened to fall. "I didn't want you to be the last to know. I had no idea the press knew. Hell, they
don't
know truth. They think they do; they think they know but they got it wrong this time." She wiped her eye and cleared her throat. "I came up, this last time, because I wanted to tell you everything. But after you told me about your ex-wife, about everything that had happened with her, I just, I couldn't. I don't know, I got scared." She took a breath. "The morning the story broke, I had already made up my mind I was going to tell you the truth, tell you everything." She bit the inside of her cheek, taking a deep, ragged breath.