As we predicted, the media attention died down the next day when Devyn and Elena were spotted at the trendiest club, their relationship not looking a bit tarnished. I imagine that she’s enjoying being pegged as his sweetheart, his game-changer. She’s being recognized as the reason he’s staying sober and changing his life around.
I’m the temptress.
The other woman.
The mistress.
I certainly don’t know how I can be any of those things when I haven’t seen Devyn in almost three weeks. Since the diner has had a steady stream of customers, I’ve been doing what I can to help, even posing for pictures or signing something when requested.
It may burn my soul, but I’d do anything to help Uncle Jeff.
A burger flips in slow motion before me, the sizzle of the griddle against the meat as it splatters back onto the hot surface, leaving little bubbles in its wake.
“Everyone out. NOW!” Uncle Jeff’s booming voice sounds in the large room, shattering the mental cocoon I’ve placed myself inside.
“What’s going on?” Tucker asks, and I shrug.
Stealing a look out into the space I watch as the maniacal man nearly lifts people out of their chairs with their plates and utensils still in their meaty grips.
It only takes about five minutes under Jeff’s command to clear the room. Collectively everyone must realize that something big is going on, something of importance, and I can’t help but focus on the sinking feeling swirling around me.
I fear that this time I’m not going to be able to come up for air.
Joanne rushes over to Jeff and he murmurs something to her, they both look toward me. His face is one in concern, eyes wide, mouth pinched. But Joanne’s face contorts into one of shock, her hand rushing to her mouth, head swaying back and forth.
“No way.” Tucker’s voice travels around me in a wisp, just barely audible. Turning around, I find him fidgeting with the remote for the ancient television in the corner. The thing has never really worked, but last summer Jeff and I tried to get it some kind of service. Sporadic channels flip back and forth until settling on an entertainment news show.
At first, I wonder if some scandal involving Devyn has occurred, or worse, a death. Maybe something with his parents.
But then my face flashes on the screen, a close-up of my scars front and center the day I was released from the hospital. The day I had looked the worst and felt dreadful. Everything had been raw, fresh, and terrifying. And now it is out there for the world to see.
I don’t make it long enough to see the rest, the darkness churns above me, spinning violently into a swarming tornado sucking me into its center, unleashing its fury in its path.
The solitude of shadows is a welcome reprieve. It’s quiet, calming, peaceful, soothing. Why would anyone want to leave this? Why would anyone want to welcome
in the disarray of the world?
I’m not given a choice, as the sounds of voices filter around me. Beneath my body, I feel a soft cushion – a mattress. I must have passed out and was brought back to Cole’s. I know that I’m not in my room.
I have a choice of getting up or hiding away. The decision isn’t challenging this time. Closing off my mind, I go back to my old ways, hiding away from everyone hoping that I’m able to slip away unnoticed.
I can deal with everything tomorrow. Today, I want to shut the world out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN – DEVYN
“Action!” the director shouts from behind his camera.
I’m dressed in full black attire. Tight T-shirt, black pants, ass-kicking boots, and my body strapped with so many weapons that I could open my own reserve.
My character, Brody, is following his CIA colleague down the hall of their building when they approach a room. Elena’s character, Gianna, sits in the corner looking meek and mild until she sees him enter, then her entire body changes. In the storyline, their characters had spent the night together after celebrating his racing win under her family’s custom car sponsorship.
Gianna didn’t realize that he was investigating her family for smuggling drugs within the confines of their custom builds. But she does now. And although they were indeed pushing drugs and weapons, he had played her a fool.
The woman bursts like a volcanic explosion, rushing across the room and jumping over the table in her hurry to get to him. Her blue dress rips along the way, exposing her thighs to the camera.
Brody is supposed to stand there and take the violent outburst from her, feeling her hurt at his deception. And whether it’s improvisation, or Elena missing her mark, her hand lashes out across my face, one of her nails leaving a bleeding wound in its wake.
I don’t miss the calculating glare in her eyes, but I continue to follow through with the scene until the director finally shouts, “Cut! That’s it.”