When the time came for her to rise up through the stage, none of the applause would be for Piper. For the real Piper. It would be a celebration of her building a successful image. And that image didn’t mean anything. It didn’t count. She thought slipping back into this scene would be easy, that she’d just sink into it and revel, be numb for a little while. But all she could think about was . . . who would have coffee with Opal tomorrow? Who would walk Abe to the museum?
Those visits made her feel a million times better than the momentary bursts of internet stardom. Because it was just her, living in real moments, not fabricating them for the entertainment of others.
Making over the bar with her sister, standing on the deck of a boat with the love of her life’s arms around her, running through the harbor mist, making friends who seemed interested in her and not what she could do for them. Those things counted.
This was all for show, and participating in it made Piper feel less true to herself. Like she was selling herself short.
This fame she’d always reached for was finally reaching back, and she wasn’t interested.
Piper, Piper, Piper.
The chants were deafening now, but she only wanted to hear one voice saying her name. Why didn’t she stay and fight for him? What was he doing now?
“Brendan,” she whispered, the yearning for him so intense she almost doubled over. “I’m sorry, I miss you. I’m sorry.”
“What?” Kirby shouted over the noise. “Okay, you’re going up. Hold on, bitch!”
“No, wait.” Piper swiped at her damp eyes. “I want to get off. Let me off.”
Kirby looked at her like she was insane. “It’s too late. You’re already moving.”
And she was. So much faster than she’d expected.
This unicorn really had some get-up-and-go.
Piper clung to the synthetic mane and held her breath, looking up to watch the stage doors slide open above her. Dammit. Dammit. There was no turning back. She could jump, but she’d almost certainly break an ankle in these shoes. She’d break these beautiful Tom Ford heels, too, and that went against her very religion.
Her head was about to clear the stage.
With a deep breath, Piper sat up straighter and smiled, waving at the crowd of people who were going wild. For her. It was an out-of-body experience, being suspended above their heads, and she didn’t like it. Didn’t want to be there, sitting like a jackass on this unicorn while hundreds of people captured her image on their phones.
I want to go home. I just want to go home.
The unicorn finally settled in on the stage. Great. She was already searching for the closest exit. But when she climbed off, she’d flash the entire club. There was no other way to stay modest than to block her crotch with the unicorn hair and awkwardly slide off, which she did now, people pressing in against the stage. She didn’t just feel like a trapped animal. She was one. There was no way out.
Piper turned, searching for an avenue of escape—and there he was.
Brendan? No, it couldn’t be. Her sea captain didn’t belong in LA. They were two entities that didn’t make sense in the same space.
She held up a hand to block the flashing strobe light, and God. My God. He really was there, standing a foot taller than everyone in the crowd, bearded and beautiful and steady and salt of the earth. They locked eyes, and he slowly pulled the beanie off his head, holding it to the center of his chest, almost a deferential move—and his expression was a terrible mixture of sadness and wonder. No. She had to get to him. Being this close and not being in his arms was positively torture. He was there. He was there.
“Brendan!” Piper screamed, her voice swallowed up by the noise.
But she saw his lips move. Knew he called her name back.
Unable to be parted from him any longer, she dropped to her butt and scooted off the stage, pushing through the tightly packed crowd, praying she was moving in the right direction, because she couldn’t see him anymore. Not with the flashing lights and the phones in her face.
“Brendan!”
Hands grabbed at her, making it impossible for her to move. The arms of strangers slung around her neck, pulling her into selfies, hot breath glanced across her neck, her shoulders. No, no, no. She only wanted one touch. One perfect man’s touch.
“Piper!”
She heard his deep, panicked voice and spun around in the kaleidoscope of color, flashes going off, disorienting her. Tears were rolling down her face, but she left them there in favor of trying to push through the crowd. “Brendan!”
Adrian appeared in front of her, momentarily distracting Piper from her maze run, because it was all so absurd. She was trying to get to the most wonderfully real human on earth, and this fake, hurtful man-child was blocking her path. Who did he think he was?