“Woman, that’s different. You didn’t ask for your shit. I asked for mine. I got caught up in the life of it. I was reckless and… I can’t lose this role.” I shook my head as my voice broke. “It means a lot, so I’m trying to clean up the mess I made.”
“I’m going to clean it up too. That’s what friends do.”
I cleared my throat, not sure how to say the next words that had to come out. They would be the reason I kept avoiding her if I didn’t let them go. “You should have lived with us long before the fire, Brey.” I sighed and pulled my shirt up to wipe sweat from my face. “There are things I need to apologize for, things I’m not proud of. I’m supposed to deal with my mental instability by letting go of things, by confronting things. I should have spoken up about the abuse going on in your home long before your father set that house on fire. I should have…”
She walked right up to me and shoved me hard in the chest. “Don’t you dare put that on yourself.”
“Baby girl.” I tried to grab her hands but she shoved me again.
“No!” She screamed the word, loud enough for all the town to hear.
No one was in sight, but they were watching. This town leaned in when they heard a whisper and listened extra closely from behind a closed curtain if they heard a stir.
“This, here, this healing”—she spat out the word like it was acid on her tongue—“it doesn’t work without family. My therapy almost broke me because I wasn’t listening to anyone but the voice inside my head.”
I wanted to stop her and tell her my situation was different. She’d suffered the loss of her parents, her home, and her life.
I’d just fucked mine up.
That was the difference between me and so many others who survived their addiction. Rehab separated those who’d lived a life much less fortunate than mine and those who’d been given it all. I was in the latter group. I didn’t want for much. My group seemed to take their rehab stint as a joke. The other group looked at their stint as a miracle—they’d somehow survived and been given an extra chance.
They were fighters, warriors, champions.
Brey was the queen of all of them. She’d faced her battle and conquered it.
“I don’t believe that for a second,” I said. “Your voice is the strongest one out there, Sasspot.”
“My voice is deranged. Everyone in therapy is there because the voice in their head is off for some reason, Jay. Don’t let me or anyone else fool you. We can’t set ourselves straight unless we have people helping us steer in the right direction. This life has too many turns to navigate all on our own.”
“I’m here with Mikka all month.”
“Mikka isn’t your best friend.” She cocked her head like she was daring me to argue the statement.
“No,” I let out slowly and started walking back to Lorraine’s with her by my side.
“She’s a very pretty friend and an almost too-attractive PA.”
I scratched the back of my neck. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
“So, you’ve slept with her?” Brey phrased it as a question but didn’t wait for the answer. “I don’t see how it’s healthy to bring someone like that on a trip to center yourself and heal.”
“She’s a good PA, Brey. And an even better friend. And the agency wanted her along.”
“And your PA didn’t fight to stay home? So, what? She have some crush on you that she wanted to be here?” The cynical tone in Brey’s voice had me smiling.
“Are you now concerned about me sleeping with my PA? What’s the worst that could happen if I did?” I laughed at the notion, brushing off the tiny niggling feeling that came with it.
“She could become attached and when you tell her you can’t commit, she could quit, leak information, file a lawsuit, sue you for God knows what, and ultimately have you lose your movie deal.”
“Who says I can’t commit?”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Jay.”
For the first time ever, her lack of belief in my ability to commit irritated me. She didn’t believe I was capable. Had I never given her reason to think I could be serious about anything?
Did Mikka feel the same?
“Sorry, that was harsh,” Brey backtracked.