Chapter VIII

(A/N): Due to a number of asks on tumblr a certain character is back by popular demand to stir things up! Also if you follow this story on there as well as here, make sure to hit my ask box and give me some feedback! I personallydon’t really like this chapter but I needed to get it out of the way.

Scarlett’s POV

Between the conversation Dana and I had in the restaurant and the band’s departure day for Australia, I’d ended up avoiding James. It wasn’t because I’d let Dana’s words get to me, instead it was because I wanted to make new friends.

Plus, it’s not like avoiding him is an easy task. Avoiding James Franco is a lot like searching for a needle in a haystack: It’s pretty much impossible to do. The guy manages to be everywhere and be involved in everything so it’s hard to not to see or hear his name being mentioned, and on top of that the guy never fails to catch me whilst I’m in a place where I can’t pretend I never saw him.

Whenever James stopped by, I wasn’t going to be rude to him and tell him to go away…much to Dana and everyone else’s disappointment. There are a lot of things that have changed about James. They can’t see it, but I can and I know he’s different now. He’s refined. Mature. He is genuinely trying to be nice to me and I not going to throw that back into his face.

I decided to broaden my friendship circle by socialising with more of Seth and Lauren’s friends. Since I frequent the States more often in comparison with to the rest of my band, I figured I might as well find some more people to hang out with.

Lauren took me out to brunches every few days with her girlfriends and whenever Seth wasn’t busy we’d just chill out together with Jay Baruchel, who was quickly becoming a good friend of mine.

Sharing a joint with Seth, and Jay, the three of us were kicked back in Seth’s entertainment room which, to my stoned state of mind, felt like an amusement park (minus the wild roller coasters and other insane rides) rolled up into the space of a room which put almost half of my house to shame.

I felt slightly bad for not joining Lauren on a ladies night with the girls at a club downtown LA, but I didn’t necessarily feel up to it. I love spending time with Lauren and her friends are nothing short of amazing but clubbing didn’t necessarily appeal to me.

Most times, my idea of a good night is one spent in rather than out, smoking weed with a bunch of close mates. The whole clubbing experience only ever seems complete if you’re one who drinks alcohol, and since I was always the one who didn’t at the end of the night I felt no different than I would have if I hadn’t left.

“Hey Scarlett, you’re a musician,” Jay said as he stood up and disappeared behind the couch. Leaping back over, he places a ukulele in my lap, “Why don’t you play us something?”

Since I was high, the ukulele in my hand felt more like marshmallows. Nevertheless, I attempted to strum some chords before the ringing of a mobile phone caused Seth to exit the room. I placed the ukulele down on the table and stared across at Jay, who was focused on rolling a cross joint when an idea came to my mind.

I pulled out my phone and checked the time, smiling when I realized it was nowhere near as late as I thought it was.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?” He replies, looking up from his completed masterpiece.

“Do you enjoy paintball?”

James’ POVShe slammed the door right in my face. Quickly pulling on my cardigan, I raced out to catch up with her.

“Sasha, wait!” I called out. That caught her attention, and I didn’t expect it to. This only meant one thing and I braced myself for the worst reaction.

“SASHA?” The woman screamed so loudly I was worried that whoever was in the suite nextdoor, above or below, would call security on us. “SASHA? Do you even know my name?”

To save myself from further humiliation, I hung my head in shame.

“No, I don’t.” I admitted.

“You know, it’s one thing to call out another woman’s name, but to make the mistake twice, the second time around using another name yet again AND when you’re not completely blinded by lust?” She spat.

The next thing I knew, I felt a hand strike me across the face and the sharp stinging sensation left with it. I stood on the spot, speechless as I watched her gather her purse and march out the door. Collapsing onto the couch, I buried my face in a soft velvet cushion. All I can hope for is that woman had no idea of who my true identity, because the last thing I need is an incident like this appearing all over those stupid gossip websites.

It was troubling and the guilt was eating away at me as I felt terrible for treating that woman like a womanizing douchebag would. This is why I don’t just pick up any woman I find attractive whenever I’m at a bar, or a club. For whatever reason, it just doesn’t feel right.

 It wasn’t just the fact that I’d gotten her name wrong, twice, that was troubling me. It was the name I accidentally called out the first time around, which subsequently made me forget that poor woman’s actual name because I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I called her Scarlett.

I mean, I was well aware of what the woman’s name was prior to making it to the bedroom, but after that slip-up I just couldn’t get Scarlett out of my damn head. Over the past few days it was becoming increasingly obvious that she was growing reluctant to see me. It made me wonder if she was avoiding me on her own accord, or whether one of her friends said something. The latter of the two seemed the more likely theory.

Since my mind wasn’t settled enough to lose myself in a novel, despite Blood Meridian being a highly captivating read I collected my car keys and went for a drive. The destination I was heading seemed like a bad idea, but really, I had no one else to go to. To an ordinary person a statement like that would seem absurd. James Franco, lonely? That isn’t possible. But it is so.

Even in the City of Angels, I felt lonelier than ever.

I stopped at the room number I’d memorised the other night, 256, and knocked on the door. I wasn’t sure who exactly I was expecting to see answer it, but my hopes were far different from my expectations.

“James!” Zach acknowledged, a hit of surprise in his voice.

I awkwardly rocked on the balls of my heels. “Hi. Is Scarlett here?”

I half expected him not to reply and slam the door in my face but instead, he shook his head.

“She’s with Seth and Jay, I believe,” He said. “Did you want to leave a message for her or something?”

I let out a small sigh of frustration.

Of course she’s with Seth and Jay. I’d have to come back another time since there was no point in going and crashing their little gathering. There was no place for me there considering the three of them are probably stoned out of their minds watching Cheech and Chong.

“No, it’s fine.” I said.

Zach let out a small chuckle. “I get it, it’s private and you don’t trust me.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck with my hand, “No offense.”

“None taken, I get that we’ve had our differences in the past,” Zach laughed. “Here, I’ll give you Scarlett’s mobile number and you can text her on that,” He said, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

“Thanks man,” I said, accepting the phone. The circle icon for her contact photo caused me to stifle a laugh as I realized it was a picture of Scarlett dressed up as my character from Pineapple Express.

“Oh…about that, that was a weird night...” Zach began.

“It doesn’t bother me,” I laughed, handing him back the phone. “I don’t think I want to know anyway.”

“Some things are best left unsaid,” Zach agreed with a small smile as he pocketed his phone.

Appearing at his side, Matt tugged along two very large suitcases in each hand. When he got to the doorway, he smiled and embraced me in a hug. Stepping aside, I watched him wheel out the luggage before heading back inside and emerging with a stack of flight cases which no doubt contained all of their music equipment.

“You guys are leaving tonight?” I asked.

Matt nodded, “Yeah, duty calls back home.”

“Oh. What time is your flight? I was hoping to catch up with Scarlett…”

“It’s not until 9, but we’re going out for dinner beforehand,” Zach said, adjusting the padlocks on each of the bags.  “Scarlett isn’t leaving for another couple of weeks, didn’t she tell you that?”

“No, actually she didn’t.”

Matt and Zach exchanged a confused look.

“That’s weird,” Matt shrugged.

After bidding them farewell and a safe flight I went to the park across the road. The sun was going down, painting the canvas that was the sky a beautiful mixture of orange, yellow and pink that illuminated the darkened buildings upon the skyline.

A nearby beverage van was advertising late afternoon coffees at $2 and even though I wasn’t thirsty I purchased one anyway. Sitting down on a park bench by myself, I stopped thinking and instead, I just observed.

I watched people jogging past with dogs on leashes, parents pushing prams and couples holding hands. After a five, maybe ten, or even fifteen minutes I’d finished my coffee and tossed it away in the bin. On the way back to the car, I started thinking again.

Ayn Rand once said something along the lines of, “A creative man is motivated by the desire to achieve.” There is nothing else I work for more than to have that sense of achievement at the end of the day. To be able to look at myself in the mirror at the end of the day and say ‘You’ve done well, James’ is what keeps me going. There’s a reason why I rarely sleep, and that is because going to bed makes me feel like I’m admitting to failure.

So why is it that lately, everything I do feels like a complete, utter failure?