Chapter 8: RYDER

She dropped a new song. How did I miss the fact that she was working again? I've been scouring the Internet ever since she came back to the city, and there was nothing. I had to hear about it from one of those hangers-on that my wife is so fond of. My wife, how the hell am I going to get by her?

I'm sure they didn't think I heard their whispers through the voice-canceling headphones I had on, but lucky for me, I was in between playlists and overheard her name, which of course, made me stop in my tracks and listen.

Fuck this! I grabbed a light jacket from the guest closet and rushed towards the stairs, too much in a hurry to walk. "Hey, Rye...."

"Don't call me that; I told you never to call me that." Now walk away before I smash your fucking face in.

I used my anger and the shock she was in from the outburst to make my escape. It wasn't the first time I'd yelled at her, and there have been much worst episodes in the past, but it was the price she paid for getting what she wanted and trapping me into this shit marriage that was slowly sucking the life out of me.

I ignored the staff and my bodyguards as they called out to me and jumped into the nearest death trap that I'd bought in a subconscious bid to end myself and peeled down the driveway, almost smashing through the gate that barely had time to swing open.

I forced myself not to listen to her song yet, not to even search for it on the streamer, not yet as the car sped through the night. Thank heaven it was late and not that many cars were on the road, or I'd have mowed through them all by now.

My feet and my heart knew where I was going before I did because I took the twists and turns up into the Hollywood hills to our place. I hadn't been up here in three years, which was saying a lot since I was the one who'd introduced her to my favorite spot all those years ago.

I found out really early how quickly things like that could change, that once you've shared certain things with your forever person, those things will lose all their favor when that person is gone. Just the thought of bringing anyone else up here with me makes me both sick to my stomach and unreasonably pissed as well.

Even in my drugged haze, it wasn't something that I could ever do because what we shared was in my DNA, something I know is not physically possible, but try telling it to my heart and soul. It's because of thoughts like this that I stay high all day, every day, not giving a care about the world around me or anything in it.

I wasn't too high, though, to recognize the feeling of excitement that hummed like a song beneath my skin. Or to hide the fact that just knowing that I was about to hear her voice in melody again for the first time in almost three years filled me with something I didn't know I was lacking; hope.

I sat for a few seconds once the engine was turned off, looking down at the view that I'd missed, missing her presence next to me, and preparing myself for the song. This was so different from her last release. We were always there for each other for these moments, always doing something special to show each other how proud we were of one another.

I took a deep breath and reached into the glove box for the blunt I left there, which was the lesser evil of the shit I put into my system. My hand shook as I lit up just as the first strains of her song filled the air inside the car.

I didn't know I was crying until about the third or fourth time I hit repeat. She sounded beautiful, strong, at least stronger than she had on that interview a few weeks ago, but the words. Each one was like a sword to the heart, piercing me deeply. There's no way the world didn't know she was singing about me, about our love, about the things I'd done to her.

I was proud and pissed at the same time. And that right there is one of the reasons we didn't make it. My selfishness, my immaturity, fuck this weed. It's the only drug of choice that doesn't numb me but instead brings me such clarity that it's the only time I see myself.

I bawled in that car like a baby for a good half an hour, my emotions bouncing all over the place from one thing to the next. One minute I was making up my mind to make a rebuttal song; if this is the game she wants to play, let's play. And the next, my heart was breaking in two for her, for us, and the love we'd lost.

I cried myself out and felt even worst. There was no relief for me, no escape from the images her words had conjured. Even though we'd been split for years now, somehow, this song felt like goodbye, and the shit damn near broke me.

What did you expect, Ryder? Did you think that she would spend the rest of her life pining for you? Hiding herself and her talents away forever? "Yes, dammit!" The steering wheel took the brunt of my anger, and so did my hand, which bled all over me like a stuck pig. I wish I hadn't listened to this song; I wish I hadn't come here. How dare she write a song about not loving me anymore? And why does it feel like my heart had been ripped to shreds in my chest?

I jumped from the car just in time to empty my stomach in the grass, her words playing over and over again in my head. I threw up until there was nothing left and still kept heaving until my vision blurred. I didn't even have the strength to climb back into the car at that moment, so I just passed out on the grass wishing for everything to stop and leave me the fuck alone.

***

JANIE

***

"Slow down, Janie; please calm down; you see, look, his car is not even here. He didn't go to her." My eyes scanned the area of her driveway over and over again as if Ryder's car would magically appear. I'd been almost certain that he was coming to her after the way he'd acted, but now that he wasn't there, I didn't know how to feel.

First, I needed to get my breathing back under control and maybe put my thoughts in order, but that was easier said than done. No one knows better than me how just the thought of him being with her makes me crazy, like legit homicidal. He could be with and do almost anyone or anything else, but she is my limit, and it sucks that this had to happen now in front of everyone when I'd worked so hard to keep up the façade that had worked so well for three fucking years.

It must say a lot to my friends that this was the first place I'd come to find my husband, and if any of this got out, the whole world would probably laugh at me, but right now, I wasn't in the right head space to give much of a damn about any of that. For the first time in three years, well, since the very beginning, when it was all new to me, I felt the mask slip.

However much I knew that it was dangerous to do so in front of this bunch, tonight, I couldn't help myself, not after the look I'd seen in Ryder's eyes. I could almost see her reflection there even though she wasn't in the room and hadn't been anywhere near him since he put his ring on my finger.

For the first time, I felt my hold on him slipping, and it left me feeling wild and out of control, the way I always feel when she's involved. It had been quite some time since I'd had this feeling, though. I thought after we got married, it would be over; this sick feeling of loss and being alone even when the one I wanted was right there next to me, but it has only grown worse.

Now, the fun we'd had behind her back when they were together was gone, and all I felt was his hate from him. Hate and disgust, as if the very sight of me annoys him. It terrifies me to think about it, but I know I've seen real hate in his eyes and heard it in his voice when we talked, and it started the day we got married.

I'll never forget that dead cold look he'd given me immediately after the vows were exchanged. It was almost as if, for a second, he'd known the truth, and I'd never felt so much fear and dread before and after until tonight. That same look had been there again as if somehow the drugs had cleared for a minute, and he knew the truth.

When I first saw it on our wedding day, I'd looked around at the others, my family and friends, to see if anyone else had noticed, but they were all laughing and smiling, all so proud of me for finally getting him there to the altar. No one seemed to have noticed his shift in gaze, and by the time I looked back at him again, the look was gone, but I knew what I saw.

I've been trying all this time to shut it out, to turn things around, but to no avail, it seems, if tonight's episode was anything to go by. It made no sense; he wanted me when we were running around behind her back or those times when he came to me when they were taking a break from each other, so why hasn't he touched me in the three years since we've been married?

Why has he been keeping me at arm's length all this time? He's been doing the bare minimum, only keeping up the end of the bargain that I'd had to beg and plead with him for, that he didn't embarrass me in public, and that we always showed the world a united front, not only for my image but his as well.

The fact that he was always high had helped with that a little, but somehow, the drugs were no longer working as well as they used to. Even though I knew he was still under my control somewhat, something had changed.

I reminded myself to talk to his doctor in the morning to see about upping the dosage, still not understanding how he could've beaten the effects to this point. He, too, had lost his composure and let his mask come all the way off when he had been so careful not to before.

Sure, the drugs helped in that regard. While he was high and out of the loop, it was easier to control him; he was easier to manage. So what happened tonight? Why was he able to pull himself together enough to get behind the wheel, and that look in his eyes, did that mean it was over?

No, I can't lose him now. Not after all that I had gone through to bring us together. But that coldness, I can still feel it, like shivers down my spine. There was such hate and venom in that one look before he walked away that my head was still spinning. Why had he changed in the blinking of an eye?

There'd been no warning, no leadup to his outburst, and I could think of only one explanation for it. As always, there could be only one reason for that, her. Elena Gianni, the bane of my existence. I've never hated anyone as much as I hate her. Why does he still like her so much when I'm better in every way?

I'm prettier; at least all my friends say so. I'm thinner and taller; I'm all the things I made myself into just for him. I'd spent years, ever since I first saw him backstage at one of my dad's interviews, and had fallen in love, making myself ready for the day he would be mine.

I didn't know then how I was going to do it. He was older than me, of course, and I was too young to date anyone, but that day I knew, and that knowledge has been the center of my existence ever since. We were meant to be; I was and still am convinced of that. Even though he'd dated many others throughout the time it took me to grow up, I never let it bother me because I knew that was the way of Hollywood.

It wouldn't matter, though, once we got together. Even when she first came on the scene, I wasn't worried. But then everyone started linking their names together in that stupid way the fans have of showing their support for their favorite couples.

I started worrying more when years went by, and they were still together, still going strong, and the fans loved them. You couldn't look anywhere without seeing something written up about them. By then, I was old enough to date, just barely, but it was time to put my plans into action, and I did, with the help of my family and some of my newly acquired friends.

I hadn't been idle this whole time. I'd learned everything I could about the two of them, especially her. I'd already learned everything I needed to about him; now it was her I needed to learn so it would be easier to get rid of her.

Dad had worked his magic behind the scenes, and while no one was looking or seeing me as a threat, I put my plan in motion. My new friends had no idea what my goal was, though some of my old acquaintances from back home knew since, as a young teen, it was hard to hide my obsession from them.

I wasn't worried about them, though, since they were not part of the elite inner circle and would never make it to LA. I'm not sure what dad had done after we joined the church where all the stars congregated; that was the first step everyone said to take. It beat trying to find out where Ryder was going to be at every given moment, which is something I'd done in the past and still did, truth be known.

After running into him at church a time or two, it had been easier to get closer to him because now he knew I was a safe and familiar face. But she was always there as well, always close to him like a second skin. Still, I'd been able to outwit her, and, in the end, he chose me.

So why has she still been hovering over our lives like a specter when I'd gone through so much, done so much to get what I wanted? Why can't I escape her no matter where I go? Even in my sleep, she's the last thing I see before I close my eyes. It's as if she's haunting me.

I'd won; the whole world had seen that I'd won. I was the one to take him away from her and all the others that were lusting after him. I was the one he chose for all the world to see. So why have I never felt like I'd won? Why have I not found the happiness I thought would be mine for the taking? It's all because of that bitch. She's the reason this is happening.

When she'd hidden herself away from the world, I'd had a few years of respite, and the longer she stayed off the scene, the more at ease I became. But I was never truly at peace because there was always this sick feeling of dread in my gut, almost like a premonition, that it could all come crashing down at any moment.

I knew what everyone thought, that he never truly loved me, that the two of them deserved each other, that she was better for him than me. It was bad enough having to shield myself from barbs from the outside, but having to fight my own husband for his love has taken a toll on me.

At least before tonight, no one could know for sure. I always made sure he was on his best behavior when we were out together somewhere where there were sure to be cameras and when the girls came over, which was pretty often because I needed them to see and believe as much as everyone else, that I'd won my man, that he was mine.

But tonight, something had gone very wrong, and he'd stormed out of the house, and I know very well that look that was in his eyes. He was thinking about her, always fucking her; I hate her. But how did he find out about the song? I have his social media along with his outside contact under very strict supervision. I'd even convinced him that someone as famous as he is shouldn't be handling that stuff on his own and had hired someone to take control of it.

So, how did he hear that song? Or was it something else? No, it was her; it was all about her. And it's too much of a coincidence that he'd reacted this way on the day her new song was released. I'd already brainstormed with my team as to how to keep him from knowing about it, but it looks like we were too late.

"Where is he? I should go ring that bitch's doorbell. She knew this would happen; that's why she sang that stupid song. Now everybody's going to be talking about how they used to be together, how they should still be together...." I screamed and slammed my newly manicured hand against the steering wheel before starting to dry heave, which quickly became hyperventilation.

Some days I wish I could die, just let it all go and leave this mess behind. But then I would be letting her win, and I can't do that. I'm going to win Ryder's love if it's the last thing I do.