Hooked (7 page)

A black cloud of misery settles over me somewhere between Brandon’s house and the airport. I let myself sink into the sadness, not even trying to give myself a pep talk or some positive thinking mumbo jumbo.

It’s nearly midnight when I land in Seattle. I pull out my cell phone and start to text Ashley but then decide against it. I delete the message and put the phone back in my pocket.

If I tell her I’m here and heading to her house it will only bring up questions and I’m too tired and emotionally drained to even begin to explain what happened.

It doesn’t seem possible to untangle the mess of emotions that are tightly wrapped around me. Especially not through a series of text messages.

I get a rental car and start driving to Ashley’s house. On the long drive there, I blast the radio, trying to drown out my thoughts before they drown me.

An hour later I pull up outside Ashley’s house. Even though it’s one in the morning, the light in the living room is still turned on. I smile as I picture her bent over her worktable, sketching.

Before getting out of the car I call Brandon, as promised, to tell him I arrived safely. He doesn’t answer the phone. I call back again and still get his voicemail. I leave a short message and hang up.

I take a deep breath and exit the car. I leave my bags and go up to the front door. I ring the bell and then take a step back, wondering how she will react at seeing me here, unannounced.

“Charity? What are you doing here?” Ashley says as she flings open the door.

As soon as I see her I lose all control and start sobbing. A look of panic flashes on Ashley’s face. She wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me inside the house.

She leads me to the living room and pushes a pile of clothing off the side of the couch to clear a space for me. I plop down and lean back into the full cushions.

“What happened?” Ashley repeats, sitting across from me on the ottoman.

“Ugh, Ash, it’s such a mess,” I say, laying my head back.

“Wasn’t tonight the banquet?” she asks as she takes a moment to glance over my appearance. I tried my best to fix myself up a little at the airport, but I know I probably still look ridiculous. My makeup is heavy and smudged, and I look like I have two black eyes.

I nod and let out a sigh that ends up sounding more like a groan.

As if reading my mind she rises from her seat. “Let me get you some blankets. We can sort everything out in the morning.”

“Thank you,” I answer, sinking low onto the couch, curling into a ball.

***

“All right sleeping beauty. Enough is enough. You gotta get up.”

“Ash,” I whine, before opening one eye. 

“I come bearing gifts,” she says, holding up a paper bag. I recognize the logo from the café I used to work at.

“I’m not hungry,” I say, burying my face into the pillow.

“When was the last time you ate?” Ashley asks, suspiciously.

“I don’t know. I think I had a baggie of peanuts on the plane last night.”

“Charity, come on, sit up,” she pleads. “Please eat something.”

I push myself up and sit cross-legged on the couch. I pull the bag towards me and peek inside to see a pile of pastries. I shake my head. “Ash, what are you trying to do? The tabloids already think I’m fat!” I say, pushing the bag away.

“What!” she screeches. “What are you talking about? Is that why you’re here?”

I shake my head. “No, well, not really.”

She plops on the ottoman again and grabs a scone from the bag and starts nibbling at the corners. “Then what happened yesterday? Did you and Brandon break up?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. I hang my head and rub at my temples, my head throbbing. “I just kind of snapped.”

“Snapped? Oh boy…”

In reality it has been less than twenty-four hours since I last spoke with Ashley, but with everything that has happened, it seems like a lot longer. I never told her how much the negative media attention shook me up. It’s hard to know where to start, as I replay the past days in my mind.

“Ok, let’s back up. Start at the beginning,” she instructs, before taking another bite of her scone.

It all pours out, every gory detail. The tabloid stories, the red carpet, the plastic surgery posse, and the out-of-control reporter. I finish with the argument I had with Brandon.

“Wow,” Ashley says when I stop to take a drink of coffee. “That’s a whole lotta crazy!”

“I don’t know what to do, Ash.” 

“What do you want?” she asks.

“Brandon,” I answer without missing a beat. “I want to be with Brandon.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I can’t just have Brandon. It’s not that simple anymore. It comes with all this other stuff that I can’t deal with—the lifestyle. It’s not like the fairy-tale story where we get married and have babies and make a life together. It’s photographers chasing you and plastering your picture all over the place and people lying and gossiping, waiting to throw you under the bus. I can’t live that way, and I certainly would not want to bring children into that.”

It all sounds logical as I lay out my argument, but each word feels like it is ripping another piece of my heart away.

Ashley is quiet. She bobs her head along as I speak and seems to understand, but the fact that she isn’t saying anything is a red flag to me.

“What?” I ask.

She does her best to give me her innocent “who me?” face.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I demand.

“I think you went through a lot in the last few days and you had a well-deserved freak-out. But I also think it would be a huge mistake to throw everything you have with Brandon away.”

I stare blankly at the coffee cup in front of me, not sure what the alternative is.

“I have to show you something,” Ashley says, suddenly popping up and crossing the room. I follow her with my eyes as she weaves around the furniture to snatch up her laptop from the dining room table. She sits back down and clicks away for a few minutes as my curiosity continues to grow. “Here,” she says, spinning the computer around to face me.

She has a video pulled up on the screen. It’s a video of Brandon. I recognize the suit he is wearing and realize it is video footage from the night before. He is giving an interview to someone before going inside the hotel.

“Where did you find this?” I ask, hesitating to click play.

“After you came here last night, I did a little digging to see if I could figure out what happened. I ran across this video and think you need to see it,” she explains. She reaches across and clicks play, before I can get out another word.

There are some rustling noises and then Brandon starts to speak. “It really is such an honor to be here tonight. It’s been a pretty wild ride since I came to LA and I’m thankful to so many people who put their faith in me and pushed me to get to where I am today. I just hope I can inspire other people to chase down their ambitions, whether that’s acting or something else entirely.”

I can’t hear the question the interviewer asks, but Brandon gives this amazing smile and then starts speaking again.

“Yes, I did bring someone special with me tonight. We’re trying to keep to ourselves, but I will tell you that she’s my best friend and the absolute love of my life.”

A lump forms in my throat and I feel tears start to prick at the corner of my eyes. “Why are you showing me this, it’s only making it worse!”

She pulls the computer away. “I thought you needed to hear what he had to say. It’s not easy, but he’s crazy about you, and I know you’re crazy about him too. You know that I’m not a huge believer in true love, but what you guys have…it’s worth fighting for.”

I nod. I know she’s right. I do want to be with Brandon, more than anything. I’ve been away from him for less than a day and I want nothing more than to go back and have him hold me again. It’s certainly not the easy road, but then again, love usually isn’t the easy road.

“I guess my stay is going to be a little shorter than I imagined,” I say with a smile.

A few hours later I touch down back at LAX. If nothing else, at least I’ll rack up a decent amount of frequent flier miles if I keep up this pace.

Before boarding I called Brandon’s cell phone but it went straight to voicemail. I have no idea where he is or what he is doing and the fact that I can’t get a hold of him is slightly unnerving. It puts my mind into overdrive, wondering what he is thinking and feeling now that a few days have passed since my epic meltdown.

I cruise on autopilot to get my luggage, and before I know it I’m sitting in a cab outside Brandon’s house. I hesitate for a minute with my hand on the strap of my bag and take a deep breath.

I use my house key to get inside. I expect to see LeeLee running to greet me, but it’s silent as I stand in the entryway. It’s almost six o’clock. It’s possible Brandon had some sort of work thing at the last minute, but it seems doubtful.

I leave my bags at the door and walk through the house, trying to see if I can find Brandon. I go through all the rooms calling for him and come back to the front of the house with the conclusion that he is gone.

With a sigh, I plop down at one of the kitchen table chairs and pull out my phone. No text messages and no missed calls. My finger lingers over Brandon’s number as I silently debate trying to call again. Before I push down the phone starts to buzz. Startled, I jump and drop the phone and it lands on the floor with a loud smack.

“Shit! Oh, please don’t be broken, please don’t be broken,” I plead as I scoop it off the floor. It’s still vibrating and I flip it over to see Brandon’s name on the screen.

“Brandon!” I exclaim as I answer the call. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Seattle. Where are you?” he answers.

“Seattle? I’m in LA. I’m at the house.”

He groans. “Okay, okay, stay there. I’ll turn around and get back on a flight.”

“I tried to call. It went to voicemail last night and today before I left,” I say.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t talk last night. I didn’t know what to say. And then, this afternoon, I must have been on the flight.”

“What are you doing in Seattle?” I ask.

“I had to see you. I had to tell you to come home.”

“I guess I’m one step ahead of you then,” I say with a smile.

“I guess so. Hang tight. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

We say good-bye and disconnect. I put the phone back on the table and set about passing the next few hours. I’m in the middle of unpacking my bag when I get a text with the flight time and number from Brandon.

I text him back asking where LeeLee is, he answers back with the name of a doggy daycare. I decide to go pick her up to pass time, all the while, mentally rehearsing what I need to tell Brandon when he gets home.

***

“Cherry, baby, wake up.”

I stir and open my eyes to see Brandon’s face hovering over mine. I try to sit up but am pinned down, and realize LeeLee is asleep on my chest. Brandon lifts her up and scoots her out of the way. I sit up and lean forward into Brandon as he wraps his arms around me.

“I missed you,” he whispers into my damp, tousled hair. I had taken a shower and put on one of Brandon’s shirts before lying down to rest my eyes. “I see you unpacked. Does that mean you’re staying?”

I nod. “I’m sorry. I never should have left.”

“It’s okay. I understand. That whole thing was a disaster,” he says, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “I’m just happy you’re back. You’re home.”

“I don’t know if this place will ever feel like my home, but what I’ve realized is that whenever I’m with you, I’m home.” I tip my head back and kiss him. It’s slow and intense and ends all too soon as Brandon pulls back.

“Well, on that note, I have something to show you,” he says. He pushes off the bed and leaves the room. He comes back a few minutes later with a folded piece of paper in his hands. He hands it to me silently and nods, indicating for me to open it.

I unfold the paper to see some sort of real estate listing. It is a gorgeous craftsman style home with a perfectly manicured lawn and big, mature oak trees. My eyebrows knit together as I scan the listing.

I land on the address—it’s in Seattle.

“Brandon, I don’t understand,” I start to say. My eyes fly from the paper to see him on the floor in front of me, down on one knee.

I’m speechless as I watch him pull a small box out of his pocket.

“I made a terrible mistake once and almost let the best thing that ever happened to me slip through my fingers. I’m not making that mistake again. I would happily trade all of this in as long as I have you. That’s our new house. I just closed on it yesterday. I don’t need the fame or the money. I just need you.”

He pauses and opens the small box to reveal the ring inside.

“Is that—?” My breath catches as I realize that he must have taken my original engagement ring and somehow fused the simple band with the new band holding a beautiful solitaire diamond.

He nods. “I know my life here is crazy, and I would give it all up in a heartbeat to be with you. You are my life. There are a lot of things up in the air right now, but I just have one very important question I need answered right now. Charity Lynn McAdams, will you marry me?”

“On one condition.”

“Anything,” he says instantly.

“You have to promise to show up this time,” I say, beaming.

“Nothing could keep me away.”