by Juniper Hart
He’ll make a fine reporter if I ever let him out from under the mound of paperwork I have him under, Shari thought cruelly. She knew she was keeping the boy as her pet. He was already developing some twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome toward her. She would never admit it to anyone, but she feared the intern’s quick mind. He showed the potential to uproot her in the future, and Shari knew to keep her enemies much closer than her friends.
Punching the numbers into the office phone, Shari waited for Marley Silver to answer.
“Hi, Marley, it’s Shari Jespers from Physique.”
“What do you want, Jespers?” came the snappy reply. Shari grinned to herself. She was well accustomed to such greetings.
“What? A girl can’t call and say ‘hi’ anymore?” she asked sweetly. Marley guffawed humorlessly.
“Jespers, I am at the airport, flying to Munich in ten minutes. Do you want to cut the crap, or should I hang up now?”
“Okay, okay,” Shari relented. “I just have a quick question for you. It’s about Leona Davis.”
There was a short pause, and Shari thought she heard Marley inhale. “What about her?”
“What happened with her and Arden Morrow exactly? I mean, they seemed headed toward marital bliss, and suddenly, she wanted nothing to do with him. What’s the deal there?”
This time, Marley Silver’s laugh was genuine. “Good God, Shari, that is ancient history. Are you so hard pressed for stories these days that you’re digging through tombs?”
“Oh, I just have a hunch about something. I just wanted to know if you had anything to add.”
Another silence ensued, and then Marley let out a low whistle. “You think Arden’s new country girl fling has been around for months,” she whispered. “That’s why you’re asking.”
Shari did neither confirm nor deny the statement. She waited, hoping Marley would offer even the smallest confirmation of her suspicions.
“I can tell you this,” Marley said slowly. “Off the record, of course.”
“Of course,” Shari jumped in quickly.
“Arden was extremely doting at the beginning. He was romantic and thoughtful, but overnight, he turned almost volatile and hateful. One day, he just told Leona he was done and for her not to come back. He didn’t offer her a reason. She suspected that he might have been cracking under the stress of work, but now that you bring it up…”
“So, he could have been cheating on her,” Shari prompted. Marley sighed.
“I don’t know, Jespers. This is La La Land. Since when is anything shocking anymore? I suppose it’s possible, yes, but it’s also possible that he’s coming out of the closet. I have no idea what happened.” Shari admitted that Marley had a point. “Is that everything, Jespers? They’re calling my flight.”
Shari knew Marley was just in a rush to brush her off, but she let it go anyway.
“That’s it. Thanks, Marley,” she said. It was all she really needed.
The texts had become incessant, and Gena tried to flush her phone down the toilet. Everyone in town seemed to know her number all of a sudden, even people she could barely remember meeting. There were messages from reporters and old schoolmates, all demanding her comment or pretending to worry about her so they could have a hand in the gossip. She had considered making a proper statement to the press, one filled with conviction and truth, but she no longer had the energy to fight. Something had happened to her that day at the hospital, and between being bitten by whatever the hell had attacked her and losing her job, Gena barely knew which way up was anymore.
Her days now consisted of waking up to use the bathroom, turning around, and crawling back into bed. She had not eaten in days, and sometimes, she forgot to feed Mittens until he meowed furiously at her bedside for an hour. His litterbox was overflowing, but Gena could not get out of bed. She no longer bothered to look out the window, confident that the reporters had built a village outside her door.
They were never going to leave. That was okay. Eventually, they would have a story, because they would find her carcass rotting there when her rent wasn’t paid and the landlord came through to remove her stuff.
She willed herself to sleep, to ignore the thoughts of how she would pay rent or how long the pitiful amount of groceries would last in the fridge. She did not want to be an adult anymore. Instead, Gena wanted to return to the womb, where it was safe and warm and reporters did not exist. But not her mother’s womb—she couldn’t listen to her voice for one more second.
The home phone continued to ring from downstairs, since Gena had disconnected the one by her bed. It was Gena’s secret hope that the phone company would cut it off, saving her from having to enter the main floor.
The fighter in her knew she was out of options. If the circumstances had been normal, she would have forced herself out of her bed, into her clothes, and begun the quest for work. Then again, if circumstances were normal, she wouldn’t need to be looking for work. She would have a job at the hospital.
As the days passed, Gena found herself wondering if she had imagined the entire attack in Millie’s room. No one had followed up with her, and while she felt the marks on her neck, slowly, she had begun to convince herself that they were made by something else entirely.
There are no such things as demons, she thought. All the stress did you in.
She didn’t feel right, but she wasn’t sure she was sick, either. All she felt was numb, like depression had finally taken her over… but like it had been coupled with something she didn’t claim to understand.
Was this all Arden’s fault? Or was it inevitable? An innocent answering of the phone could not have led to such a drastic turn of events in any realm of reality. And yet there she was, under a mound of worn blankets, praying for death. She asked herself how much longer she had until it came. She was getting awfully tired of waiting.
“Hey, Arden, your phone is going crazy,” Malik commented, handing his client the cell. “It hasn’t stopped ringing in the last hour.”
The device had been upstairs charging in the master bathroom, and Arden had not heard it. The cell was no longer attached at his hip, something which he had considered freeing. For years, he had been a slave to technology, checking schedules, reading emails, corresponding through texts, and updating social media. He felt liberated since beginning his soul-searching journey in Apple Orchard.
Arden raised his shoulders in a gesture of indifference, but Malik pushed the phone into his hand. “It’s Leona.”
Arden felt his brow furrow, and he glanced at the screen, which had suddenly gone dark. He had missed the call again, but as he unlocked the iPhone, he saw that there were five voicemails.
Why would Leona be calling me? We haven’t spoken much since we split. Her ego was pretty shattered by that whole experience. In fact, Arden had not heard from his ex-girlfriend in over two months, causing him to believe that something was amiss by the frequency of her phone calls. Immediately, he retrieved the voicemails as Shawna came hurrying into the living room. She opened her mouth to speak, her eyes dancing with impatience, but Arden held up his hand so he could listen to Leona’s messages. His eyes began to widen as he was assaulted by an arsenal of swearing from the honey-voiced singer.
“You son of a bitch! You said you needed space! What you really needed was a younger woman!” Leona had shrieked into his voice messaging center. “I thought if I gave you some time, you would realize how good we had it, but you’re just a low-down, two-timing snake with—”
Sighing, he deleted the rest of the messages without listening to them and turned to Shawna.
“Let me guess,” he groaned. “There’s another article by Shari Jespers.”
Shawna clamped her open mouth shut and nodded sadly.
“This one is ugly,” she warned, handing her boss the paper. Arden scanned it, grunting, and cracked his knuckles. It implied that he had been cheating on Leona Davis with Gena Averson.
“Okay, this is getting ridiculous,” he told Malik
angrily. “Shut that woman up before this goes any further.”
Malik threw his hands up in his typically dramatic fashion. “What do you want me to tell her?”
“Tell her I’ve retired and to bark up another tree. And tell her if this persists, we’re taking her to court for slander.”
Malik rolled his dark eyes, seemingly recognizing the emptiness in Arden’s words. Court cases like that would take years, and he was sure Physique had liability insurance out the rump.
“I thought we talked about postponing your retirement announcement,” he replied reasonably. “It will only add fuel to the fire.”
Frustrated, Arden looked to Shawna for help, but she shrugged her shoulders. “He’s probably right, Mr. Morrow. Obviously, she is trying to get a rise out of you. Your best attack is to remain silent until she burns herself out.”
Although Arden understood their reasoning, he could not help feeling overwhelmed by guilt for Gena Averson. Sure, he had the option of laying low. What about the girl? How much more of this insanity could she take? If Shari Jespers persisted, it was going to affect every aspect of her life. He had known many stars who had been hunted by the ruthless reporter, sometimes to the point of filing a restraining order against her.
“Are the reporters still hounding the Averson woman?” Arden asked Malik, even though he was fairly sure of the answer.
“I’m not sure. I can find out.”
“Do it,” Arden ordered. “If this continues, we have to do something about it. This is becoming a circus.”
Malik nodded, regarding Arden pensively. He wasn’t sure what Arden wanted to do if the press was still following Gena Averson, but he was intrigued by his tone. He’s not even worried about himself. He’s concerned about Gena Averson. How interesting. I wonder if there was a connection between them, or if there is any truth to what Shari Jespers is saying.
“I’ll see what I can find out,” he told Arden, rising from the sofa.
Outside, the workers were already busy building a nine-foot-tall wrought iron fence around the expansive lot of land. As Arden had predicted, it was an eyesore. The black iron clashed with the serenity of the farmland, but it made Malik feel much better.
It’s a necessary evil, Malik justified to himself. Despite his irritation with Arden’s intended retirement, he did not want anything untoward to happen to his client. The way things were escalating, Malik knew it was only a matter of time before a frenzied group of fans or reporters were clamoring at his door. I don’t know which ones are worse; the fans or the reporters. They are both equally unbalanced.
Driving through the construction, Malik wondered how much further Shari Jespers intended to push. He pushed the Bluetooth screen on the dash and dialed a number as he headed toward town.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Malik.”
“Oh, hi! How’s everything going?”
“I think you’re pushing him too far now, Shari. It’s time to back off and move on.”
“Oh, honey, I haven’t even gotten started yet!” Shari laughed. “Do you have any idea what a disaster your boss’s girlfriend is?”
“Shari, there is no relationship there. You made up some bullshit story from your twisted imagination, and now you’re calling Arden a cheater.”
“Oh, but he is a cheat. Why else would he dump someone like Leona Davis?”
Malik slapped his hands against the steering wheel in annoyance. “Because she’s unstable? Neurotic? Needy? Did you even take Journalism in college? There’s this concept in the study called fact-checking. It pertains to journalistic integrity. Any of this sound familiar?”
“Don’t take that condescending tone with me, Malik. You’re just as much to blame for this as I am. Don’t forget where that picture of Gena leaving the house came from. Oh, and who let me know, off the record, to look for Arden’s corporation name for purchases in Apple Orchard?”
Malik gritted his teeth. Shari was speaking the truth, but his intention had been to smoke Arden out of Apple Orchard and back to LA, not to ruin the man’s reputation. It didn’t benefit anyone if everyone thought he was a pig. Malik could already foresee the family networks dropping their offers.
“What will it take to get you to leave Arden alone for a while?” he asked in a cajoling tone. Shari laughed, and Malik knew what her answer would be.
“Oh, honey, you can’t buy away the truth!” she told him. “I have work to do, sweetie. Call me if you think I need to know anything else.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Malik snapped back.
“I don’t need to,” she cooed. “You’ve already given me a wonderful head start. Thanks, love. Talk to you later!”
Malik’s straight white choppers grilled together as he turned onto Shearer Crescent. He pulled up to the curb and howled in anger. There were twice as many vehicles on the street as there had been the last time he had driven by. The neighbors had joined in the mob, creating an impossible wall of people in the street.
There is only one way to deal with this, he thought woefully. Gena Averson is going to have to get as far away from here as possible.
10
The days and nights had melded together, and Gena could not be certain how many had passed of either. She simply slept, falling deeper into the cotton of fog which seemed to have enshrouded her since that fateful day. The cat and bathroom were the only reasons she got out of bed. Sometimes she would just lay there, needing to use the restroom, and fall back into a dream where she had gotten up to find the toilet, only to wake up moments later, disappointed.
Eventually, the phone downstairs stopped ringing, and Gena realized with perverse contentment that it had been deactivated due to nonpayment.
Yay! Just one less thing to worry about! she told herself with morose happiness. Her next immediate fear was that her mother would arrive at her door unexpectedly. Well, how could I expect her? I have absolutely no contact with the outside world. I hope she doesn’t get any ideas. Gena took comfort in knowing that her mother loathed to travel and made a better parental figure on paper than she did in the flesh.
That day, she glanced at the clock and read the green numbers. It said four thirty, and it took her a few minutes to reconcile if it was day or night. The flimsy curtains were tightly drawn, but the thin material still allowed for sunlight to puncture through to her bedroom.
She thought, with indifference, that it must be afternoon. To her surprise, Mittens had adopted Chad’s old pillow and was resting at her head.
Well look who isn’t pissed off at me anymore! Gena thought. The cat had apparently been holding a grudge since Chad’s departure, despite Gena’s constant explanation to the feline that he had chosen to leave and she had not forced him out. It was the first time Mittens had slept with her since their split. It didn’t help that the calico had a regular distaste for the world in general.
This is probably a sign that you’re dying, Gena told herself optimistically. Animals can sense these things. He’s probably just biding his time so he can feast on my corpse because I keep forgetting to feed him.
Mittens opened his eyes and stretched, purring softly, and Gena reached out to scratch his ears. She was again shocked that he didn’t try to bite her.
Yep, it’s pity affection. Well, it’s too late, cat. I’m already dead. You can’t make up for lost time now. You should have been nicer to me.
She rose to her feet, and she could tell her muscles had atrophied from days of immobility. She couldn’t keep lying in bed. She had to do something. Maybe she could call her mother and see if she could send her enough for a bus ticket out of town. She could stay at a hostel until everything settled down. It was not the best solution, but despite her best intentions, dying at this rate would take much too long.
For the first time, she felt somewhat human, and she forced herself to walk downstairs. Her steps were slow, as her body was weak from lack of food and exercise. Still, she felt leaden, heavy.
You need to eat somet
hing and take a shower, she told herself, formulating a plan in her head. Then you can call Mom. Maybe you should open that bottle of vodka you’ve had in the freezer for a year. You’ll probably need it. Damn. How am I going to call Mom? I will have to go to Max’s store.
As she walked around the kitchen, she crinkled her nose at the spoiled and rotting food.
I better clean this hole out before it’s teeming with roaches and mice, she thought worriedly. Abruptly, a sharp knock at the front door startled her, and she glanced nervously toward the front of the house. She assumed it must be a reporter and ignored it, but her nerves began to fray slightly as another knock followed, louder and more urgently.
It couldn’t be the landlord. Rent wasn’t due yet. What if it was the gas company? What if there was a gas leak? Her mind began to race with myriad inane thoughts while her logical side told her to remain still and wait for whomever it was to leave. The voice of reason told her it was not the gas company. It was a brazen reporter, trying to move her from her shell. She couldn’t fall for it. She just had to wait, and they would go back to the curb like the weird peeping Toms they were.
But still! the hysterical utterances continued. If it is an emergency, you could be dying of carbon monoxide as you stand here arguing with yourself. You could be dead in seconds! Wait, would that be such a bad thing?
Wanting to shut up both of her inner voices, Gena shuffled toward the door and cautiously moved the curtain aside. Slowly, she peered through the frame of glass. A woman stood there, her back slightly to the door as she glared at the reporters. There was something familiar about her, but Gena could not place her exactly. Her head hadn’t been clear in days, and she wasn’t forcing the issue.
Unlocking the door, Gena asked herself if the woman was from town. As she slid the wood from the frame, her sooty eyes looked up at the sensationally beautiful blonde on her doorstep. She was dressed expensively, and immediately, Gena felt her guard rise.