“Come on,” Scarlett said. “Yes, you can.”
I hated saying it out loud—made the ache in my chest hurt worse. “She has a ring on her finger, Scarlett. And it ain’t mine.”
Suddenly, I didn’t much want to be here. I wasn’t going to leave Leah Mae, but I didn’t want to keep talking to my sister, either. I took my beer and walked down by the water, putting distance between myself and the crowd. Felt better that way. Safer. Where no one could see the hurt that lived inside me. Where I could be alone for a spell, and just feel what I had to feel.
There was nothing else for it. Leah Mae couldn’t ever be mine.
14
LEAH MAE
T he Lookout wasn’t crowded. It was early evening, and a Wednesday. A few barflies held down stools at the bar, and a handful of people were playing pool. But other than that, it was fairly quiet.
I wasn’t here to drink, necessarily, so I ordered a club soda with lime and chose a table. Scarlett had texted me earlier, asking if I’d like to meet her. I was grateful for the invitation. Not just for the excuse to get out, but because it felt good to be included. Like I was connected to more than just my dad here in Bootleg Springs.
The next episode of Roughing It had aired, and it had been worse than the last. I hadn’t watched, but a glance at the celebrity gossip columns told me everything I needed to know. The producers had edited the footage to make it look like Brock and I had hooked up again. In a bed this time.
To make matters worse, Brock and Maisie had broken their social media silence. Brock had issued a public apology to Maisie, and she’d been posting things like relationships are hard work, and true love wins over adversity.
Brock’s apology was vague, not confirming he’d cheated with me, but not denying it either. It was ridiculous, but I knew he was trying to stay within the terms of his contract. He wanted to get paid. We were paid a portion at signing, and more at the conclusion of filming. The rest of our earnings were being held in the form of a bonus that we wouldn’t get until after the last episode. It was how the producers ensured our good behavior while the show aired.
I hadn’t said anything about Brock on social media. It wasn’t about the money. At this point, I’d have been happy to give up my earnings from the show to get my reputation back. But I didn’t think it would help. It would just give the public more content to gossip over. And if I broke my contract with this studio, I ran the risk of being blacklisted all over Hollywood. My career might be able to survive some bad press. That was all on the surface. But it wouldn’t survive a blacklisting.
I took a sip of my club soda, the bite of carbonation tickling my tongue. Maybe I should have ordered something stronger. I kept hoping that if I laid low for a while, people would tire of the story and move on. I just had to get through the summer, and the show would be over.
Being in Bootleg made that easier. I wasn’t exactly hiding, but I wasn’t making it known I was here, either. And the town seemed to realize I needed the safety of semi-secrecy. I always ran the risk of nosy tourists recognizing me and taking my picture, and I’d taken to wearing a hat and sunglasses when I went out. But I felt protected here.
The door opened, letting in a rush of fresh air. I glanced over, but it was a young couple I didn’t know—not Scarlett. I smiled down at my drink, thinking of her bonfire last week. I’d been so apprehensive about going out, but all that anxiety had melted away with those blow job shots. Jameson and Scarlett had turned the whole thing into a joke, and it was clear they—and Bootleg—were on my side.
I’d had a great time with Scarlett and Cassidy that night. Jameson, too, although he’d been quiet. But I liked his reserved nature—always had. I felt comfortable around him in a way I didn’t with many other people.
When he’d taken me back to my cabin, late that night, I’d caught something in his eyes. I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it, but he’d looked sad.
Since then, I’d been spending time with my dad, helping him out around the house. Thankfully, he was starting to get better. According to Doc Trevor, he’d be off oxygen soon.