Chapter 10

Eight o'clock found me with my head stuck down the toilet, a lovely picture in itself. The contents of my stomach were making their way forcefully out of my body. It was, of course, the alcohol that had set off this reaction. I cursed Liam over and over in my head, hating him for having allowed me to drink so much of the stuff. It must have been obvious that I'd gone over the top at some point.

My head felt like it was about to crack open and my body was ridding itself of the remainder of the alcoholic substance which was still residing inside its stomach…stupid Liam.

I hated hangovers. I only had myself to blame though…and Liam.

To top it off, I'd hardly slept at all, and when I eventually emerged from the bathroom, I could easily have been mistaken for some sort of zombie: my skin was an unnatural milky white, the bags around my eyes were bigger than they'd been in a long time, and my eyelids stayed permanently half shut.

In brief, at that point in time I was most definitely not the prettiest person on the planet. If I were, I felt extremely sorry for everyone else.

I'd spent the whole of the night contemplating Troy's message. His use of my special nickname made it impossible to think that the song was meant for anyone else but me. He wanted me to go back to him. A part of me wanted to listen to him and run back into his open arms. Then the other part would pipe up and scream out that he'd cheated on me. The two halves continuously battled it out between them. Neither seemed to be winning, neither seemed to be losing.

I was in inner turmoil and I couldn't seem to put an end to it. I hadn't spoken to anyone back in Florida in at least a week and a half. Time seemed to be flashing by at an amazingly slow pace.

I groaned in frustration as the toaster made a popping noise, letting me know that my toast was done. I wasn't entirely sure that it would be a good idea for me to actually consume any food, but my stomach was screaming out to me to give it something to eat. Well, I thought to myself, if it came back up again, I'd just stare angrily at it and possibly poke it. Or would that cause more pain?

Suddenly, my phone started buzzing on the counter where I had left it. "Hello?" I asked the person on the other end of the line. My voice sounded dull, even to me. I vaguely thought of Marvin the Paranoid Android before turning my attention back to waiting to find out who had been calling me. The number had been masked but I'd decided to answer it anyway. My day couldn't be made any worse than it already was. I failed to feel even slightly nervous.

"Gabi! Hey, are you feeling any better this morning? You were pretty out of it last night," a voice chirped happily at me. Someone got a good night's sleep! I turned sour until I realized who the voice belonged to.

It was Taylor. Yes, she most definitely sounded like she'd just had a peaceful night's sleep. I was green with envy. What I would have given to be in peachy form.

"I'm feeling a bit dead, but apart from that I'm doing pretty well, and you?"

"Good. I'm good. Do you still want to go out and hang at the mall or whatever?"

Huh? What was she going on about now?

It took a couple of seconds for the memory of my having told her we'd hang out together that day to come back to me. Then it clicked and it was as if a light bulb had suddenly flashed on in my head. A lot of things I'd done that night before and seemingly forgotten came back to me. Such as how we'd nearly ran over her. I hoped she didn't hold that against me.

"Yeah, sounds good to me. Do you want to meet outside the cinema in an hour's time?" I asked, trying to sound as chirpy as she did, but failing miserably.

"Perfect! I'll see you in an hour then."

The dial tone sounded and I hung up my end too. I had about thirty-five minutes to get ready before I'd have to leave. I started to run over all the things that I could do in that time in my head. Take a shower…that was essential. I didn't plan on going anywhere with the smell of fresh puke on me any time soon.

I stepped out of my car fifty-five minutes later, turning back to lock it before setting off in the direction of the cinema. I increased my pace from my normal snail slow speed to a rushed shuffle. I must have looked a little strange to anyone who happened to look at me. I was slightly late, it had taken me longer to get ready than I'd expected and I'd be at the rendezvous point at least five minutes later than planned.

Taylor was already there when I arrived. To my surprise, she was actually twiddling her thumbs while looking around herself, a politely bored expression on her face.

She jumped up when she saw me; showing off her laid back clothes. She was in a pair of trousers that looked to be about two sizes too big for her. Her t-shirt, on the other hand, was skin-tight and read the slogan "You knead me, I don't knead you", sporting a cartoon of a piece of bread below it. I grinned widely when I got close enough to read it. I liked her humor.

"You're late!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at me and waggling it. I got the distinct impression that she was treating me the same way as she would a small child. So I'd been lowered to small child level…just great.

I laughed anyway. I was in the process of lightening up.

"I know. But the hot water was just too nice. I couldn't stand to get out of it. And then I poked myself in the eye with my liner." I rolled my eyes at myself. I only very rarely ever poked myself in the eye with my make-up, and of course, every time that I did was a day when I was supposed to meet someone and look at least halfway decent.

"With your liner?" The brown haired girl asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah. It was an accident." I felt it necessary to stand up for myself.

"If you'd done it on purpose, I suppose I'd have to be pretty scared."

'No, not really. Some people do things like that to 'punish themselves'. For all you know I could have been 'punishing myself'."

"Yeah, but even if you were 'punishing yourself', I'd have to be scared for your mental health. Who knows what you could do to yourself?"

"Umm . . . That was a rhetorical question wasn't it?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Anyway, are you ready to hit the shops?"

I produced a credit card from my purse and grinned manically in response. It had been a long time since I'd done any shopping. I was ready to spend like mad!

I had a shared bank account with Troy, one of the many things we'd set up together, where we'd both put in a certain amount of money. Obviously, with him being the celebrity, he'd put in a lot more than I had. I planned on using quite a bit of his money right then. I wasn't going to use the money in my own account. I wasn't even sure if I had all that much in it.

"I need to buy new stuff! It'll make me feel so much better."

"I know what you mean. Whenever I feel down I always go out with my card and get myself something new."

"Oh, I don't plan on getting something new," I pointed out, my grin widening. "I'm gonna get some things. The "s" is very important."

She laughed and we set off in the direction on the nearest clothes shop. I could hardly contain my relief at being set loose in a shopping mall again. It felt good being there. Even if the only thing I bought was a coffee or a packet of crisps, the atmosphere was one that I lived for.

"Is there a problem with the card?" I asked. We were standing in our fifth shop, from all of which I'd bought at least one thing.

"Not at all. We're just running the details," the middle-aged clerk told me. Her glasses were perched on the end of her nose and I found myself wishing they'd fall off and shatter, just so that I could laugh at her.

But, getting back to the point: Why? Why were they running the details? They hadn't run the details in any of the other shops!

"I take it that you are a Miss Gabriella Montez?"

'Enough with the stupid questions!' I thought, just let me buy my stuff!

"Yes."

"And this account was set up in Florida?"

Oh God, I knew where this was going.

"Yes," I repeated, a little less enthusiastically.

"Along with a certain Mr. Troy Bolton?"

Could she have said that any louder? The eyes belonging to the people forming a close circle around me were watching me now, intrigued. Taylor's eyes were wide with disbelief.

Where was a big black hole opening up, against all probability, in the ground when you needed one?

"Yes."

"Ok. You may pay now."

Well, at least the clerk sounded nicely happy. I was just thankful that she wasn't some teenager with a holiday job. That would have been hell. They wouldn't have let me get away easily. I may have been forced to turn and flee from the shop . . . but not without my card.

"Shit!" I cursed out loud once we'd got back into the main stream of people flowing around the mall. I may have said it a little too loudly as some old people turned to look at me rather shocked, and young mothers covered their children's ears.

"What?" Taylor asked, her eyes still wide and disbelieving. She hadn't once taken her eyes off of me. Was it really that big a deal?

"I can't believe I didn't think of this before!" I said, annoyed with myself.

"What's wrong?"

"As soon as he gets the paper with the account details on it, he'll know where I've been spending the money. He'll know that I'm here! I can't hide out here anymore! I've either got to move on or face him!"

I groaned and sighed heavily. I could be so stupid at times!

"He?"

"Troy," I answered automatically, my voice dead sounding.

"So, you really know Troy Bolton?"

"Well, yeah. I was engaged to him until a week and a bit ago."

Taylor seemed to be choking on something, forcing me to stop and wait for her to get over her little fit. Saliva is such a dangerous thing.

"You really, really know him?" she asked me disbelievingly.

"Yes, I still know him," I deadpanned.

'I still love him,' a little voice in my head continued. I shook my head to get the thought out of it. No matter how much I knew that I did actually still love him, there was no way I would have got over him in such a short time, it didn't change the fact that I simply didn't want to hear that…especially not from myself.

"How long have you known him for?"

"Oh, umm, just over three years now."

"And how long were you dating for?"

"Three years, then he proposed and we were engaged for a month and a bit."

"But now you've broken up with him?"

"Yeah. It was a one-sided decision and I had nowhere else to go but here. So here I came. And here I've been since. And he doesn't know that I'm here."

"I'm not sure I fully understand." She blinked a few times at me in polite confusion.

I pressed stop, rewound and started over from the beginning. It would be the second time I'd told the story in less than twenty-four hours. The dull pain was already wringing my stomach; it couldn't have been made much worse by telling everything over again. And bizarrely enough, I trusted Taylor.

It was beginning to get quite late when I got back to Paul's house. I was pretty tired and didn't want to do very much other than slip into my nice, warm bed. Paul had been thoughtful enough to put hot water bottles in it to heat it up for me before I got home.

It had taken me two times of telling Taylor the story for her to believe me that I actually knew Troy. She'd been in shock, but she couldn't be blamed, who wouldn't have been? I had a link to the celebrity world, and over my three years with Troy, I'd met quite a few other celebs. I'd met people that had my jaw hanging loosely on how level-headed they'd managed to stay over their years of fame, and others that forced me to battle with the urge to slap some sense back into them. Celebrities didn't usually tend to live in the same world as they had done before they became famous. I learned to deal with that, although it wasn't easy.

We'd decided not to go out to a bar afterwards. We'd caught a film and parted ways. I wouldn't have been happy in a bar that evening anyway. I could feel the cold fingers of depression reaching out and freezing my skin with their icy touch. I knew that it wouldn't be very long before I fell into full depression. I was actually quite surprised that I wasn't already there. I'd proved myself as strong, or was I unfeeling?

I preferred to think that I was strong. The idea that I was unfeeling didn't please me very much. I was very happy without it.

"Hey Paul," I mumbled as I walked past him and ruffled his hair, an old habit of mine. He was in the very manly position of being slumped in his favorite chair in front of the TV, a can of beer in his left hand and the remote in his right.

"Hi. Have a good day?" he asked, sounding as uninterested in what I had to say as he possibly could have.

"Yeah. It was cool. I'm going to bed. I'm knackered."

"Sure. See you in the morning."

I continued my half-waddle down the corridor and to my bedroom door. It took me a couple of tries to get it open with my hands being loaded down with bags. After I'd initially remembered that the credit card information would be sent back to Florida, I'd figured that since the harm had already been done, it wouldn't have done very much more to continue spending. That's what I'd gone out to do anyway, wasn't it?

I finally managed to get my door open and walked through into the room, dropping my many bags onto the floor. I'd have to ring Troy at some point. I'd been meaning to phone him ever since that phone call with Kelsi. Now, to stop him from coming to me as soon as he got the letter I'd have to call him about it.

I put my new stuff away in the bottom of my wardrobe and feel onto the bed, not caring that I was still wearing my day clothes. I couldn't be bothered to change into my nightclothes.

Just as I was about to drop off to sleep, the noise of my phone ringing pulled me back into a half conscious state. I groaned frustrated and reached out, picking it up and placing it against my ear, not bothering to check whom it was that was calling me.

"Hello?" I asked the caller, my voice laced with fatigue.

"Gabriella?" the other person asked. Yes, that was my name, but I wanted to figure out who was calling me before letting them know that. "Gabriella?" they asked again. The voice was familiar, I was sure it was.

"Uhhh…" was all I could manage. I was still in the dark about the caller's identity. I knew that I knew the voice, but my dead brain couldn't put a face or a name to it.

"Brie? Brie, are you there?"

I sat bolt upright, my face draining of all color as I figured out who it was on the other end of the line.