13: DANICA

This month has been full of unexpected happiness. Zenon and I have been mapping out plans for him to start his own league. I offered to invest some money, but he was adamantly against that.

He insisted that he had enough funds to get started, and anything else that he needed, his friend, Mattia, would invest. Zenon is old-fashioned in some ways; like not being willing to accept money from a woman.

I've told him that if he should change his mind, the offer is still on the table. Although the people he'd met previously are long gone, we've still had lots of fun. We've played Frisbee during the day, built sandcastles, watched movies together, built a bookshelf, and created a YouTube channel where he's started recording videos of him teaching the basics of soccer and offering tips.

Some of the kids here at the beach have seen us out recording and ran up to us, expressing their interest in learning. I see the light come alive in Zenon's eyes whenever he works with them, and I know that he will be phenomenal with whatever he does.

My phone rings, and I glance at it sitting on the stand underneath the TV. Zenon went into Charleston to pick up a few items for dinner tonight that he couldn't get here on the island.

Wondering if it's him, I push up off the couch and walk across the room. Seeing Jade's name, I frown. Other than the one time that she checked in on me after I posted about my hiatus on social media, I haven't heard much from her.

I know that she's been busy with her clients, and since I've been behaving, she hasn't had her hands full with me.

"Hey, girl," I greet.

"Hi, honey," she says breathlessly. "How are you?"

"I'm good, but you don't sound too good. You sound a bit...cautious is the word I think I want to use?" I say after a brief pause.

She laughs nervously and says, "Listen. I'm about to share something with you, but I need you to be strong."

"Be strong? You sound as if you're about to tell me that my parents died or something."

"Sorry, nothing like that. It's just...well, I guess..." she sighs.

This isn't like Jade at all. She's a straight shooter and never stalls about anything, so I know that this can't be good. Either that, or she's worried about how what she's about to say will affect my sobriety.

"Jade!" I say impatiently. "Just say the shit," I command.

"I heard back from the network today. They've decided that they're going to play repeats for the remainder of the season, but they're going in a different direction for next season."

"What's that supposed to mean? A different direction?"

"They've opted not to renew your contract, Dani."

"After all the shit I've been through?"

"Listen, I told you that it was an option but not a fact. Besides, you needed to do that for yourself and not just to hold onto your show."

"What are they doing?" I ask, pissed.

"They're going with a new show hosted by Sabrina Sims."

"That bitch!" I grunt.

She's hosted a few episodes of my show in my absence in the past and during my most recent time off from the show. Sabrina always claimed she wasn't interested in her own show, but she popped up at the studio more often than I cared for her to.

"Listen, you can be as angry with her as much as you want to be, but if it wasn't Sabrina, it would have been someone else. Either way, she didn't steal the show from you, Dani. You did this to yourself."

"Maybe if I call Marie or Don..."

"There's no reason to do that, Dani. I'll save you the trouble and let you know that they won't accept your calls. They're adamant that they want to cut their losses with you, their words, not mine. I assured them that not only had you finished rehab, but that you also took a hiatus from the spotlight altogether to get your life in order."

"But what about Kendall? She always saw things in a different light than the others. Maybe I can get through to her," I say of the show's other executive producer.

"I'm sorry, Dani. I tried."

"With Kendall, too?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"Does it matter? She's not interested."

"What did she say?" I demand through clenched teeth.

Sighing, Jade says, "This serves no purpose."

"If you don't tell me, then I'll call her myself and find out what she has to say!"

"She said that you're a train wreck waiting to happen," Jade says softly.

Tears prick my eyes as my heart squeezes. I always thought Kendall was one of the good ones. She's invited me to numerous birthday celebrations for her kids, herself, and her husband. We've had brunch several times, and she's even bought me gifts for my birthdays and show celebrations. Kendall is the closest thing to a friend that I thought I had at the studio.

"But I've worked so hard to turn things around," I whisper as the tears begin to fall.

"Dani, are you alone? Do I need to come down there?"

"No! I don't...I'm fine. I don't need any company."

"But maybe you shouldn't be alone. You don't sound so good."

"I'm not alone."

"Who's with you?"

"A friend."

"A friend?"

"Someone I trust."

Exhaling loudly, she says, "Okay. I'm sorry, honey. I'll be working on something else for you. Just give me a couple of weeks, and I'll touch base with you again."

"Yeah," I say softly.

"If you need me before then, though, Dani, don't you hesitate to call me."

I end the call without saying goodbye. I stare at the screen of my phone until it goes black and automatically locks again.

My mouth is watering, and the pain of my past, my failures, and my losses return in full force. I sold my soul to have this show, and they're just going to snatch it all away from me now? Was all this truly in vain? What was the point of all that I'd done if not for this?

I feel the ache deep inside of my chest, and it's growing like a burning hole. As it spreads across the surface of my heart and flickers, the growing flame jumps off and burns the recesses of my mind.

My head aches as the memories flood my mind. I cry out, but no sound comes out. I can't let Zenon find me this way. I stand and stumble blindly to the front of the cottage, searching for my keys.

When I finally find them on the hook, I head out and jump into the Jeep. Within less than ten minutes, I'm walking inside a local package store. I don't even second-guess my decision, nor do I battle with myself.

I grab a bottle of Hennessy Black and head to the cashier. Fumbling around in my purse, I find some loose bills and change, thankful that I don't need to use my credit or debit cards.

After I've paid for the liquor, I hop back into the Jeep and head back to my cottage. I need some pills to take the edge off, too, but this will have to do for now. Maybe I'll drive into Charleston in the morning to get my prescriptions from the house.

Pulling up to the cottage, I'm thankful that Zenon hasn't made it back yet. If he had, I would have just gone down to the beach and enjoyed a drink. Although our stretch of the beach is private, sometimes people wander down our way.

The last thing I need is to be spotted on social media taking a swig from a bottle. Yet, I have no doubt that's exactly what will happen if someone spots me.

Honestly, I'm beyond caring at the moment. I hop out of the car with my brown paper bag and head inside. Licking my lips, I can hear the bottle calling my name, and I can almost feel the burn going down my throat.

I can't wait to take my first sip to numb the feelings that are overwhelming me. I'm ready to block out the memories.

Walking inside the house, I head back to my room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I remove the bottle from the bag.

Tears stream down my face. Memories of various men kissing me, pawing on me, strangers in the night using my body for sexual release, illicit pleasures, and psychological debasement.

Thoughts of Johan using me for his public adoration and my private humiliation fill me with shame. All that I did and all that I suffered through just to end up with nothing. How did I end up here?

I am sick to my stomach, full of rage and disgrace. I have no one to blame but myself. No one placed a gun to my head to force me to do the things that I've done. I chose that path for myself.

Catalog and commercial modeling weren't enough for me. I was too good for that. I wanted to be not only a runaway model but a supermodel recognized the world over. And why? Because I was a Maxwell. A Maxwell from the Maxwells of Charleston, South Carolina. And I also had something to prove to my daddy.

The same name that I wouldn't use to open doors or share with others was the same name that held me to a higher esteem of greatness in my mind. I allowed men like Johan Jurgen, Sebastian Glen, Mike O'Shaughnessy, O'Dell Perry, and others to use me for their play and pleasure.

All for what? To open doors that wouldn't have been opened otherwise.

I run my fingers over the label, tracing the bold lettering and the coat of arms for the founder's family. I think about how that fist clutching the hatchet is a symbol of my life, smashing all my dreams and hopes to hell and back because I'm not strong enough to face what I've done or what I've become.

My hands glide up the rounded bottle and grip the slender neck. Slowly, with precision, I peel away the wrapper from the bottle, and then I open it.

Inhaling the robust aroma, I think about how smooth it feels going down compared to regular Hennessy. Then, I recall the days at Horizons and how I struggled in the beginning. I think about my anger that was explosive some days, and how other days, the tears wouldn't stop coming.

I recall Brandon pushing me to face my fears and demons and lay it all on the table. I think about how Rhonda, the fitness trainer, pushed me and how loving, patient, and kind Nita, the creative coordinator, was on days when I worked my way through knitting, painting, or pottery.

I think about the times when I was lonely and would wander around the large facility, missing my family and friends.

"Oh, God!" I cry out, fingering the smooth surface of the bottle's top.

Just one drink, I tell myself, just one, and I will put it away. Just one to ease the burning pain of the memories and the haunting shame from the ghosts of my past.

Damn it! Why didn't I just stop by my place before coming out here to the cottage after rehab? I could have picked up some old prescriptions that I have at the house. I wouldn't have to suffer through this alone. Those pills would have instantly eased the pain, leaving no room for doubts or wondering.

Because, Dani, you would have fallen long before now. Bringing those pills would have been nothing but a temptation.

"Shut up!" I tell my inner self.

"Excuse me?" I look up to see Zenon standing in the doorway.

I never heard him come into the house, let alone open my bedroom door.

He glances at the bottle in my hands and then back up at me. I see no judgment in his eyes, nor do I see recrimination or disgust as I expect to. Instead, I see love and strength there.

"I was just going to take one sip. Nothing more, and then I was going to pour it all down the sink. Just to prove to myself that I don't need it, you know?"

Slowly, he nods, but then he says, "I'm not here to judge you, Danica. I'm not here to tell you what to do. That's your choice. To drink or not to drink. Whatever route you go, it's all on you, and you'll shoulder that decision. In the end, if you drink, you're back at the start. If you don't, then you've survived another moment. It's on you."

My shoulders begin to shake, and I curl them around the bottle, hunching my shoulders forward. The tears come, then the breaking sobs, and then the snot. I'm a mess, and I know that I am.

I feel the warmth of his presence, and then I smell the briny scent of the ocean and the sun, accompanied by his familiar cologne. Still gripping the bottle, I fold myself into his embrace and cry for what seems like hours. Long, hiccupping sobs full of gasps and unrecognizable uttered words fill the silence between us.

And when I'm done, I pull out of his arms and walk into my bathroom. I pour the liquor down the toilet and then flush.

"What happened?" he asks after I've taken the bottle out to the trash bin in the back of the house and returned to my bedroom.

I tell him about the phone call, but I don't get into the details of how I felt about the decisions of my past. I simply leave it at how hard I've worked, and all I'd gone through to get there, and now I'm left with nothing.

"Don't say that, Dani. You've got your works, your legacy, and your name. You can do anything that you would like to do now, and it doesn't have to end here. You can start another show and pitch another creative idea to a different network. If that one turns you down, go to another and another until your dream is bought. You don't give up when one door closes. Anything worth having is worth working for and sacrificing for. Now is when the true work begins," he says, staring into my eyes.

Although Zenon doesn't know that I've already made sacrifices, nor does he understand what it would cost me to go to another network, I'm so filled with love for this amazing man and so humbled by his kindness and generosity.

"How do you forgive me the way that you do after how badly I hurt you?"

Clearing his throat, Zenon says, "Listen, none of us are perfect, and we've all made mistakes. We all fall short of His glory, but that is why He extends grace to help us through this journey. My battle may not be the same as yours, but it's no easier. Staying away from alcohol and holding my temper at bay for years was hard. All I knew was hard work, self-discipline, commitment, and passion. Every day, I have to get up and make a decision on how I expect my day to go and how I will live. I'm leaning on His grace and thankful for His mercies. I don't do this on my own."

"But you only had what? A couple of months of drinking?"

"Three months and twelve days to be exact. That was the most difficult time of my life. And any time things get too difficult, it would be easy to turn down that road again. But I didn't like that man. The one who couldn't recall what day it was, if he'd washed or not, and wallowed in self-pity."

Zenon shakes his head. "That's not me. That was an excuse to have self-pity and not to be the best that I could be. I was crushed when my career ended."

Narrowing my eyes, I say, "Did it end, or did you walk away from it? I thought you walked away from it."

Laughing humorlessly, he shakes his head, "I guess you could say that I did in a way. I was up for contract renewal when that happened. After that horrible day and several bad choices in the weeks after that, like refusing to show up at meetings with the coaches and the association and refusing to return my agent's calls, yeah, I guess I did walk away from my career. Because after all that, they decided not to renew my contract again."

"I'm sorry, Z. I didn't know."

Shrugging, he says, "I didn't let anyone know. Only those closest to me at the time knew what happened, like my friend, Mattia, and my little sister, Uxia."

I sigh and pull my legs up on the bed beside me.

"Come here," Zenon says.

I scoot to the other side of the bed, where he rests his back against the headboard and holds me.

"I'm here for you, Dani. No matter what you choose, I'm not going anywhere."