by Laura Benson
I stared at Joey’s picture. He was jammed between two busty blondes, and I rolled my eyes. How cliché. In the background was Joey’s partner-in-crime and manager, Matthew Johns. He was holding an unopened champagne bottle with a smile plastered on his face. I shuddered involuntarily and rubbed my forehead as I flipped through the few other pictures, either taken by paparazzi or professional photographers. They all captured Joey in his absolute gorgeousness, but there was something missing. A notable difference from earlier pictures compared to shots taken recently. There was a lack of emotion in his eyes. He’d have a smile on face, but it never seemed to reach his eyes. I went back and forth between the various photos, trying to piece together when that may have happened. He had such light when I knew him. I felt a sadness overcoming me as I wondered about how much he’d changed.
Looking at the clock, I noticed it was lunch time. My stomach grumbled, but I wanted to hold off until I called L.A. The idea of talking to Matthew Johns on a full stomach made me nauseous. Sighing, I spun in my chair to stare out my tiny office window. I was a nervous wreck. My heart was beating up into my throat, and my palms were a sweaty mess. I was dreading this more than my twice-a-year dental appointment. (Bad recollections from a younger age.)
Tapping my pencil against my desk, I heard a knock at my partially open door. My dad walked in, holding up a piece of paper.
“Hey.” I tried to smile at him, but it came out more as a twist of my lips.
“How’s it going?” He nodded at the files and pictures littering my desk.
I sighed again. “It’s going.” I was afraid to let him know that I was feeling less than capable at the moment. How in the hell would I help Joey? I hadn’t seen him in so long, and with our history…
“Did you eat lunch yet?” he asked me sympathetically.
I just shook my head and waved a hand over the paperwork and my iPad that was propped up against the desktop computer.
“This just came through my email. I haven’t switched everything over to you yet. Thought you might want to include it in your files.” He handed me the paper with a wink.
It was a picture. As I glanced over it, my hand went over my mouth. I couldn’t believe it. I looked up at Dad, who just shrugged and walked quietly out of my office.
“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath. If I thought this case was going to be simple, I was deluding myself.
In the photo was Joey Carino in all his naked glory, pissing in a water fountain while a large cluster of people stood around him. I ran a hand through my thick, blonde hair, now dreading the call even more. Swallowing hard, I swore under my breath, flipped the picture over, and picked up my damn phone.
I was on hold for a few minutes while the secretary got Matthew Johns on the line. My heart was beating triple time. I hadn’t talked to Matthew in years.
When I finally heard a click on the line, I took a sip of my water and fisted my hand, needing to feel the bite of my nails digging into my palm.
“Charlie?” a shocked voice replied.
“Hi, Matthew.” It came out breathier than I intended, but my nerves were getting the better of me.
“Wow, I’m just, wow…how are you?” I could hear the false smile that I remembered all too well.
“I’m fine, but Matthew,” I took a deep breath, “but, um, that’s not why I’m calling.” I frowned at the sharpness in my voice.
“Hmm…you’re calling about Joey?” he asked suspiciously. I didn’t think he knew I was working for Dad.
“I am,” I said in a clipped tone. I was sure he thought it was for a much different reason than what it was. Dealing with Matthew was not at the top of my bucket list. It wasn’t on any list, other than ‘how to make myself miserable.’ We’d never really seen eye to eye when it came to Joey. Mainly, he hated me, and I never played nice.
“You saw the picture that was in the tabloids today?” he guessed as he sighed into the phone.
I rolled my eyes at his lame sigh. A part of me wished I could strangle him through the phone. “I think it’s safe to say everyone saw the picture. It’s all over the Internet.”
“What do you want me to say, Charlie? I wasn’t there. He was probably three sheets to the wind.” He was sounding defensive, ah there was the Matthew I remembered. “Why are you calling anyway? There’s been other pictures of him that didn’t seem to bother you.” I could tell he was getting argumentative.
“I’m not sure if you heard his record label hired my dad’s firm. As a friendly gesture, I’m calling you to get some information. Just because I haven’t called beforehand doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention.” He started to say something else, but I cut him off. “As his manager, shouldn’t you tighten the reins? Especially when his label is threatening to drop him?” The anxious tapping of my pencil became faster and louder.
“I’m his manager, Charlie, not his babysitter,” he growled at me.
“Well,” I said sarcastically, “it’s a good thing I’ve been hired to be his personal babysitter then. I’ve been brought in to be Joey’s publicist.”
Matthew cursed in the background. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I leaned against my desk in a virtual power position. “I’ve been brought on to be Joey’s publicist,” I said slowly.
“No, absolutely not,” he hissed through the phone. “Who hired you? This is crazy. You of all people shouldn’t be crossing paths with him.”
“That,” I said prickly, “would be the label.” I sneered, even though he couldn’t see it.
God, I hated him. It was all coming back. How he treated me, belittled me, how he definitely knew how to push my fucking buttons. “I need you to clear his schedule for the week, and I need you to get me onto your schedule.”
There was a brief sound of static, then I heard Matthew yelled for his assistant; obviously, he’d thought if he put his hand over the receiver I wouldn’t hear it. You’re an idiot like you always were. I heard him demand she call the—and I quote—“fucking label.”
I felt my face getting hot with anger. “I don’t know what the label will say to you, Matthew. But I know for a fact they don’t have a clue who I am, and I’d prefer it remain that way.” I said this quickly before he could rake the label over the coals.
When he finally calmed down, he said, “Shit, Charlie, this is not going to go over well with Joey at all.”
I had already figured that out. How the hell do you think it’s already been going over with me? I didn’t say this out loud. Being back in Joey’s life after all these years would be difficult. Perhaps he’d be pissed off and tell me to just fuck off. But I seriously didn’t think that was what motivated Joey. I had a job to do. Regardless who my client was or wasn’t, I would get it done right.
“Matthew, I don’t care if it goes over like a ton of fucking bricks. I have some serious clean-up to do and, unfortunately, you and I will have to work together to do that.” I planted my hand on my cheek. I couldn’t believe after all the history and fighting, Matthew and I would have to team up and work together. I hesitated at the thought, the blueberry muffin I’d had earlier threatening to make a nasty comeback.
Matthew sighed loudly. “What am I supposed to tell him?”
Unfortunately, this was a delicate situation. I couldn’t afford to piss off my first client, and I needed time to think through a strategy. I tapped my pencil frantically as I tried to formulate a plan. This was hard to do with Matthew’s huffing and puffing in my ear.
“Don’t tell him anything right away,” I said quickly. “We’ll figure things out.”
“I’m not sure, Charlie.” He sounded pissed off. “I mean, you’re his ex-girlfriend. This could explode in both of our faces.”
I’m more than his ex, douche bag. In fact, I was Joey Carino’s high school sweetheart.
From the moment I read the file and saw that I, Charlotte Banks, would be my ex-boyfriend’s publicist, I tried hard not to fall apart. But talking to Matthew was bring
ing everything closer to the surface. The lies, the cheating. The way I found out. Being a naïve college student didn’t prepare me for losing the person I thought was the love of my life.
“You don’t think I realize that?” I hissed. “This is the last thing I want to deal with. He’s the one who broke my heart!” I closed my eyes, feeling all those old emotions and hurt trickling back.
I will not allow Matthew to get to me. I will not allow Matthew to get to me. I chanted.
“Jesus, Charlie,” he breathed out heavily.
Clearing my throat, I told him, “I’ll be flying out of Phoenix tomorrow morning, and I’ll be in L.A. mid-morning.” He needed to know that I was coming, regardless. This was his fault anyway. If he’d kept Joey’s leash a little tighter, Joey wouldn’t be in this position. “Let’s set up a meeting for tomorrow.”
“Fine.” Matthew’s voice was odd. There was an emotion there I didn’t think he was capable of—defeat. “I can pick you up at the airport or send a car. Whichever you want.” His tone softened, and I found myself sinking into my seat, wanting to soften as well. But knowing Matthew, he was biding his time. He’d reach for my jugular soon enough. He’d always hated me. I was certain that wasn’t going to change.
Wondering what kind of game, he was playing, I immediately requested the car service. We went over a few things on his calendar that he’d have to move around, then I told him I’d be arriving in town around lunch time.
“Noon works for me,” I said. “Just have the car service take me directly to your office.”
“Well, Charlie, I guess after five years I’ll get to see you again. It’s been a long time.” His tone could either be construed as mocking or flirtatious. I’d stick with mocking.
After ending the call, I let out a loud frustrated groan and tossed my pencil across the room, hoping it would break or stab the wall—I was really in the mood to stab someone—but the eraser just bounced off, not even leaving a mark, much like Joey’s recovery after shattering my heart.
For a while after we broke up, all I could do was listen to people tell me what he was up to and who he had been seen with. Who the flavor of the week was. While I tried to nurse a broken heart, he was off with starlets, models, and whatever the hell else. Meanwhile, my heart had been crushed sideways to Sunday.
I bet there still wasn’t a mark on him.
Touching down in L.A. felt weird. I wasn’t sure what to expect from this meeting and the drips of sweat at the base of my skull told me I was more worried about seeing Matthew. My leg kept nervously bouncing whenever I thought of my own self-preservation. As much as I worried about Joey, I wondered if my heart could take it.
Joey and I were together during high school and for a year or so after I went away to college. I was young and in love, but this was long before he’d become the ‘Joey Carino of the people’. He was just my Joe, and we were inseparable. We had a lot of fun together in our North Phoenix suburb. He was a couple grades above me, but he always made sure I was treated with respect. Unfortunately for me, it didn’t go over well with Matthew Johns. Even back then, he was Joey’s best friend, and that somehow made me his enemy.
After high school, Joey decided that college wasn’t for him. He wanted to try his hand at music, working his way around local clubs in Phoenix and the surrounding areas. Once I graduated high school, I knew right away I wanted to go to college. Though it was a struggle to keep my relationship with Joey strong, while knowing that I’d be heading east, two thousand miles away.
We did everything right. “You’ll be by my side always, baby,” he’d said to me. “You’re my rock, I need you.”
“And you’re mine,” I’d tell him with a kiss.
We were solid.
Leaving Arizona and Joey was hard, but we did what we could to make our relationship work.
During my time away, people started seeing Joey as the talented singer/songwriter/guitarist that he was. He’d booked a few small stints at some local pubs and bars in Phoenix, but when he started branching out to California, Oregon, and Washington state, people took notice.
I’d always known Joey was talented, and I’d been happy for him. But being so far away and not being able to support him in person had been difficult. It definitely put a strain on our relationship.
I hated when we’d argue over the phone. It was bad enough that he wasn’t there with me, but he promised me that he wanted our relationship to work.
During my second year in college, I started receiving weird emails with explicit pictures of Joey with other women. It bothered me that some anonymous person would know enough about me to send me emails. Some of the pictures were innocent, like Joey talking to a girl while sipping on a beer, but they became more and more graphic as his fame started taking off. I did all I could to ignore them, but there was always that nagging part that told me that these were definitely not Photoshopped.
We tried to see each other as often as possible, but with the distance, his career, and my school, it just became very hard. The breaking point was when he was finally discovered by the record label. This time the emails became more disgusting with blatant proof of his cheating. Pictures of him making out with women, him in various modes of undress with naked women sitting on his lap, straddling him. The one that drove home the point that my relationship with Joey was over was of him in bed, snuggling with another woman while both were stark naked.
When Joey finally came out to Boston for a local show, I confronted him and demanded the truth. He couldn’t justify the pictures, and I couldn’t tell him who was sending them because I had no idea. He was pissed off, and in the end I realized I couldn’t trust him. I’ll never forget our last fight, the last time I saw those green eyes.
Joey stood in the middle of my dorm room, pacing back and forth. He’d stormed in after his show, shouting and crying about the pictures and texts. How could he do this to me? He loved me.
“You were my everything,” I told him with a heartbreaking look.
“Charlie, I fucked up.” He sounded so lost as he sat next to me on my bed. “I promise it meant nothing.”
I could feel him right next to me, but I refused to look at him. Tears ran uncontrollably down my face. “Obviously, I meant nothing to you, Joe. Four years we’ve been together and just when things start moving for you, you do this! How do you expect me to ever trust you again?”
He kneeled in front of me, taking my shaking hands into his big ones. He rubbed a calloused thumb over my smooth knuckles. It was a touch that I would miss.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I was drunk. It was stupid, and it won’t fucking happen again, I swear—”
I cut him off. Now I was getting pissed off. “You don’t know that, Joe. I’m here in Boston, and you’re in California making a name and life for yourself. We’re in separate worlds now. Obviously, this is the life you’ve chosen.”
“Charlie, I love you so much.” He sounded wrecked. I wanted to believe that he meant it, but the pictures were like a loop in my head. Unforgettable. Desperately squeezing my hands, he added, “It was a stupid one-night thing. I promise you that.”
I closed my eyes to the sadness invading the room. His words were heartfelt, but I knew there was no going back. This was over, and I needed to make a clean break. “It’s too late for us, Joey,” I whispered, feeling my heart breaking with each word. I looked into his green eyes one more time, wondering if I’d ever get to see them again. How would I recover, and would I put myself back together again?
We were over, but I was far from over him.
“I’m sorry, Joey. But it’s over,” I whispered.
For months, I wallowed in my dorm room. Friends urged me to go out and get back on that horse, but it hurt too much. Of course, once our relationship was over, the mysterious emails stopped, as well. Whoever had sent them was probably relishing in their victory. They won.
Not that I could blame them. All they did was show me the truth. And I had to thank them in a way for th
at.
Around the first of the year, I decided to listen to my nagging friends and come out of hiding. Still heartbroken, I tried to maintain some semblance of sanity. I found myself with serious trust issues that couldn’t just be forgotten by dating here and there. I did date and have fun, but a long-time boyfriend just wasn’t in the cards for me yet. Having fun was all that mattered.
Once I finished up my degree in Communications, I came back home, still nursing a smarting heart. With Joey out of the picture, I did everything I could to excise him from my thoughts.
That is, until yesterday morning when Dad threw a whopper at me.
And of course, with Joey came Matthew. They were still best friends. But it was going to be difficult to let go of the past. Matthew and I had never got along. Our personalities clashed. He was rude to me. I tried to be nice. He ignored me, and I did my best to include him. He’d talk over me; I’d wait for him to be finished. After a while, we just became indifferent to each other.
Matthew could be snarky, sarcastic, and biting. He could cut you to the quick as fast as he could compliment your mother. Unfortunately, I was at the end of a lot of those quips. Even though some of them hurt, I did my best to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t need to add to the existing ripple of tension in the group.
When Joey and Matthew decided to put together a garage band, things between Matthew and I reached a boiling point. He didn’t want me around practices. Joey told him to suck it up. It was a different story, however, when Matthew had a girl show up. He could have whatever the hell he wanted, it was just me he hated, and it was impossible not to take that personally.
After a few months of practice, their sound was solid. Matthew was really good on guitar, and Joey’s voice was amazing. He had that throaty, sexy growl going that would even make Jared Leto jealous. Joey also played guitar, so he and Matthew played off of each other. They found a decent drummer, Kevin Hayes, another kid in the same grade as Matthew and Joey. One day, after they’d been playing for a couple months, I was surprised by Matthew’s guitar work. I knew he’d taken lessons, but I never thought he’d gotten good. Once they brought in David Miller, the bassist, their sound gelled.
