Chapter Eleven

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"So Cam can have your number but I can't?" After calling god knows how many times, my patience has all but gone by the time that Clara finally does answer her damn phone.

"You didn't ask for it." Comes back a playful reply, a reply that instantaneously starts lifting my blacker than black mood.

"Well, I have it now." Is what I so cockily tell her. "I threatened to fire Cameron if he didn't give it to me." Now comes my very cocky and very truthful admission.



Clara giggles, thinking that I'm only joking. "You can't threaten to fire Cam."



"I just did." I gruffly inform her, no longer caring so much about me giving that threat. Push come to shove, I would have just found myself another publicist.

The pitch in Clara's voice is high and panicked. "You can't do that!"

She seems bothered by the fact that I had threatened Cameron with his job, and that, bothers me. "I only threatened to fire him, I didn't follow through on that threat." Is my glumly given explanation, with every emphasis on the threatened part.

"Oh, thank God...I really thought you had fired him, then."

"Would it bother you if I did?"

"Of course it would."

"Why?" I contemptuously ask, wanting to hear it from her own mouth why it would bother her so much.

"Because it would have been my fault. Cameron doesn't deserve that." She sounds so genuine, thoughtfully sweet and genuine. It's quite possibly one of the many reasons why I find myself so inexplicably drawn to her.

And I am drawn to Clara, it's a gravitational need to be close to all that she intriguingly is. Bearing that in mind, I try not to sound so angry when I talk to her again. "Just as well that I haven't then, isn't it?"

My tone down the line must still sound off, because Clara begins to lose her patience with me. "Why have you called, Rhys? Please tell me that it's not only to discuss the near-firing of Cameron?" She's being short with me now; angrily short with me.

Once again, I'm acting like a total dick with Clara.

Why do I do that?

Why can't I just tell her all of the undickish things that are roaming around in my head at the moment?

I believe that jealousy will do that to the strongest of men. It can turn us into negative and possessive jerks. I've never felt jealous before, but because I am jealous, that makes me insecure.

Jealousy is the root of my insecurity.

The root of my pettiness.

And my insecurity is clouding all that I really want to say to Clara.

I care for this woman.

Deeply. Crazily. Care.

Now is the time to show just how much I do care. "I didn't want to leave things between us as they are now." At last, I say my first undickish thing.

Clara falls silent, hopefully hearing the care in the words that quietly now fall from off my tongue. The silence sits on the telephone line, waiting to be intruded upon. "I'm sorry for running off the way that I did, Rhys."

I've managed to melt my way through her frosty frontier. "Can you tell me why?" I softly ask, needing to be told the reason why she ran. I think I know why. I just need to hear Clara say it.

"I'm not sure. I just panicked. You're Rhys Ryan, for Gods sake. We couldn't be more different, could we?"

I know she's seeing only Rhys Ryan, the pop star. I want her to see me for me, just Rhys Ryan. "You're getting too hung up on my fame, Clara."

"I can't help it." She tells me, sounding like she's retreating further away from the possibility of us.

"I get it, I really do. I just wanted to clear the air before I leave tonight." I know I'm lying to her about leaving, but I want her to ask me to stay. "Believe me, Clara. I've no idea what is happening, either. I feel like I have a whole bunch of things to figure out, as well." Ask me to stay! Ask me to stay! Over and over, that is all my heart keeps willing her to do.

"I'm glad that you've called, even though you've dragged me out of my lovely hot bath." She's still a little guarded, but there's a hint of humour somewhere within her guarded reply.

"That sounds about right. Everything about us, Clara...the timing is just off." Trying to inject a little humour into my own reply, I feel like I'm getting nowhere real fast. We both seem to be dancing around what we really want to say to each other.

"How's your sister?" She suddenly asks, obviously no longer comfortable with the direction that our conversation was undoubtedly heading.

"She's not good. Mom is doing her best. Maci keeps trying to get out of the house so she can get high again. I can't do anything until I get back. I have a doctor keeping an eye on her and some friends looking out for her and my family, but my hands are tied until I return home. I honestly don't know what to do next, Clara." And I really don't. Part of me just wants to put Maci in a room and throw away the key. If she won't help herself, how in the hell can I help her?

"You're doing all you can, Rhys. I think your sister is very lucky to have you and your family. Some addicts tend to lose those that they love. Their addiction pushes their loved ones to the brink of their loyalty."

All that Clara is saying, makes total sense to me. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. I am this close to turning my back on her. I am nearly done with Maci. She's ripped herself, my mom, and me, totally apart. Her selfishness has caused so much hurt and so much disgust, but because that selfishness has the name 'addict' attached to it, it makes it okay that she's doing it to herself and to us. I've had enough, Clara." I've never really spoken so candidly about my sister. Maci is a grade A bitch, but because she's an addict, that's supposed to make it okay that she's a grade A bitch.

"I'm so sorry." The apologetic sadness in Clara's voice, carries itself down the telephone line.

"You have nothing to apologise for Clara Thorn." There's a reluctant smile, making itself known around the corners of my lips. Please ask me to stay! Please ask me to stay! My heart, keeps on silently willing her to ask me to stay. The seconds drag, with no sign of what I want her to ask. "Anyway, I just wanted to properly say goodbye." Even if it's only for a little while, I want her to start missing me.

"Goodbye, Rhys." Her voice is ever so quiet, maybe just a little fractured? "I had such a great time meeting you. I'll be forwarding the final draft of the interview to Cameron, if you're wanting to take a look before it goes to print?" She pauses, sounding infused with journalistic enthusiasm. "I've been looking at the photos I have taken, they look great."



Smiling now, I give her my honest opinion with a gentle little laugh. "I'm sure the interview is in very safe hands." Knowing that I'll be seeing her beautiful face just as soon as I can get to her, my voice still sounds so light and unburdened. "I don't want to go, but I must. Bye, Clara."

"Okay, thanks for the call. Have a safe journey home. I hope everything works out with Maci."

"Thanks, maybe see you around one day?" I know I should tell her the truth, but I don't want her to be prepared for my visit. I want her to start missing me. I want her to think that I am going, so when I do unexpectedly knock on her door, she'll be elated to see me. When we finally come face to face again, I want us both to remove the guards from our hearts.

"That would be nice." She so sweetly tells me in her soft British accent.

"Cool." Is what I keenly reply in my happy Californian accent. Hanging up, I do feel happy. Just as soon as I can, I'll be seeing Clara again. Both of our lives will soon be put into the powerful hands of fate. By the end of tonight, Clara is either going to open her door and open her heart to me or she will close her door and close her heart—I just hope that fate will be on my side.

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