CHAPTER408
I sit at the bus station waiting for the coach to the city anxiously and watch the huge clock over the ticket box tick slowly by. I’ve been watching the oncoming arrivals like a hawk for any sign of my family, or Arrick’s. I have no doubt that once they realize I’m gone they’ll check the bus terminals for me, and I can’t face any of them. I’ve mulled over every scenario; running to Jake to talk sense into my parents, running to Leila, but it all comes down to one very unavoidable fact. When my dad gets something in his head that he thinks is for the best, then no one, and I mean no one, can stand in his way. The fact he thinks I’m some kind of drug-addicted alcoholic in need of saving, and the only way is to condemn me to dry out, means he’ll make sure it happens no matter what anyone else says to him. No way in hell I’m going through that kind of insanity.
My phone rings in my bag and I haul it out nervously. I’ve been waiting for the calls to start but I see red when Camilla’s name flashes on screen. I think about rejecting it, but my fiery temper wants to be unleashed somewhere and may as well be on her, seeing as she is the reason I’m even in this mess right now.
“What is it, Camilla?” I snap haughtily down the phone at her. Glaring furiously at the scenery in front of me.
“Oh, babes, I’m soo, soo, very sorry about last night. I’m such a prize bitch when I’ve been on the champers, and I was a complete wreck when I woke up this morning and remembered how much I let you down. How truly awful I behaved toward you, Dahling.” The whiny voice and overdramatic sniffs grate on my nerves and spike up the rage that’s been simmering the full thirty minutes I’ve been here.
“You didn’t just let me down, Cam, you let that sleazy fuck grind on me and get his hand up my skirt. Do you know how disgusting I felt when I got home? What would have happened if I hadn’t come round and stopped him?” My voice catches in my throat, a hint of a panic attack taking effect as memories of last night flood back. I get that sickening flashback feeling when I visualize Malcolm’s slimy face.
“Babes, I really thought you were into him, and I behaved soo disgustingly to you. Please give me another chance. We’ll spend time together somewhere of your choosing to make amends, a little girly night, and I’ll prove you can trust me. I’m soo sorry. Please don’t be mad at me, Sophieboo.” Her tone grates on me, like nails on a chalkboard.
“Look, I’m trying to get a coach to the city. My parents tried to put me in rehab, so I’m out of here. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” I shrug, seeing a coach in the distance and checking once more than no one familiar has shown up. I clutch my ticket tighter and scoop up my backpack. Camilla’s apology is doing nothing for my mood, and I have no idea if I should believe her. I’m still majorly pissed, and my mind is on far more pressing issues. Like getting the hell out of dodge.
“Oh, my God, I like totally have a place in the city you could crash at. It belongs to a friend of mine and I could meet you there. Please, Sophieboo, let me make this up to you? Let me do this to show you how genuinely sorry I am.” She croons, overly babylike.
I sigh, my head racing with what I should do and trying to figure out if Amber would even let me move back in; that arrangement was only meant to be temporary, but seeing as she is one of the so-called friends who didn’t give a shit about my disappearance, then I guess not.
“Look, my bus is here. So, if you want to meet me then tell me where and when, as I need to go.” I’m caving, I know I am, and even though every part of me is telling me that Camilla is bad news, I really have no one else at this moment in time. If I go to Emma or Leila, they might side with my parents and agree that no real harm can come of easing their worries with some time at a five-star rehab clinic, and the last thing I need is being put under house arrest by strangers. I’ve heard stories about those places; I don’t need anyone trying to enforce dominance over me. Shivers run up my spine at the mere thought of it.
“Oh … oh, my god. Like, okay.” She sounds as flustered and excited as the morning she offered to shop for me. I bite down on my lip as another bout of doubt hits me in the stomach. “Just give me your coach details and I’ll meet you at the other end. I have a car, so I’m sure I’ll make it in better time than you will, once I organize the details. I know how slow those coaches are.” Camilla gushes with happiness down the cell and I find myself giving in entirely, caught at her mercy because I have no better options.
I’m stiff after the long bus ride, and just as she promised, upon leaving it, I see Camilla leaning against a black Lamborghini in the parking lot. Dressed in killer tailoring, over spiked heels and looking movie star spectacular. I turned my cell off for fear of my family trying to call me when I hit the bus and am relieved to see I won’t need to switch it on to locate Camilla. My next step will be to ditch my phone altogether until I am ready to face them all, maybe leave it switched off in whatever apartment Camilla is offering for me to crash in until I get myself back together.
“Nice car.” I nod towards her, still hostile after last night, not ready to forgive anything just yet. Even after hours on a bus, mulling everything over, I’m still majorly pissed at her, and I don’t trust her at all.
“Dahling boo, are you still cross with me? I said I was sorry; can we just kiss and make up?” She frowns at me, petted lip, and puppy dog eyes, followed by a smile and I roll my eyes at her, temper grating internally.
“Look, just don’t pull that shit on me again, okay? Friends don’t do that to one another, we’re supposed to have each other’s back.” I throw my bag in the back of the car and slide in. More than aware that she probably has no concept of a real friend, of a friendship like I have with Arry. Camilla follows to the driver’s side, sliding in gracefully and turns to me with an even fuller pout.
“I’m soweee. Promise I won’t do it again. I was such a drunken cow, and I’m so awful when I drink.... Forgive me? I won’t do it again … pinky promise.” She holds up a manicured talon, tipped in red, but it only makes my heart constrict at the memory of Arrick that night in the city. I turn away for a second to regain control of the sudden urge to cry and wave it away.
“That’s juvenile! I believe you, okay? Can we just get going?” I’m relieved to see her put her hand down and get the car on the road.
The journey is fast after the long hours on the most uncomfortable coach journey in history. The apartment is nice, as apartments go. It’s on the Upper East Side, a little too close to Arrick’s for comfort, but as I’m currently avoiding him like the plague, I hope it won’t be an issue. Arrick always swung in different social circles to me, so I hope I won’t run into him anytime soon.
It has the same rich kid décor as most of my ex friend’s places, and the upside is the closeness to the nightlife and the bustling stores. Even though I told myself I wouldn’t be like before, I still want to be somewhere that gives me a choice, near the buzz of New York’s constant energy should I feel like going out sometime.
“Who owns this place, anyway?” I nosey at the bedrooms, smiling when Camilla tells me to pick one. I wander into the most feminine and chuck my backpack on the bed haphazardly, eyeing up its clean décor and the hints that this is a male’s place. It reeks of bachelor pad rather than a couple, or even a woman.
“Just some guy I sometimes fuck. He’s very generous with his houses.” She winks at me and wanders in to flop on the bed in front of me, carrying two glasses and a bottle of wine. “Celebratory tipple?” She waves it my way, but I only shake my head. Sighing heavily.
“I’m still recovering from whatever rocket fuel you poured down my throat last night.” It isn’t just the hangover, something in my gut tells me Camilla did something to my drink last night and I can’t shake it. I know she will deny it if I ask, and I just cannot be bothered with any drama. I’m exhausted, still hungover and in need of some rest. The journey was cramped, noisy, and the creep watching me across the aisle on the whole trip made me uptight and tense. I sat with my bag in my lap, aware of his eyes on me.
“Come on, Sophs, don’t be a spoilsport. You can’t bunk with me and not enjoy the occasional booze fest. What’s the point of being young, beautiful, and loaded if we can’t have some fun?” She sits up, placing the glasses on the nightstand while fighting with the cork, screaming in delight when it pops off and wine spills everywhere.
I frown; a huge internal pang sending off warnings, telling me to get my bag and go, but I’m tired, dead on my feet, and I really am too exhausted to leave. I want nothing more than to relax for one night and stop stressing about how my family are right this second. I know, without a doubt they’ll have realized I’m gone by now, and the guilt is tearing me up inside. I have major regrets at how I reacted, nothing I can do about it now though, and I just need to make the best out of the worst.
I pull my phone out of my bag, regarding it for a second before sliding it into the drawer hesitantly, adamant I won’t turn it on this time. I have to do this on my own before I can let them back in. Whether I’m making a huge mistake, it’s something I have to do on my own, and prove to them I can be trusted. If I am to avoid being locked up in rehab hell, I have to show them I can survive out here and get my life back on track myself.
I was thinking while on the bus, about what I’m going to do, plan to search; I can Google on my phone for information and have figured an action plan of sorts already. I just need a little time to put it all into action before I grovel with my tail between my legs for their forgiveness.
“If I’m going to stay then I’m setting some ground rules here. I’m trying to get my act together, Cam, and that means no booze, not for a while anyway. I have stuff that I intend to sort out, and I want to start looking for a job or something, to support myself when I get my shit together.” I shoo the glass away and set about pulling a tank and panties out to wear to bed, even though it’s early I intend to get in and just stay there. I have so much more reading to do on a fashion school I know is located in New York, about entry requirements if I get brave enough to fire up my cell.
“Your family is loaded; you don’t need a job.” Camilla laughs at the ridiculousness of it. Downing her booze and making a mess with spillages as she waves it around.
“I can’t live off their money forever, especially now when I literally ran off again. I need something more in my life than this. I need a focus and something to drive me so that I feel like my life is my own.” My head is a mass of thoughts and feelings about everything, and I realize I have to make some changes. I’m not a kid anymore, and if I want them all to see it, I need to stop acting like one. I maybe did a really stupid and immature thing by running off again, but I don’t intend to stay away forever, just long enough to prove to everyone I’m not some hopeless drunk who needs rehab. At the route of it all, I just want all of them to have a little pride and faith in me.
“Well I could sort you out something to keep money flowing, I have my ways.” Camilla takes a serious turn, her normally grinning red lips looking decidedly more calculated, with a raised brow and penetrating gaze. A sudden aura of danger around her.
“What do you mean? I thought your father kept you in expensive clothes and cars.” I regard her warily, pulling off my clothes to change into bed wear as Camilla shifts over to the other side to deposit the extra wine glass.
“Another time, little one, when you’re less stubborn minded and more open to my gentle persuasions. We’ll talk over dinner and drinks tomorrow night at my favorite little hangout.” Camilla gets up to move, flashing a look that I don’t understand at all. It gives me an odd feeling, but I push it down and shake it away as she saunters to the door."
