Page 78 of Revel
I don’t want to hear it. I don’t drink to forget. I do it because it’s an addiction and I crave the feeling of numbness that comes with it. I’m no longer fragile. I’m reactive. Addiction in many ways is simply an obsession, and it takes over your mind and every thought that comes with it.
I started drinking when I was eleven. Eleven fucking years old and I was stealing mini bottles from the local liquor store because if I downed one of those before bed, I slept and without them, I didn’t. I don’t know why but I remember being the only one awake at night and hiding under Oma’s bed until the sun came up because her freaky-ass dolls scared the shit out of me. When I was twelve, I set them on fire. She wasnotpleased.
Still, I didn’t drink to forget. I drank because I liked the way it made me feel. And it just went from there. Now if I don’t drink, you don’t want to be around me.
And that’s why I’m alone on my birthday. I push people away because it’s easier than apologizing for being unlovable. But with Princess, I’m not just falling, I’m falling into something different, a new kind of beautiful, and I don’t have the energy to keep pushing her away. I’m drowning, and she needs to walk away because she’s the type of girl who’d jump in to save me.
MERRY AND MOPING
TAYLAN
Christmas Eve, Bella picks me up at a private airstrip in LA with Ben and my driver, Matthew. I’m moping and less than thrilled to be with anyone but Revel. I think about him constantly and with every sore twist of my body, I’m reminded of him.
Within minutes of picking me up, Bella notices my neck. Her eyes about pop out of their sockets. “Girl, look at your neck!” She grabs my cheeks between her palms, her face inches from mine. “Did someone choke you? I’ll kill him. Did he hurt you? Is that why your eyes are all puffy?”
I shake out of her grasp, reaching for the button to roll up the window between us and the front seat. “He didn’t hurt me,” I tell her, fighting off a smile.
“What in the world did he. . . .” Her words die off as she places her hand around my neck, mimicking the bruises with her fingertips. “Oh, I see. There’s wild in those red roots after all.”
My cheeks bloom the color of my hair. “Stop.”
Bella settles into her seat beside me, grinning. “Was it good?”
I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “There isn’t a word to describe how good it was.”
“Details.” She twists in her seat once again and slaps her hand to my knee. “I want details. And make them good.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“The hell there isn’t.” She squints at me. “You have bruises on your neck.” She leans forward, brushing her hair from her face to get a better look at me. “Is he like, really rough? Did he tie you up? Handcuff you? Spank? Ineeddetails.”
“He didn’t use anything besides his hands,” I tell her, winking.
She studies me for a few minutes and then leans back in the seat, sighing like she needs a cigarette at the thought. “Holy.Hell.”
“Uh-huh.”
Scrolling through my phone, I look at the numerous messages from Leddy and my PR staff all asking if I want to comment on my recent involvement with Revel. I message “No comment” to all of them. The more time spent around Revel, the more I begin to take on his way of thinking. I think it’s funny how the media expects an explanation on everything. If a celebrity doesn’t want to comment on their personal life, they shouldn’t have to. It’s not like you have to tell your neighbor why you walk around naked at three in the morning eating a pint of Chunky Monkey. It’s none of their damn business.
I think it’s safe to say Rev has totally worn off on me. Because I used to think I had to explain every move I made. Not anymore. The new Taylan Ash is hardcore.
And covered in bruises.
As a little girl, I loved Christmas with my family. Even into my teens and after my career took precedent, being at home with my family around the holidays was always a way to unwind and recharge.
After spending three days with Revel, my family is boring.
I purposely search out Bella, needing her constant chatter to keep my mind busy. Sitting with a glass of eggnog and whiskey, she pats the seat next to her. I listen as she talks about our cousin Abby, who’s dating who and who looks pregnant, but she’s not sure if they are.
An hour passes and my thoughts are never far fromhim.
“I hate spending Christmas at home. Next year, let’s go to Hawaii or The Bahamas for Christmas.”
“Sounds great to me. Can we skip you buying gifts for your entire band and their family too because I love to shop, but it’s crazy the amount of people you buy for? You don’t have to do that.”
She’s right. “I know, but I’d feel bad if I didn’t.”
Bella raises her glass of what I think is champagne, pineapple juice, and two cherries. Her favorite drink. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to. You pay them a salary already.”
