Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Are you sure about this?” He looks at me.
“Look, I sent it to him. Poured my heart out in that song. Told him to put it on the album, and he has not reached out to either one of us. This is business, my friend, not personal,” I snap as I walk over to Melanie’s tiki-looking outdoor kitchen and open the refrigerator. “Champagne?” I offer, holding up a bottle of Cristal.
“Christ, what are you, the Godfather? And no. Stop fucking drinking. You need food.”
“I want you to release ‘Tricky Love,’ Malcolm.” As I start to open the bottle, I see my hands. Jesus, I’m tan. Rachel would go ballistic if she saw me, throwing a fit that I didn’t cover my face. I push that pain and betrayal away.
She was stealing from you.
Stealing, almost surreal. The sad thing is I’m such an idiot, I would have easily given her the money had she asked.
As for her accusing Ammo of drugging and raping her…
That I can’t forgive.
Now that days have gone by, I know he didn’t do it. It doesn’t matter what she says, or that I saw with my own eyes the video the police showed me of her entering and leaving his house.
He didn’t do it.
And I should have known that, and now I have to live with this painful regret.
The only thing that gets me up in the morning is deep inside I know he still loves me. The way his eyes held mine when he was inside me.
Hate.
Pain.
Love…
I saw all of it and I cling to it now, letting it fuel me to stay positive.
He’ll call.
As soon as I release “Tricky Love,” Ammo will call. He has to, right?
Just keep fighting to win him back, Court. You have to, or you might never leave this house.
“Look, if we release ‘Tricky Love’ and Ammo doesn’t…” Malcolm’s voice trails off, his unsaid words float around us as he runs his hands nervously through his hair.
“Doesn’t what?” I throw my hands up. “What should I do? Because at this point, I’m open to suggestions. I mean, he won’t return calls, texts. He threw me out of his house. What would you have me do?” I cock my head at him, he’s probably right, this could backfire on me, but at this point I have zero to lose.
Zero.
I’m completely in uncharted waters, never having had to say I’m sorry, or beg for forgiveness.
I’ve never done any of this before. I only know how to create a shell so tough around me, no one was supposed to be able to shatter it. The thought of opening myself up for rejection, or actually trusting someone, was too scary.
But it’s not.
It’s having to live with regret that will eat you up inside. Slowly torturing your brain until you don’t even remember the person you once were.
Ammo may never forgive me, but if I don’t try, I won’t forgive myself, and that I can’t live with.
“Here, give me that.” Malcolm takes the champagne from me and easily pops the top.
“Oh yes, please, Daddio.” Melanie walks out in a tiny black bikini and large black hat to shield her face, flopping down dramatically in a queen-size lounge chair, and I grin.
To be honest, I don’t know what I would have done without her. Not only has she taken me in, but Ace also. Then I have Gina, and a variety of others coming in out of here along with her staff, but she’s been there for me.
I grab three champagne flutes, make my way toward them, as I look up at the sun.
“What time is it?” I’m too humiliated to admit that I don’t even know what day it is.
“Two.” Malcolm takes the glasses.
Yet another reason I need to make something—anything—happen. I’m losing track of all time. I get up, cry in the shower, put on a bikini, and drink by the pool, then repeat.
“So, I’m doing it. I just told Malcolm to release ‘Tricky Love.’ What do you think?”
“I think it’s about motherfucking time.” Mel sits up, taking the glass of champagne from Malcolm.
“Fine, but we need to talk about Rachel.” He sits as I take a large gulp, enjoying the distracting bubbles fizzing all the way to my nose.
“Because now we actually need PR.” He leans back as I sit down on the side of Melanie’s chair.
“Fire her.” Both of them just stare at me. “What? Get the lawyer to put it in writing that I no longer need her services, or whatever they say,” I state.
“Fuck, I’m not even going to question if you are sure about this. I’ve been waiting for years for this day.” Malcolm types on his phone as I stand and start to pace.
“She stole from me. Just, say I’m willing to not press charges if she goes away quietly.” I anxiously try to ignore that panic in my head that tells me something really bad is going to happen as soon as Rachel gets this letter.