Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Bring You Down

Aunt Vonda is so excited the next morning when I tell her what I have planned, she spills her tea all over the table. I accept her hug with one of my own, though I'm beginning to think if the people who love me don't stop choking me, I won't be around much longer.

She sits back, clapping like a crazy lady, red-tinted curls barely moving as she bounces in her seat.

"Riley," she gushes all over me, "that's so wonderful!"

We walk together to work, my few hours of sleep enough to keep my spirits up, tied to the excitement of knowing tomorrow night I'll be auditioning for my first real show. My first New York show.

It's hard to focus on flowers and customer's orders, especially when Aunt Vonda proceeds to inform anyone who will listen I'm going to be a famous actress someday. When I'm not blushing furiously and hissing at her to be quiet, I'm giggling behind my hands in giddy half-hysteria at the thought she might be right.

I'm actually disappointed when Miller and Aleah, Piper in tow, don't appear at all during the day. I was so sure they would come to see me. But I end up shaking my head at myself, settling my nerves and my excitement. Silly, I'd be seeing them later.

For more rehearsals.

I'm shocked when I slip out of the back from a short break to the sound of the doorbell, look up, and find Bianca standing at the counter. My whole body shudders, zinging pops of pinpoint needles racing down my limbs at the sight of her. I realize then I'm afraid of her, intimidated.

And no matter what I do to shake off the feeling, I can't seem to manage it.

But Aunt Vonda is gone and there is no one else to serve her. I feel my cheeks heat as I walk to the counter, oddly embarrassed Bianca is seeing me like this. Self-conscious, smoothing the front of my pink apron even as I wonder if I look like crap and hate that I care. I meet Bianca's eyes.

Expecting a bitch to stare back at me. Some harsh words, bitterness. Instead, she smiles at me, full of charm and charisma, leaning over the counter to squeeze my wrist as though she didn't do her damnedest last night to squash my heart and stomp on it with her high heels.

"Riley," she says in her sultry voice. "I'm so happy you're here."

She is? I stiffen as she pulls back, blonde hair rippling. She looks flawless, perfection, exactly how a New York actor should look. And I'm all frumpy in my stained pink apron and hair haphazardly hanging from the messy knot at my neck.

Bianca's smile fades a little as she rests her manicured hands on the counter. "I wanted to apologize," she says. "For last night. Thank you for coming to my show."

I know I'm staring and look like she just hit me, but I can't seem to call up much more than that. Is she bipolar? Has an evil twin?

"You really did make an impression last night," she goes on. "That street scene of yours... it's nice to see Miller acting again. Since all the trouble."

Trouble? "He's incredible," I say. Whisper, actually.

Another flash of smile. "He really is," she says. "I just wish he'd decide if we're on again or off again." She tosses those words at me with a regretful smile even as my stomach plummets.

"You're together?" Why didn't he tell me that?

Because, we're friends, not dating, so he didn't have to tell me anything. And I'm an idiot. Of course someone as beautiful as Miller is with Bianca.

The disappointment bites deep, though I think I do a great job not showing it. Hope I do. I don't want her to see how much knowing this hurts me.

Ian's memory calls and I let him appear behind her, scowling down at her when I can't, when I'm forced-by my own sheer refusal to give in to my pain-to just nod when she shrugs.

"Honestly, he's been such a train wreck the last year or so," she says, rolling her eyes, voice dropping into a "just us girls" tone. "I guess I saw you with him and was feeling a teensy weensy jealous." She laughs then. "Silly, right?"

I nod, numb. "Very," I say. "Miller is just a friend."

She leans against the counter, head cocked to one side, blue eyes batting lashes at me. "You do know everything I said last night was meant with heart, right?" She pouts a little. "I didn't mean to be harsh. But this is a tough business and I've seen so many girls stumble and fall."

I know she's playing me, feel it in my soul, but I want to believe her, pulled in by her charisma and the fact she's who I want to be. Well, at least, she's where I want to be.

"Thanks," I say. "I know it's tough. I watched my mother go through it."

Why did I say that? Because I want her to know. I want to impress Bianca, drop Mom's name. What is wrong with me? It's like I need her approval when every bone in my body vibrates with instructions to back away from her and not listen.

From the slight narrowing of Bianca's eyes, I realize she already knows who I am. "Yes," she says. "I have to say, I had no idea Marie St. Claire even had a daughter." She flashes her teeth. "You certainly look very much like her."

I absorb her antagonism, thinly veiled now behind her veneer of big sister concern and feel my stomach coil into the tightest knot I've ever experienced. This is surreal and painful as Bianca straightens, tosses her blonde hair in her favorite move and shrugs.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," she says. Turns to go. Pauses, blue eyes staring over her shoulder at me. "I just wanted to touch base. In case you needed anything." She taps her fingers on the strap of her purse. "You're new to the group. Maybe you can keep an eye on Miller for me. To make sure he's not backsliding."

"Into what?" Oh, the train wreck she mentioned. I'm curious despite myself, despite the need to shove her out of the store and into the street and slam the door in her face. Ian continues to hover, to glare as Bianca's lips turn down.

"Just..." She stops. Tinkles a laugh. "I'm sorry," she says, rueful smile under her hard, glittering eyes. "His drug use isn't your problem."

She leaves as the doorbell rings and a man in a suit enters. I watch her sashay her way out, hips swaying to a slow, sexy beat. My customer's eyes lift from her ass to mine and he clears his throat.

It's not until I've served him, handed him his change, alone again in the shop, I realize my phantom summoning of Ian is gone.

My heart beats way too fast.

Aunt Vonda bustles back in, dropping the keys to the van on the counter, patting my hand. "Thanks for holding down the fort," she says.

I bob a nod, pull myself together. Smile even, when another customer arrives. I sort flowers for a small spring bouquet and tell myself it's not only none of my business Miller and Bianca are a couple but that his drug problem-whatever that means-really doesn't have anything to do with me.

By the time Melissa, Aunt Vonda's part-timer, arrives to take over for me at five o'clock, I've convinced myself both are true.

I wait for my aunt to finish before heading home. With a purposeful detour. I'm nervous about the headshots, and I want her with me to see them.

It's only another two blocks to the printer. The smiling girl behind the counter retrieves my photos when I tell her my name.

I turn to Aunt Vonda and hand her the thick envelop of 8X11's. "I can't look."

She practically rips the flap off in her haste, slips one of the images free even as the clerk says, "You're very photogenic." Aunt Vonda's huge eyes and gasp of surprise makes me finally duck around her and peek.

"Marie," Aunt Vonda whispers, voice rough. "Riley, pet. You look just like your mother."

I stare at myself, at the masterpiece my friends made for me, and feel near to tears myself. My fingers shake as I take the slick photo from her, looking down at my face. Piper's photo perfecting skills are clearly formidable. My skin is flawless, the makeup Aleah applied so seamlessly it has to have been altered. By the time I arrived home last night and looked in the mirror, I was a fright of stress-rubbed eye shadow and sweat-streaked foundation topped by my messy hair.

Aleah had worked a miracle with a flat iron on my natural waves, giving me a bouncy curl at the ends, sweeping my bangs in a wave of awesome. I wish I looked like that all the time. I can hardly believe it's me but for the large "Riley James" written in the bottom right corner.

When I flip it over, I realize Miller had my resume printed on the back. Aunt Vonda notices at the same time. We shuffle to the side to allow the next customer by and hunch together in the quiet store to read it, me as much in awe of his words as my aunt.

"He makes you sound so professional," she says even as I gape at the description of my acting experience.

I pause part way and have to stop. "I just did some school and community theater," I say over the glowing words he used. "This is..."

"Perfect." Aunt Vonda squeezes my arm and slips hers through. I replace the picture with her help before accepting the sleeve of photos and leaving the store with her, still stunned.

I just hope this little charade my friends are creating won't get me into trouble.

I can barely eat dinner, already planning to head out to Miller's for rehearsal. Aunt Vonda chatters away and I'm grateful for her conversational skills. I barely have to nod and murmur agreement to keep her happy. I know it isn't fair, but she doesn't seem to mind.

I'm heading for the door, my purse over my shoulder, when the phone rings. Aunt Vonda answers, while I slip on my sandals, mind already on the street, on Aleah and Piper. A flare of brief pain when I think of Miller.

Squashed when I consider I'm about to rehearse for my first audition.

"Yes. She's here. Just a moment." I turn to see Aunt Vonda's face scrunched into unhappiness. She covers the receiver with her hand, mouths, "your father," at me.

The last person I want to talk to right now.

"Riley, pet," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. I emailed him to tell him how excited I was for you." Her distress is still growing even as I feel like she's just punched me in the stomach. "I should have left it to you." Aunt Vonda winces. "I'll tell him I missed you."

I shake my head, reach for the phone. "It's okay," I say, registering the dull, dead tone of my voice, furious I've lost my excitement in the sinking feeling I have whenever I think about Dad. "He would have found out eventually anyway." I'm really not in the mood for a lecture, but putting Dad off will just make things worse later.

Aunt Vonda sighs sadly and hands over the phone. I take a breath, go over the talk I had with Aleah last night. Focus on how acting makes me feel.

And instantly perk as I say, "Hi, Dad."

"Your aunt seems to think you've decided to start acting." His cold tone vibrates with anger, his wording so reminiscent of Bianca's first words to me my temper crackles. I know that tone. Have been on the other side of it most of my life, only this time he's really pissed.

"I'm auditioning for a show tomorrow," I say, keeping my own voice light as I repeat a mantra in my head and decide not to engage him no matter how much I want to let loose my anger.

Remember how it feels. Remember how it feels.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Dad blows much more quickly than I'm used to. "I told Vonda no acting. You're supposed to be making money for college, not hanging out with losers and wasting time on stupid theater."

I don't comment, struggling to cling to the scene on the street as my temper fires off.

"I gave you leeway when Ian was alive," Dad says, voice dropping again, ice cold and full of fury, "but it's time to grow the hell up. Either you give up this ridiculousness, or you get your ass back home."

Delores hums in the back of my head, the character reminding me why I'm even willing to argue with him. "Mom wanted me to act," I say, heat finally breaking through my tone. "And so did Ian."

Dad's silence is so long I think maybe he's hung up. Until he speaks again.

"They're dead," he snaps. "Both of them. And I'm your father."

I almost say, "So?" But hold my tongue.

"You're making a fool of yourself." Dad's voice shakes, and I can picture him standing in the kitchen at home, hand fisted on the counter, face a black cloud of doom and anger. "And I won't have it. There's no future for you in acting. You need to get your priorities straight or I'll do it for you."

My thumb hits the end key before my brain realizes I've hung up on him.

I stand there for a long moment, staring at the phone as though Dad is going to magically appear through it. The world shakes as my anger recedes and I turn. Hand the phone back to Aunt Vonda. Her eyes are wet with tears, cheeks pale as she reaches for me with one hand. I dodge her, shrug Dad off. Head for my room instead of out the door.

Close myself into my little oasis as my brain explodes with anger.

***

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