Broken Glamour Read online

  I nodded. I’d wanted out of rehab every second of every day that I’d been here. I needed to get my life on track. To get back to work. To get out into the world. I looked out the two-story windows, past the serenity zone, past the giant pool, past the walkways and the cliff that led to the view of the ocean beyond.

  “Man,” I said, “I am so ready to get out of this place.”

  Barrett’s eyebrows creased and he tilted his head. “Ryan, man, we’re always here for you. You got your meeting set up. Right?”

  “Yeah, a meeting every damn day,” I said. I clasped Barrett’s arm. “Good to know you’re here for me but, man, I won’t be coming back.” I walked down the sun-dappled hallway to my room. My packed bags were on the floor where I’d left them before I went to my meeting. I’d gotten my phone back last week and it lay on my nightstand.

  Dillon had texted that he was on the way to pick me up. Aside from Webber, Dillon was the only person who actually cared about me, and about what had happened to me. I’d managed to piss off and push away everyone else in my life. I did my steps. I made my amends, but my mom and my sister weren’t going down easy. They took my calls, but they definitely didn’t call me. I grabbed my bags and headed into the hall.

  “Hey, Ryan.” The soft smooth silky voice sounded like it should come from a much bigger woman than Carly. She was little, but built. Her brown eyes were wide-set and her dark hair was in a loose braid over one shoulder. She was a musician, a singer, and her voice contained a deep throaty sound. Two weeks after I got to Clarity, she’d plowed her car into a tree and chose rehab instead of jail.

  “You’re out?”

  “Yeah.”

  Carly stepped forward and tilted her head. She looked at me through those long lashes.

  A twinge of desire careened through my belly. She was hot and there was definite chemistry between us.

  “You have my numbers,” Carly said. “Make sure you call me.”

  Carly gave off that sexy bad-girl rocker vibe and there was a heat between us, but I wasn’t sure if we had this attraction because we both understood what the other was going through, or if it was truly a thing. In program they said not to get involved in a relationship the first year that you were clean.

  She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me. “You’ll do great,” she whispered in my ear. “I know it.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Uncertainty lit up my insides like a fireworks display. Would I do great or would I fall into a bottle of booze in an hour? Either way I was walking out that front door in a matter of minutes.

  Carly squeezed my hand. Her fingertips soft. “See you soon.” She turned down the hall heading to her individual therapy session. At Clarity they were big on individual therapy.

  I shivered. Culling through the worst bits of my life and me was not a job for wimps. My first individual therapy session on the outside was tomorrow at eleven a.m. The therapist had been chosen by me from a long list of individuals that Clarity had provided. That meeting would be followed by my AA meeting and my NA meeting.

  I walked outside and cool, fresh air blasted my face. The sharp clean smell of salt rode the breeze and freedom felt good.

  Chapter 4

  Amanda

  Alone, on the tarmac, with my two suitcases beside me, I waited. After tipping the driver, my wallet contained thirty-seven dollars and no valid credit cards. My phone showed the several messages to my father’s business manager had not yet been returned.

  There was no plane. Not in the hanger. Not on the tarmac. According to the guy in the small office nearby there was no plane scheduled for departure out of the private airport our family always used. I sucked in my cheeks and pursed my lips and tried to pull it together. The tears that bit the backs of my eyes would not fall.

  In less than forty-eight hours after her return to Los Angeles, Kiley had ended not only my L.A. lifestyle, but she’d also destroyed my New York dream.

  My phone rang, and I pulled it from my purse. I sucked in a deep breath of air and pressed the green button.

  “Amanda, my love, I hear a nasty little rumor that you are standing alone on a tarmac at the Santa Monica airport.”

  My heart thwapped against my chest and the maw in my belly widened. Kiley’s voice was filled with pure and utter glee. Glee over her revenge. Revenge that she was determined to mete out for my honesty.

  “Kiley, it’s lovely to hear your voice. I hope you enjoyed Tahiti.”

  “Ha! Nice try Amanda, but I know your tricks. I know that you are standing out there all alone, with your packed bags, and your empty wallet, and your worthless credit cards. And I know that you are about to cry. I know, Amanda, that you are scared.”

  My throat tightened. I choked back all the hurtful words I wanted to hurl at Kiley. Words that described so perfectly who she was, and what she had done, and what she was trying to do. I hoisted my bag higher onto my shoulder and pressed my eyes closed. I willed my voice not to shake, not to tremble.

  “Did Daddy take you to Au Piment Rouge while you were in Tahiti? It’s always been one of his favorites.”

  “You horrible little bitch.” Kiley's tone careened from glee to hate. “Your father is in the Amazon and I control all the money. Got it? All. The. Money. And you aren’t getting one more dime.”

  I pressed my fingertips to my lips. I had to find a way to get to New York, to keep my internship, to get the hell away from Kiley and out of L.A.

  “I warned you, Amanda, to keep your mouth closed and to walk away. If you had simply done what I asked you would be on our private jet right now winging your way to your fabulous New York life with your fabulous internship and living in Steve’s fabulous penthouse. But no, that is not what you did, so this is what you get, Amanda, for being honest. You get to be penniless and you get to be alone.”

  I was going to pay for telling the truth. Kiley would make sure of it—she already had. I looked around the small airport. I didn’t have a car. I didn’t have a place to go. I wasn’t certain that I even had enough money to get home.

  “Thank you for calling, Kiley. I’m so happy to hear you had fun and are back in L.A.”

  “Whatever, Amanda. You go ahead and stay tucked in your little bed of denial, but you won’t be able to deny much of anything once that little bit of cash in your wallet runs out. Then I’ll get to see those tears, won’t I? Those sad little tears when you come to your father’s house and beg for my forgiveness? Not certain yet what you’ll have to do to earn it, though. Maybe make you phone your father and tell him what a horrible jealous liar you are?”

  I pressed my lips closed. My forehead throbbed and my throat was tight.

  “Kiley, thank you for calling, let’s chat soon.” I pressed the off button. My hand shook as I pulled the phone from my ear. The tremble in my fingers slid from my hand and into my wrist. I placed my phone into my purse. The shakes wobbled through my body.

  I was alone. With nothing. No money. No credit cards. No job. No car. And, quite possibly, with no place to live.

  Ryan

  Dillon pulled his Escalade to a stop in front of Clarity. Lane and Dillon emerged from the SUV and Dillon put a protective arm around Lane’s shoulder. She tilted her head toward him and smiled. The smile she flashed at Dillon was the kind of smile that seemed to say "you are my world." What would it be like to have a girl smile at me like that? As if I’d ever find out. I could barely keep my own shit together. I didn’t have the goods to be in a relationship.

  “Ryan!” Lane bolted toward me and wrapped me in a hug.

  I totally understood why Dillon loved her. He didn’t love Lane simply because of her killer curves and gorgeous face. He loved Lane because she was sweet and kind and genuine. She was the type of girl who didn’t come along very often.

  “You look great!” Lane said.

  She might be sweet, but she was an awful liar. I looked like shit and I knew it. My brown hair was scruffy. I’d shaved, but not too well, just a han
dful of swipes up and down my cheeks. My blue eyes weren’t bloodshot anymore, but my whole face looked as though I’d been strapped to the front of a rollercoaster for thirty days. I hadn’t yet settled into my sobriety. The edges were still hard and sharp.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Dillon slapped me on the back and gave me what, for guys, passed as a hug. “Dude, glad you’re back. You scared the shit out of us.”

  “It’s good to be here,” I said. He grabbed one of my duffels and I grabbed the other and we threw them in the Escalade. I slid into the back seat. We wound along PCH and the silence grew louder and louder. The quiet skittered along my skin. The silence was uncomfortable—it seemed as though they were both afraid that words might break me.

  “Guys, we can talk about anything. I’ve done my rehab. I’ve got my meetings lined up, my doctor cleared me to work out. I’m good to go.”

  Dillon’s shoulders visibly relaxed at hearing my words and Lane began to chatter about the circle of friends she’d collected since moving to L.A. The conversation about women, and trips, and films was all good. Her low relaxed chatter lulled me and made me feel comfortable.

  “So Steve left for South America the day after the honeymoon and …,” Lane said. She suddenly stopped speaking. It was as if she thought the wedding and the debacle that ensued shouldn’t be mentioned. Dillon glanced into the rearview mirror to check out how I was doing.

  “Guys, you can talk about the wedding. I kind of wish you would because I don’t remember anything from that day.”

  Dillon’s head swiveled toward Lane.

  She turned her head over her left shoulder and peered at me. “Nothing?” Lane asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing,” I said. “I was already pretty hammered when I got to Steve’s house for the wedding.”

  “So you don’t remember anything before …,” Lane said.

  “Or after,” I said. “I don’t remember driving. I don’t remember the accident. I don’t remember the ambulance.”

  “And you don’t remember the wedding?” She turned over the armrest toward me. “You don’t remember anything before the wedding? Before Kiley and Steve walked down the aisle?”

  I tilted my head to the side. What was I missing? This was the second version of the same question.

  “Nope, I barely remember that morning at my house.” Tight fists rested on my thighs. “I’d been drinking so heavily, the doctors said, I was having walking blackouts.”

  “That explains a lot,” Dillon said.

  What did my walking blackouts explain other than that I was a huge fuckup who had come close to ending my life? The blackouts sucked on many levels. First, my life was awesome but now I couldn’t remember a huge chunk of it. There were big patches of memory that I might never recover. Not just the accident and the wedding, but months of my life might be lost. I was an idiot. A moron. I had the job I always wanted, was making a great living, I had work that was out of this world and yet I couldn’t remember huge chunks of my life? It was tragic, yet even with the sadness and the guilt I was simply thankful to be alive.

  Dillon turned onto his circular drive. Part of my release stipulated that I be supervised, so it was great that I was able to stay with Dillon and Lane. My place was lonely. I’d just spent eight weeks surrounded by people. I wasn’t ready for the stainless steel, marble floor, and solitary existence of my house. I wanted … needed to be with other people. People who cared about me and my sobriety.

  “Thank you for letting me stay with you, guys.”

  Dillon nodded. The fact that he didn’t wisecrack told me how worried he was about me. “We’ve got your room all ready,” Lane said.

  I followed them into their house and a four-pack of fur and wet noses bounded up to me. I knew the big dog with the thick brown fur that looked like a St. Bernard was called Bernie and the little one that looked like a purse-pet was Kong. The other two were Spielberg and Scorsese, but I couldn’t tell which was which. I’d never been much of a pet guy and I especially disliked little dogs, but the one they called Kong had a bunch of personality. I followed Lane up the stairs and down the hall and Kong pranced three steps in front of me. He’d pause, turn, look at me, and sometimes bark if he thought I was going too slow. He wanted me to keep up and I started to like him for it.

  “This is your room,” Lane announced.

  She flipped on the lights. The setup was great—a big bed, wall of windows, balcony that overlooked the backyard, a fireplace, and an attached bathroom.

  “This was my room when I got here last summer,” Lane said.

  Gratitude rolled through me with tinges of sadness. Before the accident, I would be racing for a beer right now. Damn. Now there was nothing left to do but face the feelings as I felt them. I turned to Lane.

  “Thank you,” I said. “It means a lot to be here right now.”

  She clasped my upper arm. “You’re our friend and we want to help.”

  I gave her a small smile. Before the accident I didn’t want to be helped. The idea of accepting help was unfamiliar to me. A lump lodged in my throat and an ache pulsed in my chest.

  Thankfulness and vulnerability.

  Wow, I didn’t know what to do with these feelings, but I did know how to breathe. And, according to Barrett, how to breathe was all I needed to remember.

  I pulled in a giant breath and walked into my new room. The beginning of my new life—without the pills and the coke and the booze.

  “I’ll give you some time to—” Her phone beeped and she slipped it from her back pocket. She glanced at the screen and then back to me. “It’s Amanda,” she said. “I need to answer this one.”

  “Hi,” Lane said into the phone, “why aren’t you—” She listened. Her eyes grew wide. “Wait … what?”

  Amanda

  “Kiley changed the locks at Sterling’s house.” I was standing on his front steps with panic pressing in on me. My set of keys to his place did not work and Sterling was in a jungle with my father right now. I’d left a message on the satellite phone that they claimed got reception everywhere, but I hadn’t heard back from either one of them.

  “Wait, wait, back up,” Lane said. “Where are you? Why aren’t you on a plane to New York?”

  Anger edged with fear thrummed through me. I stood in front of my brother’s house—where the taxi left me, without a key, a car, or a dime.

  “She canceled the plane, so I couldn’t leave,” I said.

  “Oh my God,” Lane whispered.

  “And now I’m back at Sterling’s and she’s had the locks changed.” My phone beeped. “Wait a second.” I pulled my phone from my ear and looked at the number.

  The pit in my gut deepened.

  “It’s Kiley,” I said. “I’ll call you back.” My eyes closed and a silent prayer passed over my lips. I clicked over to the other line.

  “Amanda, darling, I meant to tell you that we had the locks to Sterling’s house changed.”

  I swallowed my irritation, my fear, my frustration.

  “Did you let Sterling know?” I asked. The lump in my throat grew larger. I already knew the answer.

  “Oh, Amanda, I tried. I did,” Kiley said. “But I can’t seem to reach Sterling or Steve since they’re so deep in the rain forest right now.”

  Kiley was good at this game. A game I didn’t want to play. “You know, Kiley, I’ve been staying at Sterling’s since graduation and now that I’m not going to New York, I’ll need a new key.”

  “Oh, Amanda,” Kiley laughed. A laugh that felt like spiders crawling across my skin. “Sterling’s house is owned by your father, and I’m married to your father and, well, I hate you. So it does seem that you will have to find somewhere else to stay. Ta-ta, Amanda.”

  Kiley dropped off the line.

  I dropped onto the step, beside my bags. My hand pressed to my forehead. I was now officially homeless. And broke. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was simply fatigue, but I couldn’t bring myse
lf to beg Kiley for her forgiveness. My head dropped forward and my arms crossed over my chest. The tears started in the back of my eyes and then the big round drops plopped onto my arms.

  My phone beeped. I sniffed and flipped it over. I pressed the green button.

  “Hello,” I said. My voice warbled. I sniffled again and wiped away the tears.

  “I’m on my way,” Lane said. “You’re coming over here.”

  “Why is she doing this?” I whispered.

  “Because she is horrible,” Lane said. “If you can’t say it then I will. Don’t move, I’ll be there soon.”

  I sat on the front steps and waited. Darkness crept along the edges of the L.A. sky. Lane was usually so cautious with her words and she rarely said anything bad about anyone. I was thankful to have such a good friend as Lane but as I turned toward the house that my father owned and my brother lived in sadness pulled at me. This was the house I’d shared with Sterling in the summers and between semesters of school. The house we’d lived in with our parents when we were children, before my mother died, before my father bought his place in Malibu, before our little family of four was shattered. A house that, this morning, I’d left to go chase my dream in New York.

  The heavy feeling in my chest wasn’t about Kiley cutting me off financially, although that completely sucked. No, this thick oozing pain was all about losing a family. Dad, Sterling, and I had been drifting apart ever since Mom died. We’d patch things together for the holidays or for a life-changing event like graduation … or a wedding. Sterling and I had stayed close. But Dad and me? We simply didn’t seem to have anything common anymore. Sterling and Dad had the films that they produced together, some that Dad even starred in. They shared the Business.

  Dad and I didn’t share anything anymore but a last name.

  Maybe Dad gave his okay for Kiley to cut me off. Did he even know what she was doing? Maybe this was Daddy’s way of punishing me for seeing through the Steve Legend facade and knowing who the real man was—the one who wasn’t ageless and invincible.