Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl

What? Immediately, I start to pace the room as I scroll through my contacts again and click on Harrison’s name to dial. I wait, but the same motherfucking voice message rears its ugly head immediately. I go back to the texts with Cap and type out another one.

Me: I just tried to call him again, and it’s not working. STOP LYING.

Cap: Raquel, I don’t know what to tell you, but I’m not lying.

My skin absolutely crawls with upset and confusion. If he’s not lying, what the fuck is going on, then? My heart races, and my mind makes a bid to keep up with it. But as much as I try, I can’t seem to settle on anything that makes this whole mess make sense.

The only thought my mind can manage is a singular line from what seems like a lifetime ago. From a summer night spent falling in love.

You can always find me in New York.

I don’t hesitate. I don’t waste any time.

Immediately, I take action without turning back.

First, I call the doctor’s office and get Dr. Simpson herself on the phone. I beg her to let me fly this late in my pregnancy and offer her an obscene amount of money to be my medical escort for the flight. She is none too pleased at first, but eventually agrees.

Then, I call a plane charter service and a private car company I know I’ve never used before. Eventually, once everything is set, I text Cap again, but this time, I make sure to be a little nicer—because I need a favor.

Me: I’m sorry for the misunderstanding and the yelling, but I need you to help me out.

His response is nearly immediate.

Cap: Anything, Raquel Weaver.

Hallelujah!

Me: I need you to make sure Harrison is at his apartment in about 7-8 hours. I’ll text you about thirty minutes before my arrival. Can you do that?

Cap: You bet your Hollywood starlet ass. The Cap-i-tain is all over it. Consider the Whorey Son officially locked down.

Good. Because I’ve got a team to ditch and a plane to catch.

“Raquel?” Heidi calls through the door right then, her timing insanely impeccable. I narrow my eyes at her soft demeanor. Now that I’m not so deep in the throes of a nervous breakdown, the way she’s acting—and the way she handled me last night—is suspicious at best. Not to mention she’s the only person to have contact with Harrison that I know of.

Yeah. Shit certainly isn’t adding up.

I’d like to imagine that there isn’t a person evil enough in the world who would purposely ruin the relationship between two innocent people for their own gain, but it’s also time I woke up and stopped being so naïve. There’s way more motive behind Heidi’s actions than my own happiness and well-being, and there has been for a long time.

But right now, dealing with her is my priority.

Thinking quickly, I scrub my face to make my tears look a little bit fresher and open the door. She pouts at the sight of me, and I have to laugh. I really thought getting a knife stuck in my back was the kind of thing I’d notice sooner.

“Aw, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

She pulls me into a hug, and it’s all I can do to hold myself back from punching her right in the vagina. But I know Heidi well enough to know one thing—confronting her now, rather than going behind her back to get the hell out of here first, will only end in disappointment for me. She is a schemer, and she’ll never let me win if she knows I’m an active opponent.

“Thanks.” My voice is pitiful and pathetic, and she eats it right up.

“Is there anything I can do for you this morning?”

I shake my head, playing the part she’s forced me to play. She should be happy, though. She’s always telling me to act like the professional actress I’m being paid to be.

“No. Thanks. I’m going to go down to his apartment for a little bit. I know he’s gone, but he gave me a key, and I’d really just like to see if I can get some closure.”

She nods. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Not in a million years. “No, thanks. I really think I need to do this on my own.”

“Okay. We’ll see you in an hour to get ready for your interview with Maximum magazine?”

I nod before mentally taking a long, hard look at the life I’ve spent the last twenty or so years trapped in, mostly skirting around her.

I turn back at the door and smile. “See you soon.”

And I’m not lying. I will see her soon enough. And if I find out she had a direct hand in scheming up this whole mess, she’s going to get hers and then some.

Once I’m out the door of my apartment, I’m gone like the wind. I won’t make the same mistake twice—tomorrow is another today; but today is better.