I’m lying in my bed. A week has passed since I last saw Spencer. I don’t know if I’m intentionally avoiding him or just working really hard. A part of me knows the answer. I can’t see him now. First thing, he’s not the same. He’s angry. Quiet. I’m not sure if it’s me. I can’t tell and I’m too scared to find out. So I avoid him.
Other than the shit with Spencer, everything else in my life is actually coming together. Jobs are lining up. I’m finally catching a break on the modeling front.
My phone rings and I swipe at the screen. A name from my not-so-distant past flashes on the screen of my phone and I desperately want to send him to voice mail. Bennett. I should have guessed he’d be the next one to try to cash in my new notoriety. What does he want? Probably to work with me again. I haven’t seen his name or even thought about him for years. Not since the shit show a few years back.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Liv?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Bennett.”
“What can I do for you, Bennett?” I bite out.
“No need to be testy. I just want to talk to you.”
No need to be testy? I let out a huff of breath. The last time I spoke to Bennett, I ended face down on the runway. How I convinced my parents it was no big deal is beyond me, but somehow I managed to almost escape unscathed. I simply explained I had a few too many celebratory shots and somehow everyone believed that.
But I know the truth . . .
Booze and coke. Not a good combo.
“What do you want?” I ask again. This time my clipped voice makes him laugh.
“I want you to work with me again.”
“Now why would I do that?”
“You owe me.”
“I owe you what? I’m lucky I even have a career at all.”
“I made you.”
“So then go make someone else.”
“I don’t want anyone else. You’re everywhere. I can’t open a magazine without you and Lancaster on the cover. It’s free advertising. I need you for this project I’m doing.”
“I have to be honest, Bennett. I don’t care what you need. I wouldn’t work for you ever again. Not if you were the last photographer on the planet.”
“You sure about that, sweetheart? You really want to play this game?”
“I’m not playing games. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“You didn’t say that when you were coked up out of your mind and sucking my dick.”
“I got to go.”
“I wouldn’t piss me off if I were you.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just try me.”
“Goodbye, Bennett. Don’t call me again.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I don’t like the threat in his voice and hang up quickly.
The biggest mistake in my life was getting involved with Bennett. But I was young, didn’t know better. At the time, I needed something that was solely mine. Something I could feel proud of. Modeling was that outlet for me, and Bennett gave me that escape.
Unfortunately, like all things in life, it quickly morphed into something else—a toxic relationship that fed on my insecurities. Before long, I wasn’t skinny enough. I couldn’t work hard enough. But Bennett had something to help, and one night during a late shoot, he offered me the solution to all my problems.
I still remember the feeling after the first line. The burning down my throat. I choked as it singed my nostrils and then dripped like battery acid. But soon a feeling weaved its way through me. An unmatched euphoric feeling.
I was no longer Olivia Miller.
Being skinny enough or pretty enough didn’t matter. What was going on back home with my family didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I was happy. I could conquer the world and I did. For some time, I really did. My bones stuck out, and I landed jobs left and right. Life was great, and with Bennett by my side, it seemed everything was perfect. But then one night everything went to shit. Bad coke . . . too much champagne . . . and I passed out on the runway.
The offers stopped after that. Runway shows were out. Trips to Milan—out. And Bennett . . .
Out as well.
He decided I was a liability to his career, so he dropped me as fast as everyone else did. Even hearing Bennett’s voice brings me back to a bad time. Muscle memory maybe. The familiar ache gliding through my veins, wanting to silence the world. I shake it off. I pick up my phone and dial Spencer instead.
“Hey, beautiful.” I hear through the phone. The baritone of his voice makes my insides melt with need and desire.
“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, sounding pathetic and needy but I need a distraction. Spencer is the perfect one. I don’t think about my failures so much when he’s around.
“Meeting, rain check?”
“Okay.” I can’t help the disappointment in my voice.
“If I could blow off this meeting, I would, but it’s to discuss the St. Barth’s property.”
“I understand.” And I did. It isn’t his fault I’m rattled from my earlier conversation with Bennett. He has to work and I just have to deal with that. “Call me after?”
“Promise.”
“Okay, bye.” I hang up before he says the words. The screaming in my mind to detach is starting to hammer in my mind louder and louder. Before I can change my mind, I pull out my phone and text Murph.
Me: You back in town?
Murph: Yep. You looking to party?
Me: Yep.