Overexposed

by Amelia Oliver

  The thing is, I really couldn’t give a flying fuck about what she said about me or at the jab she made about my relationship with my parents. They’re good and decent people, private and quiet. I intentionally keep them well out of the public eye for that reason. What disappointed me though, more than I care to admit, was that her perception of me is already just like everybody else’s. With the little actual information she has, she’s already decided who I am on the surface and that must be all I’m about. She knows fuck all.

  For the daughter of two pretty fucking big celebrities, I would’ve thought she would be the first to understand that the image presented and perpetrated is not always true of who the actual person is. With my head swamped again with doubts, frustration and uncertainty, I’d left Piper and her judgy perceptions in the basement and headed to bed.

  I’d slept like shite, complete and utter shite. Needless to say, I was far from rested and nowhere near relaxed. Waking to find this bloody press release however has me looking for the current source of my tension. No, hunting for her might be a more accurate description.

  “Piper!” I bark and don’t knock, but simply shove open the door to the last upstairs bedroom in my search for answers. Bloody empty, but at least I found which room she’s been in. Her laptop, notebook and other crap is spread out across the end of the California king bed like she owns the place, but worse, the fucking room smells like her. Like the beach and sunshine and summer and it pisses me off. Storming over to the balcony doors I fling the sheers aside, getting the flouncy shit tangled around my hands in the process, but huff with satisfaction as I finally get them pushed open. There, fresh air at last.

  Turning around I stomp back across the room, leaving the door open behind me, and head down the stairs. Where the hell is she?

  My hearing picks up Jackie’s voice in the kitchen and for a minute I think she’s talking to the telly as she watches her soaps, but then I hear Piper.

  Charging through the door, I hold up the industrious little beaver’s email, and ask, “What the bloody fuck is this?”

  Jackie offers me a smile but then turns immediately, making herself busy with the pan on the hob in front of her.

  My eyes are on Piper, bloody glued to her as I wait for her to answer me. She’s wearing a shiny looking cream shirt that has no sleeves; her bare skin the colour of a genuine Californian girl, her natural bronze looking like it’s from the actual sun and not the salon. The collar of her shirt sits in a long, floppy bow around her throat and I want to use it to pull her to me, watching as she realises she’s in a world of shit. Her light blue pants finish above her ankle and fit her legs like a second skin. Fuck me, she’s all arms and legs, willowy and petite, and it takes me a second to shake off thoughts that have no place being in my head right now. “Anger management?”

  Piper moves to shift from the stool she’s perched on, the action drawing my eyes to her arse. Oh, fuck me. You cannot be serious. This is the first time I’m seeing Piper at this angle, and she is sporting one hell of an arse. It’s high, pert and perfectly formed. I groan before I can stop myself as it dawns on me that in those light fucking blue pants she’s wearing, it looks like a bubble.

  I feel my teeth gnash together inside my closed mouth, an attempt at preventing me from giving voice to the words burning my tongue.

  Bubbles are for popping.

  Holding up a hand to keep her from getting off her seat and killing me dead, I stalk across to the island bench and take the stool opposite hers. I need the distance and I sure as shit need the barrier. Using the flat of my hand to slap the offending press release on the marble top between us, I grit out, “You really need to explain this to me Bubble, because as of this very minute, being around you is the only bloody reason I would need anger management.”

  “Seth, I think that… Hey! That’s mine!”

  She stops mid-explanation to yell at me for nicking her breakfast, because the moment she’d started talking, I reached across and snagged her barely touched plate, claiming it as my own.

  “I told you to make yourself at home, love. I didn’t mean you could take advantage of my cook. My house, my cook, my omelet.” I say as I reach back over to pick up her fork, using it to load up a huge piece of her breakfast and shove it in my mouth.

  Piper’s eyes widen in disbelief and then narrow, so I prepare myself for yet another verbal slanging match. That’s a little tell of hers I’ve already noted and I’ve only had three interactions with her. Huh, and I need anger management? Um, excuse me pot, have you met kettle?

  “You’re a child!” Piper exclaims, her frustration clear before her face turns smug as Jackie - who to be honest, I expected more loyalty from - slides a steaming fresh omelet in front of Piper.

  “You cut me deep, Jack,” I state and all I get in reply is her hand ruffling my hair, before she goes to leave the room. “I’m sacking you this week!” I yell out for good measure, and then take a bite of toast, knowing the exact response I’m going to get back.

  Sticking just her head back inside the kitchen door, Jackie deadpans, “Of course you are. Just like you did last week.” With a smirk on her face, she’s gone again.

  I can’t help but smile myself. Jackie has been with me for a long time, she’s loyal, professional and I trust her implicitly. I also enjoy our banter. We’re sometimes more like a cross between mother and son and brother and sister than boss and employee, but it works for us. I look over and see Piper watching me, as she slowly forks her own meal into her mouth.

  “Where’s Rash? Did he stay over?” I ask her.

  “Um, I’m not sure. I’ve not seen him yet.”

  “I’ll text him. He wasn’t upstairs. I hope for his sake he went home.”

  The man spends too much time dealing with me as it is, let alone having to stay here overnight. Given his place is in Santa Monica, after a night as late as last one, he probably did crash but has already left for his office.

  “I don’t know,” Piper says still looking at me like I’m a puzzle to be solved.

  Maybe she is trying to see more than the image after all? Rash said she was good at her job, her company the best, I guess it’s possible I’ve judged her too.

  The problem I have though is that when she looks at me so intently, my mouth runs away from my brain.

  “You smell like the beach. I don’t like it.” I tell her without looking at her; my eyes on the plate in front of me as I pick out the slimy black things I’m assuming are mushrooms. What worries me is that I’m starting to think I bloody well do like the way she smells, amongst several other Piper-like things.

  “Tough. I don’t care what you think about how I smell,” she clips, her sassy voice in business mode. “Besides, I didn’t even surf this morning.”

  What?

  Did she say surfing?

  Piper surfs?

  Christ.

  Lifting her chin, she indicates the plate I’m eating from. “You know, if you didn’t steal that, you wouldn’t have had to pick the mushrooms out.”

  “Can’t steal what’s already yours, Bubble, told you that.”

  To stop myself from visualising Piper on a board, I prove my point further by reaching across the countertop and snagging the steaming mug sitting next to her juice glass. Bringing it to my lips I hold her eyes as I take a big sip.

  As soon as the smell hits my nose, I realise I’ve made a massive mistake. Grimacing as the bitter black liquid assaults my mouth, I swallow it while I look at her accusingly.

  “Bloody hell! Coffee?! You’re in an Englishman’s house, Bubble. Unacceptable. Tea with breakfast, always tea.”

  “I don’t drink tea,” she shrugs off my declaration, “and again, if you’d gotten your own you’d…Seth!”

  “What?” I ask as I pour her coffee down the sink behind me. Sliding the glass and chrome tea infuser Jackie has prepared closer to where I’m sitting, I’m daring her to tell me again I can’t do something. I give it a quick swirl, and then pour li
quid gold into my now empty mug.

  “There, I’m all set. Back to this bullshit.” I point to the email in between us. “You have some explaining to do, Bubble. Now would be the time.” I say, motioning with my hand for her to speak.

  Without saying a word, she spins her body on that perfect arse of hers until her legs are clear from under the bench. Standing she trots over to the overhead cabinets and opens the door where the crockery is kept. To reach the shelf where the mugs are, she lifts up onto her toes, one arm moving above her head.

  My focus is fixed on the most delicious bubble I have ever seen in my life. It takes all of my restraint to stay planted where I am and not drop to my knees on the slate floor behind her. My tongue sweeps out across my bottom lip as I imagine how juicy she would taste. Sweet. Ripe. Perfect. I watch as she moves to the left, her back to me still, as she lifts the coffee pot and pours herself another cup. I want to tear those tight bloody pants down her slim thighs and shove my face into her plump cheeks.

  Completely fucking annoyed with my body’s reaction to her, I roughly shove my over eager dick into my thigh, and lean forward, placing my elbows on the bench top.

  Piper sits back down across from me and I feel relief at knowing that she’s at least hidden the temptation. I can deal with her if I don’t have to look at it, I tell myself, not at all sure that it’s true, but it’s a start. Out of sight, out of mind right? I’ll be ok now.

  “Why do you keep calling me bubble?” she asks, and no fucking joke, in that moment I’m convinced the universe is out to get me.

  “Because I can,” I clip with no intention saying anything else on the topic. Thankfully, she lets it slide with an eye roll. “Explain yourself. I thought you were here to help me, not make me out to be an uncontrollable, mad fucking hatter who needs therapy to get his shit together?”

  “What did you think was going to happen Seth? I mean honestly. Have you seen the media blow up on this latest…incident?” She says incident, but I know that during the pause she had to stop herself from saying stunt.

  “No, not bloody interested. Bunch of gossip mongering vultures the lot of them. But what I did think was going to happen, was that you were here to help me change their perception of me, not feed it further!” Tapping the press release, I’m starting to get pissed again. They’re going to have a right fucking time with this information, and she handed it straight to them. Jesus, I shouldn’t have to explain this to her, it’s her job.

  “I’m trying!” She argues back, “but you need to get out of your own way Seth. You need to trust that what may look like a step backwards to you isn’t that at all. If anything, it’s a step sideways. We’re trying to change opinion here. That doesn’t happen quickly or without taking a few hits in the process.”

  “I bloody well get that, Bubble, but why the hell am I going to be getting anger management?” I’m back to near yelling. Jesus she infuriates me.

  “Because you’re fucking angry Seth!” she yells back.

  “You’re damn right I’m angry Piper!” I say standing up, my body too full of pent up energy to be still sitting. “I’m angry that this is all the shite that is ever reported about me. I’m angry that I’m still getting offers for bullshit reality television shows, and I’m angry that I can’t get anyone in this town to take me seriously as an actor!”

  Our gazes are locked in a stare down, both of us breathing heavy, neither of us looking away.

  Piper softens her voice and speaks, “That’s what the press release is for Seth. That’s why anger management. We need them thinking you’re contrite; that you’re owning your behavior and that you’re working towards being better. Without that first step Seth, nothing changes. Nothing. I’ve watched hours of footage, it hasn’t always been like this, only the last three years or so. In this time, for the large part, all that’s been reported are the times you’ve been behaving badly. You have to stop giving them that fodder. Once that happens, and only once that happens, we can rebuild your image.”

  I hear what she’s saying, and I know she’s right. But with sleazy paps on me twenty-four/seven, somewhere along the way, I’ve become a self-fulfilling prophecy. And I’m tired of it. I have to find a balance between being able to be who I am without only showing the media the Brit bad-boy shite.

  “Ok then, Bubble, this is your fox hunt, what’s next?” Making my way back over, I sit back down and pick up the tea infuser to top up my mug.

  She exhales through her nose, before taking a deep breath. Something about the way she does it makes me think she is both hopeful we’re have a wobbly truce, but that she’s about to rock the boat again. “Well, you can start by not calling me Bubble. I don’t like it.”

  I smile brightly at her. She’s made this one way too easy.

  “Well, Bubble, I believe the words to use here go something like…” I pretend to think for a minute, my fingers tapping across my chin, “Tough. I don’t care what you think about what I call you.”

  Having used her words against her, for the first time in two days, Piper smiles at me. It’s small, but it’s there. Could be there’s hope for us to work together without killing one another yet.

  CHAPTER 5

  Piper

  “You smell like the beach. I don’t like it.”

  Seth’s words, those words played in my head over and over even hours after our kitchen meeting this morning. I knew he meant it in a way of annoyance, but his tone, was so not annoyed. Seth was like watching a tennis match with himself. One minute he was enraged with me about the press release, then he was bantering with Jackie and totally calm, then angry again, then teasing me and calling me Bubble. I didn’t know where that came from, was he insinuating I was an airhead or something?

  Before our meeting ended, with both of us walking in opposite directions with our tea and coffee, I also told him no social media. I knew he wasn’t going to be happy, but so what, I almost enjoyed getting a rise out of him. His jaw tightened and he took a deep breath. His eyes on mine, and I tried to ignore that when he did that it made between my legs feel like an electric current had been shot into my core. I threatened that I’d be checking periodically for any posts on any forum and if there was something from him, I’d be taking his phone away. I could tell what I said was an enticing challenge and he’d surely enjoy me attempting to get possession of his property. Then the image of us wrestling popped into my head, why are we on a bed? Why are we both topless?

  “Okay, Bubble, I’ll do my best,” he said with sarcasm as he bowed toward me all mock gentleman before leaving the kitchen.

  Eventually, Ronald emerged from upstairs, showered and looking like a new man compared to when I arrived. We discussed the press release and he agreed to the statement, and via text, since Mr. high and mighty couldn’t be bothered to attend, eventually agreed to it too. I wondered if he couldn’t look me in the face and tell me to release it, like his pride would be bruised so text was easier. Without another minute to waste, I sent out the press release.

  I sat at the dining room table with my laptop open and papers spread out, working on things, Jackie pumping me with unlimited coffee and food. She folded clothes at the table while we chatted, and I wanted to ask her so many things about Seth. Nothing important or work related. But shit like what did he like her to cook the most and fuck, it bothered me. I always try to get to know my clients on a personal level so when something huge happens for them, I know what kind of flowers or six-pack of beer to send in congratulations. But this bothered me, I wanted to know Seth for personal reasons, and I didn’t want to acknowledge why. I didn’t want to acknowledge that he interested me.

  A loud buzz near the door breaks through the silence as I find myself alone on the main floor. Stretching as I stand, I creakily make my way over to the intercom connected to the front gate.

  “Hey, yo, Seth, it’s me Sonny-let me in!”

  This person’s practically yelling into the speaker and I can hear a wall of voices around him, and I know
it’s the press.

  “No, sorry,” I reply back with my hand on the button.

  “What?!”

  “No one’s allowed in!” I shout back.

  “What the fuck?!” Seth’s voice comes up behind me, reaching out for the intercom button.

  “No!” I say firmly, turning to push him back a step and force his hand away from the button.

  His eyes give me that feeling again as they connect with mine, and he attempts to step around me, but I block him.

  “Stop fuckin’ about!”

  “No, Seth, you shouldn’t have people over today, it doesn’t seem remorseful or ashamed of your behavior––”

  “I’m not ashamed!” he yells.

  “Well, you should be!” I scream back.

  It’s then I notice, we’re face to face, toe to toe, both panting. His chocolate eyes search mine, tendrils of hair in his face and I ball my hands into fists to fight reaching up and pushing it behind his ear.

  “I think it would be best to lay low for a while,” I state, my voice softer than I intend.

  His nostrils flare, just as his eyes narrow slightly and he steps back.

  “Fuckin’ bloody dictator,” he growls before turning and heading for the basement door.

  Moments later, Stone Temple Pilots - “Interstate Lovesong” begins to blast and I sigh. I knew in the end, my efforts would help him, even if he wasn’t happy about them. He actually relented. He actually listened to me. That’s progress. Still, it was hard for me to be the bad guy, because that was my job, not me really. And for some reason, I hope he realized that.

  It’s not even four p.m. when I feel my eyes begin to burn with fatigue, no matter how much caffeine I’ve downed during the course of the day, I can’t fight that I’ve been up for over twelve hours on little sleep to begin with. I let Jackie know I’m heading to bed, since Ronald left for home about an hour ago and Seth still hasn’t emerged from the basement. She asks me if I want to wait while she finishes making dinner and eat before heading up. That her and Seth would enjoy the company. Seth would enjoy the company is what I heard. Something happens in my chest, a pang of empathy that Seth doesn’t seem to have anyone really close to him. No one other than Sonny came by to see him and other than seeing fans posting on his social media that they hoped he was okay, there was nothing personal on there. Granted, maybe he’s been texting with friends all day or something, but I had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t true. I decline Jackie’s offer, wanting nothing more than to shower and sleep. I do just that, falling into a coma moments after my head hit the pillow.