A smile tugs at my lips even though she can’t see me. “Part of me just wants to disappear, to leave this life behind, but it feels like I can’t walk away until I know where I’m going and why.”
“You don’t need to wait,” she insists gently. “You can just go if it’s what you need to do. It can be a long break or a short one if you find yourself getting restless. You’ve been working for years and don’t take nearly enough time off between roles.” She sighs with an understanding I know she feels deeply, “Then there’s everything that goes along with those roles. The bigger parts mean bigger press junkets and more time spent promoting.”
“It’s never ending.” I run my fingers through my hair and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Most of the time, I can’t remember what the point of it all is.”
“You need to take care of yourself, Quincy,” her voice implores me. “Even if your only purpose is to keep the machine going, which I don’t think it is,” she clarifies, “you can’t keep it going if you don’t have anything else to give. You won’t be able to act the way you need to. You won’t be able to promote or network or do any of the things expected of you if you’re emotionally and mentally depleted.”
“I feel like I’m on a rollercoaster that never stops,” I admit.
“Yeah,” she chuckles, “I totally understand what you’re saying.” She pauses for a long moment, but I have a feeling she’s not done. “You might have to jump.”
She just lays the words out there and I suck in a sharp breath; the hiss of it, the way her words land with a barb of truth, is easy for her to hear. But she doesn’t call me on it, she simply lets it be.
“You might get hurt on the way down, but unless an opportunity comes and you can get out of the city for a little while, maybe pulling the e-break and bailing might be the only out you have.” Her voice takes on an edge of determination, “You are always welcome here. There isplenty of room and I would love to have you. You never know, some of the love dust these people have going for them might just rub off on you. I could rustle up a former military man with a heart of gold who mainlines loyalty and big dick energy.”
For the first time in far too fucking long, I laugh. It’s not a fake one; her offer takes me completely off guard. The only thing I can do is laugh.
“You think I’m joking,” amusement fills her words, “but I’m completely serious.”
“I know you are,” I sputter through my laughter, “that’s what makes it so funny.” I take a breath and get my laughter under control. “How would your husband feel about you making deals involving his employees? Because that’s the only place you’d be able to find that type of man.”
“Eh,” I can practically feel her shrug, “he’d be fine with it. He just wants his guys to be happy.”
“I’ll think about it,” I promise with a smile on my face. “More the visit than the big dig energy offer,” I clarify.
“You can come here and stay as long as you like,” she offers again, as if saying it again will make it more of a possibility. I’m not sure it is, but getting away is pure temptation whispered on the wind. “You can also call me anytime. I’m always here for you Quincy, even when I’m far away.”
The sincerity in her voice has tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I can’t even remember the last time I’ve heard that same type of truth in the voices of people around me, in the voices of people who have access to me daily. She’s hundreds of miles away from me and I can feel how deeply she feels her words.
But the people in my life treat me like a commodity.
“Thank you, Margot,” I whisper before changing the subject far too quickly for it to not be conspicuous. “Tell me about the kiddos.”
And she does. I listen to her, the highs and the lows, her words taking on a cadence of happiness and peace wrapped up in chaos. Her life is one worth living. After we say goodbye and hang up, I wonder if mine is as well. Or if I’m living a life that’s even mine to begin with.
I close my eyes for a moment, just a moment, but my phone starts ringing before I can find my center.
My voice is weak as I answer, not even looking at who is calling me since my eyes stay closed, “Hello?”
“Quincy,” the booming voice of my manager, Kenneth, comes through the line. I can tell, just by the way he says my name, he wants something. Well, he wants me to say yes to something.
My agent brings me things for my career; my manager brings me things for my brand, my name. Both are exhausting.
“I just got off the phone and the first person I thought of for this amazing opportunity was you,” his voice is full Hollywood, which means it’s more than a little sleazy with a side of slimeball. But he’s good at what he does.
Even if he wouldn’t mind running me into the ground for his percentage of me.
Hating myself just a little bit, I force the words past my lips, “What kind of opportunity?”
“I think you’ll really enjoy this one,” he says it like he’s being magnanimous or might care even a little bit. I know he doesn’t. He’s out to make money and the only way it happens is if he makes sure I stay relevant.
The sigh I let out is world weary, at best. “What’s the gig?”
“Well,” he holds the word out like he’s a magician getting the misdirect working for him, “it’s not really a gig, but it’s a great opportunity to network and keep you out in front of people.”
“I just got back from a press junket a week ago,” I try and keep the snark out of my voice, but it creeps in, “it’s not like I’ve faded into the background of people’s minds.”
“Still, you want to stay in the spotlight,” he says it like it’s obvious. To him, I’m sure it is. To me? I’m not quite so sure. “Anyway,” he says dismissively like my concerns or complaints don’t matter, “there’s a celebrity poker tournament in Las Vegas and there are a few spots left. I thought of you first.”