Just because I’m living a life of misery, there’s no reason to drag them into that shit, plus there’s nothing they can do to help me out with that either.
Finishing my first beer, I don’t bother drinking the second. Making my way back to the bar, I pay Lucy-Dawn my tab and leave Pardners altogether. I could go down to Headlights and watch girls dance, but after Tulip worked there, it’s just not as fun as it used to be.
Feeling defeated as fuck, and more depressed than I should, I head back home. The roads are quiet and empty as they always are past dark around here. Gallup isn’t really known for its thriving nightlife.
Unable to stop myself, I do something that I always end up regretting, but I do it just the same, far more often than I’ll ever admit. I turn my truck toward a house that has been empty for years.
It doesn’t take me long to get there. Stopping across the street, I shift my truck into park and squeeze the steering wheel with my fingers, pinching my eyes closed before I turn my head.
Opening my eyes, I focus my gaze on the little house. It needed new paint about twenty years ago among a million other little things to the outside and a full overhaul inside. It never happened though, and now it sits empty.
Stevie LaRue’s parents’ place. I spent more time here growing up than I did my own house. The old porch swing is still intact and my eyes drift over to it. I can still see Stevie sitting in the corner, her feet pulled up and her cheek resting against her knees.
I had my first kiss on that porch swing. Confessed my love there the first time too. It’s where I proposed. Where every good moment in my life happened. It’s also where I stood the day after the wedding that never took place, and I begged Stevie’s parents to tell me where she was.
It’s where I lost my dignity and didn’t give a flying fuck where I cried and begged to see her. It’s also where they denied my every request, even months later. I didn’t just lose Stevie the day she walked away from me, I lost her entire family, too.
Anger boils beneath my skin’s surface. I shouldn’t be angry, not anymore, but I am. Starting the engine, I try to shake off the feelings of anger and betrayal as I head home, but it doesn’t work—it never does.
Stephanie, Stevie, Sterling, whatever the fuck she wants to call herself, she will always be there in my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of her, and that shit pisses me off more than anything. I wish she would just fucking disappear, but she’s goddamn everywhere.
Chapter Two
STEPHANIE
Opening my eyes, I reach for my phone as I roll over to my side. I’m not surprised to see that there are dozens of new notifications.
I have text messages from my assistant, publicist, agent, and even a couple from the casting director of this trilogy film I’ve been in. We have already filmed the first two movies and I’m waiting on news for the third to begin.
Opening my assistant’s text first, I frown at the message that he’s sent me.
It simply states.
CALL ME.
He never asks me to call him. He’s definitely someone who prefers texting over actual interaction, which works for me because I get enough phone calls on a daily basis that it’s kind of refreshing.
“What’s wrong?” I ask before he can even say hello.
He doesn’t laugh, instead he lets out a long sigh. “We have a problem.”
“What?” I exhale.
There’s a moment of silence and if I could choke Damion through the phone right now, I would. He hums, then sucks in a breath before he releases it.
“Someone uploaded something, and it’s going to come out tomorrow. A couple of news sources are already getting into a bidding war over it.”
Not many people know, but in the industry, there is a place where paparazzi load their ridiculous pictures and videos. News, I use that term loosely, sources buy the images or videos and release them to the public. It’s one of the many things that I’ve grown to hate about the industry.
“So, it’s going live tomorrow?”
“First thing,” Damion says.
“What is it?”
He lets out a sigh. “Apparently, America’s Sweetheart isn’t so sweet,” he mumbles. “It’s pictures of you and Sebastian, together.”
Inwardly, I groan. They had to have been taken before my father’s death, before his funeral. Why would they sit on something for that long? It’s been weeks. I haven’t even spoken to Sebastian in almost a month, let alone slept with him.
“Great,” I quip. “Can we stop this somehow?”
He hums. “Maybe Grace can?” he asks, speaking of my publicist. “But I think this one is already a done deal, babe.”
“Great.”
Scandal.
Pretty much everyone in Hollywood has at one time or another some type of personal scandal splashed all over the tabloids. It’s just part of the gig. You have to take the good with the bad and this is bad right now—all of it.
“Send me screenshots, I’ll call Grace,” I sigh as I sit up.
“I didn’t want to bother you with any of this, I know that you’re taking a bit of a break. Are you sure you don’t want me to come down there? Help you out?”
I think about having Damion here in Gallup with me. I love Damion, but I’m not sure the small town of Gallup will ever be ready for him. He’s gorgeous, like model beautiful. He also dresses like a model and is more feminine than I am.
He wears makeup every day and while it doesn’t bother me in the slightest, this is rural Texas and if this town hasn’t changed even an ounce, I have a feeling the people haven’t either. They haven’t been known for their open-mindedness in the past.
“I’m sure. I need to do this on my own,” I say softly.
“You don’t need to, you want to,” he snaps.
Licking my lips, I lift my eyes to the ceiling. “Maybe it’s a little bit of both. I haven’t been back here since I ran away. I need to face my past. I need to figure out why nothing works inside of me.”
“Do you mean why things didn’t work out with self-absorbed Sebastian? Girlie, that had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with him being a flaming pile of shit,” he snaps.
Pinching my eyes closed, I try not to laugh at Damion’s words. Sebastian kind of is a flaming pile of shit. He’s extremely self-absorbed, but we could have worked. If I could have been better, been open like he said.
“I should have been more for him. I couldn’t open up to him and it drove him away.”
“Into another woman’s vagina? Don’t even.” I open my mouth to say something else, but he continues. “You were good to that man. I saw you together, often. He didn’t look at you like he adored everything about you. Like a man should look at the person he loves. He looked at you like he was fucking bored.”
“Maybe I’m boring?”
Damion gasps. “Shut your mouth right this second. You are not boring. You’re the sweetest woman I know, but you’re definitely not boring. Besides, I saw him in his skinny jeans, I think maybe he’s the one who was boring.”