by Kailin Gow
I have no idea why he didn't. But lately he's been acting like...like he's my boyfriend or something. Perfect timing. The second that I start maybe pursuing something with Philip, things are also getting sexually tense with Johnson. Men are like buses, I guess. They all come at once.
I nervously make my way down the hallway to Philip's office. Through the frosted glass I can make out the silhouette of a curvy woman, breasts and ass out to here, bending over his desk. I feel butterflies in my stomach. My heart stops a little. So – he's still playing with every woman in the office, isn't it? Good thing I didn't sleep with Philip last night after all, as much as I may have physically wanted to.
Johnson sees my stricken face. Then he marches straight up to the office door and knocks once before walking straight in.
“Johnson, you can't...”
But he's already entered. I sheepishly follow behind him, prepared to see some woman in a state of undress.
But it's only Kendall, leaning over her brother's desk in a scandalously short skirt that covers absolutely zero of her underwear: a skintight nude dress that looks like it fell off the back of a skinny Kardashian.
“H-h-h-i...” Johnson's eyes practically bulge out of his head as he looks Kendall up and down. I can't help it; a twinge of irritation passes through me. I hate the idea that someone as good, as humble and noble as Johnson is taken in by a fake like Kendall. But I guess that's the way things are. People like Kendall do tend to attract all the office attention.
Not that Philip notices. He seems utterly indifferent to the fact that his sister's dressed like a common streetwalker. In fact, it looks like he hardly even sees her. He looks up at me and Johnson, his eyes blazing into both of us. Then his eyes fix on me. Just the knowledge that he's looking at me is enough to make me wet, to set me aflame....
“You here to talk about your stories?” It's the brash, brusque voice of Boss Philip.
“Yeah,” says Johnson, at the same time as I say “yes, sir.”
Johnson looks at me in surprise. He's never heard me call anyone sir before – and it's only when he looks at me in shock that I realize how weirdly kinky it sounds. I stare at the floor, hoping Johnson doesn't notice how my face is the color of Cinnamon Burst lipstick.
Philip walks towards us. He gets close to me, close enough that his fingers fringe the edge of my waist, which Johnson doesn't see. Standing behind both of us, he talks into the back of my neck. The feeling of his breath on my throat makes me dizzy.
“Sit down,” he says. He gestures to Johnson to take one chair, me to take another. Kendall stands, glaring daggers at us both.
“Let's talk about your articles,” says Philip. “You first, Johnson.”
Under the table I feel something rubbing up against my ankle. Philip's foot, immaculately clad in tailored brown leather shoes. Is he playing footsie with me right now?
“Here's the article,” Johnson slides the paper across the desk. I hope he doesn't realize what Philip is doing to me. “I also emailed it to you.”
“I'll read it right away,” Philip says. “What about you, Sidney?”
“Yeah,” butts in Kendall. “How's that puppy chow story coming along?” Her lips curl with disdain.
“Great, actually.” Now is my moment to shine. I'm so excited I could burst. “I'll write it up tonight, but here's what we've got. The biggest, fakest, most ridiculouspublicity-grabbing celebrity in the world. A woman who Instagrams her daily bowel movements, practically. Who makes sure nothing that could possibly make her look good is left out of the public eye. And the one thing she keeps secret? The actual good deeds she's done.”
“Good deeds? Missy Amy? She's a Real Housewife...”
“On the show, maybe. Her 'job' is to play a character. A reality TV villainness who pretends to be totally fame-hungry. But the story of her dog? She adopted it as a stray from Nepal, where she was trekking. She ran away from the paparazzi for a week. Said she was on some sort of sexy dirty weekend with the rapper Helmut Bates. But instead she was volunteering in Nepal. And apparently the whole time she was working in villages there – no cameras, no publicity – this three-legged dog followed them around. And she was so moved by it that she asked what is its story. Villagers told her what happened: the dog had belonged to an American hiker that was caught in a rock slide along with the dog. The dog chewed his own leg off to get free and get help, but by the time he reached the village and brought back help the hiker had died. Since then, the dog's been living in the mountains, going up and down the same trail his master used.”
Philip and Johnson's mouths are both wide open. They're impressed, I think.
“Well, she was so moved she adopted the dog then and there. She became so attached to the dog that she created a charity around dogs like her dog Buddy, to support animal welfare in parts of the world where dogs aren't regarded as pets.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Kendall snorts. “So what does this have to do with food.”
“I'm getting to that,” I say. “Buddy only eats the best and most fresh meat protein he can find – all that time living in the wild. His nose was the strongest around. And Missy Amy knew that. So she set up a business deal. And she coordinated with a local organic dog food company called Hero Dogs Best to work with her. She'd subsidize them in exchange for them developing initiatives alongside her fund, like training guide and rescue dogs to help hikers. And all of this...with no publicity. No cameras.
That's my angle. The one newsworthy thing this woman's done – other than her sex tape – and she chooses not to publicize it. Does that mean that her fame-hungry persona is just a role she plays? Or does it show that even among the most awful and shallow of us...” I give Kendall a knowing look “...there's a complicated person inside there somewhere. Who knew?”
The room is quiet. Johnson's jaw, which had gaped a little, closed up and he regains his composure. He knocks his knees against mine a little: a gesture of congratulations. He knows I rocked it. I know I rocked it.
But does Philip?
For a second he says nothing. Then a grin appears on his face. “That's the kind of story I knew Sidney Stone would get,” he says. “I didn't know that about Amy, I confess. I gave you the worst story assignment I could think of – to test your mettle. But by God, Sidney, you can turn a sow's ear into a silk purse. It's a talent not many journalists have.”
Kendall is seething with rage in the corner.
“Anything to add, Kendall?” Philip asks lightly.
She crosses her arms. “I don't see how Sidney's story's going to beat that gossip people actually care about. Who cares about some hero dog doing a good dead? It's fluff. That's why Amy knew it wouldn't fly. Divorces, misery, drugs – that's what people pay for. Not some Lassie story. Heroes don't make headlines. That's what I've been telling you.”
“All right, Kendall,” says Philip pleasantly. “How would you do it differently?”
“I'd find a real source to spill, not some hired help. Find out who she's slept with lately. Threaten to start a worse rumor if she didn't give up the goods. That her husband was cheating on her or something. Pressure her into admitting to something even if it wasn't true, by threatening to run something worse. None of this goody-two-shoes crap. Who cares about Tibet or Phuket or wherever the fuck this place is?”
“I care!” Johnson says vehemently. “This story is interesting. It shows that stars are often surprising. It makes even a plastic robot like Amy, human. And we can't just falsify sources. I don't care if we're a gossip rag or the BBC, we can't just make things up for sales.”
Kendall walks over to Johnson, grabbing him by the side of his shirt and pulling him up. “How dare you?” she says. “Don't you know that's how the Daily Mail is the best-read site online today? They don't give a fuck about truth, just numbers. So why should I? I don't know what you're thinking, taking some underling's side over me – but remember, I run the company.” She rolls her eyes. “Pathetic. I don't know what lies she's been feeding
you, what bullshit – the same shit she pulled in high school, I bet. This poor-little-me crap. I've had it with lying, crazy, bitches. I spent enough time in rehab to know that damsels in distress are full of BS. And anyone who believes her is pathetic!” She twists Johnson's shirt. “I own this company. And you're just a minion!”
This is worse than I thought.
I rise to my feet. “Stop it!” I cry. I pull Kendall off Johnson.
“What the fuck?”
“Kendall,” I say. “All these years and you haven't gotten over your issues with me and my mom? Which, incidentally, has nothing to do with me. My mom and your dad – it's not my problem. Nor is it yours. And it's over now. When will you stop?”
Kendall grits her teeth. “As long as you live, I will always hate you, Sidney Stone. You're nothing but a pathetic low-life who steals other people's things!”
Suddenly a fist comes flying through the air, striking the desk with a resounding thump that sounds like thunder. “That's enough, Kendall!” For the first time, Philip looks furious.
“You and me,” Philip cries to Kendall, grabbing her arm. “Come with me. Now.”
Chapter 16
Kendall is staring at Philip like a petulant child. Tears are running down her face. Fat globs of mascara are contained within the tears, streaking her pale porcelain cheeks a raccoon black. She looks miserable. If she hadn't just assaulted Johnson in the office and threatened me, I'd almost feel sorry for her. She looks not a day older than she did the last time we saw each other: when we were both seventeen, graduating from high school. She's gotten no more mature. But it's more than that. It's not just her pettiness that gives her the look of a frail child. There's an expression of childlike pain in her eyes. The expression of someone who has suffered a great deal. I remember everything I heard about Kendall – that she spent a lot of time in rehab, that she has deep-seated psychological problems. And clearly her parents' divorce affected her strongly. I try to see her through the eyes of someone other than her worst enemy, the girl that she's dedicated her life to destroying. If I were someone else, I wonder – would I feel sorry for her?
“You – you – you don't understand,” sniffles Kendall through the tears that streak her cheeks with darkness. “You left us, Philip. Went off to Eton – you didn't have to deal with everything. She destroyed everything. This bitch and her mother. Took Daddy away from us. Destroyed our happy home, our whole family, our whole life. She took Daddy from us. And I promise you, Phil I will do whatever I can to make sure she feels the same pain I felt. I don't care whether it's rumors or kicking her teeth in or voodoo or witchcraft – I'll do whatever it takes to make sure she knows what it feels like to lose every single thing you love.”
“Come on, Kendall,” says Philip in a low, threatening voice. He yanks her out of the office, into the hallway. He's angry, but there's a tenderness in him as he puts his arm around Kendall. Is he siding with her? I feel a twinge of jealousy. But at the same time, I can't blame Philip. Family is family, after all, and however awful and witchlike Kendall can be she is still his little sister.
It's my turn to cry. Hot tears slide down my cheeks, too. Thank God I'm not wearing makeup like Kendall is, I think halfheartedly.
“I'm so sorry, Sidney,” Johnson pulls me into him, holding me close, stroking my hair and letting his fingers twine into the blonde curls. “I'm so so sorry. This shouldn't have happened to you. I didn't know how much pain you must have gone through. Only when seeing Kendall do I really understand how much you probably suffered, growing up with someone like that. She's really messed up, that Kendall. I've never seen anything so unprofessional in my life.”
“Do you believe her, though?” I can hardly bring myself to ask the question. My lips are trembling and my voice shakes.
Johnson sighs. “Of course not,” he says. “The only thing I believe is...that girl has been through a lot. She's really damaged. Psychological problems, drugs, I don't know. She wasn't ready to come out of rehab. Whatever happened with your mom and her dad --- that's their problem to sort out. Not yours and not hers. I feel sorry for her, but that doesn't excuse her behavior, which is downright pathological. And I'm sure she was just as bad back in high school. Convincing people, manipulating them, lying to them about you, turning your friends against you I can see how someone like that would be really effective when it comes to casting doubt on you – about your integrity, about your everything...”
“I'll say,” I sigh deeply, feeling overwhelmed. “I don't know how I can stand to see her here at FILTHY, Johnson. I can't work with someone like that. Anywhere else they'd just fire her for an outburst like that, but we all know the LaFleurs don't operate a company like normal people. Maybe I should just...” I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut to hold back the tears.
“Quit?” Johnson looks horrified. “You can't quit Sidney.”
“What else am I supposed to do?”
“Don't let her drive you away just because she's decided to act like a ridiculous crazy bitch,” cries Johnson. “Stay and fight back, Sid.”
“But this is her magazine! At least, her and her family's. How can I win a fight like that?”
“By showing them how strong you are,” Johnson says, squeezing my hand. “Showing them that you are not a victim. You survived Kendall LaFleur in high school, Sid. And I'm sure you can survive her as a grown woman, now, too.”
“You're right...” I sigh and nod as Johnson gives me one last big hug, embracing me with a full warm force. He presses his cheek against me, then takes my cheeks in his hands. For a second I wonder if he's going to...no, surely....
But he does. He kisses me on the forehead.
“A-hem,” we turn in shock. Philip is standing in the doorway. Philip is glowering at Johnson; the two are staring at each other with barely contained animal rage.
“Your sister sure has an interesting idea of professionalism,” Johnson snarls. 'You know I could sue for office assault, if I wanted to.”
“We'll discuss this privately,” says Philip, smiling tightly.
Johnson lets go of me. “I'm going to get out of here,” he says. “I have another story to research. We'll talk some more when I drive you home.”
“That won't be necessary,” Philip says, walking toward me. “I'll make sure she gets home safely.”
“B-ut...”
“You have so much on your plate, Johnson,” the words are calm, but the voice is commanding. “Especially with all the research you have to do for your next piece – I”ve emailed you about that, by the way. You won't have time to pick Sidney up. I'll drive her home.”
Johnson glares at Philip, then turns to me.
“Sidney, do you want me to drive you home?”
I don't say anything. I freeze. I don't want to piss off either Philip or Johnson. So I just gawk like a deer in the headlights, feeling like a complete idiot.
“Sidney, I need to discuss something with you in private.”
Johnson turns pale. I've never seen him look so upset in my life. “Look, boss,” he says angrily. “I think your whole damn family has done enough damage to Sidney to last her a lifetime. You, your sister – you've caused her nothing but misery since the moment you ran over her with your car. I don't know what the hell you think you're playing at, but if you so much as harm a hair on Sidney's head, you'll be hearing from me!”
And with that, he storms out, slamming the door behind him.
“Well, well,” Philip looks quizzical. “That was interesting.” He goes to the door and locks it. “I don't want any more interruptions, Sidney.” He sits on the table, facing me. A slow smile creeps over his face.
I look helplessly at the door. Maybe I should have followed Johnson out. I can't take any more drama or emotional turmoil right now.
“You know he's in love with you, right?' Philip says lightly.
“Don't be ridiculous!” I say automatically. “Johnson and I are just...” But my voice trails off. The second I say it out loud
I know how stupid it sounds. How could I not have realized it before? Johnson's feelings haven't been platonic, not for a long while.
“But that's not what I'm here to talk to you about,” he goes on. “I just wanted to apologize. To say I'm sorry about Kendall. Whatever she's trying to do – whatever she did – look, Kendall is my sister. And I love her. Growing up, she was my kid sister who stayed home. When I came back from Eton for holidays – that was the only time I saw her. And I feel guilty, very guilty, for leaving her behind. I went off to boarding school. I didn't have to deal with the messy divorce, any of that. And although Kendall always acted like everything was fine, I see now how much the pain of that trauma really affected her. I'm sorry that I can't change her – or move her away from here. I have family obligations. But I do want you to know that, as a boss, I'm on your side.”
He stares at my lips. There is a fierce longing in his eyes. “It's frustrating, Sidney. You don't know how much. I feel caught between family loyalty and professional passion. I want to see you work and grow. You're talented, bright, inquisitive. You have the chops to do top-notch work. It inspires me. Makes me think journalism isn't dead after all. At the same time....”
Before I can stop him he steps towards me, pulls me to him in a tight embrace. “I desperately...I desperately want to be your lover, Sid. Every part of me wants you so badly. I dream every day about taking you.”
I gasp. This can't be happening. This must be one of my dreams. Before I can stop myself I hear myself responding: “I dream about you too, Philip,” I whisper.
Then he kisses me. A hungry, powerful, passionate, world-destroying kiss, a kiss unlike any I've experienced before, so passionate that I reel at his touch.
It's more than a kiss. It's like sex: white-hot, overwhelming. Like he's making love to me with his mouth, making me feel so aroused that if he threw me on the office table right then and there and started to make love to me, I wouldn't so much as resist.
