“Don’t talk to me for a week, will ya?” I slammed the door shut and tossed my purse on the chair. My head was full of cotton. My lips, still numb from the failed kiss, quivered. Flames of anger danced inside my stomach.
Kicking off my booties, I scrambled for my phone and hid in the bathroom. The ache swirling deep in my chest pushed and pulled, threatening to crack my ribs open. My pulse roared. Back against the cold tiled wall, I dialed Frank’s number and waited.
Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice message system recording…
The line beeped.
“You know what, Frank?” I began, my voice slurring and stuttering. “I hate you. I hate you for all the broken promises. I really thought you were different. I thought you understood what I was and what this project meant for me and for all the people involved when you agreed to be part of it, but you’re just like everyone else. Just another ignorant and selfish asshole who hides behind his money, who’d rather crawl back into his hole and watch the world and people in it go down in flames.” My throat was tight with worry. Tears swelled in my eyes. “I hate you because you won’t let me move on. You let me down and I’m all alone sorting through your shit. I wish I’d never met you. I wish I’d never known you, because I can’t fucking unlove you. I can’t fucking get you out of my head and it’s driving me nuts. It’s suffocating me. But I suppose you know a thing or two about that since my goodness is too much for you. Since you’d rather wallow in self-pity and let the alcohol numb the pain. I wish you’d seen it through. I wish you’d understood you’d been given a second chance for a reason. I wish you’d let go of the past and let music take you on a new journey. I wish you’d accepted your failures and moved on.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks. My sobs muffled my speech. “I wish you’d let me be there for you instead of pushing me away. I wish you’d kept your promises. I wish you’d loved me back at least a little bit. At least for a second… I gave you my heart. I gave up everything I had for you—my career, my sleep, my sanity, my reputation, my privacy. And you know what you gave me? Memories that hurt and bruises to my soul. I don’t know how to stop thinking of you, how to stop worrying about you, and how to stop loving you. And I hate you for that. For making me love you so much.” My lungs were out of air. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the blurred screen. There were more words, but they felt like an afterthought. Everything that I wanted and needed to say had been said.
So I hung up.
I woke up late with a mean hangover and it took me a good minute to will my eyes to open. Ashton had gone to school and the apartment felt abnormally silent. I slid from the bed and wandered around in search of my phone. Vague memories of the overly emotional voicemail I left for Frank after the unsuccessful date with my tattoo artist swarmed in my head.
Melodramatic seemed like a good word to describe yesterday’s verbal diarrhea. One more reason to stay away from drinks. They made me absolutely irrational.
My phone was still in the bathroom. It sat on the counter, battery low, screen full of notifications. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t going to find any messages from Frank. We were past the point of no return. It’d been over a month since he’d disappeared. Yet I still looked. I skimmed through all my texts and all my inboxes. I even listened to all my voicemails. Most were from reporters wanting to talk about Frank. A couple wanted to speak about Dante. His exit from the band was still the hottest topic in music. And then there was one from a person I didn’t expect.
Hi, Cassy. This is Margerie Helm. I’m writing to see if you’re still looking for a venue. I understand you might be hesitant to reach out to me since my initial reaction to certain events that were publicized online was very strong and I decided not to move forward with our arrangement; however, I’ve had a conversation with a friend of yours who wishes to stay anonymous at this time and some things that were brought to my attention during our chat made me reconsider my decision. So I’d like to meet Isabella. I’ll be at the theater all day tomorrow and Thursday. Give me a call back when you can.
Chapter Twelve
I adored April. Mornings were fresh. Evenings were crisp. It was the perfect month and we had the perfect venue, the beautiful Melrose Cinema that sat on the corner of Doheny and San Vicente, at the far end of the infamous half-mile-long stretch known as the Sunset Strip.
Matters of my ruptured heart had to be put on hold.
Margerie Helm had never revealed the name of the person who’d reached out to her, but all signs pointed to Frank.
Almost three months later, he was still off the grid. Silent and invisible like a drop in the ocean while his million-dollar empire was being torn apart, trashed, and tarnished.
The worst comeback of all time. That was how the newly postponed Hall Affinity World Tour was dubbed by the press. The label’s attempt to replace Dante after his sudden exit was met with a huge backlash from disgruntled fans. Nobody wanted to see Marshall Burns and a random guitarist doing karaoke.
Without the Toxic Twins 2.0, Hall Affinity was just another nostalgia band. A piece of history. A bundle of memories. Memories I had to let go of to make more room for the new ones. Without Frank.
Maybe it was my psychotic voicemail that had kicked his conscience into gear or maybe it was his desire to simply correct some of his mistakes before moving on to a new chapter of his life. All that mattered in the end was that we had everything we needed to make a big splash in the industry with Dreamcatchers. Even without Frank’s name on the banners, we were everywhere. On every website and in every inbox. An unstoppable force.
Sleep wasn’t my friend the night before the screening. My head spun in dozens of different directions, like a broken carousel at a deserted amusement park. My brain obsessed over every little detail. After endless hours of tossing, turning, and staring at the ceiling, I gave up. The first rays of light had already sneaked into my room through the opening between the curtains. Trying to chase a sliver of sleep while the rest of the city was waking up seemed pointless.
In the living room, Ashton was snoring up a storm as I tiptoed to the kitchen to make coffee. Nothing bothered my brother, not even the close proximity of technology. He slept with his laptop near and his phone clutched in his hand. It was equally disturbing and endearing.
I spent the first half of the morning consuming caffeine while responding to urgent emails and working on Dreamcatcher’s social media posts. My personal accounts were still set to private, but the number of weird messages and follow requests from people I didn’t know had been declining steadily.
My short-lived affair with Frank was becoming a thing of the past. Finally!
At nine thirty, I marched back into the living room to wake up Ashton.
“Rise and shine, brother!” The teddy bear in the corner was grinning as always. “Big day today. Gotta go save the world.”
“Already?” I heard a groan and saw his chips and guacamole socks hanging off the end of the couch, which made me question us being related again. I didn’t understand how a person this long could have come out of someone as small as my mother.
“Yep. We’re leaving in an hour. I’m taking a shower first.”