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“Your stalker.” It dawns on me that this is the first time Nicole has faced the ruse Knox commenced to keep us apart when the host instructs her production assistant to hand Nicole the newspaper Knox showed me this morning. “He’s a handsome chap. Aren’t all the psychos?”
Since her question is directed to the at-home audience instead of Nicole, Nicole doesn’t answer. She continues reading the article that slanders my family’s name alongside hers, her focus only shifting when the host announces, “The YouTube accounts are under different names, but perhaps his new account was so you wouldn’t know he almost ended your career before fixing it.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
The lady pats Nicole’s hand like she has air for brains. “I’ll explain during the commercial break.” She locks her eyes with the camera. “We’ll be right back with delicious recipes for the upcoming pumpkin spice season and a live performance from our very own pumpernickel. See you soon.”
When I throw the remote at her head, pissed she insulted Nicole on air by comparing her to a dense loaf of bread, the power of my hit knocks the antenna to the ground.
I curse my short temper to hell when I notice an antenna ear on the floor. It’s snapped clean off.
Not eager to miss Nicole’s performance, I snatch up the broken antenna and head for the twenty-four-hour reception desk. A hairdryer won’t fix my fuckup this time around.
Halfway there, I’m stopped in my tracks by a dark figure standing under the awning. He’s wearing a black sweatshirt, black pants, and black sneakers, but no amount of darkness can conceal the humbleness of his soul.
“River…”
When he lifts his downcast head, tears burn my eyes.
He’s crying hard and drenched like he walked in the rain for miles.
“How did you get here?” I ask while yanking off my coat to cover his shuddering shoulders.
His sniffles are the worst they’ve been all week when he confirms my suspicion. “I walked.” He drags his hand under his runny nose. “I didn’t have any money for a taxi, and the men at the hotel work for Knox.” He locks his drenched eyes with mine. “He said it would help you. That’s why I gave it to him. He said it would make Nicole love you more.” He bangs his head with his fist. “I fucked up, Laken. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. You—"
“I broke everything. I fucked up.” He tears at his hair, his anguish too firm for him not to self-harm before he once again hits himself. “Now Nicole doesn’t want to hug me. She hates me.”
Clumps of his hair fall to the ground when I band my arms around him and pull him to my chest. He fights against me and pleads for me to let him go, but just like he wouldn’t let me do anything that would have seen me taken away from him again for another nine years, I hold on tight until his tears have soaked my shirt with more than rain, and his begs for forgiveness no longer ring in my ears.
33
NICOLE
“It isn’t just Laken’s name you’re slandering, Knox!” When my roar startles one of the production crew dismantling the set in the living room, I almost back down. I hate airing my dirty laundry for the world to see, but this time, I hang it in front of living, breathing witnesses. “You took it too far!”
The story of Laken being the driver of the car my sister died in could have been left out of the media spotlight. My live performances were already making waves, so we didn’t need the sympathy vote. However, Knox still drafted multiple press releases on the very subject I wanted to keep out of the public eye.
He put not just my hurt out for the world to see but my family’s as well.
“I wasn’t asked a single question about Rise Up or songwriting today during my interview. Every single question either focused on my ‘alleged’ stalker or my sister's death.” I whack him in the chest when my anger becomes too prominent to ignore. “They even went as far as visiting Colette’s gravesite to get footage for an upcoming segment. That’s beyond disrespectful. I’ve never been more disgusted.”
Nothing I say gets through to him. He stands at the side of the almost-back-to-normal living room, looking smug as he rides the gravy train to the station.
“And what about River? Did you consider him at all while dragging his family’s name through the mud?”
“His brother is a murderer.” He laughs like he said something funny. “His name can’t get more stained.”
“Last time I checked, the dangerous operation of a motor vehicle that results in a death is not murder!”
I don’t blame the men surrounding us for throwing the electrical equipment into their travel cases with no concern of breakages.
I want off this train too and this is my life.
Knox doesn’t wait for them to leave before reminding me of the cruel words that left my mouth three nights ago. “Youcalled him a murderer.Youaccused him of killing your sister.”
“I was upset and confused. I didn’t know what I was saying.”
