Overexposed

by Amelia Oliver

  That first time at the skate park, there’d been no press, no paparazzi, and I just felt the calmness in him, knowing the press was definitely a trigger. I’m sorry, but even Gandhi would lose it with the press nowadays. But something else about that visit had me almost on the verge of tears.

  There were kids and young people all around the outdoor park. It was nice, and new and clean and I’d seen not only people skating but also just hanging out. There were people tagging cement with spray paint and no one seemed to care. If anything, large sections of the park had seemed to be specifically designed for the underappreciated art form. It was bright, and vibrant and the energy of the many images and words complemented the vibe of the skaters. I’d also noticed tons of boards on racks and helmets and pads of all sizes, but nowhere to pay.

  There were several older skaters that seemed to be over seeing everything, like the equipment or if someone fell and was maybe hurt, but none of them had given me the impression that anyone in particular was in charge. It’d felt like a community. A community knew exactly who Seth was, but no one gave a shit. There were no Instagram selfie requests, no Facebook live uploads, and no Snapchat location sends. To them it had been like Seth was just another skater who had skills to share with anyone who’d wanted help. Taking in and processing as much as I could for myself, it’d gotten the best of me and I’d had to ask Seth to fill a few blanks. For a few heavy seconds, I hadn’t been sure he was going to answer me.

  “It’s all free…I opened this place a few years ago, the kids use the boards and are allowed to take them if they want…I just wanted somewhere for people to go and hang out with people like them and not worry about not having money to get in or do what they want.”

  Looking around I’d seen some young people who I could tell the place meant everything to. Seth had grabbed two boards and I’d shaken my head, I wasn’t ready for that and had preferred just watching. Sitting on one of the many benches I’d just observed in awe at the talent and fun. Seth skated around, not a care in the world; his eyes taking on that stress-free look.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I’d observed his interactions and often a few people had sat with me and we’d chatted about how long they’d been coming and how some of them would’ve never been able to afford a board or to do it if it weren’t for Seth.

  Some of them it kept them out of trouble and a place to go. It blew my mind that the press had never picked up on the story, on all the good Seth was providing. But I guess they don’t give a shit about positivity. When I’d mentioned it to Seth on the ride home that first time, he’d made a displeased sound and shook his head.

  “Not everything needs to be publicized, Bubble.”

  My head snapped so quickly toward him, eyebrows raised.

  “I mean, you know what I mean,” he said in a lowered tone.

  “No, I don’t Seth, I work in marketing,” I replied.

  It took everything in me not to call some reporters I knew to tell them all about the park, but Seth wasn’t in the news at all these days and we wanted to keep it that way for a while.

  It’s been three months since I took Seth on as a client, and his status has bumped down to neutral. This meant we maintained his public persona and he kept going to anger management, but I wasn’t with him every day. I had other clients who had things pop off and needed me, along with a new client, an eighteen-year-old first round draft pick major league baseball player who’s staff wanted him to never be in the press for anything negative. He was an easy client, but I found myself watching way more baseball than I preferred.

  After work, at the end of the day though, Seth and I met somewhere, either his house or mine. He’d stayed true to not having parties or any of the negative people in his life around anymore, but that meant he really had no one. I felt bad for him, since most days he’d text me a thousand times from boredom.

  The catch was that while he’d successfully removed himself from the path of negative press, those in the business had long memories. Three months of good behaviour was not the equivalent of a lobotomy, and so industry types were still sceptical about working with him. I’d told him up front that what we were attempting would take time, and while I know he heard me, I also think that the cocky part of him assumed something would’ve happened by now.

  So he went to therapy and skated and then played video games. He wasn’t drinking as much anymore and I just didn’t know what else to do for him as far as shit to do. I know he was worried that any friends he did make would be because of his fame, not because he was cool as fuck.

  When I went to his house at night, he’d wait to eat dinner that Jackie made for us and I often felt bad she chose to sit with us and eat when what we mainly did was make out. I still felt that lust I had for him the first time he told me he wanted to bite my ass, turning me on in all manner of ways. He’d text me dirty shit he wanted to do to me and send me pictures and videos of himself that had me often disappearing to make myself cum. I’d learned I needed to do that, since the first few times I didn’t, by the time we got together at night I was insatiable and paid for my lack of sleep the next morning.

  Tonight was different though; tonight I was taking him to dinner at my parents for the first time. He’d not met them yet and I felt like it was time. We’d discussed moving in together and although old fashioned, I wanted my parents to like him before I made such a leap. It mattered to me that they did. I don’t know if it would change us, or break us up, but it mattered. Seth fussed with what to wear and how to look, worrying that his appearance had to be perfect or something.

  “My dad will probably be wearing a woman’s blouse and my mom will be in pyjamas, it’s not that serious Seth.”

  Even though I told him this, he still fidgeted and fussed.

  Me:

  Please forgive Seth for his nerves,

  I’ve never seen him like this.

  Mom:

  It means he likes you!

  It did make me feel a little good that he was worried if they liked him; it meant I meant something to him. I had no doubt about that. Seth was the most giving and caring person I’d ever met. My needs were always first, my concerns, my work; he did everything to fit into the craziness for us. Kissing his hand, I lead the way into my parents place and the smell of warm food cooking and the sound of my dad’s band playing filled the space. The heavy metal had Seth smiling as he looked over at me and no one able to hear us enter over it. Live drums played over the track and Seth followed as we walked in toward the kitchen. Mom stood at the counter on her phone, in her pyjamas and she noticed us just before I got to her.

  “Hey,” she smiled, putting her phone down and hugging me.

  I turned as she moved toward Seth and hugged him. I could tell by the way he held her that this was a dream come true.

  “Keep hugging me,” he sighed and we laughed.

  I’d told Mom about Seth’s crush, but everyone had a crush on my mom so she was un-phased. I’d wondered if bringing Seth here would make me feel uneasy or like I needed to make sure he was comfortable, like an underlying anxiety or something. But when my dad arrived and gave him a high five and Seth noticed the unlit cigarette behind his ear and commented on it, which started an hour-long conversation on what a bitch it is to quit, I knew I didn’t need to worry. Seth had no problem making conversation with them and it almost felt like he’d been coming with me for years. My parents liked him, that was obvious, and for a moment it occurred to me that it shouldn’t be this easy. Don’t get me wrong, nothing was ‘easy’ between me and Seth, I think back to the first time I saw him and I legit cringe, he was that revolting to me. We fight and argue and are normal people with normal problems, but it really did all click for us, even the disagreements. That’s us and it works for us and our personalities. My parents liking him and him liking them was another step, to what? Moving in? Marriage? I tried not to think too ahead of myself and remind myself that with all the good, the bad isn’t too far behind. Because as much as
I felt for him, I just didn’t feel like he was his best self yet. He was still working, still trying to improve and shake old habits and lifestyle choices. Some of me worried that us being together was hindering that progress, or maybe, more than I wanted to admit, I was scared to fall completely in love with him if he was still wanting to fall back into the celeb drama.

  It was a Tuesday when the shit hit the fan. Sitting in the stadium and watching my baseball player practice, my phone alerted me to a news link. I literally got up and walked toward the shade, because obviously, the sun was causing me to see this incorrectly. The sun was making the news story look like Seth had gotten into it with the paparazzi this morning. But no, it wasn’t the sun. My eyes skimmed the story.

  Seth Mitchell was spotted at the Arcadia Mall this morning, approached by paparazzi, appeared agitated, struck a camera.

  I immediately closed the app and called him, it rang and rang, nothing. Then I called Ronald, nothing. My blood boiled. Yes, I knew anger management was no cure-all, I knew it had only been a short time; I knew he was still easily triggered, but this…this wasn’t him. I knew in my bones that there was more to it.

  My faith in him had me repeating that to myself as I sped all the way to the hills and his mansion. The press at the gate reminded me of my first visit and my stomach churned. His car was here, so was Ronald’s, but no one was present when I entered the house, not even Jackie. But I just knew where Seth would be, my shoes clapped on the steps as I hurried down to the basement, my heart racing.

  Motorhead blasted from the speakers and echoed in the cement-covered space. Seth was there, smoking a cigarette and just gliding on his board. He seemed calm but I knew he was anything but. I walked right toward him, stopping a bit away from him, but he’d have to stop before knocking me down. Without a word, our eyes locked and he stopped, kicking the front of his board up to grab it. I raised my brows, wanting an explanation. But he just looked at me, hitting his cigarette deep and then shocking me as he tossed his board and it hit the wall with a loud crash.

  “What happen––”

  “I got pissed,” he states.

  “I mean to get you pissed? I know how hard you’ve been working on this, I find it hard to believe that them just being there sent you into a rage!” I growl, stepping closer to him.

  “Nothing,” he shrugs, placing the cigarette in his mouth casually.

  I see red, actual red. My fingers pull the burning stick from his lips and throw it and he looks at me with surprise.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me, Seth.”

  “I’m not! You really need to take the blinders off, this is me, a hot head, a fucking––”

  “No, no it’s not! Stop trying to act like you haven’t made so much progress in such a short time. I know you Seth, I know this isn’t you.”

  He’s shaking his head and reaching in his back pocket for his pack of smokes and instantly my hands are there, grabbing them, pulling them away and crushing them.

  “What the bloody fuck?”

  “Stop! Just tell me what happened?” I yell.

  “Claudia was there!” he yells back, his face red, the veins in his neck pulsing. “She was there this morning and trying to get me back…I told her I was with you, that I was happy…she told me…” he stops, swallowing thickly and running a hand through his hair. “I was a drunk, a hot head, that I didn’t need someone who was trying to change me…that if you cared for me you’d take me as I am.”

  My jaw drops and I look at him in, well, shock. His words triggering and firing off, making me angry and livid and hateful. I know by the tone in his voice, that he believes her. Maybe not fully, but to an extent. Shaking his head, Seth walks over to a bottle of Jack sitting on the floor that I hadn’t noticed. Half the contents are gone and I feel something flare inside me. Emptiness, a sense of not fucking giving a shit anymore. I can’t even pretend to find words to say, there’s too much, too many. Instead, I turn and begin for the stairs.

  “Bye,” he spits in a tone that has me gritting my teeth.

  I keep walking and as I reach the top of the steps, I hear a crash, assuming it’s the bottle and then a roar as the music volume rises.

  Heading back to my condo, I’m too many emotions to pick just one.

  CHAPTER 12

  Seth

  Well fuck.

  Motherfucking fuck!

  Wasn’t that just the bloody icing on an entirely cuntastic day.

  Dropping to my arse on the cement right where I stand, I draw my knees up and hang my head on them. In shame, most likely, but given I’m currently bouncing through all emotions, it could be one of many.

  Feeling my head spin from the sudden forward movement, coupled with what a half bottle of booze will do to a bloke, I decide it may be better to lay flat on the cement, picking a spot on the ceiling to focus on. I don’t even know where to begin to process today. How a series of seemingly small things have seen me end up here. Maybe Piper was right all those months ago, maybe I do have my head up my arse…but for the life of me I didn’t see today coming. Lying here now, intense anger fading, I’m starting to think that I probably should have.

  The last few months with Piper have been amazing, the fucking highlight of my year really. Rejection is a massive part of being in this industry, so if you’re not good at taking it on the chin, you should find another ring to box in. That said rejection after rejection wears you down like a little bitch. Even the most seasoned players in this town will tell you, that after a while it can fuck with your head. Piper kept my head on straight. Having her on my side, knowing that she was with me, it was like having my own personal compass point. Rejections had kept coming, but I was ok – or I’d at least convinced myself I was – because I had Piper.

  I think somewhere along the way though, maybe that’d become the problem? Yeah, in the beginning things between us had probably gone too fast, too quickly, a dangerous situation for any couple in a relationship to be in, but it’d felt so right to me. She’d become my every thing – friend, confidant, support, conscience and lover. Had I relied on her too much? What did I bring to the relationship, what did I do for her other than todger her senseless on the regular? Honestly, I wasn’t sure.

  Don’t get me wrong, I know Piper has feelings for me, but I don’t think she’s in as deep as I am. In fact, with what just went down, I’m bloody well sure she’s not. And that scares the shit out of me.

  Watching her walk away… fuck, it seemed so easy for her. Watching the look on her face…then seeing the moment she decided, ‘fuck this’ and left? Jesus, she may as well have ripped my fucking heart from my chest.

  Closing my eyes tightly to stop from letting any moisture fall, I accept that I have no one to blame here but myself. I clearly became too needy and too dependent on Piper. While I’m not sorry for one minute that I’d cut my bullshit user-friends from my life, I could have tried harder to surround myself with other, more positive influences. It’s not like I don’t know good people, I do. I was just content in my bubble…with my Bubble.

  I know Piper is too good for a prat like me. Smart, driven, focused, talented – she’s way out of my league. But I think I’ve either continued to ignore our differences, or worse, I’ve convinced myself that our differences are what make us great together. No, fuck that shite; we also balance each other out. Yeah, we’re both stubborn, we both like to win, and the way she challenges me still makes my dick hard. But where I’m spontaneous and full on, Piper is a planner and more reserved – we compliment each other in that way. Don’t we?

  Fuck, I don’t know any more.

  My head is throbbing as I go back and forth over everything, and the swirling in my gut tells me nothing is going to change unless I do it myself. The question is, should I? Piper won’t come to me. It’s not in her nature.

  Maybe that fucking slag was right, my relationship with Piper was on a timer, and that it was only a matter of time before it imploded. Or in this case, an overly botoxed, overly
bleached, overly ambitious, massively manipulative cunt in Prada heels came along and set it off.

  “Seth?”

  For a few beats my heart tries to leap out of my chest, pounding so hard against my rib cage, it could break a few. The stupid bastard thought it was Piper, and that she’d come back. If it had waited a few more seconds for my bourbon soaked brain to catch up, I could have told the useless organ it was only Jackie.

  Seeing her standing just inside the door, a broom in one hand and a mop and bucket in the other, I lie back down. I fumble with the sound system remote in my pocket, but can’t get the fucker to switch off. Giving up, I fling an arm over my eyes and clear my throat before I reply.

  “Yeah?”

  “Clean-up aisle five?” she calls out, mimicking the overhead announcement of a large grocery chain.

  A running joke between us, for years we’ve said it any time one of us has dropped shit on the floor. Today though, I can’t even fake a smile.

  “Not gonna lie to you, love, I think this mess is going to need more than a mop and bucket.”

  Sighing, I pull myself up to stand, surprised to find I’m not as shiggered as I’d thought. Heading to the console on the wall to manually turn the music down, I then make my way over to where Jackie is waiting.

  “I’ll take care of it, this is above your pay grade, Jacks.”

  “Are you ok? The last time you pitched a bottle down here was…”

  Her eyes are sweeping of the room, taking in the broken board, the smashed liquor bottle with it contents seeping into the cement, and when they land back on my face, she stops talking mid sentence.

  “Yep.” I nod, but say nothing more. Don’t need to.