The Actor's Contract의 모든 챕터: 챕터 81 - 챕터 90

Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Trixy’s Boutique)POV - Aria“Eh … welcome again to Trixy’s Boutique,” Trixy says, bravely attempting round two of her grand entrance.She’s now flanked by two assistants. One is a short, round girl with cheeks like apples and an expression that says she walked through the wrong portal today and ended up in a live-action soap opera. The other is a tightly-wound forty-something with a bun so aggressive it looks like it’s trying to escape her skull — and pulling her eyelids sideways in the process.This time, finally, Trixy has our full attention. Mainly because we’ve exhausted our daily allotment of penis jokes and rogue-whip commentary.“I’ll be helping the little ones,” the squishy assistant says brightly, her clipboard already out and ready to conquer small chaos. “What kind of dresses did you have in mind for the flower girls?” she asks, eyes landing on me.I glance at Leyla, who’s practically vibrating with joy on her bed. Her little pink bea

Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center)POV - AriaI’m starting to realize that the human body has strange coping mechanisms to ensure survival.Like right now … sitting here in the ER, on a hospital cot in my blood-spattered sundress — I have the overwhelming urge to tell a joke. Why? The hell if I know. Probably some primal, stupid instinct to pretend I’m fine while the universe sets itself on fire.But even if the want is there, my brain’s not exactly open for business, let alone humor.It’s just a giant, dark echo chamber looping the same fragmented footage on repeat — crash, scream, pain — as if it’ll make sense the next time around.Spoiler — it doesn’t.So, instead, I watch Marco pace up and down in front of the door — like he’s rehearsing a guilt he can’t name. His right hand clutches his injured, definitely broken, arm, where a nurse trapped it to his chest with a makeshift sling. He refuses treatment and painkillers until one of his brothers comes to rele

Date = 1 AugustPlace = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center)POV - AriaI feel a headache coming on.“Enough of this dismal mambo,” Logan mutters, his voice rough and gravel-edged as he gives his brother a pointed look. “Just tell the man what happened already so he can go catch the guy.”He wipes his hand down his face, dragging weariness along with it.“Girl,” River pipes up suddenly, muffled against Jackson’s chest. “The driver was a girl,” she repeats, so calm it sends a ripple through the room. As if she’s just announced her marriage.And everything stops.The room freezes. Stone-still. Like a pack of rock golems, mid-thought, trying to decide which of her limbs to gnaw off first.“What?!” Logan blurts, voice cracking the silence like a dropped plate.Her little cheek is mashed flat against Jackson’s chest like she’s trying to fuse with him. He peels her off gently and plops her on the bed beside Mel, his big hands staying anchored on her shoulders like she might try to float away

Date = 4 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Black Pit - family graveyard)POV - EnriqueAria’s voice sounds up, thin but strong. “I don’t think she’d want us to be sad, you know. Kiara.”I swallow hard. My throat burns. “She’d want a fight. A scene. A hell of a lot of noise. She’d want us to get the bastards who did this to her.”“We will.” A small smile tugs at Aria’s lips, though her eyes are wet.“I’m gonna miss her,” she whispers.“Yeah,” I say. My chest tightens. “Me too.”We reach the edge, and the little cemetery comes into full view. The wrought-iron gate, small and simple, stands half-open. Inside, headstones are planted in neat rows beneath the shade of cypress trees, their roots curling through the earth like old scars. The grass is trimmed, the lavender is blooming, and the paths are lined with soft, white sand.And at the center, waiting, is the raw wound of a grave not yet filled. The earth is fresh, black, and raw — carved open just for her.A small cluster of mourners stand

Date = 8 AugustPlace = San Francisco (Black Pit)POV - AriaThe kitchen hums with low chatter and clattering pans — right up until Sky lifts her hand to her mouth and goes perfectly still. Her eyes lock on the doorway, and the warmth in the room drains like someone cracked a thermostat to freezing.“Fock,” she breathes.A shadow fills the entrance.“I fucking told you to stay in bed and rest,” a deep voice growls.My shoulders jump. My spine snaps straight. Sky just smirks at the storm walking straight toward her, slow and wicked, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.Slowly, I turn to look at him — I haven’t seen him up close since the crash. Not really seen him. Just a moment here, a second there, a brief blur at the funeral.He looks like absolute shit. Well, as close to shit as a hunk like him can get.Dark shadows bruise the skin beneath those scary eyes. His hair is a mess — more than usual — and he’s pale in that gray kind of way that comes from sleepless nights and t