CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

HOLLY

 

“Come on, Anna Banana,” I called down the hall. “It’s time to go.”

Anna ran from her room and I helped her into the coat I held. Mid-February had brought along what I anticipated to be the last of the snowfalls, judging from the warm undertone of the breeze that hit us as we stepped out with Giraffe in tow, climbing into Ol’ Rusty. The two inches of snow that coated the ground had already begun the disgusting process of melting, leaving a slippery sludgy mess under the tires as we made our way to Reade’s.

If I didn’t think Anna would have a fit, I would have insisted we stayed home. But despite the gross weather, I was looking forward to a cup of tea and a solid hour of reading the new book in my bag—a sure-to-be delicious story about a handmaiden named Kristina and her vampire lover, Sebastian.

Holly freakin’ Hughes. Broadening her horizons.

Turning the car onto Main Street, I was startled to find the shop owners already putting up their spring decorations. Cupids and hearts were being taken down from the windows to be replaced with flowers and baby animals. Valentine’s Day had only just passed, but these people wasted no time moving on to the next occasion to decorate for.

At a red light, I turned to see Debbie Jefferson outside of her real estate agency. I had yet to officially meet the woman but I had heard of her enough times to know she was a snooty boorish woman who seemed to believe she was God’s gift to the town. She was directing a young man on a ladder as he tacked up what appeared to be Easter egg twinkling lights along the awning above the window and door, and I suspected, judging from his face, that he would jump to meet his fate the second he had the opportunity.

Then Reade’s came into view. Unsurprisingly, I saw Jessie standing outside the front entrance with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring in the direction of Jefferson Realty. With nostrils flaring, she turned with a huff to send herself flying back into the store and I could just hear the berating she was about to give Bill about staying ahead of the decorations game. He would obviously rush home the first chance he got to whittle himself an Easter Bunny out of a tree stump. I laughed out loud at the thought, turning into the parking lot to park the old rust bucket.

“So, what do you think Jessie’s going to read today?” I asked Anna, making our way through the sloshy mess to the door.

She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the ground to keep herself from slipping and sliding. “I dunno,” she responded, and shrugged again.

My hand was about to hit the handle when Bill swung the door open, greeting us with his usual welcoming smile. In the hand that wasn’t holding the door was a stack of paper flowers he had undoubtedly cut out himself from construction paper. I noted the staple gun hanging from the tool belt on his waist, and I resisted the urge to giggle.

“Two of my favorite ladies,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. He caught my glance at the paper crafts in his hand, and he held them up with pride, confirming my original assumption that he had made them himself. “Just getting ready for spring. My allergies can already feel it coming.”

“You do know spring isn’t for another month or so, right?” I teased, but I couldn’t disagree. My eyes were already beginning to itch.

“Well, I would have kept some snowflakes up for a little while longer, but my better half has insisted we keep up with the other—oof!”

Jessie came up from behind, wound up, and swatted Bill on the arm with great gusto. Anna giggled at Bill’s shocked expression and the look of disapproval from the short round woman with the fiery red hair.

“She has Easter eggs,” she hissed at him. “Easter eggs! Can you believe that? Easter isn’t for another two months! What in Lord’s name would she be doing with Easter eggs? I told her it was stupid to decorate for Easter, and what does she do? She decorates for Easter!” She bounded away towards the Book Nook in an angry huff, and I hoped she wouldn’t pick books with a “Kill Thy Enemy” theme.

I instructed Anna to kick the remaining snow off of her boots on the mat in front of the door, and she managed to reenact Riverdance in the process. “Good enough,” I laughed, turning back to Bill to thank him for holding the door.

“Of course.” He smiled, the deep lines on his face accentuating. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I have some flowers to hang before my wife kills me.” He patted the staple gun at his hip, and headed off in a blur of argyle. “Maybe I should make some Easter eggs too,” I heard him mumble under his breath, and I snorted a laugh.

Anna tugged me in the direction of the Book Nook, and I trailed behind her with a glance over towards the café. The familiar towering figure immediately caught my attention, and I won the game of Tug O’ War as I changed our direction. At the sound of Anna’s giddy squeals, Brandon turned to glance at us. The sight of his facial scruff and chiseled jaw brought the air to catch in my lungs, and I had to remind myself to breath as we approached.

“Hey Anna,” he said as he smiled down at the happy little girl, and then turned his attention back to Scott.

Wow. Mature.  

“Hey,” I said in a small voice, and when that also went ignored, I placed my hand on his arm. “Brandon.”

Scott’s eyes flitted between the two of us before shoving his headphones up, making the choice to ignore us as he set to work making our drinks.

Brandon sighed, rolling his eyes down at me, but still he said nothing.

“So, are you just going to go on like none of this ever happened?” I asked, feeling the hurt as if it were a thousand-ton weight sitting on my chest. The silent treatment continued, and I squeezed Anna’s hand for comfort. “Please,” I begged him, “what do you want me to say?”

Scott silently handed Brandon his cup of coffee. “Thanks, man. See you this weekend,” he said and turned to me finally. His forehead crumpled with agitation. “You’ve said plenty already, Holly,” he grumbled, and began heading in the direction of the store’s door.

“Talk to me, please.” I raised my voice, and I saw Bill look over from his decorating.

Whipping his head around as he walked, Brandon spat, “I have absolutely nothing to talk to you about.”

My hand grabbed at his arm, making an attempt to stop him from leaving. “Brandon, I’m sorry!” The tears prickled at my eyes. “You have to understand—”

He jerked out of my grasp, and bent his neck to look into my eyes. I felt his passion, and hoped he couldn’t kill me with a single look. “All I’ve ever done is understand, but you couldn’t do the same for me. You couldn’t even let me talk and explain myself, but—hey, look, I get it. You would rather be with guys who make you miserable, because you’ve convinced yourself that you’re not worthy of anything more than that. I’ve been hearing you say it for months, and I have no clue why I thought I could …” He stood to his full height, pinching his eyes shut and giving his head a quick shake. “I knew you’d be here, I knew I’d see you, and I told myself I wouldn’t get angry, but—Jesus Christ …”

It had only occurred to me then that several pairs of eyes were glued to us. We had created a scene, and I questioned why I thought it would have gone differently when I approached him. Had I expected him to be happy to see me, when I was the one to leave? Had I expected him to have a friendly conversation with me, as though nothing had changed, after everything that happened? In truth, I had no freakin’ clue what I had expected, but as my body trembled and my lower lip quivered, I knew I hadn’t expected him to verbally assault me with a month’s supply of pent-up anger.

“Can we … Can we just talk?” I asked, my voice traveling on a tremor.

“No,” he said flatly. “No, because you want an apology from me. You want me to say that I’m sorry for hiding things from you, but to be sorry for that would mean that I’m sorry for everything else that happened between us, and that …” He shook his head. “I could never be sorry for that.”

I shook my head, as a tear trickled down my cheek. “Brandon, I don’t—”

With another shake of his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Goddammit, I’m such a fucking idiot,” he grumbled, after several moments of awkward tension-packed moments. He turned to Scott, then to Bill, and said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here yet. But, um, Saturday, right?”

Scott nodded quickly. “Uh, yeah, dude. We’ll be there.”

Brandon nodded, and without taking another look at me, he hurried out of the store with intent. The pain he felt stung my heart, knowing I was the one to bring him to a place of such passionate anger. Helpless, I rattled my brain with an attempt to think of an idea on how to make things right, and I grabbed at the one that had been handed to me.

“Scott,” I said, as Anna and I walked towards the counter. “What’s on Saturday?”

He snapped a lid onto the Earl Grey he had brewed for me. “Uh, well, there’s a party to celebrate the five-year anniversary of Brandon’s first book. It’s a pretty huge deal.”

I nodded, already scheming. “How do I get in?”

Regrettably, Scott frowned. “You can’t without an invitation. The security’s gonna be real tight, you know?” I sighed with another nod, taking the hint, and I grabbed the cup from him. Just as I was about to thank him, he said, “But you know, I could give you mine. That would at least get you in the place.” 

“You would do that for me?” I asked with a sudden wave of affection that threatened to bring tears to my eyes.

With a smile, he said, “Well, duh. All I ask is for some sort of credit when you guys finally get back together.”

If we get back together.

 

***

 

I could still hear Liz’s protests when I insisted on taking Ol’ Rusty into the Big Apple with me that Saturday, and Lord did I wish I had listened as the thing puttered along. It wheezed a little more with every passing mile, and as I entered the Midtown Tunnel, I prayed it wouldn’t decide to break down in one-way traffic surrounded by water. Out of the tunnel, it could do anything it pleased.

With my guardian angel sitting on my shoulder, I did make it, and I was surrounded by towering buildings that never ceased to make me realize how small I really was. With a gulp of anxious anticipation, I fished my phone from my bag and hit Stephen’s number, putting him on speakerphone.

“Hey hon,” he said after only one ring. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

With a deep exhale, I said, “Hey, um, I’m just letting you know that I might have to crash at your place tonight. Depending on how things go, I mean.”

“You better be spilling some details right now,” he demanded, and I quickly ran him through my reason for the city excursion as I slowly navigated my way through traffic and carefree pedestrians. “Oh, my God, this is so romantic!” Stephen squealed in a way I could never remember him doing during the time we were together. “Don’t worry. If this all falls through, our guest room and booze are all yours.”

“Much appreciated,” I laughed, and said my goodbyes.

The venue for the party was a few blocks over from Times Square, an area I had once upon a time spent a great deal of my life. It felt like a lifetime ago, when in actuality it had only been seven months, and my heart pulsed a bittersweet sadness driving past the familiar stores and sights. I hadn’t realized how much I missed it all until I was being reminded, but there wasn’t time for that, and I forced myself to focus.

With the parking garage found and my spot paid for, I ran as fast as I could in my heels to the roped off building. I was stopped in my tracks by the sheer amount of activity surrounding the area. Black limos, cars, and SUVS lined up, waiting their turn to drop off their inhabitants. Cameramen flashed countless pictures. Members of the media stood against the roped barricade, reaching over with microphones to grab the attention of anyone. Further down the street was a contained mass of screaming people with phones in hand, waiting for autographs, pictures, or anything they could get their hands on.

Holly freakin’ Hughes. Out of her freakin’ element.

I gulped, wiping my hands on the dress I wore—the same dress I thought I would be engaged to Stephen in—and I approached the nearest security guard on unsteady legs.

“E-excuse me,” I said in the tiniest voice I could manage. I was obviously auditioning for a spot in the next Chipmunks movie. The large, burly man turned at the tap on his shoulder, and looked down at me with a menacing look in his heavy-set eyes. “Is this the anniversary party for Bran—uh, B. Davis?”

A curt nod. “Yes. Do you have an invitation?” With hands trembling, I reached into my bag, but he firmly grabbed my arm. “Don’t take it out here. Come, I’ll take you to the entrance.” With the hand still gripping my arm, he pulled me through the intense crowd to a short man with a clipboard. “Hank, she’s got an invitation.”

Hank was clearly skeptical, eyeing me over the plastic board in his hands. “And you walked?”

“I, uh, I drove in, but I … parked my car,” I said meekly.

I am not cut out for this shit.

“Hmm,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “I see.” He flipped an open palm at me. “Invitation please.” I fished the piece of paper out of my bag and handed it to the man no more than an inch or two taller than me. He inspected it carefully, and nodded. “All right, then. What’s your name?”

He lowered his eyes to address the clipboard in his hand as I gave him my name. Quickly scanning, he shook his head. “There’s nobody with that name on the list,” he replied with a flash of suspicion and anger before raising a hand. Before I could open my mouth and protest, he bellowed, “Paul!”

The big security guard was at my back again. “Yeah?”

“Not on the list,” Hank sneered, glaring at me.

“Okay, out of here,” Paul said flatly, gently tugging at my arm.

“Wait!” I shouted with an attempt to pull from his grasp. “Brandon knows me! I have his number in my phone! I can call him right now and get him to let me in!” They both eyed me suspiciously, but the tugging had ceased. “Or you can call him. Or, um, his, uh, agent. God, what’s his freakin’ name … The, uh, skinny guy with the beak-nose … Nick! Call Nick!” Thank God I had remembered reading about his best friend also being his agent.

Hank and Paul exchanged a look before Hank waved unceremoniously with his hand. “Fine. Give Nick a call, Paul. But if he says you’re not invited, you’re being escorted out of here, understand?”

I nodded and thanked him before stepping to the side with Paul. He pulled a Walkie Talkie from his belt, and held it up to his mouth, eyeing me with every move.

“In case he asks, how do you know Brandon?” he asked, in a much softer voice than I anticipated.

“We’re, um, friends,” I said, shamefully tempted to say that we had slept together.

Nodding, he said into the Walkie Talkie, “Hey Nick, you there?”

A moment later. “Yep. What’s up, Paul? Everything good out there?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. Controlled. Listen, I have a woman here saying she knows Brandon. She has an invitation but she’s not on the list. What do you want me to do?” Paul looked away from me, as though to pretend I wasn’t right there as he discussed my situation.

A painful thirty seconds passed. “What’s her name?”

Paul’s eyes shifted back to me. “Name?” he asked, suddenly forgetting I had functioning ears.

“Holly Hughes.”

Paul parroted back into the Walkie, and waited for Nick’s reply. I pictured that tall, lanky man discussing my fate with Brandon, and I crossed my fingers that he wasn’t as mad as he had been a couple days ago.

“Keep her there, Paul. I’m coming out.”

I took that as a good sign.

 

***

 

Nick approached me wearing a tuxedo and a big business-like grin. “Holly! So good to see you again. I got this from here, Paul.” He unclipped a velvet rope and welcomed me through before securing it back into place. When Paul had walked away to return to his post, Nick’s demeanor changed to something a lot friendlier, and way more comfortable. He lowered his mouth as close to my ear as he could. “So, where the hell did you get an invitation from? Was it Scott?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, stepping through the glass doors, taking in the lavish stream-lined lobby of the hotel. I could see my reflection in the marble floors, and I could have successfully cracked eggs on the sharp edges of the white leather couches. It was more luxurious than anything I had ever seen.

“He’s a good guy when he’s not too busy getting stoned,” Nick said with a little smile and a shake of his head. “Look, Brandon doesn’t know you’re here and he is freaking out. He hates this shit. So, I’m not going to say anything yet, okay?”

“Yeah, he was pretty pissed the last time he saw me,” I grimaced, remembering the incident at Reade’s just a couple days earlier. Nick nodded his sympathy, and I assumed he had been told. But then, I smiled. “Wait, he gets stage fright?”

Nick laughed. “Oh, my God, yeah, and bad. But he doesn’t throw up anymore, so I guess that’s an improvement.” He placed a hand on my back and pushed me along through the shining lobby. “I’ll take you to the table, but then I have to get back to him. He’s probably paced a groove into the floor by now.”

He led me to a dimly lit ballroom clustered with at least twenty large round tables. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, tossing rainbow-colored speckles over the floor and tables. We stopped at a table with a few familiar and unfamiliar faces. Birdy, Bill, and Jessie clapped immediately at the sight of me. An older couple and a younger woman eyed me with curiosity, as Nick pulled out a chair for me.

“This is my wife Ashley,” he said, placing a hand on the shoulder of the pretty young woman with auburn hair. “And over here is Jack and Carole Davis, Brandon’s parents.” He laid a hand on my shoulder comfortably, as though he had known me forever. “This is Holly.”

The three strangers burst with excitement. Cheering and clapping as though I myself were a celebrity, and I thought the doughnut I had eaten earlier in the day was going to end up on the white tablecloth.

Nick laughed. “Okay, guys, don’t scare her away. Anyway, I’m going to go keep His Highness from going insane, and I’ll be back soon.” With that, he was gone, walking across the large dance floor and up a wide, grand staircase, leaving me alone with the people still grinning at me.

The beautiful older woman I had learned to be Carole had her hands folded in prayer against her mouth. She sniffed, and I realized she was crying, or at least close to it. “Holly, we weren’t sure we would ever meet you, with the way Brandon talked, but …”

Jack, the man Brandon clearly got his size from, put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “What she means is, we’re very happy to meet the woman our son cares about so much.”

With a lip trembling more than I would have liked, I said, “It’s nice to meet the people who raised him.” I grabbed the wine glass of water in front of me, and took a big gulp, startled by a nudge in my ribs.

Ashley smiled at me like she had known me for years. “I can’t believe you’re here. This is huge. Scott gave you his invitation?”

I nodded, and Bill chimed in. “He’s a good boy when he wants to be. If only we could get him to meet a nice girl, and—”

Before I could wrap my head around what exactly was happening, a clearing throat came through the speakers, and the lights dimmed a little more. I turned my head to face the dance floor behind me, and saw a middle-aged woman wearing an expensive pantsuit. She held the microphone in both hands, smiling at the crowd with blinding-white teeth.

“Welcome, everybody,” she said in a voice that suggested she started smoking at seven and never stopped. “My name is Patricia Wahlberg, publisher at S&S Publications. I want to thank you all for joining us tonight in celebrating the anniversary of a very, very special book, written by an even more special man. He has touched so many with his charm, wit, and talent, and I can see that by how many faces I’m seeing here tonight.” She did a dramatic turn of her head, beaming in every direction.

Ashley leaned close to my ear as Patricia rattled on about the charities they were representing that night. “I hate this woman,” she whispered, and I stifled a giggle. “Seriously, she’s obnoxious.”

“Now, I’d like us all to give a round of applause for the man behind the scenes. The man who helped make it all happen, Nicholas Bolton.” And with that, Patricia walked to the bottom of the stairs to kiss Nick on the cheek and handed him the mic.

“Hello, hello! I’m seeing a lot of familiar faces here tonight. Ben, good to see you.” Nick waved to a table near us, and I couldn’t stop my gawking.

“Is that—” I whispered to Ashley.

“Ben Affleck? Yeah, he’s buddies with Brandon.” She laughed at my wide-eyed expression. “It takes some getting used to. Trust me, I’ve known these guys since elementary school. It’s still weird for me sometimes.”

Nick began a nonchalant walk around the dance floor, his hand stuffed into a pocket. He treated this as the most natural thing, like he was strolling down a quiet street, and I had to smile as he talked.

“Twenty years ago, I finished reading a short story that my best friend had finished writing. It was one of the most incredible things I had ever read in all of my sixteen years, and I sat there, amazed that he could create this … this masterpiece so effortlessly. He just shrugged, as though it were as natural as breathing or taking a dump—” The crowd interrupted with a burst of laughter, and Nick beamed with pride at his own wit. “But see, that’s because it was for him, and I said, ‘Dude, someday when you finish your first book, I’m going to be your agent and we’re going to make you fucking famous.’”

He looked around the room with a humbled smile and a glint in his eye, and shook his head. “We’ve been through our share of shit over the years. Heartache, the fear of getting nowhere fast, and way more drunken nights than either of us are willing to admit in the presence of his parents, but fuck …” He shook his head again. “Twenty years later, look where we are. I’m his agent, he’s still my best friend—my brother from another mother—and he is really, really fucking famous.” A roar of applause and cheers filled the room, and I urged myself not to cry from the overwhelming magnitude of it all.

“Anyway, you don’t care what I have to say, and I’ve talked long enough. So, in just a minute, the man of the hour will be down here. So, excuse me while I go fetch him another Scotch, and thank you all for coming.” And with that, Nick jogged back towards the stairs, taking them two at a time with his long gazelle-like legs.

I swallowed hard at the thought of seeing Brandon again—this time as his celebrity persona—and I took another gulp of my water.

Please don’t hate me for being here, please don’t yell at me in front of all these people, and please, please, please still be in love with me.

A waiter approached and asked if he could get any of us a drink. Brandon’s mother and Birdy both asked for white wine spritzers, and his father ordered a gin and tonic. Bill and Jessie waved their hands as they declined. Ashley expressed how badly she wanted to drink, but couldn’t because she was apparently nursing.

“And you, miss?” he asked, coming around the table to me.

At the risk of looking like a lush in front of his parents and closest friends, I said, “Your largest glass of any red wine you have, thanks.”

And with a chuckle, he walked away while the table chatter transformed into giggles.

Ashley put a hand on my arm and smiled knowingly. “It’s going to be fine,” she said softly. “Even if he’s pissed that you came here, he won’t cause a scene in front of all these people.”

“Oh, how comforting,” I laughed, trying my best to sound relaxed while my nerves double-knotted themselves around every vital organ. “I can’t believe how many people are here.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” she laughed, and nudged her head into the direction of another table. “Elijah Wood is sitting at that table, and over there is George R.R. Martin … You get used to some of it, but my God, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to ScarJo hanging all over my husband the way she does whenever they’re together.”

“You mean—” I gasped.

Ashley nodded. “Uh-huh. And I don’t get it either. I mean, I love Nicky, but I’m not blind. You’d think she’d be all over B., but …” She shrugged and took a sip of her water.

And then, the room exploded.