by India Lee
They took a turn, ending up on a long, winding path towards the entrance of the next hotel. As the road cleared, Damian picked up his pace. Gemma giggled, leaning in to press her parted lips to his neck. She could see him smile out of the corner of her eye.
“Oh my God!” a voice squealed. Gemma frowned before she looked up. She could just tell from the tone that one of them had been recognized again. Two girls stood drunkenly before them, swigging on some mystery beverage in a shared, pink damask flask.
“No fucking way, no fucking way,” said the redheaded girl in the green tube dress. Her hair was messy and undone. Her blonde friend looked just as disheveled. They held up a copy of June Magazine, the one featuring Gemma and her designs.
“I just told Jess here that I’m done with the club scene, I want to focus on my career, I want to be like Queen Fucking Bee like I said I would be when I was like twelve years old,” the redhead said. Then she leaned in, slurring her words in a loud whisper. “I’m not even old enough to drink, I’m only eighteen, but I have a fake and they just let me in everywhere here and then they kicked me out and now I have this and they can’t stop me!”
“Okay,” Gemma said, jumping down from Damian’s shoulders. She shot a quick smile at the two girls before pushing Damian forward. “Thank you so much and good luck with everything!”
“Wait, no, wait!” the redhead said, grabbing Gemma by the arms. “I just got dumped.” Her face crumpled and she started crying, dropping to her knees. Oh, God. Come on.
“I…” Gemma started, trying her hardest not to stomp in frustration. “I’m sorry.”
“Can I get a picture with you? Or something?” she sobbed, her face streaked with leaking fluids. You want a picture? Like that? Gemma thought, feeling a mix of confusion and pity. Her friend, Jess, tried to pick her up off the floor but she failed miserably, falling forward in a drunken heap. Gemma could hear Damian holding back laughter as he paced back and forth, behind them, unable to keep still.
“Um,” Gemma said. “Do you have a camera?”
“Yes,” the girl sobbed, holding her phone out to Damian.
“Do you want to… get up, maybe?” he suggested, staring at the two girls on the floor.
“You know, I’m just going to, um,” Gemma shook her head, kneeling down beside the two girls. They lifted their heads just enough to have their faces in the picture. Damian snapped it quickly, placing the phone gently beside the girls’ hands before taking Gemma’s and making a beeline towards the lobby.
“No more stops!” he laughed, looking back at her. “The gossip blogs can say whatever they want about us spurning fans, but I really can’t stop again.”
But to his dismay, he couldn’t hold to his own word. The next group who stopped him was everything he couldn’t say no to – an elderly couple with their ten-year-old grandson who stood in awe as Damian passed by him. He wore Damian’s Warriors jersey and managed to utter a tiny squeak as he tugged on his grandfather’s sleeve. Damian and Gemma were already in line, waiting as patiently as they could to be attended to at the front counter of the resort next door. The line was shockingly long, as it seemed an international group of tourists had just arrived and were all checking in at once.
“Should we even wait?” Gemma asked. “Let’s just find the least popular spot in the city and just go.” It was right at that moment that she noticed Damian kneeling to talk to the kid who had finally found the courage to approach him. His grandparents were at a distance, sitting in the lobby bar and watching proudly. As much as she was dying to just get Damian in bed already, her heart was warmed at the image. He couldn’t help himself.
“Thank you, Mr. Evans,” the little kid said, admiring his newly signed jersey. He returned to his grandparents as Damian got back on his feet. Gemma slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight to her.
“You’re such a great guy,” Gemma said, leaning her head to his chest. She laughed at her own words, realizing how cheesy they sounded aloud, even though she had meant them with all her heart. “So, should we get out of here?”
“Yeah,” he replied, squeezing her hand as they turned around. Right as they did, the little boy’s grandfather approached them with two lowball glasses.
“Oh, no, wait!” the old man said, holding the glasses out. “I just bought you two some very expensive scotch. As a thank you for being so incredibly kind to my grandson. You didn’t have to do that but you did, and you made all our days. You don’t know how much that meant to all of us. You’re his hero, you mean everything to him.”
“Thank you,” Damian said, wincing slightly at being stopped again. But a warm smile quickly replaced the expression, looking genuinely thankful for the gesture and kind words.
“It broke his heart that you’re leaving the team, but you know, I understand,” the old man said, holding his own glass up to toast Damian and Gemma.
“Aw, now you’re going to make me feel bad,” Damian said, frowning.
“Nah, he understands. He maybe young but he’s a smart kid, everyone wants to play for their childhood team. He knows you were just going home,” he said, taking a sip of his scotch and watching as Damian and Gemma did the same. “Good, huh?”
Gemma nodded. It was smooth and went down easy.
“Thank you so much, sir,” Damian said, holding up his drink. “For the scotch and the kind words. But if you’ll excuse us...”
“Oh, of course, of course,” the man said, waving them away. “Go, go! We’ve held you long enough.”
Out in the entrance, a cab pulled in, dropping off a couple of club-hopping college kids. They stumbled out, thankfully walking past Gemma and Damian without an ounce of recognition. Damian stopped the cab, gesturing for Gemma to follow.
“You can’t bring drinks in here!” the driver yelled. “I don’t need anymore messes, I’ve cleaned up four times in one hour. No drinks!”
“Oh,” Damian said, looking at the glass in his hand. There was still a good amount of scotch inside. He turned to the closest person he could find, holding it out to them. “Free drink,” he said, watching as the people walked by without even hearing him. He laughed, turning back to Gemma. She shrugged, knocking back her glass. Unlike the tequila, it went down smooth with so little burn that she hardly realized she was drinking alcohol. She turned to set the glass down on the oversized planters that adorned the front entrance. Damian shrugged in return, repeating her actions before opening the back door for her.
She climbed into the backseat, feeling a tiny weight forming in her chest. Gemma could feel it swaying, knocking her off-center.
“Oops,” she said, tipping over just slightly as she tried to sit up straight. Damian followed her, wiping the corner of his lip with his thumb.
“That drink,” he started. He took a deep breath and looked over at Gemma. “Was surprisingly strong.”
“It tricked me. It went down too easy.”
“He did say it was good scotch.”
“That’s why I didn’t want to waste it,” Gemma said, laughing. Damian laughed with her as he leaned forward towards the driver.
“Hey, you know the town right?” he asked. “Can you just take us to the least popular hotel where we can for sure, without a doubt, get a room right away, without a wait?”
The driver nodded, pulling the car back out onto the strip and into the heavy traffic. Damian leaned back against his seat, groaning as he turned to look at Gemma.
“More waiting,” Damian said, putting a light hand on her thigh.
“I know,” she replied. “But now we don’t have to worry about all that stopping in between.” He nodded, leaning in to kiss her. Gemma felt dizzy, though not in a way that alarmed her. She was, without a doubt, very drunk but it felt oddly pleasant, especially in Damian’s arms. Her mind swayed and rocked and her vision was beginning to blur. But she didn’t care. She could only focus on how great she felt in that moment.
Whatever. Don’t think. Be a little crazy.
Cha
pter 9
BREAKING NEWS: DAMIAN EVANS AND GEMMA HUNTER GOT HITCHED IN VEGAS
Pop Dinner
August 22nd
So much for the rumors about Damian Evans being a commitment-phobe but otherwise classy guy. In a single night, he managed to demonstrate that he is neither.
Evans was spotted exiting a Vegas chapel looking inebriated with, of all people, Queen Bee. I know. You were ready to never hear about her again too, right? Too bad.
Of all of Evans’ reported girlfriends, Gemma Hunter is by far the least hot and least famous and we can’t help but wonder if she talked her old friend into slapping his name on hers just so she could get back in the headlines. After all, she supposedly has a new career, right?
Sure, if by “career” you mean “pet project” to keep from being called “unemployed” – which is what Damian Evans might wind up if he keeps partying the way he did last night.
Do us a favor here, Bee – don’t ruin Big D for us, alright? The world cares just a little more about the New York Knicks than they do about your pretend fashion line. Thanks.
Gemma watched, her knees pulled up to her chest as she sat on Damian’s bed back in Brooklyn, watching him stand a few yards away while talking on the phone.
“Right. I’ll be in touch about where to proceed from here. Thank you again for you time.”
Once he hung up, she could tell from his expression that he didn’t have any good news for her. She stared at him intently, her eyes asking her question. He bit his lip, giving a short nod as he looked up at her.
“No,” she exhaled. “It’s… real?” Gemma covered her mouth in disbelief. How?
She could barely remember anything that had happened after she got into the cab with Damian. Gemma had almost thought it a dream after waking up back in New York, laying beside a sleeping Damian on top of his covers in his townhouse. The only thing that made her realize any of it had actually happened was that they were still fully dressed in the same outfits they’d worn back in Vegas. She assumed, for a second, that they must have forgone their plan of finding a room and just headed back to the airport, opting instead to go home in defeat.
But then all the texts and the calls came in, stirring Damian from his sleep. He sat up, looking just as confused as she was as they searched his room for their phones.
“What the hell,” he had said upon finding it, laughing as he knelt on the floor, groggily mumbling something or another about how people were crazy.
“What are they saying?” Gemma continued to search for her own phone, finding texts from just about everyone close to her – most of them filled with various emoticons punctuated with exclamation and question marks. Only Zoe and Azura sent texts with actual words with them and they basically said the same thing – “what the fuck WHAT THE FUCK respond ASAP!” Gemma furrowed her brows. “What the hell’s going on?”
The sudden, heavy silence Damian had answered her with scared her even more than his mad dash to his laptop. He clicked and scrolled through various websites as he dialed a number, his free hand covering his mouth.
The shock only began to wear off once Damian got through to his manager, who had proceeded to do some digging with his lawyer about just what had happened the night before. Gemma almost didn’t need their confirmation to know that they had done something stupid, she could just feel it in her bones. She knew she wasn’t dealing with just any ordinary hangover. She felt a different weight in this morning after. Something had happened.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” she finally managed to ask, watching as Damian sat at his desk, searching his brain.
“I’m not sure,” Damian said. “I don’t know what actually happened and what I maybe dreamed.”
“Do you remember when we decided to get married?”
“Not really,” Damian laughed. Gemma bristled at his amusement. “Everything’s still kind of fuzzy. I just kind of recall getting out of the cab at some point, like before we got to where we were supposed to be. Everything from there is kind of blurry. What do you remember?”
“I only got as far as getting in the cab,” Gemma shook her head. “I remember kissing you and that’s about it.”
“Yeah, I remember that too,” Damian said with an actual hint of a smile. She rubbed the back of her neck, feeling an ache in her shoulders as she looked at him.
“Do you remember if… we…” she started, suddenly too shy in the light of day to continue her question.
“We didn’t,” Damian said with confidence.
“You can’t remember clearly what happened after we got out of the car, but you know that for sure?”
“I would have definitely remembered that.”
“So what happens now?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. Gemma frowned hard enough to catch Damian’s eye. His brows flashed before they furrowed as he stood up and made his way back over to the bed. He held her by the shoulders and gave her a quick kiss. “Listen, let me handle this, I don’t want you to worry. You have your show coming up and that’s what you need to be focusing on, so let me take care of everything.”
“Okay,” she nodded. He managed another smile, darting quickly to place two small kisses on both cheeks before planting one on her lips. Gemma felt her eyelashes flutter, blushing at the cute gesture. “In the meantime, we should probably keep it to ourselves, right?”
“Everyone knows already.”
“I mean,” Gemma shook her head. “We shouldn’t talk about it with people. Before we get it all straightened out. Before we know what actually happened and how everything happened and so forth. Don’t you think?”
“Okay. Right,” Damian nodded. “Let’s do that.”
WHY WE SHOULDN’T PAY ANY MORE ATTENTION TO GEMMA HUNTER
Betsy S. for Fleur Magazine
August 24th
If you don’t water a plant, it dies.
It’s a simple sentence that some of us should be considering when we think about to whom we give our precious attention. After years of being underground, Gemma Hunter is grabbing at the headlines yet again, most recently after eloping with Damian Evans in what was reportedly a drunken, sloppy scene.
And it’s not even a story we haven’t heard before. How many young pop stars end this way? With an attempt at restoring the fame that they thrived on by taking down other respected people and industries along the way? While Damian Evans is by no means a favorite at Fleur, considering his reputation with women, we at least recognize that his talent isn’t arguable. He’s also known among the league to be a nice guy who attends all of his teammates’ charity events despite his own obligations as the megastar athlete he is. And more importantly, he didn’t need this type of publicity the way that Gemma Hunter clearly does.
We hate to speculate over how she managed to get Evans on board with her little publicity stunt, but we can definitively say that people like Gemma Hunter are a cancer to the actual talent in her “new industry.” Somehow, she managed to get herself some hot real estate at not only New York Fall Fashion Week, but in the coveted fashion hub of The Meatpacking district. That’s right. The former Queen Bee not only has a show but a pretty little new boutique that she can call her own.
Let’s not forget that Gemma Hunter is the daughter of a wealthy couple and the niece of public relations royalty, Mira Hunter of Roebling-Hunter. Let’s also not forget that the talented Armand Jadot once did some designs for Gemma, and perhaps felt as if he owed her for giving him the head start he hardly needed. Oh, and you know, she was once a tabloid queen who dated Tyler Chase. If it weren’t for this perfect storm, there would be no way in hell that Gemma has all that she has today.
It’s not about talent, because let’s face it, there are probably plenty of a lot more talented people in the world who deserve that runway show and flagship store more than she does. This is about failing miserably in her old music career and wanting another industry to try her hand at and sully, all in the name of personal fame. The fashion indu
stry has seen plenty of former actors and models and singers try to break through in hopes of carrying on their mediocre legacies on the backs of those who work for them.
So can all the Gemma Hunters of the world just leave all these once-legitimate industries alone already? Can they stop playing dress-up and make-believe with careers that some of us actually take seriously?
And to all those who have been following her saga closely, let me just say that you can stop her. Quit watering that plant and let it die. Attention whores will wither away if we just stop paying attention.
With two major television show premieres happening in a single night, it wasn’t a complete surprise that there weren’t any town car services with available drivers when Gemma called a half hour before the Leadoff premiere. It was her mistake, thinking she would have the time to get to Zoe and Gavin’s apartment and hopefully hitch a ride with them rather than making a reservation for a car of her own. But she considered herself lucky when she was able to grab a cross-town cab at all.
In the backseat, she exhaled, relieved to be in some mode of transportation that would get her to the premiere before Damian. He was coming in from the Knicks’ practice facilities outside of the city and though she hadn’t said it to him explicitly, she didn’t want to arrive together. Not after the news broke of their little mistake. Everyone wanted to know if she’d be making it, but she assumed it was because they wanted to ask about the rumor. She knew she had to be there to support Zoe on her big night, but she dreaded the idea of being in public. Gemma wasn’t ready for that yet.
