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"Not if my popularity had continued to rise, as planned." I drag my fingers through my hair. "And now, I’ve broken the news that Declan and I have split, which is only going to make things worse." I hold out my hand for the bottle of tequila.
“I really think you shouldn’t drink anymore,” Penny murmurs.
“Please? Just this bottle; then I’ll stop.”
She hesitates, and I make a sad face. “Please, pretty please?”
Her expression softens, then she hands over the bottle of tequila.
I take a sip and the alcohol burns its way down my throat setting off a warm glow in its wake. And hey, no coughing.Take that, Declan-motherfucking-Beauchamp. I don’t care that I’m not legally supposed to drink. I can and will. And in style. I am my own woman now.I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth.
"Now that my career is in decline, you’d think the media would give it a rest. But no, they can’t wait to watch me crash and burn so they can dance all over the remnants of what was once my meteoric rise."
"Meteors do burn out." Mira sips from her bottle of vodka.
I purse my lips. "Are you implying I was always headed for a fall?"
"No, no, I mean you had a really quick overnight climb, and you can’t always maintain cruising altitude, the aircraft has to come down at some point. Hell, even when you climax, you can’t stay high on endorphins. You either slowly float down, or you crash down. And if you’re lucky, you’ll have a dick waiting for you to land on again."
Much as my heart is breaking, I can't help but burst out laughing.
Penny, who’s just taken a sip of her whiskey, splutters, spraying the liquid across the bed. "Jesus, woman, you do have a way with words."
"Thank you." Mira flutters her eyelashes. "I owe it all to the Ph.D. in cliterature I’m studying for."
I laugh. "What about a diploma in smutology?"
"That’s next." She quaffs more of her liquor then stabs a finger at me. "But you’re the one who’s leading by example, my girl. You’ve had such an eventful life and you’re what, twenty-one?"
"Eighteen, though I feel much older in here, you know?" I rub the space over my heart.
“Aww.” Mira scoots closer. “We’re here for you babe.”
Penny drops down on the bed and brackets me in from the other side. “Always. Consider this a circle of trust. We’re your ride or die, huh?"
A ball of emotion clogs my throat, and my eyes burn. There’s no reason for me to feel sorry for myself. So what, if my career is slowing down? So what, if my fans are pissed with me? So what if Declan—thatstronzo—decided he wants to be with someone else? This is what I wanted. This is what I chose when I left Naples with Declan.
He didn’t make any promises, except to introduce me around in LA to the right people. Which he did. Which is what jumpstarted my career. Which is how I became even more famous than Declan in half the time it took him to get to the top of the Hollywood box office.
I owe my career to him. I owe the woman I’ve become in such a short period of time to him. I was eighteen and had stars in my eyes, and an unwavering sense that he was my one true love, my future, my partner. That together, we’d climb the steps of our respective professions. That we’d support each other through challenges. What I hadn’t counted on was each of us becoming the challenge the other encountered. I never thought the way I’d met Declan would become the reason for us to split. When I met him for the second time, he pretended to be engaged to Olivia. And now, he was engaged to someone else. If only, he were pretending now too.
Maybe this is kismet? Maybe this is what people mean by 'what goes around, comes around'? Another teardrop squeezes out from the corner of my eye.
"Oh, babe; it’s okay to cry.” Mira caps her bottle of vodka, tosses it on the bed, then throws her arms about me.
"Group hug." Penny, too, wraps her arms around the both of us.
I sniffle. "You two are crazy."
"You need a bit of crazy to distract you from whatever other craziness you’re going through right now," Mira declares.
"You have no idea." I pull back.
The two of them look at each other, then at me.
"I still can’t believe he’d get engaged to someone else.” Mira rubs her chin. “Every time I saw pictures of the two of you together online, you two looked so happy and—"
I narrow my gaze, and Mira raises her hand. "Right, the media is not to be believed."
