Remember December

By Chelsea Blankenship

Sometimes the past burns when you touch it. Other times, it crumbles.

When rising star Bree Butler is forced to return to her small-town home, she struggles between chasing her dreams and chasing her heart. Regrettably, in the wake of he

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chelsea Blankenship
• Release date: Dec 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578335117

Chelsea Blankenship

Chelsea Blankenship grew up in a small town outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma. At just twenty years old, she married the love of her life, Brandon, in 2007 - and they are still happily married to this day enjoying spending their time together and snuggling their "furry children". She was diagnosed with leukemia after finding it accidentally in routine testing at the age of thirty. This encouraged her to bring awareness to the rare blood cancer, becoming a vocal advocate, encouraging others to get routine bloodwork and physicals. When she's not busy writing, Chelsea loves learning, digging into research on topics that intrigue her or sparks interest which includes her heritage of Scandinavian, Cherokee and Scotch-Irish descent. She also enjoys crafting, reading, enjoying her favorite movies and television shows, board games and spending time with her friends, family - including many nieces and nephews. Currently, Chelsea is hard at work on her next novel and other upcoming works in progress and just enjoying life.

Book preview

Introduction

I have a secret.

That is what the note said.

"I could no longer live with the weight

of what I have done."

Now– now, among others… he is dead.

From the outside looking in, it would

seem as if I had everything a person could

ever want or possibly wish for.

A word of advice? Always be at least a little suspicious...

of perfection.

PROLOGUE

Running through a dense, haunted, yet seemingly enchanted forest; I was barefoot, dirt gathering and clumping together at the bottom of my dress. A dress, long and white, flowing effortlessly with a mysterious, yet majestic beauty that billowed in the wind as I ran. I was running as fast as I possibly could, yet it felt as if I were running in slow motion.

Making my way through the ominous and winding trees, my worn feet trampling over patted-down soil that was one with the earth. Snow began to make its way down from the white linen-glazed sky, cold and frosty. I found myself struggling to breathe, my breath staggering and wavering just before I could see my breath in a translucent cloud appearing before me as I let out a visible breath from my matte, pale, blue-tinted lips.

* * *

I’ve always compared you to the rising sun since my world revolved around you.

But all this time, you’ve just been like the falling snow. Beautiful… but cold.

Something had always told me that I didn’t want to remember.

I didn’t want to remember December.

One

• NOW •

We’re surrounded by sharks in the water, and there isn’t enough blood in the way. And by the looks of it… they’re mighty hungry."

I heard Russell recite calmly into the headset discreetly looped around his left ear. This was his code to alert the event security team inside, informing them that the paparazzi to celebrity ratio out front, was grossly unbalanced.

I was always early everywhere I went, never wanting to disappoint, I always felt it best to be punctual. Other celebrities attending the formal gatherings, on the other hand, always opted for the fashionably late route of entry to the affairs. And so, the paparazzi were ravenous vultures when I arrived.

Then you would have the occasional paparazzo that chose to capture, or at least attempt to capture, a… different type of shot as the female celebrities exited their vehicles. The money shot, if you will.

I always despised those creeps, understandably so. I mean, I get they’ve chosen this as their career path and understand that they have to do their job in order to make a living. But, seriously, maintain some morals and ethics in the process!

Russell was, I suppose, what you would call my poor woman’s Tyler, Christian Grayson’s assistant and driver that wore a plethora of hats in the Forty Shades of Grey series. Probably more hats than were actually included on his resumé, but I never asked that much of Russell. In fact, I always felt terrible asking anything of him. I hadn’t realized just how deep that ran, until my manager and Russell, both sat me down one day after noticing just how entirely overwhelmed I’d become. They explained to me that humility is a great trait to possess, and that I should hang on to that quality for all it’s worth, but that it was okay to ask for help when I needed it, too.

I never understood why celebrities couldn’t maintain their humility after gaining their social status. I had considered the fact that some people just couldn’t handle all that power. Perhaps it just goes to their heads. But, after metaphorically walking in their shoes for several years now, I still don’t get it. I still don’t understand it. Then again, maybe it was just a personal matter. Maybe it was a matter of me personally thinking less of myself than I had originally.

Throughout the course of my life, I had never considered myself to be anything special. Damian says it’s my past that makes me feel inferior… but I’m really not so sure. I really didn’t think so. You see, I’ve never thought highly of myself… for more than one reason. I started recollecting one of those reasons in particular as I drifted off into a state of deep narcosis. Forcing myself to drown out the random conversations going on amongst members of my tribe in the background, I formed a subtle and distant white noise slowly fading into a blurry sea of complete nothingness.

Baby girl! I heard Damian snapping me out of my daydream-induced stupor again. He meant well when he would snap me out of my transient dazes. But… bless his heart, sometimes I really wished he’d leave well enough alone.

I know he thinks he’s helping since he thinks something is wrong or bothering me when I space out like that– the textbook empath that he was. But there are times I daydream, and don’t want to wake from them. Of course, I couldn’t admit this to Damian. He would insist on all the possibly juicy details of said daydreams.

That would ultimately mean I’d have to bite the bullet and tell him. And he couldn’t know. Not this.

Are you… good? He asked, clearly concerned.

Yeah, yeah. I replied, shaking my head, eyebrows raised sheepishly, willing myself to put on the face that appears as if nothing is wrong. I sat briskly up in my seat, waiting idly by in the gorgeous limo. A limo I felt I had no right being in in the first place. A stolen glance at my reflection in the window allowed me to assess my appearance – discovering that I looked disheveled, as if I had been awakened abruptly from a power nap. I looked at Damian, quickly putting myself back together and ready to put on a performance, just as I did in any of my other roles. I forced a smile through gritted teeth, and very matter-of-factly said, I’m good. And, continuing with my charade, added I’m great!

"Mhmm. What were you daydreaming about this time?" He pressed. I felt more heat on me than a perp underneath the hot lamp in an interrogation room.

"You, doll. Don’t you know that you’re my daydream?" I replied, knowing all too well that now, now I wasn’t fooling anyone… let alone Damian. I’ve won many awards for my roles in films, so why can’t I get anything past him?

Oh. That’s right. He knew me like I knew the back of my own hand. He could always tell when I was being authentic… and when I wasn’t.

You know, one day I’m not going to fall for that ‘You’re my daydream’ bit, right? And the next time you tell me that I’m your daydream when I, who knows you better than anyone, knows that isn’t the case – I will be tempted to enter your nightmares.

I shot him a coy, crooked smile, revealing no teeth. No, babe. I’m just nervous. That’s all.

Girl, why?! Damian snapped with a copious level of emphatic sass projected behind his query. Everyone knows you get out there and strut your stuff every time! Get your pretty little self out there and own it– just like you always do! He insisted of me. Now, let me see those pearly whites!

I nervously scrunched my face into as much of an awkward, pinched ball as I could, and reluctantly flashed a forced, teeth-revealing smile in his direction.

Okay… he shrieked silently, almost as if he were choking after popping a sour ball candy into his mouth, …maybe a closed-mouth smile, after all?

Damian and I did what we did best and laughed at ourselves. I could always be myself around Damian and I have always treasured that aspect of our friendship. I took a deep breath in and then swallowed it down with a lone, solid gulp, forming what felt like a desiccated, anhydrous lump in the back of my throat. I was as ready as I’d ever be.

I’ll come get your door for you, Bree. Russell said as he exited the driver’s side door of the limo and promptly made his way over to mine.

Are you ready for the vultures? I questioned, complete with the residual aftertaste of sarcasm in the back of my mouth.

It’s feeding time! Damian joked back, complete with jazz hands, an attempt to calm my nerves. And if I’m being completely honest, it did help some.

Russell opened my door as I prepared to endure the metaphorical birds of prey… who were more than ready to feast upon the bottomless buffet that were the attendees of the event. My midnight blue corset-style bodice shimmering with bejeweled embellishments as the flashing lights hit them just right; my tribe and I making our way into the theater. Though not before giving the paparazzi a few shots of our good sides… which Damian likes to claim all of his sides are good ones.

Once inside, we waited for everyone else to arrive for the ceremony.

* * * * *

What’s with the reserved empty seat in between us? Damian inquired.

It’s for Beau. He was able to rearrange his schedule – some last-minute shuffling and maneuvering so he could come. He said he wanted nothing more than to be here and support me tonight! I answered.

Oh, doll, that’s awesome! Damian responded with mirthful enthusiasm, expressing his overwhelming happiness for me.

Just as I was about to thank him, I heard a faint ringing that radiated from my navy, sequin-studded clutch. I finished expressing my gratitude to Damian as I opened my clutch to retrieve my mobile, peering at the screen to see that the caller was Beau. Knots formed in my stomach as I thought the worst, fearing something came up with his filming schedule, creating a scenario where he was unable to come after all.

Hey, babe. Where are you? I questioned solicitously, my body tense from apprehension. I wanted nothing more than for Beau to be here with me, and with just one phone call, that could all change within a matter of seconds.

I’m right outside the theater, on the red-carpet taking pictures. Cynthia said she wants us to get a couple of shots together. Do you think you could come join me for a moment? Beau asked me in his smooth and utterly sexy British accent. There was no way I could refuse. When it came to Beau, I was a prime example of Lucentio’s confession to Tranio in Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew: I burned. I pined. I metaphorically perished.

Sure, that may seem a bit dramatic, but it was the truth. The thing is, though, according to him, Beau felt the exact same way about me. But, then again, when you’re in show business, you’ve got to have a knack for theatrics anyways. So, it’s okay if we’re a bit dramatic when it comes to describing the dynamic of our relationship… right?

* * * * *

After consulting with Damian to ensure I looked photo ready, I made my way out the double doors, temporarily exiting the theater to find Beau waiting for me just outside the entrance. He looked so handsome and dapper in his sharp, ebony black tuxedo with coinciding black cumber bun and deep navy-blue necktie that harmonized perfectly with my gown, pulling our planned matching ensemble cohesively together. I wasn’t much into fashion, but I absolutely loved my gown. It was a beautiful couture fit-and-flare navy gown with coverage under the top portion of the dress, and transparent mesh on the bottom portion. It had a plunging neckline with crystal and pearl beading accentuating the entire gown. It may sound cliché, but I truly did feel like a princess in the dress, with my long, nearly white, platinum blonde locks swept back into a chic chignon.

I noticed that Beau had made a point to wear the customized white-gold, diamond-rimmed cufflinks I got for him as a gift last year. It was a congratulatory gift for him to wear to the premiere of his new movie role that he landed, which turned out to be a franchised box office hit. So much of a hit, the studio signed with one of the top streaming services to make a television adaptation of the film; him playing the role on the big screen and another actor that closely resembled his rugged good looks portraying the character on the small screen… him being the more handsome of the two, of course. Him making a point to wear the cufflinks meant a lot to me considering he wasn’t much for flashy things… despite his family’s elaborate history which was the sheer definition of flashy. Even though he wasn’t one for the gawdy and frivolous, he had been in the showbiz industry long enough to know that you had to not only play the part, but also look the part no matter your own personal preferences.

I didn’t care much for flashy things, either. I grew up in a small town just on the outskirts of Oklahoma, so I wasn’t one for materialistic items. My Uncle Arnie and I had always shared a love and passion for literature, especially the classics. I remember him quoting F. Scott Fitzgerald to me once… a very meaningful line from none other, The Great Gatsby.

Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone… just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had. He would tell me. It wasn’t so much because of the criticizing other’s part, as I have always tried my best to uphold the golden rule of treating others the way I want to be treated. It was more so to remind me that there are other people out there who have had it worse than I have, so to always be aware and mindful of that fact. He wanted nothing more than for me to stay true to my humble roots. He did, however, make a point to offer me one more piece of advice that I’ve already put to good use: Be as nice to someone as they allow you to be. Which was basically his way of telling me to be kind, but without allowing others to take advantage of that kindness.

Neither Beau nor I cared much for the flashing lights that illuminated the hot bulbs of the cameras that sat cradled ever-so-greedily in the sweaty palms of pushy paparazzi hands. We only took advantage of these photo opportunities to appease our managers and public relation handlers. We posed for just enough photos to matter before making our way right back inside the theater to await the start of the award ceremony.

* * * * *

Beau and I walked inside together, hand-in-hand, then took our seats that were reserved for us up front. They were just in between Damian, my plus-one, and McKenna Hayes, fellow singer and award nominee for her most recent music video, Hazel Eyes.

Oh, darling, I called my Mum on the way here. Beau told me in his thick, yet distinguished, British accent.

Aww, I wish I had known. I said in response. I would’ve loved to have talked to her.

We can call her later… after you win the award for best song. That’s actually why I called her. I wanted to make sure I told her to set the program to record on the telly in Oxford tonight. I wanted to make sure she got to watch your win since she couldn’t be here in person. Beau elaborated.

I’ve always loved and appreciated the faith Beau has in me… even when I didn’t have it in myself. Maybe he has enough faith for the both of us.

I highly doubt I’ll win, Beau. I’m up against a lot of talented nominees.

You stand just as good a chance as them, if not more, darling.

Right about then, the awards ceremony started as the introduction music began playing and the hosts made their way on stage. After about an hour of the ceremony had gone by, I was startled by a humid wisp of breath heavily whispering something in my ear.

"What the hell kind of name is that anyways? It’s Alexis. Just spell it ‘Alexis’. No need to complicate things and make them more difficult than they need be by incorporating all those random symbols by spelling it @L3x!$. And how is her video even in the running anyway?! McKenna Hayes, my fellow singer, and nominee for music video of the year with her hit single, snarked quietly in my ear after the category’s nominees were announced. Her video ‘Rock Hard’ is so vain and superficial. It all centers around her and her supposed, but actually nonexistent, ‘rock hard’ abs while she grinds up on a spray-tanned Jersey Shore meathead in a gym setting!"

I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle with a tinge of a distinct laugh that just so happened to be my trademark. It came out a bit louder than I had intended, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind as to whom the ill-timed snicker belonged.

Damian, sitting on the opposite side of Beau, overheard the entire conversation and insisted he had my back as he leaned forward to assure me of such. "Don’t worry, boo. If ‘At-Lexis’, the girl who resembles a reanimated zombie sheep when she sings actually wins, I’ll just K her ass for you!" I giggled, appreciating the gesture that was obviously referring to another certain celebrity someone who infamously stole someone else’s spotlight during an awards ceremony some years back. But I’d never been one to put others down in order to cater to my own ego.

We had already known who the nominees were in advance. But even so, we still had to listen to the hosts read them aloud for the viewers at home before announcing the winner.

Whew! Damian popped his collar to allow some air to travel inside his white button-down dress shirt, allowing it to breathe. Girls, I tell you, I am sweating like a nun who inadvertently ventured into a brothel!

Do you ever grow tired of making such vile and tawdry remarks, Damian? McKenna, Damian, Beau, and I all heard a shrewd and callous voice animadvert directly behind us.

Damian turned to face the voice behind the hateful slight. He grinned, not phased in the least by the ice queen herself: Cianna Jordan. That’s something I always envied of Damian. He never let anything get to him. Any insult slung his way just rolled off him like water off a duck’s back. Cianna’s video, Don’t Go Without Me, just so happened to be up for nomination, as well. Well, if it isn’t Cianna Jordan– don’t you just look radiant this fine evening! Damian told her, making it apparent that she didn’t get under his skin as she had so obviously intended. Oh, Damian continued with a wise crack, I also cuss a little. But Jesus still loves me.

Cianna huffed loudly as she angrily slumped back into her seat, making it evident she was agitated. Ostentatious attention whore, she quipped under her breath in her snobby overdone British accent that we were all convinced was fake… especially Beau, whose British accent was