by L. L Hunter
“Oh, my God! Jack was right. It really is blowing up everywhere.” Shit. What have I done?
“There is also this wonderful exposé on page two of the Sydney Times.”
Susan handed me a newspaper, and I took it and read the headline, my heart pounding with nerves.
“Gossip Girl Falls for her story” was the front-page headline. Front page! I’d made the front page! I quickly flipped the page, slightly annoyed and intrigued to read the story they had written about me.
Hollywood hunk and Sydney writer fall in love at premiere of his latest film.
Then I started reading the article, the subheading not dissuading me. I read it aloud.
“Hollywood ‘it’ boy, Jack Dean, has found love down under! Sources close to Mr Dean recently revealed that the movie star has fallen head over heels in love with a Sydney journalist at the premiere of his latest film. What began as a simple business meeting for the pair at the after party quickly led to a full-on make-out session in the lift. After a photo taken of the lovebirds was leaked online, no one seemed to know who Jack’s mystery woman was. It wasn’t until an article posted on the entertainment news website, Sydney Showbiz News, where Jack’s new love, Chloe Vanderbilt, works, revealed that she was indeed, the woman in the photo.”
I stopped reading and looked up. The crowd had cleared a bit, but there were still many people crammed into what now felt like a too-tiny office.
“They think they know everything about us!” I said to Susan.
“Welcome to the world of entertainment news,” replied Susan.
I couldn’t believe it. This had blown way out of proportion and gotten bigger than I imagined. I put the newspaper down and pushed my hands through my hair.
“Oh, my God! What have I done?”
“Everyone, get back to work, please. This website isn’t going to run itself!” Susan clapped her hands, snapping me out of my self-loathing. I slumped on the side of Susan’s desk. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. Come on, hole. Please appear. Be a good little hole and appear. Please!
“Holy hell!”
When everyone had vacated the office, Susan turned off the TV, walked around the desk, and shut the glass door, cutting out the chatter and noise of the office.
“What did you expect would happen when you wrote that story and sent it to me?”
“I don’t know. I suddenly felt inspired. I was thinking about Jack and… everything just came out. It flowed out of me, and I couldn’t stop until it was done. I was a woman possessed. My heart took over my brain, and I didn’t care about the consequences. Oh, I’m so ashamed!” I ran my hands over my face and tugged at my hair. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
“You are not stupid, Chloe. Sit down.” She pointed at the chair I had my feet on. I stood and sat down. Susan walked back around the desk and over to the hot water urn in the corner. A pretty ceramic teapot sat beside it with two cups.
“Tea?” she asked. I nodded. Susan poured us both some tea and came back to the desk and sat down in her chair opposite me. She pushed the cup toward me, and I didn’t hesitate to pick up the cup and saucer. I inhaled the fruity herbal blend like it was fresh bread or a paperback book.
“So, how does Jack feel about all this really?”
“He’s surprisingly okay with it. He said he knew what he was getting into falling for a writer.” I smiled. “He wanted the world to know the truth.” I couldn’t help smiling whenever I thought about Jack. He made my heart sing.
“You know, things are about to get pretty crazy for the both of you. I hope you’re ready.”
I looked her in the eyes and brought the teacup to my lips and took a sip. Then I said, “Me too.” After sitting for a moment longer, I asked, “So, what’s going to happen now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m compromising my job. It can’t be good press for us.”
“On the contrary. Business is booming. Site visits and subscriptions have risen by twenty-five percent since the article went live.”
“But you’re probably going to get hounded now. My identity has been uncovered. Surely, I’m a liability.”
“No. Don’t worry, Chloe. You’re an asset here.” She smiled and took a sip of her tea and turned to her laptop. “So, did you reply to Lola yet?”
“Oh, no. I barely had time to process it all before Jack came over. I’ll go do that now. What should I say?” I asked, rising from the chair.
Susan looked up at me, taking off her reading glasses and smiled. “Say yes.”
17
I walked back to my desk with my head in the clouds. Well, Susan didn’t hate me, and neither did Jack. Our story was now front-page news, and I still had my day job. I called that a win.
Now it was time to answer an email that could further change my life. I still couldn’t get over the fact that I was now dating and possibly in love with the biggest Hollywood actor of the moment and was about to get a book deal because of it.
Was I selling my soul? Was I selling myself out? Everyone around me was encouraging me to do this, to write the story, but I still wasn’t one hundred sure about it. Was this the price I had to pay for a chance at love?
I opened my emails and clicked onto the one I received this morning from Susan’s friend Lola at the publisher. I typed in my reply and hit send. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t sell myself out and cash in on it. So, I declined the offer of the book deal.
As soon as the email whooshed off into cyberspace, another email appeared in my inbox. It was from Susan. I glanced toward her office and saw her typing away at her computer. I turned back to my screen, opened it, and began reading.
The subject line read:
Interview on The Daily Breakfast show
Chloe,
* * *
I have just received a request from the Daily Breakfast TV show asking if they could interview you and Jack. The taping is this afternoon at four. So, of course, I said yes. I have also asked my friend at Star Talent Agency to represent you. You’re going to need an agent now, my little celebrity!
* * *
Susan
She listed the contact details for the talent agent and the address of the TV studio where the interview was being filmed.
Yep. My life was definitely crazy.
Then I realised what I’d just done.
I stared at the email in horror.
“Shit! What have I done?”
I received a text from Jack approximately twenty minutes after Susan’s email.
“I hear we have an interview together,” he texted. He had added a winky face emoji to the end of it, making me smile. My stomach leapt at the thought of seeing Jack again in a few hours, but I twisted nervously at the thought of spilling all of our secrets to some TV presenters. The Daily Breakfast show was one of the top TV morning shows in the country. This was it. I had already cemented my future as Jack Dean’s mysterious new love interest, but this interview was going to change everything for us. I stared at my inbox and wondered if declining that publishing deal was such a good idea.
No. Stop it, Chloe! Don’t do this. You’re turning into a fame-hungry hoe. That is not you.
I always gave myself this internal monologue, these personal pep talks. But now I felt like slapping myself. This new Chloe was so not me. It is true what they say—fame changes a person. I was determined to let it change me for the better. That was my reason for writing my story and sending it to Susan. But I still didn’t want to cash in on it. I guess Jack and I had that in common. We would do anything to set the record straight while keeping some semblance of our dignity intact. My story was personal, but it was no longer my secret to keep. Our relationship was thrilling and sexy and fun—or it seemed it could be—when it was just us, but now that the world knew about us, it was time to face the facts and put on my big girl undies. I opened a new reply window and typed out a second email to Lola revoking my earlier answer.
18
When I walked in
to the TV studio, a few people were hovering near the front doors. Several of them had on microphones and two-way radios. Then, beside two burly male security guards, I saw Jack standing there. He was chatting with one of the women with the headsets, and when I walked in, he turned and smiled at me. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him. He had changed shirts since the last time I saw him. He was now wearing a light wash denim shirt with his reflective sunglasses still on his head. His hair was swept back out of his face and looked slightly damp like he’d just stepped out of the shower.
I walked over to him, and he held out an arm for me. I walked into it, and he pulled me into his body and placed a kiss on my head.
“Hey,” he said, his voice husky.
“Hey,” I replied, wrapping my arms around his midsection.
“Chloe, good. You’re here. If you guys could follow me, we’ll get you prepped for the taping.” The producer Jack had been chatting with led us through a side door in the foyer and down a dark corridor. There was yellow tape on the floor to mark where electrical cables ran. I stepped over them, and we followed the producer onto the set.
The set was a lot smaller than I imagined it would be. Television really was all smoke and mirrors. I took it all in, not taking my hand from Jack’s.
“What do you think?” he asked, walking beside me.
“It’s a lot smaller than I thought.”
“No, I meant about the interview. What do you think about being here with me doing a TV interview?”
“I… Honestly, I don’t know. It’s all so new. I never thought this would be my life.”
Jack stopped walking. “Are you having regrets?”
“No. Not at all. I just never in my wildest dreams imagined I would be dating a movie star. My life has been a crazy whirlwind these past three days.” I laughed. It wasn’t that I found it funny. It was more of a nervous laugh.
The producer led us into a room at the back of the studio. Inside the room was a row of chairs facing a mirror lined with Hollywood lights. Along the counter, an array of make-up brushes, lipsticks, eyeshadows, and foundation bottles were lined up. This was the dressing room where the guests got ready to be on TV. And possibly the presenters. This was real.
“This is Gwen. She’ll do both your hair and make-up. After they’re done, Mario will sort out your wardrobe.”
I glanced at each of the people in the tiny dressing room, and they smiled at both of us.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” said Jack, exchanging kisses on cheeks and handshakes. I just stood there until they instigated contact with me—like a stunned bunny. I had no idea what to do, so I headed to the farthest make-up chair and sat down.
“Hi, I’m Gwen. I’ll be doing your make-up and hair today. Let me know any colour preferences you have or favourite styles.”
“Hi, Gwen. I’m Chloe.” I looked down at the pots of make-up in front of me and suddenly felt overwhelmed. “Um… to be honest, I don’t really know much about make-up. I don’t wear much.”
“Sure. Then I’ll just do a natural look. A beautiful woman such as yourself doesn’t need much. You have such a great natural look already and great skin.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
I watched in the mirror as Gwen got to work on applying my make-up. After she was done with my foundation, I turned to look at Jack sitting in the chair next to me. He was in the middle of having his eyebrows plucked. I smirked, and he grinned, causing his sexy dimples to appear. Those dimples drove me crazy.
“What?” he said.
“Nothing. I just never thought a guy like you would get their eyebrows plucked.” I knew a few guys who man-scaped, but they were all gay. Most Aussie guys didn’t man-scape unless it was to shape a hipster beard.
“I don’t normally. Just for the camera. As I’m half Asian, I was born with fine hair. I don’t need much man-scaping,” he added with a wink. I laughed.
After our make-up and hair were done, we moved onto wardrobe. Jack’s hair was brushed and trimmed so it sat out of his face, similar to how he wore it when he arrived. My hair was straightened and blown out then styled around my face. I studied my reflection in the mirror and hardly recognised the girl staring back at me.
For wardrobe, there was a choice of four different outfits on the rack for me to choose. Jack was dressed in dark grey designer jeans, black Nike sneakers and the shirt he came in with. A black leather jacket was placed over the top. He looked like an actual movie star now. I selected a two-piece linen outfit of a matching skirt and top in navy blue. I was told by Mario, the flamboyant wardrobe stylist, that it made my blue eyes pop and would match my sexy movie star. I think someone had a crush on said sexy movie star.
When we were ready, the young blonde producer came to fetch us and led us to the green room to wait until it was time. It wasn’t long before we were called onto the set. We were told to sit behind the desk on the small stage. There were two other seats behind the desk for the two presenters. While Jack and I waited for the presenters to arrive, another person with a headset approached the desk. She was a short woman with dark hair carrying a clipboard.
“Hi, guys. My name is Martha, and I’m the stage manager here. I’m here to brief you on what you need to do this afternoon during the taping.”
We each nodded and shook Martha’s hand. “I’m Chloe.”
“Jack.”
“It’s nice to meet you both. Now, the hosts will ask you a series of questions and all you have to do is answer honestly, but with answers the viewers will want to hear.”
What? That was not how I thought interviews worked. I’d always thought the answers were the star’s own and not manipulated by the publication or media source they appeared on.
It seemed this entire industry was all smoke and mirrors. A big façade. An Instagram filter placed over the top to make it all appear shiny and pretty, to hide the ugly truth. The dark underbelly. And slowly, I was discovering that dark underbelly of the entertainment world.
Jack nodded. “Sure.” I remained silent, still stunned by what the stage manager had said. But I didn’t let it distract me from what I had to do. We were here to show the world we were in love. I was here to help Jack’s career. Mine would benefit from the press as well, but I didn’t really care whether it plummeted or soared. I was doing this for him. What a ‘love at first sight’ story this is—insta-love. Who would have thought?
“So, tell us about the night you met? We’ve all seen the photograph,” says the male presenter, Charles. Charles Raymond was the handsome bad boy of breakfast TV. He was the one I’d written my first article on. He’d been photographed with a new lover not long after splitting from his wife. So, I felt a little self-conscious sitting in front of him now knowing I was the one who had shaken up his career. He was forced to take a hiatus from the screen because of my article. I wonder if he realised who I was.
Thankfully, Jack answered the question. I was too busy watching Charles Raymond’s facial expressions for signs of realisation. Jack squeezed my hand under the table, and I was reminded why I was here. I turned to him and smiled lovingly, putting it on for the cameras.
“We didn’t expect to fall for each other. But we did. Chloe was different, a breath of fresh air. And when that photo surfaced, and we were forced to reveal our secret to the world. We were actually relieved, to be honest.”
No, I was reluctant. I’d wanted to keep this to ourselves, but someone took a stupid photo and posted it on the internet, so we had no choice. I couldn’t say that, though. I had to say what they wanted me to say. I had to pretend.
“Chloe, how did you feel being pulled into Jack Dean’s glamorous life? Is it everything you’ve expected?” The female co-host with bleached blonde highlights and botoxed lips addressed me. She grinned as wide as her botox injections would allow and waited for my reply, tapping her fluorescent pink false nails on the glass desk.
I turned and looked at the camera and then at Jack. I took a deep breath and spoke.
>
“Honestly, it’s been such a whirlwind. I haven’t had time to process it all. Jack’s been patient with me as I’ve adjusted to the media attention. It’s only been a few days though, so it’s hard to say.”
“You guys look pretty close seeing it’s only been a few days. What do you plan to do when Jack heads back to L.A., Chloe?” asked Charles. I ignored his judgemental stares. He’s now looking at my cleavage, not that I have much showing in this top. Eww. He was starting to make me feel uncomfortable now.
“It’ll be hard, but we’ll talk every day. Jack will have his work, and I have mine. We’ll keep busy.”
“What does Alexa think about all this? I thought you and her were close, Jack.”
I watched Jack’s expression. He tensed, then relaxed into the chair.
“Alexa and I haven’t spoken in a while. She and I were never together.”
“But what about that photo?” prodded Charles. “You know, the one of you two kissing.”
“That wasn’t real. Alexa kissed me. And then it went viral. That’s it.”
“And this, you and Chloe? The recent photograph? Was that real?”
Jack turned to me and smiled. “Yes. It was real.”
The female host, Penny, or Mrs Botox Barbie I now wanted to call her, turned to the camera with her tight Barbie grin.
“Well, that’s all we have time for today. Jack’s movie will be in cinemas at the end of the month. Next up, we discuss the controversial new subject being taught in your child’s school.”
“And cut!” yelled the director, and the studio lights are turned off. The stage manager and producers dodged the cameras and sound equipment, and make-up artists rushed to touch up the faces of the two hosts.
Next to me, Jack let out a breath and stood. I started to turn my swivel chair toward him when someone put their hand on my left arm. I spun back the other way to find myself face to face with Charles Raymond.
