Social Media

by JA Huss

  “Fuck. That. We had a fucking awesome night, Grace. And then you wake up this morning and tell me to forget about it because of some stupid excuse about champagne? Fuck that.”

  She gives me a short laugh. “You can drop all the f-bombs you want, Asher. I’ve got nothing to say about my childhood. It was perfect. My parents were perfect.”

  “Obviously not, Grace. They’re dead. So something happened and it’s affected you and your ability to commit. You told me so last night.”

  Her mouth flies open to make a perfect O shape, like I just stunned the shit out of her. “I just explained to you, I don’t remember anything and I know for a fact I must’ve been wasted out of my mind if I was telling you that kind of stuff. So sorry, I’m not talking about my childhood.”

  “If it was so goddamned perfect, why are you hiding it?”

  “I’m not hiding it! I told you back on Saint Thomas, we were middle-class perfect. And you know what?” She points her polished finger up at my face. “Fuck you for bringing my dead parents into this. That is so rude.”

  She makes for the door and I grab her by the wrist. “You’re not leaving here. You don’t get to just say, Whoops, I can’t remember last night, and walk the fuck out.”

  “Watch me,” she snarls back. “And that hurts,” she says, yanking her arm. I let go of her wrist before I leave a bruise and she walks towards the door.

  “Grace, wait.”

  “I can’t, Asher! I have a fucking wedding to get to, OK? I’m here working, ya know. I have a job. It’s a fucking weekday, for fuck’s sake. I’m busy.” And then she pulls the room door open and walks through.

  I follow her. “Just hold on a second. How much do you remember about last night?”

  She punches the button for the elevator and taps her foot. She’s still wearing that blue work dress and in the light of day, with her hair brushed out and all her makeup washed off her face, she does, in fact, look like a woman going to work. “Nothing,” she rockets back, before she even thinks about the question.

  “That’s not even possible. Tell me the last thing you remember.”

  “Dinner, at the restaurant. After you won me in a poker game.”

  Fuck. You have got to be kidding me. “It was baccarat. And I know you remember more than that. We came up here, we had dinner up here. Remember? We didn’t eat at that restaurant. We came up here and you sat in my lap—”

  “And then I told you about my childhood? I highly doubt that, Asher. I don’t talk about it. It hurts too much. I lost my parents and then I moved on.” She whirls around to look me in the eye for this part. “I do not talk about it. So if you are trying to trap me and make me think that I promised to tell you things, that’s not going to happen.”

  I just stare at her. I’m living a nightmare. I’m seriously living a nightmare. Where do I even start to explain? We had all these conversations and now she can’t remember? “I already know what happened, Grace. I told you last night, Felicity found some things locked away in your juvenile record—”

  She slaps me across the face. “You’re spying on me!” She slaps me again, harder. “How fucking dare you spy on me! It’s one thing to give me money to dole out to charities, or fill my Starbucks card up with enough cash to buy five years’ worth of coffee. But to actually have that girl dig through my sealed fucking records! You have gone too far, buddy.”

  The elevator dings and the doors open. It’s empty, thank God. Grace storms in and then turns around, trying to block me from joining her. “No way,” she says, her arms outstretched across the doorway, trying to prevent me from entering. “I need to go to work and you’re not following me there.”

  I push right past her and then grab her hand before she can storm out of the elevator. “Let go,” she says. “Or I will scream.”

  The doors close and I let go as we descend. “No, I’m not letting you run away this time, Grace. You’re mine now and I’m responsible for you. We’re having this conversation and your friend’s wedding can wait.”

  “It’s my job, Asher—”

  “Quit fucking calling me that. It’s insulting and you know it.”

  “Oh, now I have to call you master in public too?”

  I scrub my hands down my face and let out a long breath. “Look, let’s just start this day over, OK? Last night was so perfect, it’s a shame to spoil it. We can talk about your childhood later.”

  “We’re not talking about anything, Asher. In fact, I think this whole movie-star crush thing has run its course. I’m not gonna see you again.”

  “What? You’re crazy. So I know what happened to you. Who cares? Just talk to me about it. I know they let you off and the charges were dropped.”

  Her mouth literally falls open.

  “Grace, I told you I know.”

  “What do you know?” she growls. “What do you think you know?”

  “I know that whatever happened, you didn’t kill them.” She turns completely white and I almost get sick watching her come to terms with this. “Grace, just calm down, would you? It’s OK, I know there has to be a good explanation for whatever happened. So just tell me what it is.”

  The doors ding open and we find a crowd of people waiting for the elevator. Grace darts out, stopping to look left and right. “I didn’t want to come to the lobby.”

  “We never pushed the button, it brought us here.” I take her arm gently and lead her away from the crowds. I have no shirt on, and I’m regretting that immediately. I’m regretting coming down here at all, because people are beginning to recognize me. “Grace, come with me. The media is probably around. I don’t want you—”

  “Mr. Asher!” they start yelling from down the hall.

  I look back at the elevators, but none are available. “Grace, stay close, baby. We gotta make a run for it.”

  She yanks free from my embrace and turns to point at me again. I draw back a little, afraid she’s gonna start with the slapping. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you spy! You have no right to pry into my personal life. None. I’m appalled and sickened that you would stoop so low. Kill them? You think I killed them? Fuck you! Just fuck you!”

  She starts crying and then the paparazzi are upon us. Cameras flash and questions are begin shouted.

  “Mr. Asher, what will your pregnant girlfriend think of this new development?”

  “Vaughn, over here! Give us a statement about last night!”

  They go on and on like that. I grab Grace and pull her through the crowd. “Come on! We can grab a taxi at the front and get out of here.” She fights me all the way, but I hold firm this time. I might bruise her, but if I let go, they will swarm us and who knows how badly she could get hurt if that happens.

  “Vaughn!” she screams. “Stop. I have to go to work!”

  Fucking work. How the hell does she think she’s just going to go back to work today? Jesus, it’s like she forgot everything that happened last night. I drag her into the main lobby, heading straight for the door, when another barrage of paparazzi ambushes us.

  “Grace! Grace!” they start calling, and this is when I know it’s gonna get ugly.

  “Don’t stop, Grace. Just keep going. Don’t say a word.”

  “What?” she shouts up at me. “What’s going on?”

  “Is it true you murdered your parents, Grace?”

  She stops dead. She just shuts down. This question is like a slap and all I see in that moment when she realizes her secret is out, not only to me, but the world, is blind panic.

  I see my sister Sam, so fragile at age sixteen when the media found out a secret about her too. But Sam has us. Sam has our father, the powerful Adam Asher. Sam had the support of professionals who knew how to handle these things. And Sam’s secret was never told.

  But Grace…

  I see her life changing before her eyes. Maybe even ruined.

  I see humiliation, and fear, and depression.

  “Why did you kill them, Grace? Did you kill your brother too?
Did they do something?” The media is relentless. They never stop. Once they draw blood, they circle like sharks.

  She shuts down, so I swoop her up into my arms and push my way through the crowd, aiming for the valet area. The flashbulbs are going off—so many pictures, that’s all I think about. I don’t even want to imagine the headlines tomorrow. She will be all over the news. Her private life gone, ripped away like it surely must’ve been back when she was a teenager.

  History repeats.

  “Don’t worry, Grace,” I whisper into her ear. “I’ll handle everything. I have lawyers and a team of PR people who will manage this for us.”

  She kicks her feet, twisting wildly in my arms, making me lose my grip and forcing me to set her down before she falls.

  “Get off me, Asher!” she screams. “Just leave me the fuck alone. Do you hear me? You asshole! Ten years I’ve lived a nice quiet life and a few weeks with you unravels my whole world. I fucking hate you!”

  “Grace!” a voice yells out from the valet area. “Grace! Over here!”

  Grace turns, searching for the voice. And then she bolts off in the direction of a white Mercedes SUV.

  The media follow her and suddenly the space around me is empty.

  Grace climbs into the car and it speeds away.

  She’s gone.

  Again.

  Chapter Forty-Four - Grace

  #BuryThemDeep

  “WHAT are you doing?” I ask. Kristi weaves around a camera crew and flips them off in the rearview after barely missing running them over. “We’re gonna kill someone. And you’re supposed to be getting married!”

  “No! I can’t do it, Grace. I’m not gonna do it.” She’s wearing a white terrycloth robe and her hair is a bit disheveled from the excitement. “I gotta get out of here, like now.”

  I hold on as she takes a corner at a crazy fast speed. “Slow down!” She peels out onto the Strip and we promptly get stuck at a red light.

  “Shit!” she says, her little fists slamming against the steering wheel. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  Yeah, if you’re trying to get somewhere fast in Vegas, you don’t take the Strip. She honks her horn and then changes lanes, waves her fist at someone behind us, gets over another lane, and then turns right at the first street and then doubles back around behind the Bellagio.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I know someone here, Grace. We can go stay with him until we figure out what to do.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “We’ll get through this. Don’t worry.”

  I settle back in my seat as she gets on the 15 freeway heading south. “I can’t believe that just happened. My life is over.”

  And then I realize who I’m saying this to. A pregnant woman who just walked out on her wedding. I reach over and pat her hand and her tears roll freely down her face. “We’ll get through this. Don’t worry.”

  She nods at me as she tries to control her sniffles, and then she starts shaking her head no. “What just happened to you back there, with the cameras and stuff…” She looks over at me and I recognize that look on her face. Fear. “That’s gonna happen to me too. As soon as they realize that Johnny and I have been lying about everything.”

  I just stare at her.

  I don’t ask her anything else.

  Secrets aren’t meant to be shared.

  Secrets are meant to be buried and ours are perilously close to resurfacing right now.

  So we do the only thing we know how to do. The same thing people with secrets the world over do once bits and pieces poke through the surface.

  We throw more dirt on top and hope for the best.

  Chapter Forty-Five - Vaughn

  #NoOneShouldHaveItSoGood

  I MANAGE to get back to my room after Grace takes off in that SUV. I don’t even know who was driving, but it was someone Grace knew.

  I call Conner and he picks up on the first ring. “I need help, dude.”

  “I just saw it, Vaughn. You’re all over the fucking news already.”

  “How the hell did they find her? How the hell did they even know we were dating? It was all very discreet. Last night was the first time I’ve seen her in weeks.”

  “It was Sam’s dickhead of a husband, Tray. I just got off the phone with him. He’s blackmailing us. He says he’s got a list of your past girlfriends on record about your nondisclosure agreements and he knows what happened to Grace ten years ago.”

  “What the… Did he tell you?”

  A pause on the other end.

  “Conner, dammit. Did he tell you?”

  “He told me some. And believe me, V, you do not want this to get out. I think we should pay him. I think Grace might actually be in danger.”

  My whole world spins. Just when I think I’ve got it all figured out, bad luck can’t touch me and life is good… it knocks me down and kicks my ass.

  “Is it bad?” I ask in a low voice that betrays my fears. “I need to know, Conner, even though I really don’t want to know.”

  “It’s bad. It’s so, so fucking bad. I’ve already called Felicity and she’s on her way to Vegas now. She’ll meet you in your room in a few hours. Just hang tight until then.”

  I end the call and slump back into a chair that has a view looking out over the Bellagio fountains and I sit for a few minutes. Running last night over and over in my head.

  It was so perfect.

  Conner was right. Life has been too easy for me. No one should have such an easy life.

  But it’s all coming due now. Because last night I did something I will most certainly regret and when Grace finds out, she might never speak to me again.

  Chapter Forty-Six - Grace

  #NotTheGirlWithTheWorldsBiggestProblems

  KRISTI AND I drive in silence for almost thirty minutes. We’re going east, I know that much, because the sun is glaring ahead of us and my sunglasses are missing from my little purse. I prop my head on my hand and lean into the window, the air-conditioning blaring into my face, which in combination with the sun forces me to close my eyes.

  What did we do last night? Asher was so convinced that I talked. But I never talk. Why would I say those things to him? I do remember some things, I wasn’t being entirely truthful with him. But he shocked me. How did he find out about my parents? How did all these people suddenly figure out who I am?

  OK, Grace. Think hard. Did you tell him things? What happened after you went upstairs?

  I remember the rug. God, I love that rug. And the pink champagne. That was delicious. We did have sex. And it was… my face heats up. It was spectacular, as usual. If there’s one thing Vaughn Asher knows, it’s his way around a woman’s body. He knows all the sweet spots.

  Sweets. He called me that all night. I remember that too. He said… I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine.

  And I said…

  Kristi sniffs back a sob and I open my eyes to look over at her. She has not spoken a word since we got on the freeway and right now she’s deep in thought, chewing on her thumbnail.

  I wonder if she’s worried about ruining her manicure for the wedding. She can’t really be thinking of ditching Johnny Blazen. Can she? Is this all my fault? For projecting my insecurities about Vaughn onto her situation? God, I am a horrible person. Because she probably does love that guy and I’m using her right now because she’s helping me escape from Vaughn and the media.

  That whole thing hits me hard and I just close my eyes again and shake my head. All these years I’ve been left alone. No one knew Bebe’s mother was my lawyer during my trial because she practices law under her maiden name. And I don’t know if people just couldn’t stomach my reality, so they blocked it out, or if they just wanted to believe the fairytale ending. That my life went back to normal and I got the happily ever after. Either way, they lost interest in me. And even though it took many years of support from a small group of people who helped me through that time in my life, I did, in fact, recover.

  Time is my friend. The more time betwe
en then and now, the better I get. I’m not broken any more. I’m really not.

  “Do you think I’m crazy?” Kristi asks.

  I look over at her again. She’s tapping her fingernail on the steering wheel now, looking like a mess. The car is her wedding present from Johnny. A replacement for the 2008 model she’s been driving in Denver. “I think it’s cold feet, Kristi. I’m a complete fuckup. You should not listen to a damn word I say. I was reeling from that whole pregnancy thing with Vaughn.” Just saying his name is enough to make my heart ache. I don’t say any more and Kristi drops it as well.

  I like the silence.

  She turns the Mercedes into a driveway with one of those rustic entry arches cattle ranches have. Red Desert Resort, the sign hanging from the arch states.

  “What’s this place?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter.

  Kristi looks over at me, her eyes red and teary. “My childhood home.”

  “Oh, you have family here? I didn’t know that. Why didn’t they come to the rehearsal dinner last night?”

  She sucks in a sob and then places a hand over her chest to steady herself. “Because they hate me.”

  I just stare at her, trying to process her words. And I realize I know absolutely nothing about this woman. Aside from her being the almost-future Mrs. Blazen, I’ve not gathered any facts about her. I’m a terrible friend. “Should we go somewhere else?”

  She ignores my question. Or maybe she just can’t answer it right now. Silence is your friend when you’re keeping secrets. So she just keeps driving. The road curves around and then we are at a guard house with a stop gate. Kristi pulls up to the guard and buzzes her window down with one hand while shuffling though a purse resting on the center console with the other. She finds her wallet and flips it open

  “Can I help you, ma’am? The resort is closed right now, we’re not accepting guests.”

  Kristi says nothing to him, just hands him her driver’s license.