The Someday Girl (The Girl Duet Book 2), page 15
Her teeth sink into her lip in frustrated silence.
“That’s what I thought,” I murmur softly, pulling my phone from my clutch purse. I scroll through my contact list until I reach his name. My lips twist; he’s still programmed in as GIANT DOUCHEBAG.
I haven’t called him on the phone since Hawaii; haven’t spoken to him at all since the day of the camera-smashing incident. Yesterday, in a moment of weakness, I logged online to see if the story made the headlines — DUNN ASSAULTS PAPARAZZO! CHARGES FORTHCOMING — but there was nothing. Not one tiny blip about the smashed lens or show of rage. His lawyers must’ve bribed the shutterbug into silence.
Then again, the tabloids may just be sitting on the news until a slow day. From what I saw, they’ve got plenty of material concerning Grayson and me to keep the presses busy for months. This week alone, I’ve been accused of a teenage eating disorder, a decade of unreciprocated devotion, and an estrangement with my darling mother. I can only wonder what they’ll come up with next week.
FROM BUSY BEES TO LOVE BIRDS… WE’VE GOT THE #GRAYKAT DETAILS YOU’RE DYING FOR!
INSIDER INTERVIEW: “SHE’S LOVED HIM FOR YEARS!”
KAT CRACKS DOWN: DUNN’S PARTY DAYS ARE DONE!
PHOTOS INSIDE: KAT AND GRAYSON, THROUGH THE YEARS
KAT’S SECRET STRUGGLE: FRIENDS OPEN UP ABOUT THE ACTRESS’S ANOREXIC PAST
UP IN FLAMES! FIRESTONE’S AGENT-MOTHER SEEKS LARGE SETTLEMENT FROM AXC
With clenched teeth and shaking hands, my eyes scanned all the horrendous things they’d written about me, not once bothering to check whether they might be remotely accurate before printing them as fact. Each bullshit story was capped with a cute little disclaimer: “Firestone did not return our request for comment.” As though that somehow validates them spreading lies.
If I had to bet on the identity of this “insider” who’s provided a steady stream of stories and photographs, I’d put all my money on Cynthia. This practically reeks of my mother — stirring the embers of my stardom into a full-fledged inferno, not resting until my face is on every magazine rack, news feed, and Twitter stream. Even when we were still on speaking terms, she had no problem using my secrets as media fodder. Now that we aren’t, there’s no way she’d turn down an opportunity to make a quick buck by selling my childhood memories to the tabloids. The more I’m worth, the more she can ask for in the lawsuit.
Heart in my throat, I lift the phone to my ear and wait for it to connect. He answers on the second ring, his voice muffled. There’s so much background noise I can barely make out his voice at first.
“Kat? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “But Grayson… I need you to come to Limbo.”
“Why?”
“It’s Helena.”
He doesn’t ask any questions, but I hear him swear under his breath. “I’m on my way.”
I click off.
Harper is staring at me, brows raised.
“He’s coming.”
“Oh goodie. I’m sure the playboy idiot will know exactly how to deal with Helena Over the Cuckoo’s Nest Putnam.”
I look back at the cuckoo-bird in question. She hasn’t moved an inch. Swaying on her heels, the former model is transfixed by her own reflection, seemingly unable to look away from the sight of tears tracking down her beautiful face, leaving trails of watery mascara on each cheek before dripping into the sink. She isn’t making a sound, but I see her lips mouthing the same words over and over again, like a prayer. A chill of foreboding goes down my spine.
You’ll be sorry. You’ll be sorry. You’ll be sorry.
Grayson shows up within fifteen minutes, so he must’ve been close by when he got the call. He’s not alone when he steps inside the women’s restroom — he’s got an entourage of three heavily-muscled security guys who don’t do much besides grunt. Their taciturnity is balanced out by the last member of the group to step into the room, who I know from experience never, ever shuts up.
Ryder Woods.
“Kit-Kat!” the musician yells as soon as he spots me, sweeping me into a hug. “You look fucking gorgeous!”
I pat him awkwardly on the back. “Hi Ryder. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”
“Remember you? I friggen love you! You bought me a cheeseburger at three in the morning. You saved me from a bar fight. Face the facts — we bonded, babe. No going back now.” He shakes my shoulders so hard, Masters takes a warning step in our direction. Ryder pays him no attention. “How the hell have you been?”
“Can’t complain.” I laugh, staring into Ryder’s unique eyes. One blue, one brown, both currently constricted to pinpricks, suggesting he’s been partaking in more than just alcohol tonight. Unsurprising — the first time I met him, he was snorting lines of cocaine off a table at Balthazar, the club where I used to work. “How about you?”
“Been busy, babe. Did you know I’m recording a single for the Uncharted soundtrack? It’s total shit, of course. I didn’t write it, some studio-approved lyricist sent it over. I wouldn’t be doing it at all, if not for my boy.” He nods in Grayson’s direction.
I follow his gaze to my co-star and find he’s hovering a few feet away, his eyes on Helena, who we finally got to settle down on one of the plush chairs by the bank of mirrors a few moments before they arrived. Still lost in a stupor, her eyes are open but unseeing.
Grayson’s gaze flickers to mine when he feels the weight of my stare.
“Hey,” he says, lips tugging into a half smile.
“Hey.” I take a breath. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t know what else to do with her… I didn’t know who else to call…”
“I’m glad you called me. We’ll take care of her.” He looks back at Helena, takes a deep breath, and crosses to kneel in front of her. She flinches when he puts his hands on her kneecaps, stroking her soothingly through the fabric of her leather pants like you might a skittish horse. “Hey. Helena. It’s Grayson.” He shakes her lightly. “Helena, can you hear me?”
She lifts her limp head at the sound of his voice. Her eyes seem to regain some of their focus.
“Grayson?” She sounds like a lost little girl, woken from a bad dream in the middle of the night.
“Yeah.” Grayson expels a sharp breath. “It’s me.”
“You came.” She smiles, still crying. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
“I knew you’d come for me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, looking distressed.
Ryder nudges me. “She isn’t looking great.”
“No.” I clear my throat. “She isn’t.”
“She should go to the hospital.” Masters insists, not for the first time. “She’s having some kind of psychological episode. She’s too fragile to go home alone.”
“I agree,” Harper chimes in, folding her arms across her chest.
“Then I’ll take her home with me,” Grayson says flatly.
“Grayson—” I start.
“I’m not locking her up again.” Grayson is on his feet, his hand wrapped around Helena’s arm to keep her upright. She’s swaying, but standing. Barely. “Last time, they just pumped her full of drugs and kept her sedated until she finally worked up enough strength to check herself out. It’s no wonder that didn’t help her. It’s no wonder she’s right back where she started.”
“Grayson…” I trail off. “Look at her.”
Helena has stopped crying. Her empty eyes are fixed on Grayson’s face with a reverence that worries me.
“She needs help. More help than any of us know how to give her.” I’m starting to regret my decision to call him. “You’re too close to this situation — you aren’t thinking clearly. If I’d known this was your solution, I would’ve called the paramedics straightaway. I only wanted you to help me get her out of here without too much fanfare, get her to someone who can actually help her…”
His eyes, so green it almost hurts to look into them, hold mine. His jaw clenches so tight, he can barely get the words out. “Don’t you understand? I did this to her. I did this. It’s my responsibility to fix it.”
“Grayson,” I gasp softly. “That’s crazy.”
“She’s right, man,” Ryder says, nodding in agreement. “You’ve got things twisted.”
“She was fine, when I first met her. Normal. But then, when we got involved… I broke things off before they could get serious… and she couldn’t handle it. She got violent on set. Throwing things, trashing her dressing room, fighting with Sloan every step of the way, showing up drunk for line-readings. She lost the part in the movie because she couldn’t work with me anymore…” Grayson’s face darkens. “It was my fault. It’s my fault she’s like this. It’s my job to make it right.”
I stare at him, and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time. For months, I’ve been caught up in thinking that I fell for this man because of his looks and his charm and his undeniable sex appeal. But in this moment, I realize I was entirely wrong. I fell for Grayson Dunn because he’s me. The boy with the whole world at his feet, who can’t see it because he’s so consumed by the cloud of self-doubt swirling directly overhead. Thinking he’s toxic to anyone who comes near.
My broken soul mirrors his. A kindred mess in the making. We are nothing more than two drowning fools who found each other in the depths — clutching desperately for survival and unintentionally winding up even deeper beneath the surface. Each dragging the other down until water filled both our lungs and we sank like stones into the abyss.
Not love. Not fate.
Recognition.
Understanding jolts through me. Suddenly, I know how to handle this — how to handle him. It’s like talking to myself in the mirror.
I step closer to him and wait until his eyes meet mine. Even from five feet away, I can see the shadow of guilt and self-loathing swallowing him up inside. I can’t believe I never noticed it before.
“Grayson. Think about it. She chose to get involved with you. She chose to start a relationship with a co-star. She knew it might turn out poorly. She knew what she was getting into.” I take another step. “You didn’t take advantage of her. You didn’t force her to quit the movie. Again — that was her choice. There’s no way you could’ve known she’d…” I trail off vaguely, not wanting to say what we’re all thinking.
No way you could’ve known she’d go crazy.
“There are normal responses when a messy romantic entanglement ends — drink a bottle of wine, eat a gallon of ice cream, have a one-night stand. Everyone has their own way of dealing with heartbreak. But this…” I glance at Helena. Her eyes stare straight through me. “This is not normal. Things like this don’t just happen without a predisposition. You didn’t do this to her, Grayson. Whatever Helena is going through right now… my guess is, it’s been coming on for a long time. Brewing below the surface. Waiting for the right set of circumstances to bring it to the light.” I take another step, close my hand over his, and slowly unwind his fingers from her arm. “You didn’t do this. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault.”
He’s a statue.
“Grayson — look at me.”
He does and, in that moment, he’s like a little boy who’s broken his favorite toy. Sad and small and full of regret.
I squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault.”
His jaw clenches even tighter. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even acknowledge I’ve spoken, but he does step aside to let me take his place supporting Helena.
I glance at the team of silent bodyguards.
“I’m going to need one of you to carry her out, one of you to make sure we’ve got a clear path out of here, and someone else to pull whatever car you’re driving into the side alley. We’ll walk her through the kitchen exits, get her into the backseat, and take her to a private doctor. Somewhere discreet, that’s accustomed to treating high profile patients.”
The three of them nod in tandem. I heave in a breath of relief as I pass Helena over to the nearest guard. She’s a rag doll in his arms.
“Harper, I need you to talk to the manager. Make sure it’s okay for us to use the kitchen exit.”
“Will do,” she says.
“Ryder…” My voice drops lower. “Stay with Grayson. Make sure he’s all right.”
The musician winks at me, which I take as a sign of agreement.
“Masters, can you handle the paparazzi?”
He nods.
“Great.” I look around the bathroom and find every single person — with the exception of Helena — is staring at me. “What are you all looking at? We don’t have all night. Move.”
Grayson’s security team jolts into motion like I’ve fired a gun at the beginning of a race.
Harper smirks.
Masters flat-out grins at me.
It’s Ryder, who breaks the silence though.
“Called it the first time I met you, Kit-Kat.” His mismatched eyes gleam. “Badass.”
Nine
“This is why I have trust issues.”
- A girl realizing her shampoo will never make her look like the model in the advertisements.
With the help of the Limbo night manager and kitchen staff, we manage to get Helena out of the club and into the car without any paparazzi taking notice. Grayson and Ryder pile in after her.
“There’s a wellness recovery center in Palm Springs.” Grayson’s eyes meet mine. “I’ll take her there, stay a while to make sure she gets settled in.”
I nod. “The press tour doesn’t start up again for a few more days, but if you need more time… just call. I’ll explain it to Sloan. Hell, I’ll do the interviews alone if I have to. I think I’m finally getting the hang of them — there’s a decent chance I might actually make it through one without saying something inappropriate or idiotic.”
“Kat…” Grayson’s throat works. “I don’t know what to say…”
“You don’t have to say anything.” I shrug.
“You hate me most of the time,” he murmurs. “And yet, you’re basically the best friend I have. Is that sad?”
“A little.” A hint of a grin tugs at my lips. “I don’t know… We tried being enemies. It didn’t really work out. Maybe that means we have to be friends.”
A strange look creeps into his eyes. “Maybe. Happy New Year, Kat.”
“You too, Grayson.”
“What am I, chopped liver?” a peeved voice calls from inside the car.
I roll my eyes. “Happy New Year, Ryder.”
“Back atcha, Kit-Kat.”
I close the car door with a click and watch them drive off. A wave of exhaustion hits me, hard.
Turning to Harper, I grimace. “Listen, I know you wanted to go dancing, but…”
She waves my words away, linking her arm with mine. “Let’s go back to your place. I’m thinking… we get into pjs, eat ice cream straight from the carton, and put on a rom-com we’ve seen a zillion times?”
“Sounds like perfection.”
And it is.
Maybe twenty-two year olds are supposed to be out dancing till dawn, downing shots of tequila, and making questionable life choices… but I must say, I’m happy to be flouting convention, at least for tonight. After Masters drops us at my place, we make sundaes and serenade each other to old Whitney Houston songs in our pajamas, eventually collapsing onto my couch with our hairbrush-microphones abandoned at our feet.
“It’s been way too long since we did this.”
“Agreed.” She sighs. “It’s been way too long since you’ve been able to do this. For a while there, I was worried you’d never laugh with me again.”
My mouth flattens. “I’m sorry.”
“No! Honey, no, I don’t want you to apologize. You were heartbroken. You were going through something. It was just really hard for me, as your best friend, to have to watch from the sidelines while you worked your way through it. I knew there was nothing I could do to help, but that doesn’t mean it was easy for me to watch you struggle.”
“You did help, though. You were here, every day. You helped me pick out every piece of furniture in this house. Hell, you helped me pick out the house, too. And the car in my driveway, and every article of clothing in my closet. That was enough. That was everything.”
Her eyes are watering. “Love you, you big slut.”
“Love you too, you abominable whore.”
“I have to say…” she murmurs after a while. “Grayson surprised me tonight.”
“How so?”
She shrugs. “He really came through for Helena. Granted, his chivalry was a side-effect of being such an asshole and breaking the poor girl’s heart in the first place, but still. Maybe he’s changing.”
“Maybe.”
“Would it matter?”
My eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“If he could be different. If he could step up — commit to you. Actually be your boyfriend. Not as an act for the interviews… for real.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
“But if it did,” she pesters. “Humor me. Would you want him?”
I’m quiet for a long while. “I think… if you’d asked me a month ago, I would’ve said yes. But now…”
“Things have changed,” she murmurs. “You’ve changed.”
I nod. “It’s more than just that, though.”
“Okay, what else?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I have a very high IQ.” Her eyes roll. “Explain it to me.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “On the surface, Grayson is light. He’s fun. He’s the good time guy — always down to party, always traveling, always working on a new movie. He’s got women throwing themselves at him in every city in the world. He’s got the swagger of a man who’s insanely good looking and fully aware of it. And I admit, I’m not totally immune to that.”
“You’d have to be a robot to be immune to that.” Harper smirks. “Plus, there’s the small fact that you were starring in an insanely romantic movie with him, falling in love on camera, in possibly the most beautiful place on the planet.” Her head tilts. “Probably didn’t help the whole resisting temptation thing…”
