I look around for a hidden camera. This is a moment I want to document. I wink at her as I pick up my keys. Her face turns even redder. She tries to smile, but it looks more like a frown. I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid now that her attempt at being sexy has failed miserably.
I find my car easily enough in their enormous fleet of fifteen vehicles. I don’t know why people – women, in particular – just don’t come out and say what’s on their minds. Hell, maybe she could’ve paid me a compliment. That would’ve made my day. But no, they um and ah around the topic and the only thing they succeed in is wasting my time.
When I pull up at Liam’s, I’m happy to see Harrison is here. Now that I’m here it will give us more time to finalise what will be on the CD before Tyler arrives to start on the production. As much as I wish we were in LA doing this crap, I like coming out to Beaumont to escape reality. There are no paparazzi to bug us. I can chill out with family without people hiding in the bushes or analysing everything I’m buying at the supermarket. Liam was right when he moved back. The way of life here is total serenity.
The only thing missing is the eye candy. I need them. They entertain me and remind me that I’m nothing better than what my father said I would be. I won’t be stupid though. I won’t get any of my girls up the duff, and I’ll definitely never get married. Kids and marriage complicate things. My dad was married to my mum for a long time, but had so many flings on the side that he lost track, same with my grandfather. I guess it’s in the Davis’ blood to not be tied down.
I walk down the stairs to the studio. Both of them turn and look at me. Their stupid big grins tell me that they’re up to no good. Good thing I’m here to burst their happy little bubble.
“Sam’s offed herself.”
Liam and Harrison freeze like statues and their mouths fall open.
“What did you say?” Liam asks.
“Chelsea came by looking for a shag and showed me a newspaper article reporting that Sam died of an apparent drug overdose just after Christmas.”
“She’s dead?” Liam asks again.
I nod and watch for another reaction from him. I’m not gonna lie, Sam being gone gives us more opportunities. We’ve been thinking for a while now that she’s been influencing venues and blocking them from working with us and we know for a fact that she sabotaged our tour. I never want to wish bad luck onto people, but Sam not being in the picture anymore is a blessing in disguise.
“That’s sort of messed up,” Harrison says. He’s right, it is.
“I never wanted her to die. I just wanted to be free. We’re free,” Liam says.
Harrison and I nod. We’re free.
I’VE managed to survive a vicious three-year marriage to the most vile man I’ve ever known. For years he tried to get me pregnant and each time I did what I had to do to prevent it. I feared the day that he would find out about my methods, but it was a risk I was willing to take. There was no way I could bring an innocent child into the world with him as the father. Yet, here I sit, surrounded by dozens of pregnancy tests all telling me what I already know. The swollen breasts, tight fitting clothes and protruding stomach are signs I’ve been trying to ignore, but I can’t anymore. I’m about to be a mother. One slightly drunken moment and I’m pregnant and all I can think is thank God this child doesn’t belong to my ex-husband.
You never know someone well enough. I thought I knew Damien Mahoney. I loved him and thought he loved me, but I was sadly mistaken. Our courtship lasted two years until we were married in a fairytale ceremony. My Cinderella wedding dress still hangs in my parents’ closet. I never wanted to part with it, even after I left him. My tiara sits atop my childhood dresser, collecting dust, no doubt. Our marriage was anything but a fairytale. I didn’t get my happily ever after. I got abused, physically and mentally.
No one ever prepares you for the abuse, whether it’s by the hands of the man your father gave you to in front of all your family and friends; or by the hateful and hurtful words that come out of the mouth from the one who vowed to love you, who stood up in front of everyone and said he’d always protect you. When the first slap comes, when you feel the sting resonate across your cheek, you forget those vows. You forget that the man standing in front of you is your husband and you ask yourself why.
The first hit came one night after we had been out with some friends. We started fooling around when we got home and I accidentally hit him between the legs. It was a kneejerk reaction to something he did. I jumped and caught him. I apologized and kept trying to touch him, only to have him bat my hands away each time. That should’ve been my sign to leave him alone, but I kept at it, trying to comfort him. His hand came across my face so fast I didn’t have time to register what was happening until I was holding my cheek and tears were flowing down my face.
He held me tight. Promised me it would never happen again. I believed him.
Until he lied.
After each incident he would beg me to forgive him. He’d tend to my cuts and bruises. He’d berate and belittle himself. He promised me it was the last time.
Until it wasn’t.
I learned how to hide my bruises from my friends and family. I became a klutz every time I’d break my arm or collarbone. I pretended I loved him.
Until I couldn’t.
I stayed because I had taken my vows seriously. I stayed because he
sought help and for a while it worked.
Until it didn’t.
Some would think that leaving was the hard part, but that’s not the case. The hardest part was calling my dad to tell him that I needed help. I had to wait until Damien went on a business trip. When I knew he was gone, I finally found the courage to call my dad and tell him everything. He came that night, packed my belongings and took me home. My dad never said anything. He moved fluidly through my house while I stood there with tears streaming down my face. The car ride to my parents was the longest ride ever. He didn’t speak until we pulled into the driveway.
He sat there, staring straight ahead with his hands holding onto the steering wheel. He said, “Jenna, you’re my daughter and if I didn’t raise my hand to you, then no man will.”
The next night I left and ended up in Beaumont. I left my parents behind. I added my signature on divorce papers that my father prepared for me and promised to file. I left for a place where I had no ties and was far enough away from the main road that I could blend in and get to know everyone. I’ve been here for four years and love it. It took me the first two until I could finally walk around without always looking over my shoulder. I know Damien will find me. He’ll come for me. It’s only a matter of time.