Channel 4. 10 PM. Watch with S, OK?
I read the text from Richard five times, wondering what had prompted him to send me those brief instructions, though I didn't bother messaging him back to find out. Pocketing my phone, I glanced at Sophie from where I sat on the couch. She'd really gotten into her home improvement and stood humming happily to herself while she dragged a paint roller along the walls with broad, sweeping strokes. The intense look of concentration on her face made it seem like she'd become mesmerized by the repetitive task and I continued to watch her for a while, mentally replaying my meeting with Richard the night before.
At two minutes to ten, I reached for the remote.
"Hey, Soph?"
She didn't turn around. "Hm?"
"Do you mind if I put something else on?" I asked, already scrolling through the on-screen channel guide.
"Whatever you want, baby," Sophie replied offhandedly. Tugging on her ponytail, she stepped back to survey her work before dipping her roller into a shallow plastic tray filled with paint.
"Thanks," I mumbled.
For the first twenty minutes of the program, I couldn't figure out why Richard had asked me to put on Bobby Robertson's late night talk show. Filled with overused jokes, the only enjoyable part of the host's routine was the live interview segment near the end. To his credit, Robertson's unscripted banter with the celebrities who came on his show was usually pretty funny and his high ratings reflected that.
Rather than fading, my confusion continued to mount when the studio audience erupted in cheers as Richard crossed the stage, shaking Bobby Robertson's hand before sitting down. The two men chatted easily for a few minutes until Bobby leaned across his desk with a concerned expression on his face.
"So," the host began, stroking his chin, "I've got to ask. What's Sophie Winters like behind the scenes?"
"Ah." Richard threw his hands up in the air and shrugged. "You know, she's -- she's an interesting girl. Even though we dated for years when we were younger, she still surprises me with things I didn't know about her. There's never a dull moment with Sophie, that's for sure."
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "And, how would you describe your relationship with her at the moment?"
"I'd like to be her friend," Richard replied simply, and Bobby gave a small gasp.
"Friend? Well, this is... Unexpected. I'm guessing that means you two aren't together at the moment?"
Richard nodded. "That's right."
"What a shame." Bobby Robertson looked like he was struggling to contain his glee. He licked his bottom lip to wipe away a grin. "What drove you apart? Busy schedules? Or, and forgive me for asking, did it have something to do with the rumors of Sophie cheating?"
Richard's expression turned thoughtful. After a beat, he smiled. "Do you know what Sophie's best qualities are?" Bobby shook his head and Richard continued, "She's the most honest person you'll ever meet, and incredibly loyal. She's always looked out for me."
"But--"
"The same can't be said for me, unfortunately," Richard lamented. "I've been pretty terrible to her."
"How so?"
"Why are you watching this?" Sophie demanded, causing me to jump when appeared next to me on the couch. She frowned at the TV and then leaned over my lap to grab the remote.
To Sophie's surprise, I snatched the flicker back and sat on it, motioning at the screen. "Listen," I urged, and she reluctantly turned to watch.
"I've never stood up for Sophie," Richard continued, furrowing his brows, "and I recently realized how selfish that makes me."
"Stood up for her?" Bobby Robertson looked worried now, as if afraid to learn where the conversation was going.
With a strange smile on his face, Richard scratched the back of his neck. "Sophie never cheated on me."
"Excuse me?"
"Back in January, I asked Sophie to do me a favor," Richard said, ignoring the panicked look Bobby shot him. "See, uh, I've had some issues in the past."
"Issues?" Bobby asked, and Richard hesitated for a moment, as if wrestling with his answer.
"I went to rehab last year." He paused again. "I'm an addict."
I felt Sophie's body tense as she breathed in sharply. I glanced at her but her gaze was fixed on the screen, her eyes wide. Bobby Robertson looked dumbstruck.
"As I was saying," Richard went on, "after I found out that we'd be working together again, I called Sophie up and told her that I was going through a rough time. It probably sounds weird that I turned to my ex but it's hard to find someone you trust in this industry. I figured, she knows me better than anyone, so why not?"
"I don't understand," Bobby managed to stammer. "You two weren't dating?"
"Nah, she was more like a babysitter than anything." Richard grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "I hoped something might happen but she turned me down right away. That's actually what I mean about her being loyal; when the rumors about us started, she could've told everyone the truth but she didn't want to embarrass me or have people question why we spent so much time together. Eventually we decided it'd be easier to keep going with it."
By then, Bobby had recovered from his speechlessness and he leaned forward to study Richard sympathetically. "Do you think it was easy to talk to her because she's had her own struggles with...?"
"Oh, no," Richard replied, shaking his head. "Other than alcohol, Sophie's never touched a drug in her life. She always gets mad at me for smoking around her."
Bobby's confusion returned in full force and I could see him trying to reconcile what Richard had said with what he knew -- or thought he knew -- about Sophie. I had a feeling that this confessional would be the tabloids' big news story by the morning. Richard's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. He looked directly into the camera. "Anyway, I wanted to clear that up because I know Sophie's taken a lot of heat recently and that's my fault."
"Honestly, you actors are so complicated," Bobby said, trying his best to regain control of the interview. He tossed the papers on his desk into the air and the audience laughed. "Why'd I bother pre-writing all those questions, huh?"
"Sorry about that," Richard replied with a chuckle.
"Well, then." Bobby tapped his chin. "Well, then, the guy who Sophie was with in those photos--"
"He's a good guy. I've met him and I like him." Richard saluted the camera and then added, "My publicist is probably having a heart attack if he's watching this. Can someone send a car to his house to check on him?"
The audience laughed again but the host merely stared at Richard, clearly rattled by everything he'd heard. "I had no idea about any of this," Bobby admitted. "Maybe it's inappropriate to ask, but aren't you afraid of how this'll impact your career? This is going to be quite a shock for many of your fans and their parents, too, in a lot of cases."
"Of course I am," Richard replied. "But I'm trying not to worry about that right now. It's not my focus."
"What is?"
"Ah, man," Richard said, smiling as he thought about whatever secret was on his mind. "You know, I meant what I said about my publicist. The guy really is going to need a doctor."
"Why's that?"
"I'm planning on taking a long break from acting." Richard shrugged, as if aware that the hearts of millions of girls around the country had just shattered. "Being here -- in Los Angeles, I mean -- is hard when you're an addict. The scene is... It's filled with temptations, you know that."
Bobby nodded, and Richard continued, "I'm not cured of my problems, not even close, but I put off getting help because I didn't want to hurt my career. I still don't."
He swallowed and I thought I saw a glimmer of regret cross his face. When he looked up again, though, he seemed resolute in his decision. "But, then I think about all of the people in the industry who've overdosed, or worse, and it makes me realize that I need to get healthy, and that's what I'm going to do. Maybe I'll even be able to mend some bridges, relax a little. Hopefully, by the time I come back, my fans will have forgiven me for letting them down."
Before Bobby could respond, Sophie jumped up and crossed over to the TV set. The screen went black as she held down the set's power button, her breathing coming in ragged gasps. With her back to me, I watched while Sophie lifted the hem of her shirt and held the fabric to her eyes. A groan escaped her lips as she tore out of the room, her footsteps pounding up the stairs.
I followed close behind, stunned to see Sophie frantically stuffing clothes into a large backpack. Shirts and socks flew from dresser drawers without rhyme or reason, but what startled me the most was the realization that Sophie was crying.
"What's wrong?" I asked, reaching for Sophie's shoulder.
She shrugged away from my touch and spun to look at me, eyes as wide as they were red. Her words flowed together in a nonsensical song and I begged her to slow down, to take a deep breath, to stop acting like a psycho.
My last comment was met with a swift slap across my face, followed by a long pause. Although my cheek stung, I didn't say anything and neither did Sophie. Instead, she burst into a fresh wave of tears, grabbing her backpack and tugging her hand from my desperate reach. "I'm sorry," she said between sobs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
Ignoring the burning sensation that tickled my face, I shook my head. "It's okay."
"No, no, no. It's not okay. It's too much, everything is too much."
"Richard came clean about what happened," I said, flinching as Sophie bumped into her dresser and sent her purse toppling to the floor. "Isn't that what you always wanted?"
Sophie's laugh was short and harsh. "Do you seriously think he did that for me? He's helping himself. I know he is -- people only help themselves."
Sophie knelt down, clutching her head between her hands. Her bag's contents splayed out around her, she rocked back and forth, whimpering pitifully as she swayed. "I don't want to do this anymore. I want my life to be mine. That's what I want, that's all I want."
I took a step towards her. "Are you okay?"
"My head," she whispered, knuckles turning white as she increased the pressure on her temples. "It hurts."
"I'll get your medication," I said, motioning towards the bathroom where I knew she kept an unopened bottle of pills in the medicine cabinet.
The color drained from Sophie's face as she shook her head, leaving her skin a sickly grey shade. "They don't help."
"Are you sure? I can--"
"They don't help," Sophie insisted, her voice a low growl. "Nothing helps. My head..."
She looked up at me with tears brimming her eyes, her pupils slightly unfocused. "It feels like an atomic bomb is going off inside my brain."
"Why don't you lie down?" Concerned, I extended my hand for her to take but she brushed me away, instead groping along the carpet until she found her keys.
Sophie wobbled slightly as she got to her feet, the effort required to remain steady etched into the lines on her face. She moved towards the door, though she stopped to peck me on the cheek.
"I need to go out."
"I don't think you should go anywhere by yourself right now," I said, trailing behind her as she slung her backpack over one shoulder and headed for the stairs.
"Why not?"
"You're upset."
"I'm fine."
Grabbing my shoes from where they lay in the foyer, I struggled to step into them, ultimately deciding to crush the back seams rather than trying to untie the laces. I shuffed a few steps behind as Sophie stepped onto her porch, hurrying towards her Lamborghini. The paint seemed to glow in the dark, its exterior brighter than the moon.
"I'll come with you," I offered, but Sophie stood in front of the passenger's side door.
"Parker, please," Sophie said, clenching her fist around her keys. "I can't do this right now. I can't."
"Can't do what?"
"I just slapped you!" Sophie threw her hands into the air and let out a frustrated yell. "No, no, I need to go. I'm sorry."
"Where are you going?" I asked, trying to understand, trying to talk to her long enough that she might calm down.
Instead, Sophie crossed over to the driver's side and slid into the car. She locked the doors before I could tug on the handle. Rolling down the window, she said, "I need to talk to Vinny. I'll be back soon, I promise."
I hadn't even realized the DJ was in town and started to protest, "Sophie--"
"You can stay here, if you want," Sophie said, the Lamborghini's engine coming to life with a smooth purr. "I'll call you later."
As Sophie shifted the car into reverse, the headlights blinded me and I lifted my arm to my face to shield my eyes. "Sophie!" I called after her as she sped off.
For a moment, I considered chasing after her but I knew there was no point. Kicking off my shoes, I carried them in one hand and turned to head back inside. Water from Sophie's sprinklers had sprayed the path between her driveway and front door and my socks grew damper with each step that I took. When I reached her entranceway, I peeled off my soaked socks and left them on top of my shoes to dry.
Although I'd spent countless hours at Sophie's house while she was out, the mansion took on an eerie silence following her departure. The floorboards seemed to creak more often and the sound of the wall clocks' ticking rose in volume with each passing second. Sitting on her living room couch, my mind raced with wild thoughts. Would she be alright? Should I have stopped her? I knew the answer to the second question would undoubtedly be 'yes' and I hoped that the answer to the first would be the same. Deciding that I would give her some space, I wrapped a throw blanket around my legs and waited for her return.
An hour passed, then two, and then three. I went outside a few times to see if her car had pulled up, just to make sure that she hadn't somehow snuck home without me realizing. When there was still no sign of Sophie by 3 A.M., I struggled to suppress the panic that was building in my chest. I wanted to know that she was safe but when she didn't respond to my string of text messages, I realized that I would simply have to believe that she meant it when she said that she'd be back. The problem was that I had no idea when that would be.
Still holding out hope that Sophie would respond, I checked my phone as I prepared to go to sleep and opened the new message I'd received from Richard.
Did you watch?