Consumed(17)

“No, not hiding. Not anymore.”

“I told you I’d come to you next week, so why the f*ck are you here?” she yells.

“Not happy to see me?” I shove open the front door and let myself into the apartment, which smells like gin and vomit covered up with expensive perfume. Sam doesn’t bother to stop me, but I don’t expect her to. She needs the money too much to try anything stupid.

“As a matter of fact, I’m not. I’m—” And this is where I tune her out and focus instead on all the U-Haul boxes scattered around her living room. Most are open, and their contents are spilling out, giving the impression she’s in a hurry to go somewhere.

“Moving?” I turn to face her, and her gray eyes go wide in surprise. They’re the biggest damn things on her entire body.

“Why do you care?” She stares at a cigarette burn on the oak floor, but I know she’s seething. She’s probably already run through the money I gave her this spring, so I’m not the least bit surprised by what she tells me next. “Yes, I am moving. Downgrading to a smaller place—not that it’s any of your business. I told you I’d come to you—”

“Save me the ‘you’re inconveniencing me’ bullshit. I wanted to get this over with.” Leaning over her coffee table, which is covered with full ashtrays and stacks of mail, I drop the envelope holding the last check she’ll receive from me. It lands on top of a letter from her electric company marked Urgent. She’s not just downgrading to a smaller apartment, she’s evicted from this one. “Saved you a trip.”

Sam shuffles around the coffee table, not once looking at the envelope I brought, until she’s on the opposite side of me. Calmly, she sits down on the edge of the couch and places her forearms on her bony thighs. “Then we’re done,” she says. “I told you this would be it for me and you, and I meant it.”

I take a couple steps back but remain expressionless. I expect her to scream. Or tell me that she’s changed her mind about leaving me alone and that she’ll be around to f*ck me over until the day I die. She doesn’t. She just sits there, her gray eyes empty, running her hands over her bruised kneecaps.

“I’m leaving now.”

“Tell Shannon and Dan I said hi,” she hisses. “I’m sure you’re going to see them next and I know how much your parents adore me.”

“Get some help, Samantha, but don’t bother me again.” I make it halfway to the door before she calls out to me, and when I look back at her, I’m already prepared for the deluge—for her to physically come at me.

But she hasn’t moved from her spot on the white leather sofa. “And I’m the bad one.” Her pale lips curve into a grim smile. “I’m the f*cked up, heartless bitch.”

“You haven’t made it any easier,” I growl.

“I didn’t hurt anyone, Lucas,” she says. “I only reminded you of what a goddamn coward you are.” Her words pierce right through me like a knife to the gut, but I keep my shit together. I’ve got no other choice if I’m going to get out of this apartment.

When I don’t speak, she continues, “Nobody will ever love you for who you really are . . . because of what you’ve done.”

I force the corner of my lip up. “Fair enough.”

She slides back until her shoulder blades hit the cushions. She doesn’t look at me, but she doesn’t have a reason to. Sam knows exactly what she needs to say—what she needs to do—to cut me to pieces and remind me of what I am. “Good luck on your f*cking tour, Lucas.”

“Bye, Sam.”

She doesn’t say goodbye, but I don’t expect that either.





Sienna





For the next few days, I completely throw myself into my job. Since I moved from Los Angeles back to Nashville at the end of April, I’ve been able to start a name for myself. Keeping that reputation is important to me. I don’t want to go back to being a wardrobe assistant—my time working for Tomas, my former boss, on the set of Echo Falls had been invaluable and a living hell all at once.

By Tuesday night, not only have Lucas and I verbally agreed on two dates when I’ll return home from the tour based on my work assignments, I’ve personally spoken with all my clients to let them know my plans.

I spend the majority of Wednesday with my friend Ashley, who helps me get ready for my flight to Los Angeles the next morning. Ash is a diehard Your Toxic Sequel fan—her off-and-on boyfriend (they’re currently on) plays in a YTS cover group, and she’s seen the actual band in concert a few times. The entire time we pack my bags, she gushes over their live shows and even takes a fifteen-minute break to make a playlist for me on Spotify.