Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Maybe that’s why Elle never asked me to come along.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But you’ve been on tour before, you know what it’s like. I hate it after a few days.”
“Tell me about the Super Bowl.”
Quinn goes into everything I missed, and how people asked about me. He tells me about Oliver and how cute he is, and how Katelyn and Harrison are hoping to adopt him. Quinn hands me his phone and tells me to scroll through the photos. I do, pausing when I get to a picture of Oliver and Elle. Elle beams in each photo and it makes me wonder if she misses me at all. Are the text messages she’s sending business related or is she telling me to get the hell out of her house? This entire time I thought the messages were her telling me she missed me. By the looks of these photos, she’s not missing me at all.
Quinn stays for a couple of hours and when he leaves, he tells me he’ll be over this weekend to watch the basketball game, something we’ve done for years. I want to think he’s not going anywhere, but the truth is, I’ve closed the door on this part of my life and he’s going to eventually side with his sister. Eventually, Elle will move on and being friends with the ex will be frowned upon.
It's been days since I’ve showered and know if I’m going to start healing, I need to take care of myself. I finally drag my ass into the guest bathroom and turn the water on. I hate this bathroom, but it has zero memories of Elle, of us together. It doesn’t smell like her shampoo or show me the things she’s left behind. It’s easier to be in here.
The hot water rushes over my skin, burning my flesh. I welcome the pain. It’s easier to let this type of hurt wash over me versus the heartache I feel constantly. When the water temperature starts to change, I wash my hair and lather my hands with soap. Every inch of my body hurts from the water burn, but suddenly I don’t care because there’s something on my body that shouldn’t be there.
It's a lump and it’s hard.
5
ELLE
Justine paces in the hall and wrings her hands together. I’ve never seen her like this—on edge and agitated. Usually, she’s the cool, calm, collected type, and has the biggest smile on her face. There’s something definitely wrong, and with Plum about to go on stage, I need to figure out how to fix whatever the issue is.
I slip my hand over her arm and tug her lightly toward Plum’s dressing room. Before I can close the door, a crew member from the show stops me. “They go on after the commercial break.”
“I’m aware. We’ll only be a moment.” I shut the door and twist the lock to give us as much privacy as we need and turn toward Justine. Her chin-length hair sits high on top of her head in a ponytail and the blonde is now purple. Wynonna and Priscilla dyed theirs as well—something the three of them didn’t tell me about until I saw them this morning. Of course, they hadn’t needed to actually utter the words, “we dyed our hair” because the evidence was right in front of my face. I don’t know how I feel about it and told them we can discuss it later. Their band's name is Plum, but that doesn’t mean they have to embrace it.
“What’s going on? Are you nervous?”
Justine shakes her head and then nods. “Yes, and no.”
Yep, it’s clear as mud now.
“You’ve performed before. Is it because we’re on national TV?”
“Do you remember when I told you I had run away at fourteen?”
I nod and study her face for any sign she’s about to throw a wrench into things.
“I’m scared my dad will see me on TV and try to come find me.”
“Was he abusive?”
Justine looks into my eyes and then at the ground. She doesn’t need to tell me anymore. I step closer and place my hands on her shoulders. “If we hear from him, we’ll take action. For now, let’s go out there and perform. Show the world who Plum is. Okay?”
She sniffs and mutters a very quiet thank you. I don’t pretend to understand what her life was like when she lived on the streets. I can’t imagine having a parent who mistreated me to the point where I felt my only option was to run away. For Justine to be in that situation, especially at fourteen, and persevere to where she is now—it’s remarkable.
Justine and I head back to the hall, where Wynonna and Priscilla are waiting. A different crew member tells the girls to follow them. I trail behind, unwilling to let them navigate their appearance all on their own. Faintly, I can hear Helen of the Helen Show, talk to the audience about Plum, and how they were discovered at Trixie’s (slight exaggeration)—one of the oldest bars in Hollywood—during an open mic night. I’m thankful Quinn and I were there that night because I have a feeling Plum is going to make it big. Their recently released single is already climbing the charts, and Dana Cantu from Sinful Distraction has approached me about writing songs for the girls. As a manager, when my bands come together to create music, it’s magical.