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“Adam, he was my boyfriend,” I whisper, just loud enough for Gemma to hear. “That song…” Tears prick the back of my eyes and I get angry. I’m so, so tired of crying. It feels as if I’ve spent a lifetime crying.
“Please, let me speak,” Gemma begs, squirming in her seat. I look at her and laugh through the tears. She’s literally going to explode if I don’t let her ask her questions.
“Go ahead. Let it out.” How can I deny my best friend the chance to freak out over my admission?
“Holy bloody hell, Ellie! You dated Adam Reynolds? I don’t know if I hate you or if I’m in complete awe of you! Tell me what’s going on or I may well have an aneurysm!”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Gemma.” Her enthusiasm helps to lighten the mood. “I’ll tell you.”
It takes a while, but we have time, and after the buzzer sounds from the oven, we have plenty of chocolate chip cookies to go with my story. I explain how my dad was killed, and I lied to Adam about not wanting to be with him. I tell her about the horrid party in L.A., about James and backstage at the concert, the hotel room encounter with Adam the next day, the brutal assault and my broken phone. She cries with me when I tell her why Callum Murray attacked me all those times, and how Adam’s brother was likely involved in the last incident.
“Ellie, that’s just the saddest story I’ve ever heard,” she says as she wipes her nose with a tissue.
“Maybe not the saddest, Gemma. Surely you have at least one friend more pathetic than me?” My attempt at humor clearly falls flat judging by the look on Gemma’s face.
“It’s not funny, El, it’s your life! You’re supposed to be with him. He wrote that song for you! That beautiful, wretched song. I read an article in GQ about it a few months back,” she cries. “You have to call him, there has to be a way.”
I smile and drop my eyes again, “I know about the article, Gemma. That’s why I’m here. I need help. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Adam, but it’s as if he’s a bloody MI-6 agent! No one will forward a message to him or even admit that they can forward a message.”
Gemma’s eyes narrow when I look up, and she gets a mischievous look on her face. “Good thing I’m an expert at being devious and sneaky.”
* * *
Surfing the internet isn’t something I do regularly. If I do, it’s usually on my tiny mobile which is too frustrating to use for much more than checking the news or finding a good place to eat.
“Crap!” I shout, slapping my hand down on my kitchen table in aggravation.
I’ve been searching for something, anything to use to contact Adam on my brand new laptop. All I’ve found so far is an address for some stupid fan club. Thanks but no, I don’t want an autographed picture of the band.
I’m left wanting to pound my head into the tabletop, so I decide to lay my cheek down on it instead. It shouldn’t be this hard to find something, I mean, crazy people find celebrities houses all the time, right? Weirdoes and stalkers and such… Okay, so I’m not a weirdo or a stalker, but still! If someone mentally unbalanced can show up at Sandra Bullock’s home and get inside, my reasonably intelligent self should be able to find a way to contact Adam Reynolds.
For four months I’ve been calling and leaving various messages with different people at his record label. I sent letters addressed to every single member of the band, hoping that just one might make it into their hands. Not a word from anyone. Gemma said she’s working on it for me, but it’s been three months since I poured my heart out to her and she hasn’t heard from anyone she’s contacted either.
I snatch up my phone and ring one of only two people in my life that I can whine to about Adam.
“Ellie? It’s the middle of the work day, are you alright?”
“Yes Mum,” I rub my eyes tiredly. “I worked a long shift yesterday, so I’m off today.”
“Oh, okay. I was wondering.”
“Mum, I haven’t had any luck getting through to Adam. You don’t think he’s gotten my messages and is just ignoring me, do you?”
That is the real reason for the acid-churning ache in my gut every day, why I hardly sleep anymore and have bags under my eyes the size of jumbo jets, why I’m so edgy and nervous that my friends are giving me looks as though I’m two steps from being committed to a mental hospital.
What if Adam got the messages and doesn’t want me anymore?
I’m not stupid. He was dating that terrible American actress, Kiera Radcliff for a while, then the red tops all said that he’s been in a tussle with actor Andrew Forrester over some red haired girl whose parents are actors as well. As far as I know he could have completely moved on from me.
But that song says different.
“El, that boy loves you and always will. I don’t think he’d purposely keep you out of his life.”
My heart clenches at the thought and I shiver in fear. “I hope not, Mum.” I sigh into the phone and slouch back in my chair. “I’m at a complete loss here. I have no idea how to find him short of showing up at his record label and camping out until he shows up!”
“Well, what about Dax?”
“What about him, Mum?” I chew anxiously on my thumbnail as I wait to hear what she’s thinking.
