Chapter 7
969 Words
The studio blew up with hooting and teasing.
It was deafening.
I felt like the whole world was closing in on me. I could barely breathe.
No one could possibly know how it felt.
Gloria glanced back at me, fake-innocent. "Oops, Ms. Morrow. Looks like you lost."
I snapped back to myself.
Cameras were on me, and the whole audience was watching me.
I forced a smile, gripped the mic tight, and walked over to the curry table with as much dignity as I could muster.
One bite, and my stomach clenched hard.
The burning spice hit me like a truck, mixing with the bitter tears behind my eyes. I couldn't stop gagging.
Brandon froze for half a second, then ran over.
Darnell quickly waved the crew to cut filming.
Off to the side, I clutched my throbbing stomach, my face drained of color.
Brandon handed me a glass of warm water, his tone sharp. "It was just a bit for the show. You didn't have to actually eat it."
"For the show?" I repeated quietly.
After a beat, I laughed, my voice rough and hoarse. "Was picking her just for the show, too?"
I'd been dragged into some stupid game I never asked to play, and I'd lost so badly it was almost funny.
Brandon's face tightened. His voice went stiff. "You know how it is. The movie's coming out soon."
I stared at him, my eyes red-rimmed, and said flatly, "Your pumpkin's looking this way."
Brandon caught Gloria walking over out of the corner of his eye. A flicker of guilt hit him, and his irritation spiked.
He snapped, his voice impatient. "How old are you? You really gonna hold this against her?"
I just said calmly, "She's here."
I set the untouched glass of water down. "I've got somewhere to be. I'm heading out."
Brandon stared at my back, stunned.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd watched me walk away from him.
After filming wrapped, I saw Gloria's new post pop up.
It was a photo of a glass jar full of colorful candy.
The caption read, "Someone's spoiled me again today. @Brandon"
I recognized those candies immediately. They were from the shop we'd gone to that afternoon.
I had no idea when Brandon had even bought them.
For no reason I could name, I went back to that candy shop alone.
It was still open, surprisingly.
Looking at all the bright, colorful candy, I felt like I'd stepped right back into my childhood dreams.
For as long as I could remember, Fiona's gambling had meant debt collectors were always at our door.
Candy, ice cream, cake—all the stuff other kids got sick of—were total luxuries I could never have.
Once in a blue moon, when Fiona won big, she'd toss Eleanor and me a few bucks.
I'd hoard every cent, just to buy a handful of cheap, colorful candy and a cheap popsicle.
That cloying, too-sweet taste was my only real memory of happiness as a kid.
Ten years ago, right here in this same shop, I'd said it like I meant it. "Someday I'm gonna open a shop just like this. Eat candy all day long until I'm sick of it."
Brandon had clapped right beside me, playing along. "Then I'll come work for you, Ms. Morrow. Free labor, as long as I get free candy and a place to crash."
Ten years later, I thought I had everything. Now I realized I still had nothing at all.
I caught my reflection in the store window. I was crying, my face totally blank.
I looked so pathetic.
I wiped my tears, pulled out my phone, and posted a tweet:
Maybe there was never any future to begin with.
Word spread fast. News that I had allegedly broken up with my boyfriend immediately trended online.
Two hours later, Brandon came home.
The house was pitch black. When he flipped on the light, he found me curled up in the corner of the couch.
I was clutching a jar of candy, exactly the same one Gloria had posted about.
Brandon stared hard at the candy jar in my arms. There was tight, suppressed anger in his voice. "Abigail, what was that post supposed to mean?"
I didn't answer. I just unwrapped another candy and popped it in my mouth.
Candy wrappers were already scattered all over the floor at my feet.
Brandon raised his voice. "If you're having an episode, take your meds. Do you have to do this to me right now?"
I froze for a second. My voice was quiet and distant. "I just... had a thought. That's all."
We stood in silence across the big living room, staring each other down.
Brandon could feel a headache throbbing at his temples. "It's all work, all of it. I told you. It's just for the cameras, nothing real."
Was it really just an act? Or had the act turned real?
I laughed suddenly, sharp and bitter. "Should I call you the best actor? You're really selling it."
Brandon's anger boiled over. He scoffed. "You're being ridiculous."
He then turned to leave.
I stood up on instinct, reaching for him.
The glass jar slipped from my arms and shattered all over the floor.
Shards of glass sliced deep cuts into my lower leg.
Brandon froze for a split second.
Then he slammed his fist against the door, whirled around, and stormed back to yank me to my feet.
The second he pulled me up, a gold-embossed business card slipped out of my pocket.
Brandon glanced down.
It was the card of a big entertainment company CEO, some rich guy famous for keeping young celebrities as mistresses.
His face went ice cold. "Well, Abigail. Look at you. Moving up in the world."
- Writer
