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I shake my head pleadingly, “No, I don’t really want to talk about it. Lana, please let me go,” I feel a panic attack coming on. I have only been here a few hours and already someone knows who I am. I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull this off.
“I would never tell anyone, you know? You can trust me, Stormy. I haven’t always had the easiest life either, so I can somewhat imagine the pain you’re going through. If you need anything at all, I’ll be here,” she says trying to console me. She releases her grasp on me, and I sigh in relief.
“Lana, the media doesn’t know where I am. Since I never used my real name with the band, I’m able to use it now. But I can’t let them find me. I can’t go back into the spotlight with everything that I went through, Lana. I’m sure you read or saw videos about how Blaine died. Well, I was there that night. It was horrible and everything you can imagine from a nightmare. The death was ruled an accidental gunshot wound to the head. My nephew was the one that took the shot, but he did it unknowingly. He didn’t know the gun was loaded and he was playing with it. My therapist was able to get me out of the band based on my mental state.” I am full on crying now. Lana wraps her arms around me. This time I don’t cringe but I welcome the embrace.
“Please, please don’t tell anyone. I left that part of my life back in Florida. I’m here to start over. They can’t find me. They just can’t.” I slide to the floor and pull my knees up to my chest. Rocking back and forth because I can no longer hold it in. I’ve been cut open and my past is bleeding out onto the floor around me. A part of me died that night with Blaine. I don’t think she can ever beresuscitated.
Lana falls to her knees beside me with a worried expression on her face. “Is there something I can do for you? Do you need anything else?” she asks as she rubs circles over my back. The sensation is oddly comforting and brings me back to the present.
“C-can you go get my purse? I have some medicine in there I can take.” I’m barely able to murmur to her, but fortunately she hears me. She takes off like a shot, leaving me in the middle of the hall, I take a moment to do the breathing exercises my therapist taught me. It’s hard when you’re right in the middle of an episode but sometimes I’m able to calm myself without having to always rely on medication to get me through. I admit that I use my medicine as a crutch. It melts away the panic, so I don’t have to.
Lana comes sprinting back with my purse. She gives it over and with shaking hands, I search through the bag for my medicine bottle. I grasp it and pull the container out into my hand. I try but fail to open it and Lana gently takes it from my shaking fingers. She opens it but not before I see her look at the label. Anger radiates through me at her intrusion. I snatch the bottle back, grabbing a tablet and swallowing it without any water. I close the bottle and shove it away deep inside my purse.
“It’s a prescription. It’s not illegal. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but plenty of people suffer from anxiety, Lana. Maybe I should just find another place to live,” I rant breathlessly. I get mean and angry when I’m in the middle of a panic attack. Sometimes I just rock back and forth crying, but other times I can’t help but spew filth that I immediately regret and never apologizefor.
“Whoa, slow down. I’m not judging you if that’s what you think. I’m sorry I looked at the label. That wasn’t any of my business. I’m just worried about you,” she responds, holding up her hands in defense.
“Well, there’s no reason to be. I’ll be f-fine in a minute.” I’m already tired from the move and the anxiety takes a lot of energy from my body as well. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep, forgetting this ever happened.
“I don’t want to upset you further, but can you take that medicine with wine?” Lana questions.
“I said I’ll be fine. I just need to get some sleep,” I lie. I’m not fine, but it’s an untruth I’m used to telling by now. I’m broken but will tell you I’m fine. I’m hurting, but I don’t want to break down, letting people see what’s really going on inside me. I hate that I let her see a crack in my armor. I try to stand up but flop back down on my ass. Lana stands, pulling me to my feet. She quietly walks me to my room, I feel like I should apologize for the way I behaved but I don’t have the energy or the words to tell her. As she opens my door, I wince at the sight of my unmade bed. I think I would pay someone right now to go through my boxes and find my sheets because I am so tired. I think Lana reads my mind because she starts going through my boxes until she finds the one that says, “Bedroom linens.” She begins making the bed and I let her. I don’t know how long it’s been since someone took care of me but it’s nice. Once she finishes up, I fall face first into the pillows and am asleep before she can even turn off the bedside lamp.
???
I wake to the smell of coffee brewing. The bed feels unfamiliar, and for a moment I don’t remember where I am. Then the events of last night come crashing into my mind. I open my eyes to very bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Unfortunately, there are no drapes and I did not have time to put any up. I groan at the pain in my head and throw my arm over my eyes. Just as I roll over to try and go back to sleep, there’s a knock on my door. I know it’s Lana, and I don’t want to face her in the light of day. Who knows what she thinks about me. She probably wants me out of here ASAP. That would probably be my first reaction instead of what I said to her last night.
“Come in,” I murmur. All I see is bright colors as she opens my door. Once my eyes adjust to the intensity of light in the room, I can see the lively-eyed Lana walking in with two mugs. From the smell of it, they are both filled with coffee.
“I thought you could use some coffee. I didn’t know how you take it though.” She hands me the mug and there’s no malice in her voice, only concern. That can’t be right. No one has shown me this much kindness in years, and I don’t deserve it after the way I behaved.
“Black is fine. Thank you. You didn’t have to, especially after the way I acted last night. I understand completely if you want me out of your hair,” I respond taking a sip of the steaming coffee.
“Stormy, we all have bad days. I don’t fault you at all for last night. I can see that you’re going through a lot, hopefully you’ll let me in so we can help each other. I don’t want another new roommate. I believe we can make this work. But we must be open with each other. That means me as well, which is hard for me,” sheexplains, sitting on the edge of my bed.
“Thank you for understanding. I knew I needed to tell you the truth. It actually feels like a relief that someone knows. I hate having to be in hiding. But after everything, the media never got the exclusive interview they wanted.” I take another sip of the coffee and savor the taste. “You know, I was married to Blaine. Not many people know that. So, I not only lost my husband that day but my best friend and bandmate. I just couldn’t handle it. I only checked into rehab to get the extensive therapy I needed. I wasn’t on drugs or anything. A lot of people think that, and I’ve never corrected them.” I hesitate for a moment. “I’m sorry if I am bringing you down,” I murmur as I wipe my tears on the long sleeve under shirt I have on.
“Oh hush. We’re getting to know each other and that means the down and dirty, nitty gritty shit that makes us who we are,” Lana explains, and I can’t help but crack a small smile. Picasso is growing on me.
“Thank you. I never open up like this to anyone, but I feel like I can trust you, Lana,” I utter softly.
“You definitely can. So, onto a happier topic. You mentioned last night that you needed to find a job. I work for a catering company and it’s easy money. We actually have a gig this weekend if you’re interested. My boss is always looking for more servers. I can talk to her if you want me to.”
“That would be great. I do have waitressing experience, so that should be a plus. Let me know what she says. I think I’m going to get some more sleep. I’m exhausted from yesterday.” Last night took a lot out of me. Well, all day yesterday took a lot out of me, actually. Driving the moving van from Florida to New York is nojoke. I stopped for the night half-way but it was still exhausting.
“I’ll text her later and let you know. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me who you really are. It means a lot.” Lana gives me a hug. Then she stands and walks out of my room, closing the door behind her.
I place the mug on my nightstand, cover my face with the blanket to block out the sun, and go back to sleep feeling much more peaceful than I did last night.
Chapter 2
Sebastian
“Elijah, I said I needed last quarter’s sales records. Not the guest list to the investor fundraiser for this weekend,” I state to my brother’s frazzled executive assistant. He’s been running around this office like a chicken with his damn head cut off since Miles has been on his honeymoon in Ireland. Actually, the whole office has been a shit show since Miles left. I truly don’t understand how he juggled so many things at once. As the Chief Operating Officer, or COO, my area of expertise is finance, facts, numbers, a beginning, and an end to the day. I don't typically see workdays like these, where things are up for discussion. Things like deciding what wine to serve at fundraiser, I don't give a fuck about that kind of stuff. Miles does that. But here I am trying to do my job and Miles' at the same time, pulling fucking twelve-hour shifts in the process. I have a month of this shit to deal with. On top of that my assistant has gone out on maternity leave, leaving me to fend for myself. She was supposed to line up someone else in her place, but Tracy went into labor before she expected to. So, I was left with Elijah. Poor Elijah looks like he might fall over at any second. He isn’t used to me and my ways of working. I think my brother has been a bit lax with the dude, to be honest, because he can’t handle anything Ithrow at him. It just piles up on his desk. Then he gives it back to me along with more work that he's somehow added to the mess along the way. There’s got to be a better solution than this. Picking up the phone, I dial Human Resources. Maybe they have someone they can send up here to be my other assistant.
"H.R. This is Mary speaking, how may I help you today?"
“Mary, are you having a lovely day?” I ask, my question dripping with sweetness.
