Page 61 of Landon & Shay: Part Two

But that didn’t seem like enough for me.

I was one of the lucky bastards who had enough money to get me the best care in the world. There were so many people who didn’t have that same privilege—especially the youth. I wanted to look them in the eye and tell them my story. I wanted to remind them that just because they struggled, they weren’t alone. I wanted to create an open dialogue around mental health and give back both with money and my time.

Joey had an issue with that idea, because in his mind time was money and if something wasn’t bringing us money, then we didn’t have time for it.

“We don’t have time for that right now, Landon. It’s your primetime!”

“It’s been my primetime for the past ten years.”

“Exactly, which is why you shouldn’t let your mind slip. Think of everything you have. You have everything that everyone ever dreamed of. You’re fucking rich, you’re talented, and you could have any girl you’d ever wanted.”

Not any girl—that was a fact.

He continued. “I just don’t get what you have to be sad about. You’re Landon Pace, baby!”

“Harrison,” I corrected. “Landon Pace is a made-up persona. That’s not who I am.”

“Yes, but that’s who made you something.”

I grimaced at his words. As if my acting career was what made me matter, other than the fact that I was a living, breathing human. I didn’t argue with him, because I was tired and I knew Joey wouldn’t see things from my point of view. He believed that money brought happiness and couldn’t for the life of himself understand what the hell I had to be sad about.

He must’ve picked up on the energy of the room and he gave me a halfway grin. “Listen, how about this. Take the month off. We’ll do that, then film Ether here in Chicago, and then I’ll work it in for you to get some more time off.”

“I’ll need six months to get started with what I want to do,” I told him, and I swore he cringed as if he’d been told someone was going to cut off his big toe.

“We can work on the amount of time when we get there. Until then, take the month to get your head in check. I’ll handle everything else coming up. You just worry about keeping yourself together.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Joey.”

“Anything for my star. It looks like the whiskey party was a success. You posed with all the right girls.”

“I posed with every girl.” Except the one I wanted.

“I know. Which is right. Sex appeal sells. That’s why your career took off from the jump—remember the Calvin Klein ad?”

How could I forget the Calvin Klein ad?

“I’ve sold enough sex appeal over the years. Now, we should think about letting the movies speak for themselves.”

He must’ve picked up on the context clues that I wasn’t interested in more talk about work or the narrative I was supposed to push at gatherings. The mysterious playboy who never settled down, blah, blah, blah, blah.

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, hit me up. Night, Landon.”

“Night.”

He let himself out, and I was left alone again with my dog.

It felt as if I was finally able to breathe, now that there weren’t people expecting anything from me. I used to hate being alone, but the longer I lived in the celebrity world, the more I craved my solitude.

In the past, being alone meant living with my heavy thoughts, and sometimes that was still true. Depression wasn’t something that went away with fame, success, and money. It still lived within me, and I was still fighting the battle daily to not slip too far away from the truths of who I really was.

Dr. Smith had me do breathing exercises on the regular, and she was the reason I got into yoga many years back. Little things like that helped my troubled mind learn how to slow down a little. It didn’t always work, and sometimes I still stumbled and would spend nights awake, unable to curve the anxiety in my chest. But I was better than before, because I refused to give up on myself ever again.

That night, I performed my breathing exercises and thought about my three good things.

A month off.

Shay

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