Rise by Cassandra Robbins

 

 

 

 

GIA

Present – Twenty-five years old

Paris, France

My phone is ringing again. With a sigh, I roll over and push my eye mask up to look at my phone.

“Jeff, I hate you.” I’m tempted to block him and his numerous missed calls, but he’s such a lunatic, he might just get on a plane. So I text, Sleeping, then toss my phone back on the nightstand. I pull my eye mask down and turn to my side. If I can get another hour, that would be amazing. I take a deep breath and let it out, trying to relax my mind, but all I see are bourbon eyes, full lips, and dark, wild hair.

“Goddammit.” I roll to my back. The room is silent, save for the gentle click of the heat turning on. I hate feeling like this, and by this, I mean remembering. Thank God I have my job to distract me. Fashion Week turned out way better than I expected.

I worked all day, came back to my room, ordered room service, and watched Jeopardy. Sebastian did the party scene, so that kept everyone happy and took away the stress of running into him.

I sigh. Clearly, I’m not going back to sleep. Sitting up, I toss the eye mask and glance at my surroundings, not really seeing them.

I need coffee and a cigarette. I lean over to dial room service and pick up my iPhone to translate that I’d like coffee, eggs, bacon, and a bagel with cream cheese.

I love this feature on my phone. They probably think I’m crazy, but whatever. I lean my head back and try to figure out what I’m gonna do. I’m supposed to return to LA for a quick job, but I might cancel it since New York is starting to look good. It has Julianna and no Jeff.

Great, I’m in another shit mood. This is becoming my new norm lately. Where’s that pack of cigarettes I bought the other day? I bite my bottom lip. I’d quit until the run-in with him.

Asshole.

I haven’t said his name once since I got on the back of my brother’s bike that rainy day. I basically considered him dead…until he became alive again.

I grab my hair and roughly put it into a messy bun as I remember…

Everything.

Not being able to function and locking myself in Axel’s room for days. Fucking pathetic. No man is worth that.

I try to block out that time of my life since all it does is piss me off. I wasted so much heartache on him. Didn’t eat, didn’t sleep. God, I think I dropped ten pounds, and I was thin to begin with. Poor Julianna had to come and get me. Otherwise, there’s no way I would have made it back to school that semester.

Then dealing with my mom flip-flopping between sympathy and her I-told-you-so crap. That’s what made me get my ass into Julianna’s BMW and go back to Berkeley with her. The thought of having to live with my mom in that neighborhood and looking across the street at his mom’s house was not an option.

But I survived. Standing, I stretch to get all the kinks out. Might as well pack since I’m heading back to the States in the morning. A small tap on the door alerts me that room service has arrived. That was fast, or I’ve been so caught up in the past I don’t even realize how much time passed.

“Coming,” I yell, which is stupid because most rooms are pretty soundproof. Thank God my coffee is here. I’m completely jet-lagged. I feel like I could drink a gallon, that’s how sluggish I am. I grab a robe and open the door.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” Sebastian winks at me, leaning against the doorframe, wearing a black beret.

“Jesus.” I roll my eyes at him. He’s ridiculous in all the right ways. I also know him—he’s either plotting or wants something. I step aside, letting the room service guy in. He sets the large silver tray on the table.

“Grumpy bear.” Sebastian grabs me and picks me up as I scream and laugh.

“I am. So don’t bug me. I need coffee.” I shake my head and slap his chest as I smile at the room service guy. As I sign the check, I try not to tumble out of Sebastian’s arms.

“Merci,” Sebastian says to the retreating back of the poor service guy as he dumps me on the bed.

“Oh my God, what’s going on?” I sit up, feeling Sebastian’s eyes travel the length of my legs. He turns to look at the room service tray. I know Sebastian still thinks he has feelings for me. I catch him staring at me sometimes and pretend I don’t see it. Like right now, I focus on how excited he is rather than the fact that he was staring at my legs.

“Do I need coffee first?” I reach for the silver pot.

“I need you to do this for me. This is me calling in my best friend card or old lover, partner, whatever-you-want-to-call-us favor.”

Christ, he’s still hoping. I sigh as I pour myself a cup. “You know I’ll always say yes to you.” Sitting on the end of the bed, I cross my legs, making sure the robe covers them.

I need to get better about this. We’re so close that sometimes I forget he’s a straight man. I mean, I don’t, but we used to fuck, so I’m comfortable around him. Lately he’s been hinting that if I need him, he’ll be happy to take the edge off for me. My sex life is so bad that it’s a bummer I can’t accept the offer. Sebastian is fantastic at making a girl come.

I can’t though. I need his friendship more than an orgasm.

“Wait, what’s going on?”

“They haven’t contacted you yet?” He sits down in the big arched chair. Stretching his long legs out, he crosses them at the ankles, then takes off his beret and runs his hands through his curls.

My eyes narrow on him. “Is this what Jeff is calling nonstop about?” I sip my coffee and open the top of the container for my eggs and bacon.

“You want some? I’ll never eat all this. And they only gave me one coffee cup, so get a glass from the minibar area.” I pick up a piece of bacon.

“Gia.”

“Yeah?” I say, almost choking on the bacon with the way his face is looking. “What? Clearly you have good news. Why are you dragging this out?”

“Because I thought you knew.” His eyes find mine. Again, the bacon kind of gets caught in the back of my throat as I swallow it down.

“I’ve been offered to be director of photography on a major motion picture,” he yells.

“What?” I shout, because are you kidding me? No one works harder than Sebastian.

“Oh my God, I’m so happy.” I drop the bacon and throw myself into his arms. “I knew it was only a matter of time until the world saw how amazingly talented you are.”

He smiles, and for a split second I see Rhys’s smile instead. Goddammit, why can’t Sebastian be the one my heart beats for?

“They offered it to both of us.” He laughs.

“What?” I pull back as dread, or adrenaline, makes my stomach flip. All of a sudden, I can’t breathe.

“As a team. I’m the DP and you’re the photographer.” He motions with his hands, and suddenly it all falls into place. I rub my temples.

“Please tell me this is not The Stuffed Muffins movie.” My chest tightens.

“So, they did ask you?”

“No. I mean, yes, they did, but I said no.” I start to pace. I do this when I get nervous or pressured.

“Sebastian, I can’t be a part of it. You take it though.” He simply stares at me. “Stop it,” I continue. “They don’t need me.” I point at him, but the fact is they do. No one has more photos of that band than me. I have pictures back from when I was seven, eight years old with my first Nikon.

“I already passed on this. What the fuck?” I look up at the ceiling and shake my head. “Who asked you?”

“The head of Weddington Studios. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me. I need you to say yes.” Gone is my playful Sebastian. He’s full-on asking me to do this as a favor to him. How can I tell him no? He’s been there for me through everything, unknowingly keeping me going. But what he’s asking for is not the end of the world. Rhys Granger is my past. I need to think about my future, and this would be amazing on my résumé. In reality, I’ll hardly deal with him. It’ll be the director and me, along with Sebastian.

“Fine. If you need me, I’m there for you.” I smile at him. It’s either that or burst into tears that he’s throwing me into the lion’s den.

Because I’m lying. Rhys is the only person who’s dangerous to me.

“Gia. Gia.” He grabs me and hugs me again. “Do you realize what this means? I don’t want to jinx us, but with this kind of budget to work with, and our creativity and the popularity and allure of The Stuffed Muffins…” He pulls back and I look into his brown eyes—they’re full of excitement.

Sebastian is passionate about his craft. He loves making the magic happen so much that you can’t help but get caught up in his enthusiasm. Spinning me, he tugs me close to slow dance and murmurs in my ear, “Hunter Falcon’s directing it. We’re gonna get an Academy Award. I can feel it. My cock is getting hard.”

I pull back again, choosing to ignore the last comment, and focus on Hunter. “You’re kidding?” Hunter Falcon is fucking huge.

He smirks. His split lip from Rhys is only now starting to heal. “Apparently, he’s a huge fan of The Stuffed Muffins. He was the one who approached them about a behind-the-scenes movie. Just get in there with them, see the real band. I already talked to him on the phone. He’s beyond excited to be working with us.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. Clearly, he knew he would wear me down and I’d agree. It kind of sucks that I hate him because Hunter Falcon is a big deal. The prospect of working with him is exciting.

“So, I take it you’re not suing him anymore?” I turn back to my breakfast that suddenly holds no taste.

“Gia, sit.” He takes my hand and brings me to the silk couch. “Tell me the truth. What’s the history between you and Granger?”

“Why? Are you going to say I shouldn’t worry about doing the movie with you?” He frowns and sits back as I jump up for my bag and cigarettes.

“So he’s the reason why.” He looks down at his shoes, not asking the question.

“What are you talking about?” I snap. “You have been given an amazing opportunity and I’m thrilled for you. But I can’t deal with all the psychoanalyzing me and shit.” At last, I retrieve the pack from the bottom of my giant purse.

“Huh,” is all he says as I roll my eyes and light up.

“Don’t, please, not right now.” I sit next to him, blowing smoke at the ceiling.

“Well.” He slaps the couch and stands. “I know two things, my beauty.” He leans down to kiss the top of my head as I stare straight ahead, smoking.

“One, you should not be smoking. And two… you need to do this movie.” My eyes shift to his. “Good, bad, or ugly, you’re finally gonna be free, babe.”

“I’m already free.” I recross my legs and tighten the top of the robe around me, as if that can shield me from his knowing eyes.

“No. You’re locked in a cage of your own doing. Maybe Granger can wake you up.” He smiles and heads for the door, taking a piece of bacon with him. “And if he doesn’t, you’re gonna make enough money to hire the best psychiatrist. Look at it that way.”

I cock my head, my eyes narrowing on him.

“Oh, and Jeff wants you to call him,” he says over his shoulder.

The door shuts and I take a breath, my leg bouncing up and down. What the hell? Sebastian did not at all get the fact that I’m sacrificing for him. In fact, he’s acting like this is good for me.

Screw this. I jump up, clamping the cigarette in my teeth and throwing the closet door open to grab my huge suitcase. I’m not one of those people who unpacks when they travel, so my suitcase is a mess. Whatever. I’ll organize later.

I drop to my knees and fish around for Rip’s latest and greatest strain, which he gave me a few weeks ago to try.

Rip is partners with my brother and part of the Disciples. They own a bunch of cannabis dispensaries in Los Angeles.

Smoking weed is not really my thing. It’s Axel’s drug of choice, but I ran into Rip at the supermarket of all places, told him I was dreading coming here, and he insisted I take some of his stuff, stating that if anyone needed it, I did. I probably should have been insulted, but it’s Rip, so whatever. He did give me a prescription note in case customs stopped me.

Well, today’s the day. I was going to walk around Paris and enjoy my last day, but maybe I’ll get high and go back to sleep.

I dig around, finding all kinds of film cannisters but not the one container I’m looking for. I’m about ready to give up and order a bottle of Cristal champagne and bill it to Sebastian’s room when I find it.

Three joints. I take one out and toss the container back into my suitcase. Using my cigarette, I light it up, inhale, hold, and inhale again, then slowly let it out. Hmm, kind of citrus flavored. Leaning back on my suitcase, I inhale again and raise one leg, wondering if I should get a tattoo on my ankle or maybe my foot.

Loud pounding on the door makes me drop my cigarette on the floor. Thankfully, the joint is in my mouth. I try not to scream and drop it also. What the fuck?

“God, Sebastian.” I pick up the cigarette and use my foot to rub the carpet as the black soot turns gray.

The pounding continues as I march over to the door, joint in one hand, cigarette in the other.

“Sebastian. What now? I’m trying to meditate all my negativity awa—” I swing the door open dramatically.

Only it isn’t Sebastian.

Holy fuck, it’s Rhys.