Page 113 of Bona Fide

? Lie to Me —5 Seconds of Summer feat Julia Michaels ?

Jed: When do you come back home?

Me: Two days.

Jed: I’m canceling all my shit.

Me: Calm yourself, I’m not going to be there long. Just to check in on Mama and the house. Then I have to get back to NYC.

Jed: All I need is fifteen minutes.

He sends me another text,but I don't respond, barely glance at it because I'm late. I have a bride waiting for me at a bakery that I love to refer clients to, and everyone and their mom is in my fucking way on this sidewalk.

I hate this city.

I hate the people, the lights, everyone’s need to know every single fucking thing because all I see—are things I don’t want to.

The remembrance of who still holds a tiny piece of me is on every TV screen I pass, I swear to God. He must live in front of it. It’s pathetic because I’ve been doing this for over a year. Every time I see his face, I give myself whiplash from jerking my neck away.

It still doesn't block the sound of his voice, though.

The dark octave that’s like chocolate dripping off a strawberry and into your mouth—fucking delicious.

I’ve stopped reading blogs because he’s won every female with his charm, dubbed the hottest president of the decade or ever. (Sorry JFK.) His face is plastered on the side of taxis and buses when he has some dumbass slogan going on about what he’s trying to promote.

It’s all disgusting.

I can’t wipe his face away if I always find his blue eyes looking back at me. The ones I glare at because I had to save my family and move away.

I lost more clients than I could afford after the sex tape that Demi released. People were falling like flies, money wasn't coming in anymore, and my name was a joke. People stared at me in stores, I had a drink flung in my face at a restaurant one night followed by the words "home wrecker” and “whore". And a few times it happened, Mama was conveniently with me.

I didn’t sell my house, Mama stayed in it while hers was being rebuilt from the fire. Marty had gotten called back to finish out his mission—still have no idea what or where that is—but he calls more frequently than before, asking me when I’m going to stop the party planning shit and come back home.

The same song and dance, the same gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach because I do want to go home. I’m just letting things blow over, I guess, if that ever happens.

Leaving home was my only option for a fresh start. Not that I wanted to go, but Demi made sure my whole career was ruined.

She won, I lost. Still trying to swallow down that massive pill.

Sadie stayed home with her mom, not wanting to venture out to NYC and so Mila came along with me. She's grown into so much more than I expected, and together we run the new business.

My phone buzzes in my coat pocket, and I mindlessly pull it out to answer it, dodging some dickhead on a bike who almost plows into me.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Miss Shelton?”

“Yes.”

“Hi, it’s Zara. I’m so sorry to bother you but—”

“Hey, Zara, I am so sorry I’m late. Traffic is just—” I dodge and dip in front of a large group of people to get further ahead. “—I’m on my way.”

"Okay," she replies slowly. "I have lunch reservations in an hour, so if you could try and hurry, I'd really appreciate it. I know it's not your fault."

“I promise this will be quick and painless,” I voice before jaywalking across the street. “I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

"Perfect, see you then." She hangs up, and I hit the other end of the street only to be bumped into for the millionth time today. My phone buzzes again in my hand, and I look down to find Jed calling me.

---