by Tijan
She kept going, but I tuned her out. This was a nightly occurrence, and when she lost steam, she would begin crying. Then she would say she was hurting, too, that her life had been wrecked by the family and by me leaving her. She never got sympathy. Everyone paid attention to me. No one paid her attention.
And when she began faltering, I couldn’t stomach any more for the night.
I went to my room and shut the door, but I paused on my side and waited. She would either retire back to her room, sobbing, or she would raid the liquor cabinet in the main room.
When she slammed her door shut and I heard the lock click, I knew she must’ve stocked up earlier in the night. That was when I slipped out of the suite again, heading to my publicist’s door. I knocked once and stepped back. Laura was a light sleeper, and she never used anything to help her sleep. Her door opened within moments.
“Kian?” She looked at me in surprise.
“I lied to my sister. I don’t want her to go with us tomorrow. Can you spread the word that no one is to go to our suite or inform her that we’re doing the interview?”
“Oh.” She frowned, pressing a hand to her temple. She rubbed there. “Uh, what was the lie you told her? We need to make sure everyone knows the answers, if she asks questions.”
“I will be in the gym tomorrow morning, then a meeting with my lawyers. The interview was moved to another date.”
“Did you tell her what day?”
“It doesn’t matter. My sister will be flying home tomorrow evening anyway.” Even if she didn’t know it herself. “Thank you, Laura.”
“No problem.” Her hand fell from her forehead. “This is what I do, and I’ll let Parson know, too.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
I went back to my suite and to my room but not to bed, not yet. From my window, I stared out over the city. Tomorrow was one more step in my plan.
I would see Jordan again.
When I got up the next morning, the nerves hit me hard, but I ignored them and got ready. I was doing a good job of pretending to be normal.
Erica was not. She flew out of her room and gestured to the coffee with a savage motion. “I need that. Now. Now. Now.”
She reached for it.
I held it away from her. “I think not. You’re ready to go boom. You need to calm down.”
I glanced to the couch. No Wanker. He wasn’t here when he was needed. As Erica let out a curse and then a pent-up scream before grabbing an energy drink from the refrigerator, I knew he would’ve known exactly how to handle her. He always knew if a joke would work and what type of joke, too, or if he needed to piss her off. Either way, he was the Erica Whisperer.
She slammed down the empty can. “We have to go. Now. We’re late. Why are we always late?”
I grabbed my bag and got in line behind her. After unlocking our door, she stepped through and held it open for me. When I didn’t immediately sprint behind her, her hand started waving me in a continuous spin. I frowned at her but held my tongue. A wise roommate knew when to enter a battle or when the opponent was too crazy to beat. Erica—judging from the fraying hair, wild lines around her eyes, and dilated pupils—could go off on a homeless person for sharing her sidewalk space.
I was very wise in that moment.
And I continued to be as Erica huffed and puffed throughout the entire bus ride. When she pulled the cord, I looked out the window but didn’t see the newspaper building. The ritziest hotel in the city, Seton, was there instead.
I grabbed Erica’s arm after we got off.
“What?”
I gestured to the hotel. “What are we doing here?”
“This is where the interview is being done.”
“Here?”
I fought to keep the panic from my voice. “Is he staying here?”
He couldn’t be. If he was, his sister was, too.
“I don’t know, but I doubt it. His family owns that other one—and don’t ask me why we’re not interviewing there either. When big celebs do interviews, even with us lowly newspapers, they pick somewhere they’re not staying. More anonymity that way.” Her lips pursed together. “Or I’d imagine. I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’m not a celebrity, and I’m probably never going to be rich, so who cares?” She grabbed my hand and yanked me after her. “Let’s go.”
I couldn’t move. I was terrified that he hadn’t held up his promise, and the cameras were going to point my way instead.
However, Erica didn’t care. She dragged me behind her, through the swinging doors and past the luxurious lobby. There were couches, gold-plated statues, a fountain, and lots of stuffy people. This seemed like a hotel where Kian’s family would stay.
Erica swept past the front desk and into the elevator. We rode it to a middle floor, and as we got out, I saw a bunch of banquet rooms. Erica slowed, craning her neck to peer into the smaller conference rooms, until she grabbed my hand once again and swung an abrupt right into one of the rooms.
“Here.”
A table was set up against the wall with water, soda, juice, and coffee along with different food choices—pizza, finger sandwiches, vegetable trays, fruit platters, and lots of other dishes that I would’ve salivated over if I wasn’t ready to pee my pants. Not the literal way, the nervous way. My stomach felt like it was still riding the Crazy Erica Train.
“Okay.” Susan cleared her throat from the back of the room. She clapped for everyone’s attention. “All eyes on me. Right here.”
When people quieted, she signaled to someone. “Can you shut the door?”
She turned back to us. “Okay. Here’s the game plan. We’ve gone over it before, but we’re doing it again. Kian Maston is going to be arriving in the next hour. I want all the teams set up and ready to go. As soon as his team walks through those doors, you’ve got cameras on him. Your recorders are primed and rolling. Pencils are at the ready. You get my drift. We’re not here for an exposure or a hatchet job. We are going to tell Kian’s story with respect. He’s loved by a nation, and we’re going to capitalize on that love. Everyone is going to be watching us and asking why we got the story they wanted. We got it because we’re a damn good paper. We’re going to prove that to the nation. We’re going to make psychopaths cry. I’m fucking Barbara Walters today. Erica?” She snapped her fingers in my roommate’s direction.
“Yes?”
“You’re Meredith Vieira. You got it? Are you channeling her?”
Erica’s jaw set in a firm line. Her eyes were determined, and her nostrils flared. “I’m ready. I woke up with my Meredith hat on this morning. We are going to do an amazing job.”
“Damn straight.”
Susan kept going, calling on each individual, getting every single one prepped and ready.
I was amazed. If she called on me, I would be too stunned to respond. This wasn’t the Susan that I’d met as Tara’s best friend, who hated me, or who wanted to keep tabs on my friendship with Jake. This was a leader. She had charisma. She stood there with confidence, and a buzz was filling the room. It was contagious. Everyone wanted to do their best work, even Erica, who hated Susan but didn’t hate her on this day. Every other day, yes, but not this day.
They were a team that day.
I almost wanted to be a part of their team, but then I remembered this was the media, and my sanity returned.
Someone tapped me on the elbow, and I looked to see a hotel employee.
He leaned close as Susan was still calling on people. “Are you Joslyn Keen?”
“Yeah.”
He handed an envelope to me. “I was asked to give this to you.”
After I took it, he left, scurrying away with his shoulders hunched forward. I frowned at him and then looked down. The envelope was the hotel’s stationery.
Erica leaned over. “What was that about?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Moving away, I went to a corner before I opened it. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Erica, but I was stand
ing in a room of media. I ripped open the envelope, and I was thankful there were no prying eyes. A key card was inside along with a note.
I reserved this room for the day. No one knows about it. It’s intended to be used if I need a hideout from people, but you can use it, too. This day might be hard for you. They always are for me.
Room 914
—K
The doors to the conference room burst open at that moment. A heavyset man rushed inside, closing them behind him. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving up and down. Everyone quieted, waiting for him.
He said, “They’re here.”
Kian had arrived.
The room went nuts but in a controlled sort of way. They were already doing their jobs, but a quiet, intense concentration permeated the room. They were nervous.
Erica found me in the crowd. Her eyes were lit up and dilated. She clutched on to my hand, the same one that held Kian’s note, and she squeezed. “Are you ready? It’s happening. And, holy shit,”—she moved closer, lowering her voice—“he is really freaking hot. Cripes. He’s gorgeous on TV and in the pictures, you know, but it’s another thing in person.” She pulled her collar out and pretended to fan herself. “And I’m going to be alone in a room with him soon. Well,”—she nudged my elbow—“you and I will be in that room with him.”
“And camera people, right? And sound people and people for lighting? Right?”
“Oh, yeah.” Erica craned her neck as a crowd had formed around Kian by the door. “Them, too.”
Suddenly, everyone paused. The doors opened again, and it was surreal. A blanket of stillness settled over everyone, even to some server in the corner, who was sneaking a handroll from the buffet table.
Kian walked in.
Everyone in the room all seemed to be holding their breaths, just watching him.
He looked refreshing, to be honest. He was relaxed and confident. A group went to him, and I could only see the top of his head. There were a few people with him, and I tensed, trying to see if he had followed through. I couldn’t see his sister.
When Susan joined the group, they migrated to the front of the room where two chairs had been set up. The whole production was top-notch and professional. I hadn’t been joking about the lighting, sound, and camera people. Bright lights were centered on the two chairs in the front, and cords ran all over the place, leading to cameras and other video machines.
That was when I clued in. I asked, “You guys are videotaping the interview?”
They were a newspaper. I hadn’t considered why cameras were there, but I was now. They didn’t usually videotape their big interviews.
“Yeah. With this one, we are. We’re doing a normal interview, meaning that we’re going to write it up, but Susan wants to see if a video would bring in more revenue.” Her head moved close again, and she whispered, “Personally, I think she wants to shop it around and see if we can get on a big network and have them show it.”
“And Kian’s team was okay with that?”
Erica lifted a shoulder, riveted, as Kian was shown to one of the chairs. Susan was standing by the next one—touching his arm, smiling at him, laughing, leaning closer to him, showing the side of her boob to him. I was gritting my teeth before I’d realized it.
Erica answered me.
I registered her voice but not her words.
Kian was smiling back at Susan—or that was how it looked to everyone else.
My eyes sharpened. I saw the flatness in his eyes, and they began scanning the room, moving from person to person. He was looking for me. Realization flooded my body, warming it, and before I knew it, tingles were shooting through me as well. They started low in my stomach, but I felt them spread all the way to the back of my throat. He couldn’t see me in the far back, and my feet started moving of their own accord. I went to the outskirts of the crowd. Erica was next to me, holding tightly to my elbow. I was just as engrossed with Kian as she was.
Then, he saw me.
His eyes warmed.
There was no other change on his face. He was still smiling at whatever Susan was saying, but without a doubt, I knew that he wasn’t paying her attention. All his focus was on me, and he saw the envelope in my hand. His eyes darkened even more. An alarm started going off in the back of my mind, but I ignored it. It felt right to be standing there as he was about to be interviewed and having him just as captivated with me as I was with him.
I stepped back, jarring myself from the staring spell, and I looked away. No one was paying attention to me, except for Kian. Even that small bit of looking at each other shouldn’t have happened. This was wrong. I shouldn’t be here. We were going to be discovered—no, I was going to be discovered.
I started for the door, but Erica tightened her hold on my arm.
“Where are you going?” she hissed under her breath.
“I…”
Kian was still watching me. A flicker of concern showed in his eyes, and he stopped smiling at Susan. She would notice and then look for the reason of his attention. The room was suddenly so hot, and I started panting. I couldn’t catch my breath. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I felt the room starting to blur at the edges of my vision.
I had to get out of here.
“I…” My throat wasn’t working.
“You can’t leave.” She firmly held me.
Her feet were like cement, holding me in place. “Jo! What are you doing? You’re bailing on me.”
“I…” I was going to pass out. I felt it coming. I shoved her away and unlinked our arms. “I’m sorry, Erica. I have to go.”
I didn’t think about where I was going.
I was in the elevator and pressing the button for the ninth floor before I could catch my breath. There were others in the elevator with me. When I stumbled out on the ninth floor, I bent over and took gaping breaths. I was alone, for the moment, but I knew someone might come along at any moment. Someone from the paper could be coming after me.
I couldn’t linger, so I found room 914. Once inside, I blasted the air conditioner and stood over it. I didn’t pay attention to the room. I needed cold air on my face. I needed to calm down. My God, what if someone had been paying me attention? Or worse, since all eyes had been on Kian and he’d been focused on me, someone could’ve noticed and then started to wonder why he was staring at me with such intensity.
And if Erica found out, I’d lose her. I’d lose Wanker, too. They never questioned my lies, so they were my only friends I’d held on to. All others had been let go. If people got too close, they would want to know too much.
I was so stupid.
No.
I was reckless.
And it was all to see Kian again, all to just be around him.
This was wrong. This was dangerous. No more visits.
As I started to calm down, I sat down on a chair and wiped the tears from my face. My legs were still trembling.
My head folded into my lap, and I let the tears free. I was soon sobbing. I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to stop myself. I sank to the floor and curled my arms around my knees, hugging them to my chest.
I still wept.
I’d stopped living the lie for one moment. That was why I had gone to see him—because I could be Jordan Emory again, not Jo Keen. For a split second, I’d stopped feeling like I was hiding.
I was fooling myself.
The nation loved him, and they would turn on me. It’d happened over and over again. Victims would get blamed, and the public already blamed me. It’d happen again.
This thing I was doing with him—meeting him on the roof, then meeting him again, and then seeing him at my roommate’s interview—had to stop.
Kian had to cease to exist for me again.
