Page 3 of Stone Promises

It’s her. I know it’s her. It’s been nine years but I’d know her anywhere. I know every curve of her face, every location of every freckle on her arms. I know because I counted them all one day when I was eight years old. I told her she must have a hundred. She doubted that was true, so I sat her down on the curb in front of my house and counted them. One hundred and twelve freckles on her arms if you count the ones from her fingers up to her shoulders. “Mal?” I say, more of a question to myself because she’d never hear me over the screaming crowd.

I think she must be some kind of aberration. A dream I conjured up on the plane ride over. But then her lips move, and I think she says my name. My real name. Not the name she made up for me when she was six years old. Not the name I use to this day as my stage name. No, I could swear she says, “Chad.”

And then, probably because I’m frozen in place and people see it as an opportunity, girls start to jump over the barricade, police being overcome by dozens of them as Cole swiftly moves me towards the door and out of harm’s way. I work against him, trying to get over to Mallory, or to the person I believe to be her, because I never thought in a million years I’d see her again. Not after the shame I brought upon myself. Not after I let her down so horribly by becoming the person I was. But Cole outweighs me by a good fifty pounds and could probably bench press me for pure entertainment. So despite my best efforts, I’m no match for his professional training and he’s able to wrangle me indoors.

Once I’m safely inside the club, Cole lets me go and Kendra runs over to me, apparently having watched the entire debacle. “What just happened out there, Thad?”

The whole scene replays in my mind and I realize what Kendra is asking. I’m sure I was caught on camera looking like a deer in headlights.Oh shit. I wonder if anyone realized who I was looking at, because if so, I may have just put her in danger.

“I thought I saw someone,” I tell her.

“Who?” she asks. “Who do you think you saw that would make you react that way?”

I close my eyes and sigh, and then I tell her the truth that I’ve only ever admitted to myself. “The only girl I’ve ever loved.”

Chapter Two

Mallory

Melissa and I get pushed aside by a cocky teenager with an attitude. “Don’t you know anything? His name isThad,” the girl says. “Go get a life, loser.”

I turn to my friend, ready to complain about today’s youth to get my mind off what just happened. When I see Melissa’s face, however, her mouth agape and her eyes glazed over as she stares at me, I realize I might have a bit of explaining to do.

“That’sChad?” she asks, pointing at the now empty sidewalk in front of the club.

I nod and look to the ground.

She grabs my hand, pulling me away from the bustling crowd to a quieter location. She nods back to the commotion we walked away from.“That’sthe Chad you grew up with? As in the boy who lived next door? As in your childhood best friend? As in the guy you never got over?”

My eyes snap to hers. “Who said I never got over him?”

“You might not have ever admitted it, but the way you talk about him—it’s obvious you had a huge thing for him. And, geez, now I know why.” Her head tilts to the side and her eyebrows shoot up. “You knew him before he was famous, Mal. How cool is that? Oh, my God, did you play doctor? Did you see his wee-wee? Oh, shit, was he your first? Please tell me he was your first. Ahhhhhh!” she screams. “I need details!” Then she swats my arm. “How is it I’ve known you for five years and you didn’t tell me about this? I mean, Thad Stone? The star ofMalibu 310?The guy who is most likelyPeople Magazine’snext hottest man of the year?”

I shake my head, not wanting to acknowledge how some of what she just said is true. I don’t even admit to myself that I had a thing for him. “That is not the boy I grew up with,” I say, nodding in the direction of the club. “Far from it. The boy I grew up with didn’t do drugs. Or . . .” I cringe. “Or use women. The boy I grew up with is nothing like that man.” I stare at my friend who is majorly fangirling at the moment. “See this,” —I motion to her face— “thisis why I don’t tell people.”

She sighs. Her expression immediately changes from obsessed fan to supportive friend. She grabs my elbow and walks us down the street, pulling me into a small neighborhood bar. We slip into a booth in the back and Melissa orders us each a glass of white wine.

“For the duration of our drink, I promise not to fangirl,” she says. “You obviously need to talk to someone about this, so talk.”

Even just thinking about it, it’s hard to keep the tears from falling. I grab a napkin from the dispenser and wipe my eyes. Melissa is right, I need to talk about it. But I’m afraid it will just stir up feelings I’ve repressed for nine years.

What are the odds of this even happening? Of Mel and I walking back to her place after dinner and coming upon a swarm of people outside a club? It’s not an unusual thing for New York City. We’ve seen some pretty big stars on occasion. So we figured, what the hell, we’d stick around to see what all the fuss was about. Never in a million years did I think it would result in a face-to-face meeting with Chad. Well, eye-to-eye anyway.

“Do you want me to call Julian?” Melissa asks, knowing how close we are. “Wait. Julian grew up with you. Oh, my God, he knew him, too? How is it that neither of you has ever said anything?”

Chad is a closely guarded secret I’ve kept locked up inside. Only my dad and Julian know the real story of my childhood. Julian was there. He lived it with me. We were inseparable, the three of us. That is until Julian went to Brazil the summer before his junior year. And then of course when Chad left me. Left us.

Julian and I have never talked about it. I think he was as hurt by Chad’s departure as I was. Well, not so much by his departure, but by his blatant and total removal of his presence from our lives when he became a star.

“Call him,” I say.

After explaining to Julian what happened and where we are, she puts down the phone. “He will be here as soon as he can. Do you want to wait for him?”

The waitress brings our wine and I take a sip. I shake my head. “There isn’t anything I could tell you about Chad that Julian doesn’t already know.”Well, except that one little thing about me being in love with him back then.

“You guys were really close,” she says. It’s a statement more than a question.

“We were,” I say, remembering fondly some of the good times we had together. “I was six when Chad moved in next door. Wait, have I told you this story before?”

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