Page 79 of Revel
“I know I’m too nice.”
Smiling, she pops the collar of her leather jacket. “Yeah, ya are. Thanks, by the way.”
I laugh, lifting my own drink to my lips. “Merry Christmas?”
“You know my style so well.” Lifting her phone up, she wiggles it back and forth. “Did you call loverboy to wish him a happy birthday or did you give him a parting gift before you left?”
Birthday? I snap my eyes to hers and practically choke on my eggnog. Not exactly a drink you want to snort either. “Whose birthday?”
“Revel’s. He’s a Christmas baby.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times. “What?” I snap, entirely too loud and grab her by the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me! I didn’t know it was his birthday.”
She eyes my grip on her tiny arm. “Hands off the jacket. And how did younotknow it was his birthday?”
“I don’t know. I guess I never investigated him like you must have.” I dig out my phone and send Revel a text.
Me: You didn’t tell me it was your birthday!
Naturally, he doesn’t reply. He has a cell phone, but I’ve never seen him use it let alone remember where he put it. Then I start to think, maybe that’s why he said he wanted to be alone. Laughing and Christmas music fill the room, distracting both Bella and me. My parents throw extravagant Christmas parties at their home in Malibu. I can see Mom in the kitchen with her sisters, discussing decorations or whatever else it is they’re obsessing over. I love my mom, she’s absolutely breathtakingly beautiful, but I’ve always wondered about her true feelings about me, yet I’ve never dared to ask. Did she want me? Was I planned? How come they never had any more kids? Is she proud of me? Did I meet her expectations?
If I had a daughter, she’d never wonder about any of that because I’d tell her over and over again how much she means to me. While I heard I love you, and we’re proud of you, I always questioned the authenticity of it.
“There’s my baby girl!” Mom gushes, reaching for me as she comes into the room Bella and I are hiding out in. “I didn’t think you were gonna make it,” she hints, like she knew where I was. Which she probably did.
Isn’t my mom beautiful? Long silky blonde hair, bright-blue eyes. . . I have no idea where my red hair and green eyes came from because neither one of my parents have red hair or green eyes. Do you notice my mom’s dress? It’s the topic of conversations tonight with its elegant, yet extravagant neckline and black sequins. Her dress probably cost more than your first car, but she wears it well. And to think my dad cheated on her. I can’t even imagine what he could have possibly been thinking, or if she knows. I’m dying to ask her, but I never would. My eyes drift to my dad in the distance, his brothers surrounding him, laughing and having a good time with his family.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her, unable to keep the heat from my cheeks and the smile on my face. I’m also wearing a scarf now to hide my marks.
Mom smiles warmly, shifting her weight from one hip to the next. “You’re not actually dating that boy from Revved, are you, honey?”
Boy? Ha. That’s funny. Aboywouldn’t be capable of doing what he did to me. Smiling, I wink at my mom and step back about a foot. “You look amazing, Mom.” I’m getting rather good at this deflecting thing.
“I know my daughter and she’s hiding a secret.” She brushes her hair off her shoulder, the Christmas lights from the nearby trees reflecting off her dress making it look like fireworks on the marble floor beneath her feet.
It’s not the secret part that I trip over. It’s the part where she says, “I know my daughter.”
Does she? Does she know that I can’t stand tomatoes and at every concert I’ve ever performed I have pancakes the morning before the show. It never fails. Two of them to be exact with peanut butter and a drizzle of syrup. Does she know that before I walk on stage, Bella is always the last person to wish me luck? Not my dad, not my mom, always Bells.
Thankfully, it’s Bella who rescues me now. “You have an early flight to Denver in the morning,” she notes, nodding to the door with her hand on my arm.
My eyes drift to my dad, still in the other room, and then back to my mom. I don’t know why, but I hug her again. Maybe to say I’m sorry she married a man who doesn’t respect her, or maybe to say I’m sorry you married a man you don’t respect enough. I don’t know because all I’ve ever seen from them was a loving relationship. Maybe it was a lie all along. Maybe it’s like the image they created for me. To the public, I’m perfection, but deep down, I’m none of that. I have faults, apprehensions, insecurities, and the very last thing they want for me is to have me dating the bad boy of the rock-and-roll world.
On the way to my home in Los Angeles, I stare out the window of the sedan, a familiar sight. Me behind tinted glass and my mind wandering. I think of Revel sitting alone, drinking, celebrating his birthday by himself, and my heart hurts for him.
“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, staring at my text to him that remains unanswered.
DAY DRINKING
REVEL
I’m sure you already know this by now, but I day drink. And night drink. Shit, I never stop so it’s fair to say, I drink, and leave it at that. Like I said before, the reasons aren’t what you think they are, but whatever. I don’t care at this point.
Two days after Christmas, I’m on my bus outside the Van Andel Arena in Grand Rapids. The other guys are out to breakfast somewhere and here I sit, drinking and thinking ofher. I want to hate her. I want to because I didn’t want to fall for her, and I feel it coming. The one moment when I know there’s no turning back. I hate her for what she represents, and I don’t even know what it is she represents besides purity, and that doesn’t fucking exist in the world anymore.
The door to the bus opens, and I regret not locking it when the guys left. But to be honest, I left it open for her.
“Happy birthday.”
