Disconnected (Luke Hemmings AU)

Chapter 4

"I totally saw you on Access Hollywood!"

"Shut up I replied. I was stretched out on a deck chair poolside at the Beverly Hills Hotel six days after my mother's funeral, can could see Brice Norris, the lead singer of Sigma, one of Katy's favorite bands,eating lunch with someone who appeared to be a reporter at the Polo Lounge a few feet away.

"For real," Katy insisted. "On your way out of the funeral home." 

"Great," I grumbled. "My big television debut, and I'm sure it was my finest hour."

"Your hair looked really good," She assured me. Katy knew I was sensitive about my hair. "You're in Fame & Fortune, too. They referred to you as Cameron Atwood's long-lost secret daughter with Sunset Strip sinister Dawn Beaufort."

"Sinister? Are you sure you're not making that up?"

"I'm reading it right now!" Katy exclaimed. "Wait, a customer just came in. I'll call you back."

I tucked my cell phone into my backpack and reclined on my deck chair, wishing that I could instead be across the city at Robek's making smoothies with Katy. There seriously might have been something wrong with me that I would prefer serving wheat grass to lounging around a celebrity hot spot, but I was finding my sudden deliverance into the high life a little jarring.

For the last few days my dad had been hard at work on his IPhone trying to get his summer tour back on track. It was in the middle of June, and the tour was supposed to resume the last week of June at the Veterans Memorial Arena in Jacksonville, Florida. We were still staying at the hotel; I was passing as much time as possible floating on my back in the pool to avoid having awkward conversations with anyone. The suite was amazing; I had my own huge king-sized bed and fancy marble bathroom, but I felt like strangers were holding me captive. I was growing tired of being on good behavior.

"You're getting quite a tan out there," Jill commented as I was passing from the kitchen area of the hotel suite to my room, drying off my hair.

"I guess yeah," I said.

"Caitlyn and I were going to go over to The Grove this afternoon to catch a movie. Any interest?" Jill asked.

I entertained the idea of walking through one of my favorite places on earth with my spray-on-tan vegan stepmother and her happy, skipping spoiled brat of a child and immediately decided against it. In my awkward week of hotel life with my dad's family. I had come to understand that the entire world revolved around Caitlyn. Her allergist traveled with the family. He had flown to LA from Turkey with them. Once, Jill commented quietly that this little unexpected trip was causing Caitlyn to fall behind in her French and Spanish lessons. I had caught my half-sister messing with my violin case and when I asked Jill to please make sure Caitlyn didn't touch my instrument, Jill instead asked Caitlyn if she wanted to learn how to play the violin.

"No thanks," I said. "I think I'd like to hang out here and take it easy." I smiled at her.

"I think it might be helpful for us to have you meet with someone," Jill called after me.

"Like who?" I asked. I automatically sucked in my gut assuming that she as implying that I meet with a stylist. The only thing I had on my mind was slipping away and taking #20 bus back to my house. I was getting antsy. My dad and Jill were flying to Florida on Wednesday morning and I hadn't had the chance to privately talk to him about what was going to happen to me.

"A therapist," Jill said, as if I should have known. "You've been through a traumatic experience. I think it might be helpful for you to have someone to talk to."

"I'm okay," I assured her with a small smile again.

Jill looked over me skeptically. "When we get back to New Jersey I'm going to have you meet with Dr. Rothstein, my . I really think it would be good for you to share your thoughts."