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“I get it. I mean, how do you think I feel? I have to pretend to be involved with James Crawford.” She rolls her eyes playfully.
I push her shoulder gently. “Imagine if Gregory Fox was the one costarring with you.”
Gregory is a rough-looking actor in his late fifties who’s well-known for being a little too handsy with his costars.
Adelaide throws her head back and laughs. “Yeah, I guess it could be worse.” We stare at each other for a minute before she looks away and gestures to the large building in front of us. “I guess we should go.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’m sure we’ll find some way to stand being around each other even more than we already are.”
“I hope so, or these next few months are going to be hell.”
She punches my shoulder. I grimace and grip the spot in mock pain.
“Let’s go, you.” She pulls me forward by my hand until my feet start moving.
I follow her through the door, and a small part of me feels guilty that I enjoy how easy it is to be with Adelaide.
Chapter Twenty-four
LILAH
Jimmy’s been spotted around town with his costar. The press snapped pictures of them eating together. They were even out dancing together at the Regent.
Jimmy.
Jimmy.
Jimmy.
He’s all I can think about. It’s been two months since I’ve seen or spoken to him, but he’s still on my mind every day.
Wondering what he’s doing. Who he’s doing. Wondering if he’s falling in love with his costar and agonizing over how easily he replaced me.
I toss the stupid tabloid on the table in front of me and grab the half-full bottle of vodka.
I’ve been crashing with Derek since Jimmy kicked me out of his life. It’s not that I can’t afford a place of my own—I can. As much of a mess as I am, the House of Carlisle pays well, and I’ve managed to book another couple gigs too. We’ve shot the spring campaign, and we’re due to shoot the summer one in a couple days.
I’m at Derek’s because I don’t want to be alone. Jimmy was such a huge part of my life and then—poof—he was gone. Being alone leaves me too much time to think, too much time to spiral.
My grip on the bottle tightens and I chase my desperate thoughts with another punch of vodka to my system.
“Hey, what’re you doin’?” Derek steps into the small living room from the bedroom.
“Getting drunk.” I offer him the bottle.
He snatches the bottle and downs a healthy swig, but instead of handing it back to me, he puts it on the table. “I’m gonna chase the dragon, you in?” He tosses the tinfoil and heroin on the table.
I read online that Jimmy and Adelaide are walking the red carpet and presenting an award together at the Oscars tonight. It’s not atypical for actors of what is expected to be next year’s big hit to present at this year’s awards ceremonies, but I know it’s more than that. If I wasn’t such a masochist, I wouldn’t watch, but I have a sick fascination with torturing myself. And I want to see Jimmy, so I know I’ll watch.
I glance at the instruments of my destruction on the table, desperate for the oblivion they’ll give me from this empty feeling inside me. It won’t ever leave. If you scrape through one layer of the black sludge that coats my insides, there’s only another waiting. “Sure, why the hell not?”
Derek sets up everything, spreading out the piece of aluminum foil with a slight curve to it. He places the heroin on top and passes me the straw. He flicks the lighter and heats the bottom of the foil while I wait with the straw. When the heroin bubbles and vapor wafts off the top, I use the straw to chase it around, sucking hard to inhale.
I pass the straw to Derek and grab the lighter, moving it around underneath the foil. He sucks in a hit. When the heroin is burned off, the straw and the foil drop between us onto the old couch. I toss the lighter toward the coffee table, but I miss. I fall back into the cushions and close my eyes, letting the dragon consume me.
My head feels light and my limbs tingle. My chest is heavy, and I feel as if I’m floating on a cloud. Finally, peace.
Sometime later, I feel hands on me and I stir, cracking open one eye. Derek’s hands are on either side of my leggings, pulling them down my legs. I shift and attempt to pull my legs up and away from him, but they’re heavy and my arms are as useful as Jell-O.
