Exit Stage Left Page 15

She’s been hurt, bleeding, dying even.

  Waiting for me to come home and rescue her.

  My phone is already out, 9-1-1 tapped in, thumb hovering over send, the raised voices growing in volume as I burst through and into the apartment. My purse rises in my free hand like a weapon. Ready to whack her attacker and make him wish he’d never been born.

  I stop, stare, my heart crashing to the floor along with my bag as it slips from my numb fingers. My father spins away from where he stands, halting in mid-shout at Aunt Vonda, to face me, fury written all over him.

  “Riley James,” he snarls. “You’re coming with me.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Five

  I can’t respond. What can I say? My denial rips through me in a physical rush, like a response to a blow. Dad starts toward me, only to have Aunt Vonda grab his arm, stop him.

  “You leave her be,” she says, angry and shaking. “You hear me Richard? You leave that girl alone.”

  Dad pulls free of her. “I’m doing nothing of the sort,” he snaps. “I’ve had enough of this foolishness.” He meets my eyes, his burning with rage. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Out.” Is he serious? He can’t be serious. This, this isn’t real. I’m imagining it, digging up my worst nightmare possible. I just need to shut off my fantasy and he’ll vanish.

  Only he doesn’t and my response just fuels his anger. I might as well have lit a match under Dad’s last firework. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me.” His voice roars through the kitchen as my knees quiver and my stomach joins my heart at my feet. “I asked you a question.”

  “I was with Miller.” I’m not thinking straight. I need to get out of here, away from his yelling, his old hate. He makes me nervous when he yells at me, though he’s never hit me. I just despise it, how small and pathetic I feel. I lose me in his words and forget where I am, who I am.

  “Who is Miller?” Dad advances another step, Aunt Vonda clinging to him again. I back up, scrambling on my heels, fear surging.

  “My friend.” What is he looking for? Why is he here? I’m a grown woman, he can’t control me. And yet, here he stands, thinking he can. “I was cast in my first show tonight and we were celebrating.” He has to be proud of me, but I know he’s not. This is the worst possible news I could hand my dad.

  He spins on Aunt Vonda, her pale face still furious to match his own rage. “You were supposed to be taking care of her,” he’s still yelling. I can only imagine the neighbors are calling the cops by now, “not letting her run around with losers like some theater tramp.”

  I gasp, free hand rising to my chest, the other weighed down with my phone still ready to dial emergency. It’s just a slim piece of plastic and glass, but it feels like I’m holding up a ton of bricks. Did my father just call me a—

  Vonda slaps Dad, so hard his head snaps to the side. She’s not nearly his height and he looms over her with his fireman’s bulk, but she doesn’t look even a hint afraid of him as the sound of the blow rings in the suddenly silent kitchen.

  “Don’t you ever,” she snarls at him. “Riley is not Marie.”

  I snapped earlier, on stage, out of the control Bianca held over me. This time when I feel myself crack open, it’s to the sound of my mother’s name.

  “Liar!” I rush at him with my old fear burned away, anger flaring in its stead. I hit him myself, punch him in the chest as he turns toward me, dodge him when he tries to grab me. “You asshole. Mom didn’t die in an accident. She was leaving you, you fucking coward.”

  I see his own hand rise, Aunt Vonda grabbing for his arm even as I face him, jaw out, daring him to do it. “Hit me,” I snarl in his face, “and you will never, ever see me again.”

  Like that’s much of a threat. He doesn’t give a shit about me anyway. And yet, as I speak, Dad’s face drains of color, his hand dropping as he steps back from me, fear in his own eyes. But not of me. I think he finally scared himself.

  “No wonder Mom wanted to leave you.” I can’t pull back. I’m on the attack now, hating him, all of the old bitterness fed by my new knowledge and the power to finally stand up to him this way. “You controlling bastard. You didn’t want her to be happy. Just like you don’t want me to be happy. Well guess what.” I step away from him as his anger begins to return, though only a fraction of what I’ve just faced down. “I’m twenty-one, Dad. You have no say in my life. And you had no say in hers, either.”

  He stands with his shoulders hunched, his brow furrowed, hurt in his eyes. But he doesn’t speak. Aunt Vonda turns to me, reaches for me, but I step away from her, backing toward the door as she starts to cry.

  “Fuck you, Dad,” I say. Turn and leave, slamming the door behind me.

  The old me would have paused to sob. The new me is so furious I can barely contain it. And can think of only one person I want to be with right now.

  I stomp my way back to Miller’s, knowing it’s stupid and dangerous. Walking alone at this time of night is the dumbest ass thing I can possibly do. But my purse and my money are both on the floor at Aunt Vonda’s and I’m not going back. I must have my bitch face on firmly enough no one dares approach me because it’s short order before I’m pounding on the key to the elevator and stomping inside.

  I shiver for a moment, alone and still angry, as the elevator carries me to Miller. I need to let this out, know he’ll help me do it. Maybe I just need to fuck him and release this energy before I can think rationally.

  The loft door is open as usual, though most of the crew is asleep already. I catch Ruben sitting up, eyes watching me as I cross toward Miller’s room. He looks like he wants to speak, but doesn’t. I wave a little, forget about him. Whatever his problem with me, I couldn’t care less.

  I’m here to see Miller.

  He’s probably asleep, too. It’s not really fair to dump this on him, I know that, but I have nowhere else to go and he loves me. I just need his arms around me so I can shake off the anger, the fight, my hurt and find new ways to be the new me.

  My hand is on the knob when I hear voices on the other side of the door. I frown, though my fingers are already turning, easing the entry to his bedroom open. My eyes lift to the pair in the room, the faint light of the bedside lamp casting shadows over Miller’s naked torso where he sits on the end of the bed.

  But fully lighting Bianca’s naked body.

  I can’t move, held frozen as I was in the audition. I watch as she bends and kisses him.

  And Miller… kisses her back.

  Before she even turns to look at me, I can see her smirk, hear her laughing in my head, knowing she’s made a fool of me as much as he has. This is some sick game they’ve contrived to make me think I can be an actor. They must be planning some huge crash and burn, a tag team of soul slayers.

  She’s the first to meet my eyes, blue flashing with contempt. “Hello, Riley,” she says. “Back to sleep with my boyfriend again?”

  Her boyfriend.

  Miller’s head whips around as he gapes at me, standing abruptly, pushing her away.

  “Riley!” My name is a cry of pain as he turns from Bianca. Her hands grab him, pull him back, she’s laughing.

  “It’s all right, lover,” she says. “You can drop the act.” Winks at me. “Time for Riley to know the truth about us.”

  I finally break free, back away from the door, heart shattering into a million pieces. Miller turns and roars at Bianca before spinning back to me. “Riley, no!”

  I hear him yelling at her, but not the words he’s using, because suddenly he’s my Dad and Bianca is my mother and I can’t make my lungs work. I spin, staggering for the door, hand pounding on the elevator buttons as I hear him racing out of the bedroom, calling my name, Bianca saying something, Aleah, too, in a sleepy, anxious voice. But the doors are open and I fall through, hitting the close button so hard they slide shut on Miller’s panicked face.

  This time I do sob, hands over my wide-open mouth as I run from what I’ve just seen, wit
h nowhere to go and my soul burned to ash as I crash out the door and stumble into the street.

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Six

  I trip my way down into the underground, fingers fumbling for a token I keep tucked in my phone case for emergencies as I lunge through the turnstile and into the tunnel. The subway arrives, only a few of us boarding. I find a seat in the far end of the car, huddle with my cheek pressed against the window and allow my tears to leak endlessly from my eyes.

  I now know why Ruben looked like he wanted to say something. Probably not to warn me. Maybe to call out to Bianca that the show was over. I trusted Miller, believed in him. But he was with her all along.

  Didn’t he say they knew each other since he was a teenager? Sure, he denied they were a couple, but wait, no. He didn’t. Specifically said he wouldn’t deny it. Just said she was a master manipulator.

  He. Never. Denied. It.

  They had to have been together since they were young. How many other stupid girls had they played this game with? And was Aleah in on it? She had to be.

  My friends were all liars. Just like my father.

  That hurt, hurt a lot. Though as the long night on the subway passed into early morning, the first commuters ignoring me as they went about their busy days, my mind began to doubt. Maybe I misunderstood the situation?

  But Bianca was naked.

  No, wait. Maybe she was seducing him and he didn’t want her to.

  But he was sitting there, hands on her waist, in his underwear. In his room. Where we just made love.

  I couldn’t reconcile the fact he didn’t seem to mind she was there. Or that when she bent toward him, his lips met hers.

  Every scenario I pictured led back to exactly what Bianca said. That he was hers and they’d played me.

  Whispers of doubt still rippled. After all, she’d done her best to ruin me so far. Surely she wouldn’t hesitate to stoop to this, to some deception.

  But they were together. And he was holding her waist with his hands. Her naked waist while she smiled down at him.

  And he kissed her.

  So much for love. Though I now cling to Ian’s memory tighter than ever as I finally stand and make my way to the stop, get off ten blocks from Aunt Vonda’s. But when I try to call up my dead love’s shadow to walk beside me, I find myself alone.

  He’s gone and I can’t seem to bring him back.

  I need to walk then, to gulp fresh air and convince myself I’ll always have Ian, no matter my present struggle with my imagination. I’ll go back to the apartment. Climb into bed with my laptop and watch movies of us together until he returns. Until it’s easy to roll on my side and imagine I feel him tucking in behind me.

  When I emerge onto the street, the first thing I see a marquis for a small theater. Bianca’s theater, her name written there.

  And my soul shrivels the rest of the way to nothing.

  I can’t do this. I was wrong. They were just trying to hurt me. Dae had to be in on it, too, lied to me... but, no. She was genuinely excited. So maybe I can act.

  I stop on the street, anger appearing at last. I won’t let this ruin me. I may not be tough enough to keep my tears inside, but wanting to act, trusting my talent, can be enough.

  Please, just let it be enough.

  My phone vibrates. I check it, see Miller has texted me at least twenty times, called me a dozen. I shut the thing off, clench my hand around it. He’s just going to explain this away, start the charade up again. And I’ll let him, I know I will, if I allow myself to listen.

  I still love him.

  I can’t let this happen.

  Aunt Vonda is behind the counter when I arrive at work, still in the clothes I wore last night. She hugs me, crying in front of customers and I pat her back, soothe her as best I can. She chases her customers out, turns the closed sign before dragging me into the back and sitting me down.

  I tell her what happened with Miller, sobbing again all over myself as she hands me a seemingly endless glob of fresh tissues, taking the old, snotty, soaking ones from me until my shoulders only heave occasionally and my hiccupping has dwindled. Aunt Vonda retrieves the last of the crumpled mess from me and dumps it in the overflowing trash.

  “Miller called,” she says, voice sad and low. “He told me what really happened.”

  I shake my head. “He told you what he wants you to know.” My heart has hardened against him, against Aleah, Piper. Bianca. “I’m an idiot.”

  Someone knocks on the door of the shop. Aunt Vonda tsks in frustration, looks out over my shoulder. Pales and smiles sadly at me.

  “You can be an idiot in person,” she says. “He’s here.”

  I’m already trembling. “What? Can’t you just send him away? I don't want to see him.”

  Aunt Vonda hesitates, then shakes her head. “I’ll do no such thing,” she says. Bends and kisses my forehead. “You have to face this, pet.” She isn’t taking no for an answer, I can tell. I know she's right. This is the new me. The strong me.

  I drag myself to the door. Open the lock, switch the sign. Miller walks in.

  He opens his mouth. I don't even think. I slap him across the face.

  I can’t help but draw a parallel between Dad last night and this act of violence toward Miller. But I’ve struck him before I can stop myself.

  “I saw you kiss her,” I say, voice calmer than I expect. “So don’t bother, Miller. Just don’t lie to me anymore.”

  His hurt and shock turn to his own anger. “You’re going to believe Bianca,” he says. “The last person you should trust.”

  I glare at him, temper flaring. “I know what I saw. Maybe she’s the only one who hasn’t been lying to me all along.”

  “If you really believe that,” he backs away, cheek red from my hand, “I think I made a huge mistake.”

  “Did you ever.” Trembling and furious, I spin around and march into the back.

  Where I cry for a little while longer.

  Aunt Vonda sends me home. I shower and change, collapsing on my bed. Toss fitfully in and out of sleep, nightmares of Bianca laughing at me jerking me awake. I can’t even bring myself to retreat in search of Ian. I feel like I’ve totally sullied our memories by giving to Miller what I only ever gave to Ian.

  My body. My heart.

  It takes everything I have to muster the power to go to rehearsal. But I need to go, I’ve committed to the show. At least I have this one joy left to me if Miller is gone.

  But as I enter the theater, see Dae speaking with some other actors, I feel my stomach sink. My fear of emptiness—not the good kind, but the flavor of emptiness sucking at my soul instead of making it grow—expands as I enter. Dae greets me with enthusiasm. I try to smile, dump my purse and carry my script to the stage. I think she can tell something is wrong, her excitement fading as I try so hard to shake off the hurt of last night and focus.

  I open my mouth. And trash comes out. Garbage, crass and worthless. Acting, not feeling, not a hint or a breath of my private joy present. It’s been crushed, destroyed with my heart. And I can only go through the motions while Dae scowls at me and I stumble through the words like an amateur.

  Like the loser small town Bianca says I am.

  Dae finally claps her hands, jerks my derailing train to an abrupt stop as I inwardly sob and rage at the unfairness of this. How I’ve allowed Miller and Bianca to take from me the last thing I love.

  “What the hell?” Dae stomps onto the stage, her anger crystal clear. “We have two weeks. I expect your best every time we rehearse.”

  I stare at her, mute. Not sure how to tell her I’m a failure after all.

  I spot Aleah over her shoulder, coming through the stage door and do the only thing I can. I bolt, running to my purse, hating I’m a coward, unable to stop myself as Aleah calls my name, Dae raging behind me in wordless fury.

  I stop on the street. Bow my head. And sigh out my sharp, painful disappointment.

  “You win,” I whisper to
Bianca’s smirk, hovering in my mind. “I quit.”

  Ian finally returns to me, though his dying face, his hunched body at the corner as I pass, isn’t helping me any.

  Aunt Vonda is home when I arrive, following me to my bedroom when I retreat there without a word.

  “You’re back early,” she says, worry in her voice as I reach into my closet and haul out the first suitcase. She cries out, rushes to me, but I shake her off gently and start packing.

  “Pet,” she says. “You can’t just leave.”

  I don’t answer her. Ignoring her pleas as she continues to try to talk me down. Her words are a jumbled mumble. I can’t make them out through the buzzing in my head, the endless flow of Bianca’s laughter.

  It doesn’t take me long to pack, the two suitcases, laptop bag and backpack all achingly familiar. Didn’t I just arrive? And now I’m leaving again. I turn to Aunt Vonda who’s fallen mute at the door, tears trickling down her face.

  “Thank you for everything.” I can’t bring myself to hug her as I lug the two heavy bags out the door by their handles, loaded down in a train of possessions and failure. “I’m going home.”

  Not to Dad. Never again. But Susan and Dwight, I know they will give me a place to stay, until I can figure out college. I’ve never wanted to do the student loan thing, but I guess I don’t have a choice now.

  I won’t put myself in a position to owe Dad anything.

  “What about the show?” Aunt Vonda’s voice is still full of tears.

  That makes me pause, regret so pointed I feel it jab me in what remains of my heart. I feel like crying again, though I feel I have no tears left at all.

  “I’m going to save up for college,” I say. “Be a good girl. And forget any of this happened.” Forget I let Bianca have her way. Allowed Miller to dirty my memories of Ian. My dream is as dead as my lost love and it’s time I chose to be practical.

  I hate Dad is right. I hate it so much.

  The elevator dumps me in the parking garage and it takes me a few grunting minutes to lug my stuff out into the cool air of the underground. My hands are full, maneuvering the two big bags on wheels behind me, shoulders aching from the weight of my purse, laptop and backpack as I roll toward my parking space.