Once Upon a Present
Nausea washed over me as Blake’s warm breath tickled my neck. His arms encircled my waist from behind, and his hot mouth left a wet trail along my skin. He hummed, and I felt him pause, felt his body go still when he realized I’d gone rigid with his touch. He slid his hands down my arms, uncurled my stiff fingers with his own as he pulled my cell phone from my hand. Blake threw the phone onto the kitchen counter and gripped my hips as he tightly whispered in my ear, “You’re going to do this to yourself again?”
It was an addiction, wounding myself once a week, but instead of a razor, I used Liam.
I sucked in as much air as I could muster, as much air as it would take to push the lump that had formed down my throat. I wiped the few tears I’d allowed to fall from under my eyes and turned to face him. I lifted my gaze to Blake’s green eyes, let it linger on his sun kissed skin. He was beautifully furious, with sharp angles and full lips.
His thick brown brows dipped into a knot. “Why did you call him again? He doesn’t answer.”
He hadn’t answered, but he’d returned the call. I’d heard the fear and the anger he harbored in every edged breath he’d bestowed upon me tonight. Blake narrowed his eyes and cast the only barb he had. “Shit, Kelly, after all this time, he doesn’t care about you.”
Blake was right, hope was a sickness. Liam didn’t care, not anymore, not after I left him behind.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I wasn’t entirely sure my apology was meant for Blake.
I’d never set out to hurt anyone, but it seemed my blades were sharper than I’d ever thought possible.
“That’s the thing, babe, I don’t think you are.” He dropped his hold on me and took a step back.
“I am.” The lie tasted stale on my tongue.
His eyes were locked on my face but I avoided his stare. Instead, I ruefully watched his bare, caramel-toned chest, hardened like stone, expand as he fought to breathe. I shouldn’t have brought him home tonight. Our week-long shoot was over tomorrow, and we’d both been down this road too many times. Blake was a means to an end, and I was no different for him. Relief, sex, human contact in a world where it’s frowned upon to be human, to show the “real” you. We were company when lonely became hard to bear. Promises weren’t my thing, at least not anymore, but neither was sleeping with coworkers. Casual can get messy, and I didn’t need any more mess in my life. I didn’t do sleepovers or relationships, but I’d finally caved when he’d asked to actually stay over tonight. I had nothing more left in me to give, everything I’d had to offer had already been taken, discarded, thrown into a pint of alcohol, and left to deteriorate over time.
“I’ve known you for a while now.” Blake’s eyes snaked down my body. The heat of his stare blazed along my exposed skin as he took a step toward me again. “We’ve been on countless shoots together, and I know that guy back home didn’t choose you, didn’t take the leap you wanted. And in my opinion, he’s an idiot.”
Blake didn’t get it, but the way he was looking at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy and hope, that was all my fault. I’d opened up to him a few months ago out of weakness. It was right after I’d called Liam for the first time and he hadn’t answered. It’d been a foolish mistake to call him, but it’d been so long since I’d heard Liam’s voice. I wasn’t sure why, but at the time, I’d needed to hear it, needed it to resonate inside the walls of my heart so I could remember where I’d come from, what I’d let myself forget… what I’d lost. I hadn’t been able to fall asleep that night and was supposed to shoot a cover with Blake the next day. But, when I’d showed up looking like I’d been hit by a truck, the make-up artist had flipped. I’d lost it, cried, right there in front of everyone. Later, after I’d let Blake talk me into a bottle of wine, I’d told him my entire sob story. I hardly ever drank and I’d let the alcohol loosen my lips. It was a stupid, desperate thing to do, but after you’ve had everything taken from you, your limits for what you’re willing to endure decrease. Blake and I had only ever been friends with benefits, but after that night, things started to shift, and I’d felt the suffocating weight of his expectations bearing down on me ever since.
“I don’t want to talk about Liam.” My ass hit the granite countertop as Blake’s broad shoulders crowded me.
“Then why’d you call him?” He raised his hand to my cheek, and the smile that danced across his lips died as I turned away.
Because I can’t let go.
Because he was the one who was supposed to rescue me.
Because he’s my dark knight, my painted prince.
For the past three years, I’d let myself pretend that my dream had turned out to be everything I wanted, losing myself in models and photographers. I worked hard to make a name for myself, I’d even acquired an agent. I played hard, ran the game, and gave them a smile every day. They bought it. Men ate it up. I was a no-nonsense type of girl, good for a night. Sexy and independent. No one knew, or maybe they just didn’t care, that I was slipping further from the truth of who I’d once wanted to be. I hated myself. Hated every inch of my skin, my lips, my fake as fuck smile.
Soulless.
“That’s a question a boyfriend would ask, and the last time I checked…” I tried to smile as I leaned in, tried to lighten the mood as I ran my hands up his chest and rested them on his shoulders, but his lips set in a firm line. “Come on, Blake, this isn’t anything more than—”
“Fucking?” He exhaled an angry breath and pulled his hand through his messy brown hair as he took a few steps away from me. “Is that all you want?”
“It’s all I can handle right now.” The vulnerability in my voice coated my skin with goose bumps.
I’d made an error when I offered Blake a standing invitation to my bed. But I’d allowed it because he was everything Liam was not. He was clean-cut, shiny, and smiled too much. He was a model and, just like me, he played the game. He was easy and good at making me forget, even if it was only for a couple of hours.
Blake’s posture softened as he moved toward me. His hand slipped under the thin cotton of my tank top, and he palmed my breast. “Come back to bed, beautiful,” he whispered with a gorgeously phony smile, setting my heart into a painfully hammered beat.
Beautiful.
I despised the word and the sweet way it rolled off his tongue.
I never wanted sweet.
I wanted ink, and dirt. Grit and grease. I wanted a five o’clock shadow that left me raw, fingers that bruised and marred my perfect flesh. I wanted teeth and passion.
I wanted Liam.
Blake’s mouth covered mine and, as the heat of his touch spread slowly over my skin, I settled for the pale truth—what I wanted would never be reality.
“Show me that sad girl.” Dante smirked and he snapped a few shots. “Perfect!” he shouted over the beat of the music that played loudly from overhead speakers.
We were inside the studio finishing up a few solo shots, and Blake had disappeared an hour ago, leaving me in the spotlight. The stylist had dressed me in a skimpy black dress that barely covered my ass. My long hair was pulled into knots and fashioned into a faux hawk. I relished in the black high-top chucks I got to wear, and my lips curved into a smile.
Dante whined, “No, no, no. Look down, give me edgy, show me that inner black swan, spread your angry little wings.”
As much as I wanted to laugh at Dante’s ridiculous direction, he was my favorite photog. He was always able to capture me in a way no other photographer could. I tilted my head to the right and bit my bottom lip as I looked down the lens from under my long, false lashes.
“Christ, you’re my queen.” Dante kept shooting as I moved seamlessly under the light.
The word queen swirled in my head and darkened my mood.
“That’s everything.” Dante lowered his camera. “We’ll shoot you and the other girls tomorrow. Five a.m. sharp.”
I groaned.
“Don’t pout, it gives you wrinkles. And, Lord knows, you’re getting old as it is.” Dante winked at me and I laughed.
“You’re so lucky I love you,” I said as I threw my arm over his shoulder. “You’re my favorite little man.” I leaned down and kissed the top of his bald head.
“Flattery will get you everywhere. Dinner?” He handed his camera to his assistant and followed me back to the dressing rooms.
“Michael’s as usual?” I asked as I slipped out of my dress carefully and handed it to the wardrobe assistant. Being naked in front of multiple people lost its fear factor ages ago.
“Do you even need to ask?” His incredulous tone reached the height of his sculpted eyebrows. “Get un-beautiful. I’m going to look at these shots.”
“I’ll take a quick shower.”
He gave me a knowing smile. “See you in forty-five minutes.”
The hot water begged to be savored as I scrubbed my hair, paying close attention to the spots where my scalp ached. The soap trickled past my stomach and, as always, I tried to ignore the sinking feeling I got when I looked at the tattoo on my hip. My fingertips traced the crown, swirling soap over the black ink. Liam, I thought, had been the key to my survival. My silly seventeen-year-old heart fell for the storybook ending he’d promised me so many years ago. He was supposed to be here, leading me—keeping me safe from the nightmares I’d never really been able to shake. Liam and I had been equals. We had an intricately shared misery. Over the years, our planned path had given me light and longing when all I’d ever waded in was fear and doubt. But I’d waited too long, let myself become caged in a fantasy. Without realizing it, our future had begun to look a lot like those nightmares. My throat narrowed as the panic seeped into my lungs. I turned off the water, letting my skin cool until I began to shiver. I took even breaths, shutting out the memories, locking them away inside my bones, deep inside the marrow where they belonged, and stepped out of the shower.
In my defense, I was quicker than normal, despite Dante’s lack of faith. I’d opted for a quick blow dry and a messy bun. No make-up, soft black, straight leg slacks, and a crème colored sweater. It was such a stark contrast to how I’d looked a little over a half an hour ago. I grabbed my bag and shoveled past several pens, my packet of birth control, gum, and at least five different shades of lip-gloss as I looked for my phone. A few years ago, I would’ve never recognized the girl who owned this purse. The blue light on my cell was blinking, and when I opened the lock screen, everything around me fell silent. My past barreled through all of my defenses as I pressed the voicemail icon and brought my phone to my ear.
“Kelly, it’s… it’s Mom. Listen, I know… I know it’s hard for you to take time off, but your Dad… Kelly he’s struggling. He was admitted again to the hospital today. Too much fluid in his stomach…” The line was quiet as I listened to my mother catch her breath. “He’s not… he’s not doing real good and… I just need you… I need you… Just come home. Do it for me… okay?”
The line went dead, and my hand shook as I placed my phone back into my bag. I raised my fingertips to my cheek and stared into the dressing room mirror. I was twenty-nine years old, and I could still feel the sting of him… of my father’s hand. I tilted my head to the right, allowing the light to reflect off the arch of my cheekbone. It was his favorite thing to do when he was sloppy drunk, punish me for his mistakes. Hurt me, so he didn’t have to feel his own pain.
My eyes fell to my purse and the pounding of my heart roared behind my temples.
I can’t go home.
I can’t go back.
I was that useless little girl again, just a pretty face. My dad had always been right. It was why I never dreamed of going to college. L.A. was supposed to be my escape plan. I’d wanted to get as far away as possible from that life. Far away from my convenience store job and white trash roots. But, I’d done exactly what my father had told me to do.
“Use your beauty, girl, because it’s all you’ll ever have.”
I lifted my phone and listened to the message over and over again. I let my mother’s voice, her weathered and beaten words hit me, tear through my thin flesh until I made my choice.
I thumbed through my contacts and pressed the call button.
The phone rang twice.
“Kelly?”
“My father’s sick.” This was crazy. But I couldn’t go alone. I couldn’t go back there and get sucked in. I needed a life vest. “Blake… I…” Tears spilled from my eyes and guilt closed my throat. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I’ll come with you.”
It was the answer I’d wanted, but shame stirred in my stomach. I gripped the phone tightly and closed my eyes, unable to look at myself in the mirror.
“You don’t—”
“When do you leave?”
I opened my eyes and faced the monster inside the reflection of the glass. “I’m not sure. I just found out. Maybe after the shoot tomorrow?”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
He was being a good guy, and I shouldn’t drag him through this, no matter how scared I was. “Blake, I think I need to—”
“You wouldn’t have called me if you wanted to go back on your own.” His long sigh rattled through the phone. “I know this isn’t some grand gesture, Kelly. It’s you needing someone to lean on. This doesn’t change anything.”
“Then why?”
“Not everyone comes with strings.”
I shouldn’t believe a word of what he was saying. Everything had a price, every part of my new life was give and take. Nothing was ever for free or by mercy. But, the phantom pain of my father’s hand scorched across my cheek, and the thought of seeing him, bearing all the weight of that hate on my own, it nearly brought me to my knees. I didn’t plan on staying that long, just long enough to help my mother, and to possibly say a final goodbye to the man who’d haunted me all my life. I wouldn’t let myself think about Liam. If I did, I’d never find the will to get on that plane.
My lips trembled as I said, “I’ll text you the flight info tomorrow.”
I hit the end button before I could change my mind, before I could think about the ramifications of it all, before I would let myself believe for one minute that Liam would actually even care.