Page 11 of Stone Promises

“Isn’t it all the same?” I ask. “Can’t you just replace one addiction with another?”

“Yes, some people can become cross-addicted. I don’t seem to have a problem with alcohol. My issue was with cocaine. But it’s an unforgiving drug, so I don’t ever drink enough to lower my inhibitions and make bad decisions. I find that as long as I limit myself to just a drink or two, I’m good. I still like to have fun. Just not crazy doped-up fun.”

“Oh.” I’d read countless articles about Chad’s partying early on. I’ve seen too many pictures of him and half-naked women looking gorked out. Eventually, I stopped looking. I stopped reading. I even tried to pretend I had stopped caring.

He nods in the direction of the stairs. “So, you still live here with your dad?”

I look around the kitchen that is the only one I’ve ever known. My parents bought this house when my mom was pregnant with me. “Yes. It’d be such a big place just for him, you know?”

He looks down at the table, nodding reluctantly. “I’m really sorry about your mom. I should have called.”

“You were a little busy back then,” I say, trying to keep bitterness from lacing my words.

“That’s no excuse. I should have come back for her funeral. She was like a second mom to me. And you . . . ” Guilt washes over his finely-chiseled features as he traces a bead of condensation on his bottle. “I just should have done something. I was in a bad way back then. It’s no excuse, I know. But it’s all I have.”

“It was a long time ago,” I say.

“You were only seventeen. You needed your friends. I fucked up. Will you ever forgive me?”

I study him for a minute. He wants my forgiveness? Is that why he’s here, to exonerate himself of guilt? But he looks sincere. Sad even, like he feels he lost a piece of himself when he cut off those he loved. Maybe Mel was right. Maybe he has changed. Still, if it’s my friendship he wants, it may be too little too late. “Why are you here, Chad? Uh, can I even call you that anymore?”

“Yes, please call me Chad. Thad isn’t who I really am. Not anymore. My family calls me Chad; I want you to as well.”

I think back to when he had just gotten discovered and his agent told him there was already an actor by the name of Chad Stoner, so he had to pick a new name because his was too similar. I was so excited that he chose Thad. The name that had so much meaning, but only to the two of us. It was a name that connected us in a way nobody else would ever understand. I somehow thought it would tie us together forever. Instead, it eventually ripped us apart, and now—well I’m glad he’s okay with me calling him Chad, because that other name is nothing more than a dirty word in my book.

“I’m sure you know I saw you at the premiere the other night,” he says. He sighs deeply. “My life has been a little bit crazy lately, to say the least. What is happening now is ten times worse than when I was onMalibu. Sometimes it feels like my life is not my own anymore. And I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but when I saw you, it was like seeing a lifeline to normal again. There were hundreds of screaming fans on that sidewalk, and then there was you. And you were the only one who wasn’t trying to get close enough to get a piece of me. It was like a breath of fresh air in the chaos.”

“I didn’t know it was you at the club. Well, not until I saw you,” I tell him. “My friend, Melissa, and I were on our way back from dinner when we stumbled upon the crowd. We hung around to see what all the fuss was about.”

For a second, Chad’s face falls. He looks dejected. This gorgeous, mega-rich, up-and-coming superstar looks like a kid who just had his candy swiped from him. “You didn’t know I was going to be there?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“I guess that makes sense,” he says. “It looked like you were trying to get away.”

I’m not sure what to say to that.Sorry, Chad, I don’t follow your career because I think you are a self-centered prick who drops friends at the first hint of something better?I take a sip of beer instead of speaking.

“Your dad tells me you’re a teacher,” he says, filling the uncomfortable silence.

“I am.”

He stares at me with a smirk.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, the irony is not lost on me.”

Chad used to say he wanted to teach high school history. And I was the one who was going to be an actor. I starred in every middle and high school theater production. I even got Chad to audition for one of the particularly time-consuming plays so we would be able to spend more time together. The play that should have resulted in our first kiss. And our second and third. It ran three nights. But we never rehearsed the kiss, and we ended up chickening out, hugging each other instead. Our lips never even touched. Not then; not ever.

“Why didn’t you pursue acting?” he asks. “You were so good at it.”

“I did. But not everyone can walk into a shopping mall and get discovered,” I say.

“Are you still interested? I could pull some strings if you want to try it out. I think you’d be amazing.”

I vehemently shake my head. “Oh, no. I love my job. Plus, I wouldn’t want that career anymore, not after seeing what it did . . . uh . . .” I try to remove my very large foot from my very big mouth.

He nods knowingly. “After seeing what it did to me.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful. I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are.”

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