But I know that’s not the truth. Damn January and all her probing, making me question everything. I don’t even know what my dreams are anymore. I’ve spent so many years being the perfect Doralee for everyone else, I’m numb inside. The only time I feel peaceful is at the piano, playing and singing, even just for myself.
And Melany even took that away from me, making me give up my own baby grand piano I had in the penthouse to turn that room into her new office space, as though there weren’t ten other rooms she could have used.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, that spark of hope still alive that Damon has somehow found my number and is calling to tell me he’s fixed everything.
That he’s on his way to get me…
Or it could be Melany, reminding me once again to take my medications. I get terrible anxiety when I fly and she sent me with another prescription, yet more pills even than the last time I went on a plane. I’m to take them as soon as I’m on the runway, to prevent what happened the last time I flew which resulted in a panic attack and two hours of puking into little paper bags.
But it’s neither of them.
It’s just January, calling again. I already talked to her two hours ago. Well, I’m not sure ‘talking’ is the right word, since I could barely get the words out through the sobs as I held onto my fur-babies with Melany standing in the doorway, the driver from the kennel looking bored as he waited to pry them away from me.
Like she couldn’t have let that wait until I had left? I had to be there to see them go into the carrier, barking and whining as they were carried away?
Evil has a name and French manicure.
“Hello.” I manage, my voice raw, but at least I’m too numb to sob anymore.
“Hi. I can’t stand this. Don’t get on that plane. If you need money, I’ll send you some. Come to L.A. Stay with me. Live here for the rest of your life. My house is so big, my dad won’t even notice you’re here. We’ll spend New Year’s Eve together, it will be fun.”
For a split second I consider it, but then I remember Melany’s deal and I shake my head. I won’t do anything that will endanger my babies.
“I can’t. You know I can’t.”
“Why is it so fucking important to them for you to do this? That’s what I don’t get. Something isn’t right, Dor.”
I draw a deep breath. “It’s not just them,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as her. “I always said it’s what I wanted. It was my dream too. I think Melany just wants me out of the way, and my dad? I think he’s just lost, and Melany somehow has him under her spell. I don’t know, I just know I have to go. I’ll be fine. When I get there, maybe everything will be okay. Maybe it will be what I’ve wanted and I’m just so confused.”
“Confused, my ass.” She snaps, and then she sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make this harder. It’s your decision. I just think you are painted into a corner and I hate it.”
“I can’t bail at the last second. Not after all these years of preparing and saying it’s what I wanted. I have to follow through. It’s just a year. Then I’ll know for sure, right? I’ll know if it’s what I truly want to do or not. I need to just do it and see. Then things will be okay.”
My words are tired, like I’m trying to convince someone of some thinly veiled alibi in a b-movie crime drama. The butterflies in my stomach don’t stop fluttering every time I think of Damon’s kiss, or the way his hands felt so perfect on me. The way he fed me, showed such concern for me… I can’t have spent more than thirty minutes with him, but it’s like he’s with me all the time.
“Well, I’m a phone call away. I’ve got money. And don’t forget you do too. We could get a lawyer, fight for you to regain control of the trust fund your mother left. You’re the billionaire, not your dad, and certainly not Melany.”
“I get an allowance,” I mutter, but I know deep down she’s right. My father was always an amazing businessman, but the real money in our family belonged to my mother. Money she inherited from her family, and more she made in her own modeling career. She left the bulk of it in a trust fund for me, but I no longer have any access to it. The court case for my father to gain full conservatorship over me, and therefore the fund, barely even lasted a day. At the time, Melany had me on so many medications that I couldn’t tell you what day it was, let alone make competent decisions about how to use my money. Her professional opinion was considered ‘expert’ by the court, and when they did my interview I was half out of my mind.