She smiles. “Of course.”
You don’t know this, but that woman? Even as she smiles, she’s utterly terrified. Your love is more than enough for her, but she feels pieces of it slipping away. Something inside of her is disintegrating. Her dream. She’s losing it. She came here with you, not quite realizing what you were going through. You felt invisible, and you were desperate for an audience, but where does that leave your love? Because the more people who see you, it seems, the less you see her. And she can’t even tell her story now, not the way she wants, because her voice has been stolen and no one will ever get the chance to read her words.
Chapter 23
KENNEDY
Marcus stares at me.
He stares. And stares. And stares.
An awkward silence fills the office, thick and suffocating. It’s just after dawn. Nobody else is here yet. I wanted to do this before anyone showed up, thinking it would be easier, but no… awkward.
He keeps staring.
“So, yeah,” I mumble. “That’s it.”
I put in my two-week notice.
How I’m going to last that long, I don’t know. It’s Monday morning, and the rumors had all weekend to spread. The video went viral in the first twenty-four hours. The guy, it turns out, works for Hollywood Chronicles.
Marcus clears his throat and says, “I’d like it if you’d reconsider.”
“I know,” I say, “but there’s just no way it’ll work out.”
I can tell from his expression that he isn't happy, but it’s for the best, and deep down, he knows it. Already, there’s a police cruiser positioned in the parking lot, a new sign on the store door that says ‘customers only’.
“This whole thing will die down, you know,” he says, waving toward the open office door. “They’ll get bored and go away.”
“I know, but still… it’s time.”
Time for me to figure out what the heck I want to do with the rest of my life, because this isn’t it. This was never the ‘something special’ my parents wanted for me, nor was it my dream.
“Fair enough,” Marcus says. “I’m disappointed, but I won’t pretend to be surprised. I knew we’d lose you someday. Just hoped I’d be retired by the time you came to your senses.”
“Tough break.”
“It is,” he says, waving me away, dismissing me—just like that. I slip out of the office and head to the back stockroom to get a jumpstart on work, pulling my phone out as I walk. So many notifications. So many missed calls. I clear them all and send Jonathan a text. Any way you can get Maddie to school this morning?
His answer comes quickly. Sure.
I stare at his response before adding: WITHOUT assaulting any reporters?
See, now we’re going to need to have a talk about these unrealistic expectations.
You’re totally right. What was I thinking, expecting you to be civilized?
I really don’t know. But don’t worry. I’ll get her to school… by any means necessary.
He adds a grinning devil and a water gun emoji to his message, so I send him back the rolling eyes one in response.
Time ticks by.
I work on inventory.
I hear people moving around the store after opening, but nobody bothers me. I know it’s coming, though. It’s only a matter of time.
Nine o’clock comes, I text Jonathan. Did you get her to school okay?
Define ‘okay’.
Nobody got punched and nobody cried.
Does the teacher’s aide count?
What the…?
You punched the teacher’s aide???
No, she cried. Asked for an autograph. Big fan of mine.
I send another rolling eye emoji before pocketing the phone. I try to focus on work after that, but I’m too distracted.
Ten o’clock comes, I text Jonathan again. Did she eat breakfast?
The teacher’s aide?
Maddie. Did she eat this morning?
Oh yeah, a bowl of Lucky Charms.
Satisfied, I go back to inventory, but it doesn’t last long.
Eleven o’clock comes, I send yet another text. She remembered to brush her teeth, right? Sometimes, she forgets.
No response.
Instead, the phone rings.
He’s calling me.
I answer it. “Hello?”
“Don’t you have something else you’re supposed to be doing instead of playing twenty questions with me this morning?”
Sighing, I perch myself on one of the crates. “Unlike you, I can multi-task.”
“She brushed her teeth,” he says. “Brushed her hair, too. And she wore some kind of one-piece thing. A jumper? Romper? Blue, maybe? Might’ve been black.”
“And she remembered her backpack?”
“Of course,” he says with a laugh. “Even put shoes on before we left the apartment.”
“Sorry, I know I’m asking a lot of questions, but ugh, I’ve always been around in the mornings. This is the first time I wasn’t there to fix her breakfast or tie her shoes.”
“She was fine,” he says. “When I woke her up, I told her you had to get to work early, so she got Daddy. And I’m pretty sure, when I dropped her off, she still had all her fingers and toes.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I should get some work done now. I’ll see you in a while.”
I hang up, getting back to work when there’s a knock on the door. It slowly opens, and Bethany appears, hesitating right outside. She says nothing at first. She stares at me like Marcus did. Staring, and staring, and staring…
“Did you need something?” I ask.
She shakes her head as the stifling silence from the office weasels its way in here. “I was just…”
“Just what?”
“Just… is it true? Like, seriously, he was at your apartment?”
“Yes.”
Her expression flickers with hurt. “You know Johnny Cunning? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I did tell you,” I say. “I even told you he said hello the other day.”
“We were joking around. Or I thought you were joking. You were serious?”
I shrug a shoulder as guilt settles in, because maybe I’m being unfair. “He really did say hello. He remembered you.”
Her eyes widen, face going pale. “Oh my god, really?”
“Really,” I say. “And I’m sorry that I let you think it was a joke, but honestly, would you ever have believed I actually knew him? I don’t think so.”
“But you could’ve, I don’t know, brought him around? Oh my god, Kennedy, I would’ve believed then!”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Look, it’s complicated. I’ve known him for a long time, since I was younger than you. I knew him before there even was a Johnny Cunning to speak of. What we have… it’s complicated.”
“Have you…? Oh my god, have you and Johnny, you know? Together?”
“Have we what?”
“You know… have you done it?”
I give her an incredulous look. “You know where babies come from, right?”
“I know, but like… oh my god. It’s true? She’s his daughter?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god.”
“Bethany, I swear, if you say oh my god one more time.”
“Sorry! I just can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you have a baby with Johnny freaking Cunning! How is this real life?”
“Well, she’s not really a baby anymore. And like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“So you haven’t, you know, since he’s been around? The two of you haven’t… together?”
I say nothing, because really, I don’t want to answer that, but my silence is enough to give her what she wants.
She gasps, eyes somehow even wider as she lets out a squeal and yells, “You have!”
I cringe.
She squeals again, stepping into the stockroom. “No freaking way! You have to tell me everythi
ng. I need details!”
I can feel my face heating. “I don’t like to kiss and tell.”
“What? No! You have to! You can’t tell me you’re sleeping with Johnny Cunning and not give me more. Like, how is he? How big is it? What’s it look like? Describe it!”
I laugh at that. “I’m not describing it. And he’s, well… I don’t know. He’s not lacking, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh my god!”
I let that one slide.
“Just… wow,” she says. “This is blowing my mind. I’m not being pranked, am I? This is real, right?”
“Right.”
Pulling out my phone, I hesitate before opening FaceTime and dialing Jonathan’s number. I’ve never FaceTimed him, so I’m not sure if he’ll even answer, but after a moment he picks up, his face flashing on the screen in front of me.
All I see is skin—he’s not wearing a shirt. His hair is disheveled. He still hasn’t shaved. It only takes a second before I realize he’s in my bed.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I say right away. “Were you seriously sleeping?”
“Was trying to,” he says. “But somebody keeps interrupting my nap.”
“Unbelievable.” I shake my head, shoving away from the crate to stroll over to a shocked Bethany. I know she’s heard his voice. I know she recognizes it. I shove my phone at her, forcing it in her hand as I say, “Have fun with that one. Maybe he’ll describe it for you.”
I slip out of the storage room, hearing her squeal. “Oh my god!”
The store is busy for being a Monday afternoon. I need to walk the aisles so I can put out stock, but people are all around, shopping.
Or, well, pretending to shop.
I can feel eyes following me.
Marcus’s voice comes over the loudspeaker, calling out, “Assistant Manager to Customer Service.”
I groan. I’m the only Assistant Manager around. When I reach the front of the store, my footsteps stall, eyes going to a man standing at the customer service counter.
Clifford Caldwell.
His face is one I haven’t seen in a while—a face I would’ve been okay never seeing again in my life. Fifties, sort of handsome in a Mad Men kind of way. He’s always reminded me of a vintage ad exec. Confidence oozes from his pores, and it’s probably deserved. He’s good at what he does. The industry treats him like he’s a god, but I long ago realized he was the devil in disguise.
Clifford leans against the counter, waiting for something.
Me, I realize.
“Mr. Caldwell,” I say as I approach. “Can I help you with something?”
He smiles as he looks me over. It makes my skin crawl. “I was hoping we could chat.”
“Chat,” I say. “I’m not sure this is the right place for that.”
“You can use my office,” Marcus offers.
I’ve never wanted to strangle someone as much as I want to strangle my soon-to-be ex-boss. A chat with Clifford won’t be a conversation about the weather. I’ve been dreading him showing up, although I knew it was inevitable. Being a part of Jonathan's life means this man vying for control, and that's something I’ve avoided thinking about, because I’m not sure it's something I can accept. Not anymore. I tolerated a lot years ago, seeing it as a necessary evil of Hollywood, but things are different now.
“After you,” Clifford says, motioning to the empty office.
I sigh so loud everyone in the store probably hears, crossing my arms as I shuffle into the office, sitting in the chair behind the desk.
Clifford closes the door.
He doesn’t sit.
Instead, he towers over me, watching, like he’s sizing me up, before setting a paper on the desk in front of me. “Sign it.”
Confidentiality Agreement.
“I’ve already signed one.”
“This is an updated version. He was a ‘nobody’ when you signed. Expectations are different when dealing with a celebrity.”
“Does that mean the one I signed is no longer valid?”
He smiles tersely.
I take that as a disgruntled ‘yes’.
“I should’ve updated yours years ago, but I honestly didn’t see the need. I didn’t anticipate you becoming a problem again.”
“A problem… is that what I am?”
“Maybe complication is a better word for you, because yes, you complicate things. You did back then, and you do even more so now. So sign it, Miss Garfield. Get it over with.”
I read through the agreement, to see what’s so different. It’s no longer about protecting his privacy and preserving his reputation. Now it’s all about protecting his right to monetize the information.
His name has value. His story is worth money. Tabloids would pay quite a bit for it. No longer a person, he became a brand, trading his privacy for notoriety when he sold his soul to the devil.
And this little paper says I can’t whisper a word of what I know because doing so is like stealing his property and pawning it off as my own.
“Does he know about these?” I ask, curious, because I can’t fathom Jonathan being okay with his existence being equated to a thing, like he’s a moneymaking puppet and not a human.
“He’s aware,” Clifford says. “His lawyer has enforced a few on his behalf.”
Arbitration, it says, meaning there’s no court, just a snappy judgment, the settlement kept private.
“Okay, but has he ever read it?”
Clifford doesn’t answer that, instead saying, “I hope you know this isn’t personal.”
“Of course it is,” I say. “It’s always been personal. Otherwise, you would’ve made Serena Markson sign one of these.”
“I make everyone sign them.”
“Well, a lot of good that did, huh? Are you going to take her to arbitration for sending the tabloids to my father's front door?”
He stares at me.
I can feel his gaze.
I’m tired of people staring.
“Why are you so sure it’s Serena?” he asks. “Could it be because you’re trained to blame the other woman?”
“There is no other woman,” I say, the way he worded that ruffling my feathers, so to speak. He’s trying to get under my skin, and ugh, it’s working. “He told me they’re just friends.”
“And what are you and him?”
I open my mouth to answer, but I haven’t the faintest idea what to say. He’s the father of my daughter. He’s the man who sleeps beside me, who makes love to me, who swears he still loves me, but I’m not sure what all that adds up to.
“Johnny’s talented,” Cliff says, my silence enticing him to continue his little lecture. “But this business is ruthless, and it takes more than talent to get ahead. I work hard to keep him on top. He’s not going to fade into obscurity on my watch. So again, this is nothing personal. I’m doing what’s necessary to ensure he never again becomes a ‘nobody’.”
There’s so much I want to say right now. He pulls out a pen, holding it out to me, but I ignore it. Instead, I crumple up the paper and shove the chair back to stand, saying, “The thing is, Mr. Caldwell, Jonathan has never been a nobody. I stand by what I told you years ago. He’s too damn good for you.”
I leave the office, making it a few steps into the store before I hear loud voices. Glancing at the registers, I see Bethany.
Standing beside her is Serena Markson.
“Awesome,” I mutter.
Just what I need.
The pair take selfies like they’re long-lost friends, and Bethany gushes over her as she signs autographs. Clifford steps out of the office behind me, clearing his throat, getting Serena’s attention.
“Cliff, where have you been?” Serena asks, approaching the customer service desk.
“Taking care of a problem,” he says. “We can go now.”
I try to slip past them, try to go around them, wanting nothing more than to exit stage left before this gets ugly, but Serena notices my presence.
<
br /> “Kennedy,” she says, reading my nametag. “The Kennedy? You look different.”
“Different,” I say, wondering what she means by that, because it’s not sounding like a compliment.
“From the other night,” she says. “With Johnny, you were all dolled up, wearing a dress? I almost didn’t realize it was you. You always look so different in your little work uniform.”
Yeah, definitely not a compliment.
Even in a grocery store, she looks like she’s prepared for a photo shoot, not a hair on her head out of place.
“Yeah, well, you know how it is,” I mumble. “Real world and all that.”
Her eyes narrow.
“A pleasure as always, Miss Garfield,” Clifford says before pressing his hand to Serena’s back and giving her a nudge. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.”
“I look forward to it.”
Man, I’m going to have to help a lot of old ladies cross the street to earn back some good karma for that big, fat lie.
Serena casts a look over her shoulder at me as the two of them leave the store. The second they’re outside, she throws her hands up and starts ranting. I watch through the glass doors as Clifford forces her into an awaiting car before she can make a scene.
Sighing, I approach Bethany, who’s so excited she’s bouncing. As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, she hugs me. “Oh my god! You’re the best!”
“I take it you guys had a nice talk?”
“The best!” She gives my phone back. “Because of you, I got to talk to both of my idols!”
“Oh, well, I'm not sure the Serena thing was my doing.”
“But when she showed up the other day, she was asking about you, so I'm totally giving you credit.”
“The other day?” It strikes me when I ask—the night she showed up at my apartment. “Wait, she was asking about me?”
“Yeah, she asked if anybody knew a lady named Kennedy. It's kind of funny, because she didn't even know you worked here! She just knew you were from Bennett Landing, and the store was really the only thing open. She wanted to know where she might find you, so I sent her to the apartments.” Bethany's eyes widen. “Wait, should I not have done that? I didn't know… I wasn't sure… I was just so excited, and she didn't even mention Johnny, so I didn't realize… oh my god, are you having any affair with her husband?”
Ghosted Page 29
