Cut!

Take 11 - Little Black Dress - Part 1

A/N: Please comment as you read. It'll mean the world to me

The next day, I waited until after noon to call Ludmilla. I’d been fuming ever since the party, but Marcus had made me promise to at least try to calm down before I talked to her.

It didn’t help that Marcus had left early to do whatever while I was stuck inside the hotel. Whatever could a young girl do in a luxurious suite with all the benefits wealth provided—oh wait. Of course, it didn’t actually matter as my mood was far too sour to enjoy anything. I was sitting on my bed, waiting until the last minute was up before I grabbed my mobile.

She answered on the second ring.

“I’m not happy,” I said. “And I think you know why.”

Ludmilla sighed on the other end, and I could hear her fiddle with her nails. A nervous habit, of course, but useful in a situation like this. At least I knew she was listening.

“I did get a full report from Marcus,” she said at last.

Laying down, I rolled over on my stomach. “And…?”

I knew it wasn’t fair, but I wanted to hear her say it. I wanted her to say that the party had been a complete disaster and that she shouldn’t have made me go. Most of all, though, I wanted her to apologize. And I could spend hours reciting what I expected an apology on.

“And…” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I got you messed into that mess—I would have gone myself.”

“What good would that have done?” I jerked up, my muscles tensing. Christ, Ludmilla could be so stupid. Wishing I could shake some sense into her, I pressed for an answer. “Huh? Milla, what good could possibly have come from you appearing at that party? You could have seen Peyton and made a fool out of yourself? Or you could have been lured into continuing your addiction?”

I knew my words were harsh, but I was just so angry. I didn’t suffer through that party—literally suffering—just to have her “wish she could have been there instead”. The whole reason I went was to protect her.

“No!” she shouted. “Nothing like that, at all.”

“And while on the topic,” I said, well aware how loud I was speaking. “How in the world did you get mixed up with that Allan guy? For Christ sake, he’s the very definition of a freaking bad guy.”

“I know—I know that.” Ludmilla’s voice started to crack. “I’m so sorry.” She began to sob into the phone.

Upon hearing her cry, my anger faded slightly. Staying silent, I tried to come up with a new topic. When I finally found one, I wasn’t sure how well it would be received. Nevertheless, I was curious.

“How come you never told me about Peyton cheating on you?” I didn’t mean to rub salt into an already open wound. It seemed to make her stop crying, though.

“Honestly?” she said. “I was embarrassed.”

“About what?” I frowned.

“About not being good enough for him.” Ludmilla sniffed. “After the first time, I kept thinking what I’d done to deserve it, or what I could do to be better for him.”

“Oh, Milla.” My heart was breaking at every word she said.

“That’s why we broke up the first time,” she said. “Of course, he apologized, and I was stupid enough to believe him.”

“I wish I’d kicked him yesterday,” I muttered.

Ludmilla’s laugh was short and sounded forced. “Why do I love him still?” She sighed.