The Last Thing (8 page)

I shot up from my bed, wrapping my arms around my chest. I
could still feel the burning inside my lungs and it was a few minutes more before
the feeling subsided. With shaky legs, I stood up and went into my bathroom.

I braced my arms over the porcelain sink and took a few deep
breaths. Just one glance in the mirror made me to shutter at the bags under my
eyes. The dream replayed the worst memory I had. My hand hovered over the
makeup brushes. I didn’t wear much makeup these days. These tiny bristles had
once been my life, but now they were foreign to me. Against my better judgment,
I picked up one of my brushes and blended concealer under my eyes. It didn’t
cover the puffiness, but it would do. My job required pretty girls who smiled
until their mouths hurt.

I hadn’t wanted anyone to know, but one of my- coworkers had
been at the OB/GYN at the exact same time I’d  had my initial appointment. Then
she’d ran her mouth to everyone at work. After finding out about my pregnancy,
my boss wanted to give me a “safer” job. Now, I was stuck as a hostess, the
money wasn’t as good, but hell, my feet hurt after waitressing all night. I
spent most of the day with my head in the toilet anyway, throw in pretending to
suck up to rich clients, and then you had my worst nightmare…almost.  I pulled
my hair up into a loose bun at the top of my head and secured it with a few
clips. I needed to leave soon if I was going to make it to work on time for my
double shift. We were slammed on Fridays.  I took a step back and looked at
myself in the floor length mirrors that covered the bathroom walls. I smoothed
my hands over my white button up blouse and sighed at how noticeable the tiny
bump on my stomach was becoming. According to the books, I wasn’t supposed to
be showing. I was two months along, but I swore that there was something there.
Maybe it was my imagination.

It had been over a week since Chase had told me he’d call and
still nothing. I didn’t mind though, it was exactly what I expected.

Zilch. Zero. Nada. Nothing.

Ginger appeared in the doorway and leaned her head against
the wall.

“Has he called yet?”

“Nope.”

“That bastard,” she said, her hands curling up in fists at
her side.

“It’s okay,” I told her flatly. I didn’t want to argue about
it anymore. It was a one-time mistake, and I didn’t want Chase Crowley drama
for the rest of my life. If the press ever found out, my privacy that I’d
traveled across the country for would’ve all gone to waste. The thought of the
entire world knowing my secrets made me sick. I forced myself not to think
about it.

“He isn’t scheduled back at the studio for another week, but
I hope they kill his character off…again,” Ginger mumbled. Her eyes crinkled in
anger and she let out a small huff, but there was something more to it.  The
mood lightened at Ginger’s joke.

“Anything is possible on a soap opera.”

“Maybe they will let my character kill him off this time.”

 “Everything is fine,” I insisted, “I’m fine. Just please
don’t say anything and let it go.”

“How can I let this go? I invited you here so that your life
would get better and you could leave all that depressing stuff behind, and you
come here and I let you get knocked up!”

“I’m an adult. It isn’t your job to look after me. I made the
bad choice. And really, what did you expect from me? My life is just a series
of bad choices.”

Ginger pursed her lips together unhappily and shrugged.
“Fine, I won’t say anything, but I’ll be damned if he thinks I’m letting him
get near another girl again. I am
so
gonna cock-block him.”

The only thing I could do was laugh. Oddly enough, the
thought of Chase being with another girl irritated me. I shouldn’t have
gotten
this upset because he wasn’t mine to claim. Nonetheless, I couldn’t shake my
attraction to him. From the second I laid eyes on his mysterious face to the
way he’d confidently smirked at me, I’d been captivated. His body had hardened
at my touch, and he’d held me against him, clutching on to me for dear life as
we both enjoyed the waves of pleasure. He was something else entirely.

“I must say,” Ginger pointed out, “you’re taking this
pregnancy news pretty well.”

It just didn’t feel quite real yet.

“I can handle this.” 

“Are you sure? Because we can get you someone to talk to.
Another psychiatrist, maybe?”

“We’ve already had this conversation. I’m fine.”

 “You’re not fine. I can see it in your eyes. You’re not the
same girl I left in Tennessee two years ago. You’ve changed.

“I’ve grown up, Ginger. People change. You aren’t exactly the
same either. Look, I gotta get going,” I pushed past her to grab my purse off
my bed. I proceeded to look for my keys. Having a car was convenient, but it
had taken all of my money. I still panicked each time I sat in one of those
metal death traps, but after a while, the anxiety had lessened to tolerable. I
would need to save for a deposit on an apartment.  Then I would need baby
things and a sitter. Ugh, the list was never ending.

“Aha!” I pulled my keys out from under a pile of magazines.

“I wish you wouldn’t work. Just stay at home, enjoy this
pregnancy. You can stay here for as long as you want.” Ginger followed me
around like a lost puppy trying to guilt me into quitting.

I gave her a wistful smile. That kind of life would have been
nice, but I couldn’t let everyone treat me so delicately anymore.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“No, we aren’t shooting today.”

My cell phone vibrated against my hip causing me to look down
to see who it was. My heart stilled. It was my mom. I hadn’t heard from her
since I’d gotten here. Reaching out to press ignore, I hesitated. At the last second,
I decided against it.

“It’s Mom,” I told Ginger, waving my cell phone in the air. She
gave me a thumbs up and walked away to give me a moment of privacy.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. My mom’s shrilly southern voice came
through the speaker. We had a complicated relationship, one that involved me
being solely responsible for ruining her marriage.

“Quinn, honey. How are ya’ll?”

“Fine.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Are y’uns stayin’ out of trouble? Do ya lock the car doors?”

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me. It was so
typical of her to worry over everything. She believed I was incapable. That was
why she had been thrilled to see me go.

“Yes, Mom.”

“I’d hoped that you’d call when you were settled in, but
seeing as you forgot about your own mother…”

 I groaned in annoyance. She was trying to make me feel bad. Why?
She didn’t even want me back home.

“Sorry, Mom,” I told her, but she didn’t answer. Some muffled
talking in the background preoccupied her.

“Are you and Ginger coming home for the holidays?”

That was months away, and I would be showing by then.  There
was no way.

“No one wants me there.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Quinn.  I told ya this would all blow
over. By the time Christmas comes, you’ll  be old news.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good. I have to go. Talk to ya later, Quinn.”

Typical. Just another half-hearted conversation with my
mother. “Bye, Mom.”

 I pressed end on my phone and leaned back against the wall.
I guess I’d been expecting it to go differently. She didn’t inquire about my
life or anything personal.

Ginger popped out from behind the doorway.

“Well? What’d she say?”

“She wants us to visit.”

She scrunched her nose. “Hell to the no. What’s wrong with
her?”

“She thinks that everything will blow over.”

“Doubtful.” I shuddered at the thought. Strangers staring at
me in the streets, friends turning their backs. They only reinforced my belief
that people always leave.

I spotted a few magazines on the coffee table and leaned over
to pick one up. The tabloids that Ginger hadn’t yet learned to quit reading.
Chase was on the front of one. He was stumbling out of a club with a blonde on
his arm. The date on the magazine read last week. My body burned with jealousy.
I tore the cover off the magazine and ripped it up into tiny pieces. Screaming
in frustration, I threw all the pieces in the trash. No more. My attraction for
Chase wouldn’t control me anymore.

Chase

Stepping out of the limo with Chloe James on my arm was the
highlight of my night. Her hips swayed seductively in her white dress, as heads
turned her way. It was nice, even though she technically wasn’t my date. It was
just a business dinner with our new director. The paparazzi outside swarmed
with excitement as the limo door slammed shut behind us. My publicist insisted
we arrive together, to build up buzz for the movie. Hey, I wasn’t complaining. I
wouldn’t mind a fake relationship with Chloe. She was tall, gorgeous, barely
eighteen, and a newbie to the silver scene. She turned to me and tucked some of
her short blonde hair behind her ear. A man with a camera got right up on us
and started filming.

“Chloe, Chase. Have you started filming yet?”

 I was prepared to ignore them, but Chloe’s blue eyes filled
with excitement.

“Not yet, but soon.”

“How ‘bout that off-screen chemistry?”

Chloe giggled and looked up at me. Rumors would fly. It was
inevitable.

Unfortunately, for her, I didn’t have room on my list for
another fuck buddy. I had trouble keeping track of my current ones. We moved
past the photographers and entered the restaurant.

My eyes centered in on a familiar brown head that made my
insides curl in delight. Quinn. Did she work here? Her dark hair, that I loved
so much, was pulled back into a bun. She tapped her pencil against the podium as
she stared off into the distance. She wore only a minimal amount of makeup on
her face, but she was still the most gorgeous girl in the room. Probably the
most interesting too.  I smiled slightly, this night was about to get exciting.
Typically, I didn’t care to make other girls jealous, but I felt like having
some fun.  After all, I was Chase Crowley, and she was the cousin of some
nobody soap star. I could do better, even if I didn’t want to.

She glanced up briefly as we approached; her eyes did a
double take as she recognized who I was.

“Hi…..” Quinn said uncertainly. I gave her a big smile, which
caused her to drop her pencil.

“Aww. You have a fan, Chase,” Chloe cooed in my ear. I
laughed as Quinn stood from picking up the pencil. I lightly pulled the writing
utensil out of her grip and grabbed a piece of paper from the podium.

“Looks like I do. No need to ask. I’ll sign your paper.” I
bent over to scribble my name on the paper. I was being a jerk, but I didn’t
care.

“Who should I make it out to?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Quinn swallowed hard and her lips drew together to make a
tight line.

 “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

 I was about to come back with a smart-ass answer, but was
cut short by Chloe’s shrilling laughter.

“That’s a good one. I really like you,” Chloe told her before
elbowing me in the ribs.  I dropped the pencil on the podium and straightened
back up.

“We are here for the Danner party,” I told Quinn. I wouldn’t
acknowledge that I knew her; she could squirm for all I cared.  Her eyes
moved back and forth between Chloe and me, no doubt trying to decide what we
were doing here.  Her gaze turned icy before looking down at her reservation
list.

“Um, sure—party of five,” she stumbled with her words, “Party
of five, yep. She grabbed a few menus from the metal shelf behind her and
turned around to show us to our seat.

“Right this way,” she said. We followed her through the
hallway into a large private room.  Special guests had preferred seating away
from the windows and normal customers. It was distracting to have fans
bothering you, and people snapping photos on their phones. This restaurant was
indeed very elite.  The ceiling was made of glass so clear that we had a flawless
view of the cityscape. We walked past rooms with red chairs and golden cushiony
walls with hundreds of chandeliers dipping from the ceiling to provide a
minimal amount of light. It was quiet because of the privacy of each booth but
some sort of classical music flowed in the background.  As I walked behind
Quinn, I couldn’t help but notice how nice her ass looked in that uniform. The
black slacks hugged her curves in all the right places, and to my dismay, a
small bit of arousal stirred inside of me. No way. Been there, done that. I was
over her. Quinn wasn’t going to get under my skin again.  She turned and
ushered us into a private booth. The director, Jordan Danner, threw his hands
about wildly while explaining something to my publicist and manager, Rhea.

Chloe glared at Quinn before sitting down. She must have
caught on to the way I kept staring at her.