by K. Shandwick
To my right, Noah lay facing me, sound asleep, with his blanket tucked up under his chin. He looked beautifully peaceful. Suddenly his eyes opened, and he stared up at me. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt embarrassed he’d caught me watching him. Part of me wanted to make an excuse, but I decided honesty was more important.
“You looked very peaceful lying there,” I said, and was rewarded with a sleepy smile.
“I guess I got so tired I could’ve cared less if we crashed,” he answered, making me chuckle.
We landed all too soon for me. Not because of leaving Noah, but facing the final journey to the chapel of rest with Shona. All the time I’d been on the plane I’d been strong, but as soon as the wheels of the plane landed a new wave of grief washed over me.
“Thank you for everything. I appreciate what you did and I’m thankful to you for helping us.”
Noah stood and as we were separated by two small shelves between our cabin booth seats he reached over and hugged me.
“Stay strong, Maggie. You got this,” he said in a deep voice laced with concern. Another wave of emotion rose in my throat and I swallowed a lump, gathered up my possessions and turned to the flight attendant who came to escort me from the plane. I couldn’t look back at Noah again because I knew I’d never make it off the plane without breaking down if I did.
Chapter Nine
Noah
Watching Maggie leave the plane hit me harder than I expected. Obviously, I was devastated her sister had died while working for me, but at the time I went to see her I had never expected to connect with someone in the way I had with her.
The way I opened my heart to her about Andrea was a first. There was just this… connection, a feeling so familiar I somehow knew I could say what I felt, and she wouldn’t judge me. And she hadn’t. Instead of being the listening ear I’d intended to provide her with I found myself pouring my own troubles out. Everything I’d been bottling up for years came tumbling out like it would have choked me if I hadn’t gotten it off my chest.
Maybe it was my way of empathizing with her hurt. Perhaps I thought she’d be too busy with her own grief to absorb much of what I said, or maybe… it was just time I let it out.
I knew very little about her—still didn’t after we parted, yet I felt as if I’d known her all my life. There was an invisible tie between us and I had no idea how that happened so fast, or how it happened at all given the tragic circumstances.
My heart ached as I watched her leave the plane. I stared until she was out of sight then gathered my shit up, stowed it in my bag, and headed for the main terminal where Annalise had a car ready and waiting. Several reporters snapped shots as we walked over the concourse which attracted a small group of women in the pickup zone.
There’s nothing like stretching out in your own bed—that comfortably familiar feeling of falling asleep and waking up knowing exactly where you are. Being on the road was tough and leaving my family behind brought loneliness. It was much worse for a guy like me because staying away from booze in those conditions wasn’t easy.
My thoughts turned to work. The guys in the band all drank for sport, some dabbled in drugs, one more than dabbled, and everyone spent most of their spare time getting laid. Sometimes it looked like a competition between adolescent boys.
I’d be lying if I said I never indulged with drinking and getting laid. Alcohol had been my drug of choice. But since Andrea and my deep depression, I had picked my social events carefully, and my women with clinical scrutiny.
At my lowest point I woke covered in vomit. Luckily, I always slept on my side or my fate may have been the same as Shona’s. I never dreamed alcohol dependency was in my future when I signed up with the band. At seventeen I was athletically fit, and I’d never drunk anything stronger than the occasional beer with friends, until I toured with Fr8Load.
If the same pressure to drink like that was put on me now, I’d never have stayed in the band. Being young and impressionable I’d done as I was told without question and if I had my time again, I would have been stronger. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. During the earlier days, we were four impressionable young teenagers in a rock band and our then manager coerced us to do some outrageous things to attract more publicity. It gained Fr8Load a reputation for being a band of hellraisers.
After a couple of years, we learned it wasn’t the stunts we pulled off stage that kept our name up there in the dog-eat-dog environment of the music industry and ditched the guy who managed us. The problem for me was, as the lead singer, most of the focus had been on me, and subsequently I was the one who found it most difficult to shake that reputation.
After a marathon jetlag-induced sleep, I woke feeling refreshed and I remembered about Maggie. Rolling onto my side I reached out for my cell and called Annalise. After she informed me of all the arrangements for Shona’s funeral, I asked her to text Maggie’s number then I headed to the shower while I waited for a reply and thought what I’d say when I called her.
Refreshed, I rang her number and heard it connect on the second ring. “Hey, Maggie, it's Noah.”
“Noah?”
“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind me calling. I just wanted to check if there was anything else I could do to help?”
“Annalise has helped organize everything, but thank you for taking the time to call.”
“Would you like me to come to the service?”
Silence stretched between us and I knew the answer before she spoke.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely thought that you’d take the time to do that, but this is about my sister. I’d hate the last moments we celebrated her life to be marred with the attention you could attract.”
Even although her words were honest, it still hurt to hear the rejection.
“I understand. Perhaps I could come and visit with you and Molly after a few days.”
“It’s okay, Noah, you don’t have to do that. I know you feel bad about what happened to Shona, but, really, I don’t blame you in any way.”
“I know… you said that already. But, I’d still like to visit, if that’s okay?” When she said nothing, I felt disappointed. I really wanted to spend time with her and was surprised at how quickly I had formed an attachment to her.
“Listen, I’m sorry, this is all too much when your focus is rightly on your sister. I’m here if you want to speak to me. This is my private number, Maggie, call anytime, I’d like to catch up with you about Molly’s future. I really do want to help.”
A few more moments of hesitancy passed before she agreed she’d call before she hung up. A pang of regret shot through me when she’d gone. I began to question whether it was because of Rudi I felt so responsible for Molly’s future and found it weird that Maggie had such a profound impact on me.
During the morning I’d spoken with George, the bandmate I was close friends with, and arranged to have him over to my place for dinner. It was the way I got by when I was feeling less than a hundred percent. George was one of my biggest supporters since I’d been drink free and I’d utilized his, ‘call anytime’ plea about a dozen times since I’d been on the wagon. Closing the call out I felt marginally better when my doorbell chimed.
Eamon answered, and I heard Annalise’s voice downstairs in the distance. I could hear by her tone there was something I wasn’t going to like about her visit. She never came over unless it was something she felt would upset me.
I headed down to meet her and saw her and Eamon standing close and in deep conversation. When they heard me they both stopped and stared up at me as I came down the stairs.
“What is it?” I asked in a hurried tone.
Annalise juggled her large notebook and clipboard under her arm. “Aussie press,” she stated.
My brow furrowed, “What about them?”
“They’ve got wind of the story about Shona’s death.”
I let out a deep sigh, “I suppose it was gonna happen,” I offered and ran my fingers thro
ugh my hair.
Annalise cringed. “There’s more I’m afraid,” she added.
“More? What exactly are they saying?”
“I’ve already spoken to legal and Steve, but it makes you and Maggie look terrible.”
“Maggie? What the fuck—”
“Someone has obviously had access to a lot of information. There’s more than one source because the news agency states sources as plural. We’re trying to find out who they are; however we’ll get information from the private investigator and PR team as soon as they have any.”
“Private Investigator?” I became more confused and frustrated by the minute, “Will you just shut the fuck up about the peripherals and tell me what the fuck they’re saying.”
“Naturally, they are running the story of Shona’s death, how she choked on her vomit, but the reporter has embellished the details saying it was at a drug-ridden after party.” Annalise strummed her thumb against her clipboard, “But that’s not the worst of it. They’re reporting you and Maggie hooked up and spent the night together in Dubai after you hit on her when she came to identify her sister.”
“What the fu—. I want an injunction, right now!” I bellowed. My heart rate soared and fueled my adrenaline to the point where I was spoiling for a fight.
“Already in progress. We can’t stop what’s already out there, but we’ve managed to prevent it from being published here in the US. We’re in the process of taking gagging orders across Europe, but Australia and the Asian countries already have it. There’s also a picture of you holding hands outside the car at the airport and one of you sleeping in adjacent cot-beds on the plane back to New York.”
“Jesus H. fuckin— Eamon, where were you when this happened?”
“Boss, I swear I watched you all night. I never saw anyone approach you on the plane that wasn’t employed by the airline.”
“Fuck. How do I tell Maggie about this?”
“Is there anything between you? I mean did you—” Annalise asked.
“What the fuck do you take me for? You really think I’d try to fuck someone at a time like that?”
“Well no, I—”
“You what? You were just asking? If you had to ask, then you think I’m capable of it.”
“I’m only asking what others would be thinking, Noah… what Steve is thinking.”
“But you aren’t ‘others’ you’re my fucking PA for Christ’s sake. We don’t have secrets, but you are supposed to know me and have my back. By asking, it suggests you’ve considered I have it in me to stoop so low.”
Annalise’s gaze fell to the floor in shame with my dressing down; the disappointment I felt at her lack of trust was almost as hard a blow as the fake story itself. I’d come to rely on her honesty and wisdom, but when she questioned me that way it had felt like a stab in the back.
“Get out of my sight. Report back to Felicity in PR. I’ll deal with her for now. You’ve really disappointed me, and I’m not sure how I feel about you right now,” I said. Turning to Eamon, I threw a challenge at him. “Do you think me capable—”
“No way, Boss. I have to admit I was a little concerned at how close you appeared to be with her, but that was from the perspective you’re too trusting, not that you’d fuck her,” he said, holding his hands up in front of him.
My heart rate slowed down with his reassurance. “How do I tell Maggie what’s out there?” I asked as my phone rang.
Glancing down I saw an unlisted number, but I knew it belonged to Maggie because I had memorized the last three digits. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach.
“I am so fucking angry right now.”
“I guess you’ve heard. I only found out myself a few minutes ago, so I was just about to call you.”
“Don’t call me. Don’t come near me. Isn’t my life difficult enough right now without the press calling me a cougar and asking if I have no shame?”
The shock of her words twisted my heart with pain. “They fucking what? Who’s said this? How did they contact you?”
“Some guy turned up at my door offering me money for my story, Noah. I brought my dead sister home and these people think I let you screw me.” Maggie sobbed into the phone and my heart ached that I had inadvertently caused her more heartache.
“I’ll fix it. My legal team are on it now. Annalise assures me nothing will be posted in this country.”
“It’s being tweeted for fuck’s sake. How naïve are you? You think the press doesn’t know how to get around social media?”
“Maggie please, I assure you—”
“Don’t assure me. Just stay away from us. Don’t help anymore. I’m begging you, please leave us alone.”
Before I could say another word, Maggie hung up. My frustration and anger at the press shot up to a whole new level. Stuffing my phone in my pocket, I strode across the room. At that moment there was nothing I wanted more than a neat whiskey.
“Sue the bastards. What do they have? A picture of two people sleeping next to each other in what must surely constitute a public place.”
“Noah, they have eyewitnesses from the aircraft that state you insisted you sat next to Maggie.”
“Fuck, that was to support her during the journey home.”
“That’s not how they see it given your past.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the past, most of what they wrote back then was lies anyway.” A text alert distracted me, and I wondered if it was Maggie.
Andrea: I just got a call from a reporter asking for comment about yet another indiscretion. Another reason if I needed one as to why Rudi is better without you in his life.
Fury coursed through my body and I launched my cell at the hallway wall. “Fuck. I am so fucking done with these people,” I screamed as I ran both hands through my hair and tugged it in frustration. “I want to sue all of them. Get me legal, I want to talk to them.”
Annalise looked shocked. She’d never seen me in such a rage and she looked unsure if she was to do as I said when I had previously said I preferred to deal with PR instead of her a few minutes before.
“Well?” I said, giving her the go ahead. Pulling out her phone she swiped the screen, scrolled for the number, and put the phone to her ear. “Gimme it,” I said, grabbing the phone out of her hand as I wandered through to the kitchen while I waited for the call to connect. I knew I wasn’t behaving reasonably toward her, but I wasn’t feeling reasonable at that time either.
For over an hour we argued legal points back and forth until I concluded the call after they told me the Australian Press Association had printed a retraction, but not before the seed of doubt had been placed in both the public’s, but more importantly Andrea’s, mind.
Chapter Ten
Noah
I decided I had to go public in person to discount the article and dispel the rumors regarding Maggie and asked my PR team to set up a press conference. They argued against it, their feeling being if I protested too much it would give more credence to the story, but I was determined to have my say and put this rumor to bed. As soon as they knew I wasn’t backing down they then wanted me to issue a statement instead of facing the press in person.
I didn’t feel that was much better than them issuing the denial and refused, telling them if they didn’t set it up pronto, I’d do the job myself. Two hours later I had six news crews and various magazine and newspaper reporters assembled in the parking lot of a local hotel. By the time I faced them my blood was pumping with disgust that I’d managed to drag Maggie into something so distasteful.
We arrived before Flick, my PR spokesperson, who only made it to the hotel with less than ten minutes to spare, but she looked super-efficient and calmly collected by the time she stepped up on the steps of the hotel entrance to address them.
“Good afternoon. Thank you all for coming out today. Noah has called this press conference to put the record straight on an inaccurate piece of reporting which was published in the Australian press in the previous twenty-
four hours.”
Turning to look at me before she looked back at them, she said, “When Noah has made his statement we won’t be accepting any questions.” Meeting my gaze again she gestured to me. “Thank you, Noah.”
I acknowledged her with a nod and took my place on at the center of the steps facing the small group gathered.
“I haven’t prepared a statement because I want this to come from my gut so that you can see how disgusted I am about the false reporting that’s out there. Yesterday, Australian time, an article was published which was not only libelous to me and the other party, but extremely distressing to an innocent grieving bystander. A few days ago, one of my crew members working in our styling department died. She was not a drug addict, nor was she attending a drug-ridden after party as was sensationally reported by the press.
Shona Dashwood was an ordinary girl, from an ordinary family. A good family. She died after a social get-together with another crew member. According to the extensive toxicology reports there were no illegal substances involved. She was just a girl who threw up as we’ve all done when we’ve drunk too much, but tragically Shona asphyxiated when she inhaled her vomit. I believe this happens from time to time… to ordinary people. Now, because Shona worked as part of my crew, the press decided there had to be more to the story. There wasn’t.
Had I met Shona? I’m sad to say I never met the girl. I did meet her sister, Maggie. Initially, Maggie didn’t want to speak to me. She felt I was at least in part responsible for Shona’s death, believing if Shona had been home she’d still be alive. I believed that to be true as well. However, Shona did pass in tragic circumstances and Maggie had the arduous journey all the way to Sydney, Australia where we were performing to identify, retrieve, and repatriate her sister’s body. That. Is. All.”
My eyes roamed the reporters faces as they recorded, scribbling notes or tapping into tablets. At least two film crews were recording live.
