Danny (Models On Top #1) (37 page)

TAKING THE STAIRS
by two, my hand is on my pocket, making sure the box doesn’t fall out of my coat. The door is locked. I hate that I’m an hour late, but I can’t control flight delays due to bad weather.

Unlocking the front door, I barge in excited to see my girl. “Reese, I’m home.” Silence returns my greeting. “Reese?” I shut the door behind me. Something’s off, but I can’t place it. “You here?” I scan the room as I walk through the living room into the bedroom.

When I enter, I stand in the doorway. “Reese?” It’s clear she’s not here. I check my watch again. Damn. I hope she’s not pissed that I’m late. She knows how flaky flights can be. It’s not the first time I’ve been delayed or even had a flight cancelled altogether. She’s always understood in the past. I don’t know why she’d be mad this time.

That’s when I see it, or should I say don’t see it… her stuff. I walk into the room and straight to the closet. Opening it wide, her stuff—it’s gone. Turning behind me, the room is empty.

Of personality, of life, of love.

The room is how it was before I met her.

I dash into the bathroom. The counter is cleared, the drawers that held her toiletries now empty, the medicine cabinet left bare. Shit! I grab my phone from my pocket but find the ring instead. Going into the living room, I sit on the couch and set the ring, box lid hinged open, in front of me on the coffee table. I dial her number as I stare at the ring.

On the fourth ring I go to voicemail. “Reese, it’s me. I’m home. Where are you? Call me. I want to see you. We need to talk.” When I hang up, I set my phone down next to the box. That’s when I notice the magazines on the table beneath it. I slide them out and look. Me. Ads I’ve done. Why are they here? I look back at the diamond ring sparkling from the light coming in through the open blinds.

My eyes close as my head drops into my hands. Fuck. Looking at the magazines, almost all of them are of me and another model—female models. And not just from photo shoots. I always left the parties alone, but I know photos can be deceiving.

Damn it, Reese. I call her again. When the voicemail tone sounds, I say, “Reese, please call me back. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not here and I want to see you. So badly. I need to see you. Please. Call me back. I love you.”

I sit there with the phone set on top of a stack of magazines. Staring at the diamond in the middle of the black velvet box as the sun sets outside the window, the stripes from the blinds drift across the wall until it’s dark—inside and out.

She hasn’t called. Still on Paris time, my eyes grow heavy as I stare at the two-carat princess cut sparkler I picked out just for her. Saving a percentage from my paychecks for this ring, I wanted her to have the best, the prettiest. The ring reminds me of her. Shutting the lid, I don’t want to see it anymore.

Checking my phone just in case it somehow miraculously rang and I didn’t hear it, I’m still lost on what is happening. I get up, shove the ring and my phone in my coat pockets and take off. As soon as I get in my car, I start it but I don’t back out. I’m not sure where to go. Our closest friends have graduated and moved away. Reese has a part-time job on campus. I decide that’s my only hope.

I stand in front of the alumni house, but logically I know it’s not open at this hour. It’s just gone eight at night. I knock on the door anyway, hoping what deep down I know is true is not happening, hoping she just got caught up in work and missed our date. I’m standing there knocking, praying her clothes, her stuff, that her being gone is all just a misunderstanding that can be cleared up.

No answer.

Not just the door, but for all my other questions as well.

Getting back into my Jeep, I sit there, staring at the empty parking lot, not knowing what to do, where to go, what to think. I thought we were happy…

I was happy.

My phone rings and I jump to answer, scrambling to pull it from my pocket. “Hello? Reese?”

“Danny Weston?”

My body deflates in disappointment when I hear an unfamiliar male voice on the other end. “Yes,” I answer.

“This is a reminder call that you have two movies overdue. I’m sorry, but we’re going to be charging your credit card on file unless you return them.”

“Charge it.” I hang up.

I start the car, and crank up the heat. Nebraska is so damn cold. While I drive back to the apartment, it starts snowing. First snow of the season. “Fuck you, Mother Nature.”

My hands slam down on the steering wheel, my heart icing over like the road I’m on. I walk back into the apartment and check my messages. There are no new ones. I grab the box and am about to rip it from the wall, but I can’t. I can’t risk missing a call from her.

I try calling her twice more before I tuck the ring into my drawer, hiding it under some boxers. I climb into bed and flick on the TV. Hours pass and I have no idea what’s been on or even what’s on TV now. I turn it off just after midnight and stare at the ceiling while snow falls outside, tormenting me and our tradition.

The next day I have no choice. I drive the three hours back to her hometown. Her dad stands in front of me explaining that his daughter has moved to New York, lectures me that if I had loved her, I would know this. The door is shut in my face. I don’t know how long I stand there, but it’s long enough for Reese’s mother to reopen it and step out. “Danny, I’m sorry.”

“Give her time.”

“She’s hurt.”

“She doesn’t want to hold you back.”

“She’s been so lonely.”

“She tried to get ahold of you, but there was no way.”

“She’ll come around.”

I don’t hear the rest, my head pounding while I have it confirmed. Everything I truly loved has gone away. Give her time… She’s been lonely? I was so lonely. I may have been surrounded by people while working, but not the one person who made me whole. I missed her every fucking day.

Stumbling back to my car, I lean against it, not able to comprehend what I just heard, my heart refusing to accept that Reese left.
Left. Me
.

I need to get away from here, from the memories, from this life, and this fucking snow. When I get in my car, I figure out what I have to do. The trip is long, the mileage racking up. I stop for gas, for food, and the occasional coffee to keep me awake, but I keep driving until I see the sign—Welcome to California.

Walking into the Los Angeles Illustrious offices the following Monday, I don’t give myself time to change my mind.

The receptionist smiles and I ask for Mark Warrant. I’m led to his desk in The Pit. He pulls a chair up and I sit in the small space. “I need work. As much work as you can fill my weeks with.”

“What about Nebraska? As I said before, it would be easier if you were in New York or even LA.”

“I’m here now. Can you get me more work?”

He smiles. “I can get you a lot of work. Are you sure you’re ready for the commitment?”

Commitment…

“I’m ready.”

Shaking my hand, he says, “Get ready, Danny Weston. I’m about to make you famous.”

I SPENT EXTRA
time in makeup. The stress of the last few days has engraved tired lines into my face. Standing next to the vintage Aston Martin, I look away from the camera. Claudia is sitting in the car, her expression matching mine with different troubles on her mind.

A Papillon barks at my feet. I bend down and pick it up, careful not to mess the expensive midnight-black Vittori suit I’m wearing. I let the dog lick my face and hear Claudia laugh as she lifts her sunglasses and stands up. Leaning across the seats, she pets the small dog. It’s a moment captured for future use. Even I know it’s gold to get something “natural” on camera.

When I set the dog down, it runs to its handler, leaving Claudia looking into my eyes. When I lower mine, she mimics and I offer her a hand. Her dress is long and she’s slow as she moves it with her and sits down in the passenger’s seat. I get in the car and pretend to start it.

We’re told to look back and give a farewell. When we do, I see Reese on the phone behind Becs. I fulfill my role and Bryker finally yells, “That’s it. Last shot.” He hands his camera to his assistant and claps his hands together. “Thank you. It’s going to be a stunning campaign.”

I face forward and exhale a long breath. Claudia stays next to me, staring ahead, lost in her thoughts. I reach over and take her hand. When she looks at me, I say, “You were good.”

A smile not often seen tempts her mouth. “You were good. We were good. I think it will be very successful.”

Nodding, I put my hands on the steering wheel. “Where do you head next?”

“Nowhere.”

“Home?”

She laughs. “Where is that again? It’s been awhile.”

Relating, I chuckle. She gets out of the car and shuts the door. “I’m glad I know you, Danny.”

Scooting up on top of the door, my smile fades, her sentiment catching me off guard. “I’m glad I know you, too, Claudia.”

This time she nods, and then picks up the skirt of the dress so it doesn’t drag and walks to Becs.

Reese joins me car side, and says, “Vinnie is going to love these shots.”

“I hope so.” I’m not sure what else to say. I’m aggravated because I’m not even sure what to do around her, or what I
can
do. I get out of the car and mumble, “I should return this suit.”

“Don’t do this. Please.”

The tremble in her voice hits deep, gutting me. “Reese, don’t make this harder than it is already.”

Taking a step closer, she touches me cautiously on the arm. “You’re shutting down on me.”

I am.

“I’m not.”

The sky blue in her eyes clouds over, and this time, she lets me walk away. The gravel crunches under my leather shoes, but the raging in my ears from the lie I just told overpowers it. Becs sees me coming.

My devastation.

My resolve.

She’s quiet as she stands behind me and helps me remove the suit jacket. I loosen the tie, but it’s caught. After she hangs the jacket on the rack, she comes around and helps me. “I’ve got it.” As her nimble fingers slip it neatly through the knot and she pulls it from around my neck, she stops in front of me. “You can talk to me.”

“I know.”

“Trust me, you do not want me to sing “That’s What Friends Are For” to you. I’m a God-awful singer. Spare us both the trouble and talk to me, Danny.”

My eyes burn, so I squeeze them shut. “I can’t.”

“You should. You need to talk to someone and if you can’t talk to Reese, talk to me. I’ll help however I can.”

Getting my emotions in check, my specialty after all the years I’ve modeled, I put on a smile—it might not be my million-dollar one, but it’s at least a 10K one—for her. “I’m paying the price for making a deal with the devil.”

She knows me too well to let the charade of my expressions cover the words I’m saying. Like I hoped. Focusing on the real issue, she asks, “And who’s the devil?”

“Klein Advertising.”

“Ahh,” she says, seeming to understand. “So it’s true? You were served for breach of contract?”

I unbutton my shirt and hand it to her. “I was served for letting her leave ten years ago. I’m just paying the price now.”

“Are you? Are you going to pay the price?”

“
I
want to. My legal team says no.”

“Well, you’re the one who makes the final decision. How much is love worth to you?”

“That’s not fair, Becs.”

“You know what’s not fair? Turning your back on someone who loves you as much as she does.”

I follow her gaze straight to Reese who is back on the phone and pacing behind the car. It’s clear she’s upset. Her hands are swinging around making her point to someone who can’t see them. Her head is down as she talks intently.

“I’m not turning my back on her. I need to figure out the best way to handle this.”

“Are you talking about the lawsuit or Reese Carmichael?”

I strip down my pants, not even caring I’m not behind the screen. I need to get the fuck out of here. I warn, “Careful.”

“No, I’m not going to be careful. We’re friends, remember? So I can tell you when you’re screwing up.” She snatches the pants from me and throws my jeans at me. “You’re screwing up, Danny.”

Holding the jeans against my chest, I stare at her. “What has gotten into you?”

Her irritation lessens and she says, “That woman is ready to give up her life for you. Can you say the same?”

“I have to consider all the options.” The words come rushing out. “I picked her once and she left.”
Shit.
To throw her off my heart’s pain gushing out through the open wound, I think fast and let my wallet speak instead. “It’s a lot of fucking money.”

“You picked her once?”

Fuck.
Of course, she sees. She is a woman. They don’t miss anything. I pull my jeans on and slip on my socks. “Yeah,” I mutter. “I was ready to give it all up for her. And she left me.”