"Hey, Vanessa. I'm sorry to hear about your dad. How's he doing now?" Paul asked.
"He's doing all right; still really weak. The doctor's told him to get some bed rest for a bit," I replied.
"I'm glad to hear he's all right," Paul said.
"How'd you hear about it?" I asked. He swallowed. The boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"Uh..." he mumbled. He reached onto his desk and handed me his laptop, which was open to an article about me. I set my phone on his desk and studied the laptop. It showed a picture of me walking out of the hospital with Mae. I looked horrible in the picture. My face was all blotchy and I looked as if I hadn't slept in days. I glared angrily at the article.
"They're really going to follow me to a hospital?!" I exclaimed.
"I called them and told them to leave you alone..." Paul said.
"Are they at my house right now?" I asked abruptly. He blinked.
"I...I don't know. They shouldn't be. I told them not to follow you," Paul explained.
"God, I am going to be so pissed if they're at my house. My dad does not need any stress right now! He just got out of heart surgery. Those sons of bitches..." I hissed.
"Calm down, Vanessa. I'll be sure to tell them the situation, but they really shouldn't be at your house," Paul said.
"Why can't the stupid paparazzi just leave me the hell alone?" I asked.
"They're paparazzi. It's what they do," Liam said. I glared at him.
"I'll handle it," Paul said once again. I handed him his laptop again and he set it on the desk. "Ok, so now to discuss what I called you here for," he said. "The last album did pretty good for a first album. So the record said that they'll take you on for your second one, if that's cool with you guys," he said. We nodded. "All right. That said, you guys should probably get to writing some new songs. Cobra Starship called us and they said they'd like you guys to open up for their US tour starting at the end of February. If you all are up for that, I can let them know," he said.
"That'd be great," Caleb said.
"Yeah, for sure," Ian agreed. The rest of us nodded as well.
"Great. So definitely think about having one or two songs written by then. We want to give fans something new to look forward to," Paul told us. "Vanessa, Marc Jacobs wants you to model an outfit for Teen Vogue. Up for it?" he asked me.
"Sure," I said, not really caring. He marked it on his list.
"Ummm...other than that, here are a list of places and dates that you'll be playing at. We have to get back in the habit of performing," Paul told us, passing out papers to us with places all over California that we would be performing at over the course of the next few months. "And finally, the best news," he paused. "You guys are playing at Ryan Seacrist's New Year's Countdown in Times Square," he said. This bit of news was the only that got a good reaction from us.
"No way?!" Liam exclaimed.
"Are you serious?" Cameron cried.
"This is so awesome," Caleb said, looking down at the paper at the December 31st/January 1 date.
"All right. That's about it. Do you guys have anything to talk about with me?" he asked, looking around at all of us. We shook our heads. "Ok, I'll let the paparazzi know to leave your family alone. Other than that, you guys are good to go," he said. We all got up to leave. I walked out, looking through my purse for my keys. As I rummaged, I realized that I had left my phone back in Paul's office. I took the elevator back up to the ninth floor and walked down the hallway to Paul's office. As I approached the door, I heard voices coming out of the room. The door was slightly ajar and I could see Paul sitting behind his desk, his head in his hands looking frustrated. I leaned in to listen more closely and heard Ian's voice speaking. I blinked. Ian?
"...the whole plan about me using Vanessa to get more fans for the band!" Ian was saying. I paused, dead in my tracks. What was he saying? I positioned myself next to the door so that they wouldn't see me.
"I think we've gotten a good enough fan base. You can stop telling the paparazzi to follow us everywhere when we go on dates. And don't post that video that I gave you, either. You said you wanted to give us publicity and that's just not the kind that's going to do anything for us," Ian said.
"You're the one that thought up of the whole thing. The whole point of you and Vanessa dating and me pretending I didn't like it was so that we could lure fans in by throwing juicy gossip about you guys. I don't get why you're backing out now," Paul replied.
I felt my heart racing faster and faster, as if it knew what was about to happen.
"I know I was the one who came up with it, but--" Ian started, but Paul had looked up and seen me standing at the door. He stood up and opened the door completely.
"Vanessa?! What are you doing here?" he asked, surprised and turning paler by the second. I walked by him into the office to see Ian, who had also turned pale at the sound of my name.
"V-Vanessa..." he stammered. "Let me explain..." he started, but I put my hand up.
"Don't bother. There's no need to explain anything. After all, what do my feelings matter? I was just a thing to be used for your selfish needs," I said.
"Vanessa, please, just hear me out--" he said, but I shook my head, stopping him.
"I'll be in the bathroom..." Paul muttered, slipping out and closing the door behind him.
"Just tell me one thing," I said in a low, shaky voice. "When you first told me you loved me, did you mean it?" I asked him. Even as I asked it, I knew I didn't need to hear the answer. The look on his face was all the response I needed.
"Vanessa, please..." he pleaded.
"TELL ME THE TRUTH, IAN!" I shouted.
"I-I-" he stammered. Then, with a pained expression on his face, he said, "No."
I felt as if a thousand knives went through my skin and pierced through my heart. I was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. But I kept going.
"Did you ever mean anything you ever said to me? Was that even your real house? Or did you make it up so I would have sex with you?" I asked him. He closed his eyes and I knew. "Oh, God..." I said, my eyes stinging with tears. I took a few breaths to steady myself and stood up straight. I knew that this last request was going to be the most difficult to endure. But I had to know. "Tell me what your original plan was," I said, looking him straight in the eyes.
"I don't think--" he began.
"JUST TELL ME DAMMIT!" I yelled.
"It was while we were working on the album. A lot of people after we performed at clubs and stuff asked if you and I were dating, God knows why. I thought that if that's what people wanted, that's what we would give them. And so I told Paul that I knew a way to get more fans interested in us. They would follow gossip about me and you, and that would be publicity for the band. And at that time, that's all I was thinking of. You remember how I was when you first met me? That's all I was thinking about: getting our band out there. And it worked. People loved us. Every interview people asked about us. And so Paul started leaking to the paparazzi where we would be going on dates, which is how they always ended up at those places. And I was angry at you when I made up that story about my family being poor. I had to do something to get you back....and so I...so I lied...." he trailed off.
Each sentence, each word he said was a painful blow to me. He looked at me, regret and guilt etched in his face. Those were the emotions I kept seeing in his face when he kissed me. He knew that what he was doing was wrong, and yet he kept doing it.
"And I guess the sex and the making out was just the cherry on top?" I asked in a hollow voice. He looked down at his feet and nodded. Another blow.
"Vanessa, I meant to stop it. I meant to stop it all! That's why I came here to Paul! That's what I was telling him just now! I can't do it anymore," he said, stepping closer to me in his pleading. I shook my head and stepped back.
"Get the hell away from me. I never want to see you ever again, you lying, two-faced, using, fake, son-of-a-bitch," I said. I opened the door to the office. "Well I guess everything back-fired on you, didn't it?" I asked him, looking down at the floor.
"What?" he asked, confused. I raised my gaze and met his eyes with an intense glare.
"We're over. And I'm leaving the band," I said simply and dangerously.
"Vanessa, don't take this out on the band--" he started.
"Shut the f**k up, you whore. As long as you're in the band, I'm not going to be. I can't deal with that humiliation and I have more self-respect than that," I said. "Have a good life, Ian. Enjoy living your dream of being famous. Obviously it's a lot more important to you than me," I said. With that, I walked out and slammed the door in his face. As I walked, I passed Paul, who was actually standing outside.
"Vanessa-" he began.
"Go to hell," I told him, my voice cracking.
I made it out of the building before I broke into tears. I couldn't keep up the charade of being angry, because right now, I was just hurt. Extremely and painfully hurt.
As I stepped into the parking lot, I was met with dozens of flashes of lights. I looked up to see myself surrounded by paparazzi, snapping pictures of my tear-stained face. I held my hands up to cover my face as they shouted questions at me.
"Vanessa, why are you crying?" a woman asked.
"Did you and Ian break up?" a man asked.
"Did Paul kick you out of the band?" another asked.
"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!" I yelled, jumping into my car and putting it into drive. I sped off, knowing full well that they'd follow me. I took a detour and just began driving. I didn't know where I was going. I just wanted to get out of Beverly Hills and away from all the pain.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The next couple weeks dragged on. The day after everything happened, I got non-stop phone calls from Mae, Caleb, Liam, and Cameron. Ian even left a few dozen messages. I had gone to stay at a motel in a small town just outside of Beverly Hills. I wanted to stay hidden for a while and didn't want to deal with people. I ended up turning my phone off completely because the vibrating sounds were becoming painfully annoying.
The first night I cried the entire night. The next day, I thought I was all cried out, but when I had seen Ian's number flash onto my phone, I started all over again. It was nighttime again now. I sat with my back against the wooden headboard of the bed in the motel room. I had a pounding headache and was tired of wearing the same clothes I had been wearing for the past three days. I sighed, knowing that I had to go back home sometime.
The next morning, I stepped out into the sunlight. The early-November air was slightly chilly. I blinked into the sunlight, cursing at it for shining so brightly and cheerily when I felt the complete opposite. I sighed and went to my car and drove to my apartment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mae was not happy right now. She seemed a bigger mess than I was.
"Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? I thought you killed yourself or something! You didn't answer texts. You didn't answer phone calls. And then you turned your goddamn phone off! I had no clue where you were and how I could find you!" she shouted. I sat in my dirty clothes and stared at my feet, letting her yell at me. I knew she was angry. She had every right to be. But I knew that once she had it all out, she'd sit down and be the one to comfort me.
After a few minutes of yelling at me, she sat down and looked at me. I looked back at her. She had dark circles under her eyes, showing she hadn't slept at all the past three nights. Her hair had fallen out of the braid that it was in and hung loosely around her gaunt face.
"What happened?" she asked in such a soft, tender voice that it brought tears to my eyes. "Oh, Ness," she whispered as I began crying. She took me in her arms and held me as I let out great, heaving sobs. My heart ached, my head hurt, and I felt emotionally drained. What had he done to me?
When I finally calmed down, it was evening time. The sun was setting. Mae got up and made us some tea, which we were now sipping quietly. The setting sun cast bright orange light and dark looming shadows on the walls of our living room. Mae didn't press me with questions. She knew I'd talk when I was ready.
I took a shower and changed into a pair of black sweatpants and a navy blue hoodie. I sat in the living room, staring unblinkingly out at the dark night that had set over Beverly Hills. The city outside our window looked so calm, so tranquil, as if nothing were wrong. It seemed so contrary to what I felt inside of me.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, I told her everything. I left out no details. The words were, after all, etched into my brain. I recited to her everything that Ian had said to me. By the end, I felt as if a small burden had been lifted from my shoulders. It was only a tiny relief, though. I still had a storm raging inside of me.
"That little...the son of a...the bas...God, I don't even know what to call him. There are just no words, not even any curse words, to explain how completely selfish he was," Mae said. I could see anger etched in her tired face. I tried to swallow the lump that was forming in my throat. "So you're leaving the band?" she asked me. I nodded. "Does Paul know that?" she asked. I shrugged, not really wanting to talk anymore. I think Mae sensed this. "I wish I could say something to make you feel better. I would say that you're better than him and that he didn't deserve you and that he had a crappy personality to begin with. But no matter what I say, it's not going to help make you feel any better. Because the truth of what he did is still there. And even if all those things are true, what he did will still be in the back of your mind. I guess the only thing to do is wait now," she said.
Time. That's what I needed. Time healed everything, right? But weren't some wounds too deep?
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A/N: Booo. Sad chapter. This is what I've been leading up to, everyone. He (and I) had this grand scheme planned from the very beginning. He was using her to get famous. We'll see his side of the story in the next part.
Comment and vote!! Thanks!
XOXO
P.S. The song in the sidebar pertains to Ian, not Vanessa. It sets up his point of view that I will show in the next part. =)