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“Thanks, Lucy,” I replied, appreciating her support. “I just hope I’m making the right decision.”
“Only time will tell,” she said with a small smile. “But remember, you shouldn’t have to twist yourself into a pretzel to make it work. Remi should accept and appreciate you for who you really are. You shouldn’t have to change your nature to satisfy her idea of what the relationship should be.”
I froze. “What do you mean? Remi’s not trying to change me.”
“Isn’t she?” She cocked her brow enigmatically. “I always thought Remi would have trouble keeping a man like you satisfied.”
My face felt hot, my fists clenched at my sides as I glared at her, fighting the urge to raise my voice. My jaw clenched as I asked her each question with a sharpness that hinted at accusation. “A man like me? What are you talking about, Lucy?”
“Don’t get all defensive, Grey.” Her lower lip jutted out in a pout. “You’re a man of many persuasions and needs. Someone like Remi might be too close-minded to see that.”
I held back a sharp retort and modulated my voice. “Remi isn’t close-minded. She has always accepted who I am and supported me.”
“Well then, that’s terrific.” Her tinkling laughter held a note of phoniness. I’d been front and center to her acting skills on set over the years, so I could easily spot her putting on an act now.
Lifting my empty wine glass, I said, “I could use a refill. Care to join me?”
“Absolutely, darling.” She rose and waited for me.
Together, we rejoined the festivities. I used all my own acting skills to feign having a good time, but my thoughts never strayed far from Remi and how I could resolve my confused feelings.
An hour later, I made my exit. With one last glance at the opulent party behind me, I stepped out into the cool night air, pulling my jacket tighter around me. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses faded as I walked down the producer’s lavish driveway, my mind racing with thoughts of Remi and Ghost and what awaited me in Boston — a confrontation of emotions, a chance at closure, and the hope of finding real happiness amidst the chaos. It was time to lay all my cards on the table, for better or worse.
Chapter 13
Ghost
The roar of the crowd still echoed in my ears as I stumbled offstage, sweat and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I’d managed to stay mostly sober for this show, at Knox’s insistence, but now that it was over, my self-restraint evaporated like morning fog under the sun. Snatching a bottle of whiskey from our dressing room, I carried it with me into the shower, gulping down mouthfuls between lathering up and washing off the grime.
“Ghost, you ready?” Knox called through the door, impatient to get to the after-party. “We got people waiting.”
“Coming,” I hollered back, finishing off the last swig before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my waist. The meet and greet was a blur of faces and eager fans, their awestruck gazes only fueling my need to keep the party going. We hit the club with an entourage in tow, ready to tear the night apart.
As we claimed our spot near the bar, I saw Remi in my peripheral vision watching me closely. Her eyes were hard and focused, locked onto me with an unreadable intensity. But tonight wasn’t about her; it was about losing myself in the chaos. I pretended not to see her and turned my attention to the bartender, ordering round after round of shots for the group.
“Ghost, man, you should slow down,” Sidney warned, his voice barely audible over the pounding beat of the music. But his concern only spurred me on, pushing me deeper into the swirling tide of alcohol and drugs that had become my solace.
“Fuck it,” I slurred, grabbing a handful of pills someone had handed me and tossing them back without a second thought. My vision swam, and the world tilted on its axis, but I kept dancing and drinking like a man possessed.
“Ghost, stop!” I heard a woman’s voice shouting above the din, but it felt distant, like a memory that refused to surface. The next thing I knew, I was climbing onto the bar, knocking over bottles and glasses in my frenzied state.
Bishop, my security guy, usually unflappable, grabbed at my arm with a scowl. “Get down, man!” But his anger barely registered as I shoved him away, too wasted to care about the consequences.
“Fuck you all!” I screamed into the night, my voice cracking with desperation. “I’m fucking invincible!”
“Dammit, Ghost, you daft, bloody bampot,” Knox hissed, helping Bishop drag me off the bar before I could do any more damage. I could see the flash of cameras capturing my unraveling for the world to witness. Yet, somehow, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the momentary oblivion that numbed the pain gnawing at my soul.
“Fuck ’em all,” I slurred, swaying on my feet as we exited the club. An image of Remi’s face flickered in my mind, her eyes wide with concern or maybe judgment. Hell, she was probably thrilled that I was giving her such salacious material for her article. No doubt it dovetailed nicely with the lurid details from my past. I let out a maniacal chuckle as I spiraled further and further into darkness.
Sunlight streamed through the tour bus window, assaulting my eyes and intensifying the pounding in my head. I groaned, pulling a pillow over my face to block out the light. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck, and every noise seemed to reverberate through my skull.
“Hey, mate,” Knox’s voice broke through the haze of pain as he pulled open the door to the back bedroom. “You okay?”
“Does it look like I’m okay?” I snapped, lifting the pillow just enough to glare at him. But my anger quickly dissipated as I saw the genuine concern etched on his features.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, letting the pillow fall back over my face. “I’m just... Yeah, I feel like shit.”
Knox sat down beside me, his weight causing the mattress to dip. “Last night got pretty wild, yeah? What’s going on with you?”
