Chapter 9 : I Want to Break Free

*Ophelia*

When I walk into Touchdown Tavern the next day, my best friend tackles me. Her face is red, and she’s talking so fast I’m afraid she’ll run out of air.

“Sky, slow down, I can’t understand you when you’re like this!”

Skylar bends down, her hands on her thighs, as she seemingly catches her breath. It takes a minute, but then she stands straight again. She whips out her phone to show me whatever it is she’s trying to get across to me.

“Camila! Someone filmed her the other night with an older guy!”

Shock overcoming me, my eyes widening, I look down at Skylar’s phone. It’s clear that it’s Camila, and she’s leaning over at a bar with a much older man. The woman is talking to him, running her fingers up his arm and batting her eyelashes. It’s impossible to hear what she’s saying, but it certainly looks like flirting to me.

It’s a shaky video, but it’s clear who the main subject is. After all, her red hair and signature red lips are the most prominent of features on display. And it’s not like the guy in the video seems to push her away or lean into it.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, my hand coming to my mouth.

“That’s not all,” she states, closing out the video and heading into social media. “O, everything involving Camila’s name is spreading like wildfire.” I read comment after comment about the shitty singer. The public opinion seems to be quickly shifting away from Camila.

“What a gold digger. And with all that talent? What kind of role model does she think she’s being?” One comment writes.

“I’m around Camila’s age, and she’s seducing someone old enough to be her grandfather? No respect for herself. Can’t she just work like the rest of us have to?” Another reads.

“I’ve never seen anyone turn on Camila like this,” I whisper. “She always seemed like she has it all.”

“But it’s not just hateful, spiteful comments. I’ve seen MANY comments saying Camila is innocent, that she’s just being kind, and that we don’t know the whole story in these videos.”

And how much do I want to guess that it’s Camila spearheading this campaign? She’ll do anything to protect this image she’s built up. And if it means throwing anyone and everyone under a bus, I know she’ll do it in a heartbeat.

A new notification pops up at the top of Skylar’s phone, a Breaking News story that leads to a story on their website.

Skylar and I give each other a worrying glance. Camila deserves the shitshow she’s got coming to her. But I can’t help but wonder how I’m going to end up playing into all of this. The bitch always has a plan, and the last thing I want is to be dragged down into this hell hole.

Skylar seems to read ahead faster than I do, and she tries to shield the phone from me. “How about we get to work?” She sputters.

“Okay, what are you hiding from me?” I demand. “I’m a big girl, Sky; I can take it.”

She bites down on her bottom lip before she shows me the phone again, reading aloud.

“Camila Monroe, the next big star in Nashville, has been recorded spending time with men much older than her. It was discovered that someone at the bar had shown up to record her, and Camila expresses that she is being set up.”

“I can’t believe she would do this to me, and after all we’ve been through together,” Camila tells our reporters. “I’ve taken time out of my day, money out of my pocket, just so she can continue to pay her bills. But instead, Ophelia Lane, my once thought-to-be best friend, films, and uploads events that make me look like some…some gold digger.”

My jaw drops open, and I’m sure if it could, it’d fall to the ground, clattering on the tavern floor.

“No fucking way,” Skylar complains, shaking her head at the phone.

“So please, believe me when I say I am innocent. The person you must contend with is Ophelia Lane. I can’t believe I’ve allowed her to tarnish the reputation she knows I’ve built with blood, sweat, and tears.”

“Oh God,” I groan with an eye roll. “Are people really going to believe her bullshit? I don’t even know where she is in the video! How can I be the one to film and share it?”

“I think that’s the least of your problems, O.”

I snort. “What are you talking about, Skylar? This is pretty up there with my biggest concerns right this moment. I’m currently thinking about all the ways I can inflict serious pain on Camila the Hun.”

“Because she’s doing this on purpose. Setting a trap to lure you in. My guess is she wants you to go after her, proving her point that you are some coldhearted, manipulative bitch that is against you.”

I throw my arms up in the air, but they just come flopping back down again. “You think people believe this bullshit?”

Skylar looks around us before handing me her phone.

Just below the comments left by the anonymous users, there are more written out and addressed to ME.

“Way to try taking her fame away, Ophelia Lane. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“I’ve seen straw with more of a backbone than you.”

There’s even a comment from a person I used to see out busking, defending Camila instead of me. “God, I know you must be jealous of Camila, but I didn’t expect such malicious behavior from you, Ophelia. Why would you do this? Camila’s a good person, and she’s only ever been kind towards you. Yet, here you are, framing her. Who are you?”

I can’t find a way to speak. Skylar decides I’ve seen enough, pushing her phone back into her pocket. She pulls me into her, her arm wrapping around my body as she rubs my arm. What am I supposed to do? Get even, but that’s obvious. But how am I supposed to go against Camila like this? She just showed her hand and won without so much as batting an eyelash.

“She’s never going to stop,” I find myself saying to Sky.

She pulls her head away and gives me a perplexed look. “Pardon?”

“I have to do better than this. Fight fire with fire. She wants to knock me on my ass? Well, what she needs is a taste of her own fucked up medicine.”

Skylar’s smile returns to her face. “And that sounds like a recipe for disaster. Let me know what I can do to help.”

One thing is for certain: I’m not going to take Camila’s shit lying down. If she thinks I’m going to let her continue to walk all over me, then boy, does that primadonna have another fucking thing coming.

At the end of the night, with everyone else having gone home, I’m making the final rounds before I close up for the night. It’s been an exhausting day, and I still need to get home and begin finding a way to clean up Camila’s mess she’s left for me.

I make my way towards the exit, locking up the door, when I’m suddenly grabbed from behind.

“This is for Camila, you bitch!” I hear, punches coming in at record pace. I don’t even have real-time to react, just to cover my face to avoid any blows that might knock me out. So instead of that, my chest, stomach, and arms take the brunt before shouting reaches my ears.

The mystery person flees as fast as they had come, and it takes me a full minute to understand who is now bent in front of me, asking if I’m okay.

Asher?

“Hey, Ophelia, just sit up against the building for me.” His voice is laced with concern, but luckily, I’m able to do as he instructs, my hand pressed against my forehead as I move jet-black hair from my vision. He doesn’t pressure me into talking but instead sits next to me as I come back to myself slowly.

The silence lasts for a few minutes.

Then, Asher clears his throat, signaling his intention to talk. “I don’t think you did this. You know, spread those rumors about Camila. Part of me thinks she purposely named you in all this out of sheer jealousy.”

“You’re probably right,” I groan.

“You can’t let her get away with this. You’re not going to, right?”

I snort. “No. But right now, my number one priority is not blacking out.”

“Okay, that settles it. I’m taking you home.” He stands up and stretches out his hand to me. I glare at the football player, unable to gauge his thought process.

“Fuck no!”

“Look. I didn’t have to help you. But I did. That alone should mean something.”

Thinking about the random attacker keeps me from trusting him right away. And so, I look into his eyes at this. I can tell that his words are truthful. I could have been seriously hurt, and he didn’t let that happen.

“Fine,” I whisper. “Take me home.”

Without another word, Asher moves to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for me. I jump up the single stair into his truck before he closes me off from the outside world.

I give Asher my address, and he plugs it into his car's built-in GPS. He starts driving, and the silence is palpable between us. All I can think about is Camila’s hateful, vengeful self.

At a red light, Asher sighs. “So. Is there a reason you never met with me after I asked you to?” His question hits me a little harder than expected. But what do I have to lose from being honest anymore?

“It’s complicated. Camila is after this incredible level of fame. If she caught me with you, I can’t imagine the revenge she could enact on me.”

“As opposed to the lies she’s spread about you on all those gossip sites? Honestly, what made you so willing to give her your voice in the first place?”

Now it’s my turn to sigh. “Because. The bitch knows I have the voice, but she has everything else that has put her in this spotlight.”

“And yet she abuses you for all your help.”

First Jake, now Asher. “Look, I want to break free of Camila—”

“So, then what’s stopping you?” He interrupts. He’s forceful but passionate. Not like someone angry, but instead someone who cares.

“My mom.”

I didn’t even mean to say it, but something about the way Asher’s eyes soften at my words makes me glad I’m being honest. “Her medical expenses. They’re a lot. Camila may have my voice, but her money is what we need right now. I can’t just let Mama down.”

He shifts in his seat, turning a corner at the green light before he glances at me for a second. “You were singing about her, weren’t you? That first song you sang the other night was about losing someone.”

I’m stunned into silence. He can tell that easily? Asher can hear the message behind those passionate lyrics? “Is that obvious?”

“No,” Asher says. “But it makes sense. Ophelia, you have this talent that is…there are no words that can sum it up perfectly. Camila trying to perform a song that’s attached to your heart like that? It wasn’t authentic. When I saw YOU singing it, I felt it. I felt your pain and your sorrow.”

“And that is why Camila has paid Mama’s bills,” I rush out, though I want to blush at his compliment. “She did everything for me, and I can’t leave her in the lurch like this.”

“So, then I’ll pay the bills.”

My head whips to face this near stranger. “What? No!”

“Ophelia.” He says my name like it’s a song of its own. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind doing it. It’s a better use for the money than I’ll ever have for it. Besides, you can pay me back once you’ve made it big, and are a huge success.”

“That’s just not—”

He touches my leg, the soft calluses stopping me in the middle of my sentence. “Please? I want to help. I do.”

I stare at him as he drives, unsure what all of this is supposed to mean. “Why? You don’t even know me. I could be lying for all you know about Mama being sick and needing the money for medical bills. I could be plotting with Camila and trying to schmooze money out of you.”

“But you’re not.” He smiles, which should be hard to see with the darkness surrounding us. However, it’s in his tone: “Because no one writes about hurt like that, and sings it the way you do.” I blush, hoping the street lights won’t give me away.

“But that doesn’t tell me why.”

“I believe in the power of your voice.” It’s so nonchalant yet impactful. “And if this is all it takes for you to seize your chance, then who am I to let that stop you?”

I can’t help but feel compelled by his argument, and for the first time, I genuinely feel swayed.

After opening up the door and holding out his hand for me to step out of his truck, Asher drops me off at my doorstep. My heart hasn’t stopped fluttering, and with the touch of his hand in mine, I can’t help but feel my heart skip a beat. Or fifty. He really isn’t who I thought.

“Hey,” Asher says, bringing me back to the present. “Good luck. You don’t need it, since you’ve got the talent to back it up.”

He smiles. “You’re going to rock the world, Ophelia.”