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Claudia: Only for a couple of minutes. He’s said he was busy and would call me later. I was hoping you’d tell me why you guys fought.
I shook my head. I bet he was busy. He was probably still balls deep inside Millie.
Me: He ran his mouth like usual. You should probably talk to him about it though. Just know you can do a lot better than him.
Claudia: Yeah, but the good ones seem to break up with me.
She added a winking emoji to the end of her message, and I chuckled. It wasn’t the first time she’d joked about us breaking up. There was nothing scandalous about our breakup. We’d agreed we were better off as friends because our schedules hadn’t allowed us much time together, and I wasn’t convinced I was the type of guy to settle down.
Me: That just means they weren’t the right ones either.
Claudia: I guess so. By the way, I’m flying home next week. Maybe we can meet up for coffee soon.
Me: I doubt your boyfriend would like that.
I didn’t give a fuck about Corey or his feelings, but I didn’t want to cause problems for Claudia either. Even if she was the one to suggest getting together.
Claudia: He knows we’re friends. Besides, you know I don’t let people tell me what to do.
I snorted a laugh. She absolutely didn’t let people tell her what to do, and I had firsthand experience with that.
Me: Okay. Text me when you get back and we’ll plan something.
I tossed my phone down and crawled out of bed. Sundays were the one day I tried to keep clear and do whatever the hell I pleased. There were a couple of places I wanted to hit up, so I showered quickly and got on the road.
Unfortunately, what I’d hoped would be a chill day turned into a nightmare. The paparazzi swarmed every time I got out of my car. Then, after grabbing coffee at my favorite place, a photographer shoved his camera in my face as I walked out of the café.
“Dude, back up,” I growled as I stepped around him.
Instead of giving me space, he moved in closer. “Why’d you hit Corey last night? Were you fighting over Claudia?” I ignored his question and kept walking.
Before I reached my car, a couple more paps joined in, shouting their questions and positioning themselves to get the best photo possible. I’d become accustomed to the constant media attention, but sometimes it got on my nerves. The crowd grew larger, and someone pushed me, causing me to knock the camera out of the hands of another photographer.
“What the fuck?” he shouted.
“Did Blaine just shove that guy?” someone asked from behind us.
That was my signal to get out of there before the situation spiraled out of control. I jogged to my car and took off, careful not to hit anyone on my way out of the parking lot.
Before I made it home, Tommy was blowing up my phone. Knowing he’d likely already heard about the dust-up at the coffee shop, I hit ignore. I’d call him back later, I just wasn’t ready to deal with another lecture from him at the moment. As much as he annoyed me by calling me out on my shit, I wouldn’t have a career if it weren’t for him.
Acting was in my blood, and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It was what allowed me to provide a great life for my mom and sister who meant more to me than anything in the world. But occasionally the pressure got to me. When that happened, I knew I needed to take a break.
Since filming was done for now, I decided to head out of town. It had taken me a long time to accept that sometimes I needed to disconnect from everything instead of lashing out at those around me.
Back at my house, I packed a bag, texted everyone who needed to know I’d be leaving town for a couple of days, hopped in my car, and drove north along the coast until I found a place I wanted to stay.
The following morning, I awoke to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Crawling out of bed, I pulled on a pair of sweats, and started making a cup of coffee. While I waited for the single-serve coffee maker to finish, I heard my phone ding with a notification.
I grabbed my mug and phone before walking out to the balcony overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I took a sip of the much-needed caffeine-laden drink and pulled up my text messages.
Marissa: Got a minute to chat?
There were only a handful of people I would drop everything for, and my sister Marissa, was one of them.
I texted her back: Yeah, give me a call.
A couple of seconds later, my phone rang. “Hey, Riss. What’s up?”
