Page 16 of Paint the Town, Dove
The whole team was prattling about in the viewing lounge, but not Morty. He stood, back to wall, eyeing me down with thatlookof his. Fuck if it were scalding, even menacing I wouldn’t have cared. But the way he saw me, really sawme, painted my brain with pity.
Morty, my bodyguard and comrade… He fuckingpitiedme.
Nothing was worse than to be looked at as human, when you stood in chains on top of a spotlighted stage.
No visibility ahead, so you looked back.
And I did,oh so much I did –
“Put the drink down, Ryden.” Scarlett stepped in front of me, red hair blazing from the overhead bulbs.
“Would you like one, Dove?” I asked, topping up my glass.
She sounded exasperated. “You’re not an idiot, are you?”
“Some days, I don’t know that I’m much of anything.” I grabbed a lock of her hair, twirling it around my finger. “You know, you’ve always reminded me of Ariel.”
“Huh,” she tutted, “not the sea witch?”
“Witches aren’t pretty, Dove,” I let the strand slip from my fingers, “you are.”
I took a second to admire her, truly admire my manager and best friend. She was a bit of everything, really. Some days, I wanted to be her, cravedto mimic that unwavering confidence and strength. Other days, I wanted to shut her out – my conscience and wing – myDove, the mirror to my inner Ryden, the one who existed beyond tabloids and stages.
And other days… other days, I wanted something I couldn’t have. Those were the days I couldn’t see Scarlett.
I tilted the drink to my lips, finding only an empty hand. Scar now held the glass tightly in grip. “You never learn your lesson, do you?”
“One drink won’t kill me.”
“It’s always one drink,” she set it aside, “and then it’s two, then nine and all of a sudden you’re snorting coke out of a dollar bill.”
I stepped back. “I don’t see any money around.”
“Ryden,Christ.” She pinched my skin. The little sadist loved to do that with her long nails.
“I didn’t pour a lot to begin with.” Before she could stop me, I downed the last bit of 1942 and gulped it down, relishing in the pleasant burn of poison.“All good, Dove. Promise.”
I left her protests and strode over to where the snide bastard was sitting proudly on the hosting couch, compact mirror out, creaming over his appearance.
“Ready to roll, Mr. Spectre?” He didn’t even look at me as he puckered his lips and pocketed the compact.
I nodded, sucking the taste of tequila off my tongue.Let’s get this over with, I wanted to say. “Ready to rock.”
Big fat fuckin’ lying that was. Sitting across from Abe was one thing, but what followed was another. This interview was just a prelude to tonight’s festivities – the GQ afterparty where my ex Yasmine was going to be.
And I needed all the liquor in the world for that reunion.
Focus on what’s in front of you,Scarlett always told me.Not what you left behind.
I took in a breath and steadied my nerves. Fluorescent lights beamed down from the ceiling, obstructing my view from the rest of the team. There was always one exception to who I’d be seeing during my interviews, and Scarlett always knew where to stand.
Her vibrancy shone like a comet, red hair flitting beneath the vent where she positioned herself directly behind Abe’s chair, a few feet away from the platform.
I smiled knowing she was in my line of sight, and then the asshole in front of me had to go and open his mouth.
“This… Ms. Blake…” He started, and I already knew where this was going.
Already knew I wasn’t going to like it.
