She silently walks toward me. My eyes find hers, her lips forming in the sweetest, sympathetic smile. She shrugs as she begins, “This is the life of being with a professional model. It’s not always perfect or even fair at times. I have to share you with dozens of people every time we travel. I get looks every time we go to the store or even the damn coffee house. I mean, we’re anything but normal. But I think, after two years of this, I’ve adjusted well, and you just need to trust me that we can get through this. I highly doubt this is the last time someone will try to mess with you. It’s all part of the job, right?”
I pull her toward me, wrapping my arms around her. I clench tightly, embedding the feeling of her warmth into my brain, molding it to memory. I don’t want the love we feel for each other right now to change...I want it to stay just the way it is. I don’t want the media, press, or public to get in the way of what we have. Still, I feel so helpless now that I know I can’t do a fucking thing to change what’s already happened.
The damage has been done.
Chapter Nine
Cecilia
Murphy’s Law
I KNOW BENTLEY well enough to see when he’s panicking. I try to give him the reassurance I know he needs, even if part of me is scared to death of what’s to come.
Bentley and I haven’t spoken much about anything else. He’s so worked up about what this is going to do to his career—booking shoots and jobs don’t come easy to those with bad raps. Most photographers don’t want to work with them—it gives them a bad name, as well.
A couple days pass and all Bentley’s been concerned about is clearing his name. I can understand his concern, but at the same time, he’s not the only celeb to get a story exposed about them. Even though he won’t listen, I keep trying to convince him it’ll be okay.
Traveling with Bentley over the past year has been an incredible experience. We’ve been able to do things I only could’ve dreamed of doing.
However, now it was my time to build a career—to make something of myself aside from the girl that’s on Bentley Leighton’s arm.
I told Bentley this morning that I wanted to start looking for a job. I need something to do besides sit around and ‘plan’ our wedding. Traveling with him was causing him to be late for his shoots and that was the last thing he needed to be known for doing. I enjoyed traveling with him, but I know he needs to remain focused. Competition in his industry was too fierce to be slacking off now.
Once I checked my phone, I noticed I have a voicemail from Jason—the last person I expected to hear from. He had seen the article online and was checking up on me to make sure I was all right.
My heart squeezes at the way he’s concerned about me. It reminds me I have to text Cora, Katelynn, Casey, and my mom to give them a heads-up. They're used to stories of Bentley being twisted in the media, but I know this one will shock them a lot more.
I decided to fly back to Omaha by myself, giving Bentley the time he needed to sort things out. I felt invisible anyway just waiting around for Bentley to let me be there for him. He wasn’t taking any of this too well.
The following day after I arrive back home, I head to The Grind Café and begin my job search. I order my caramel latté and find a corner booth to sit in. I pull out my iPad and start searching for jobs online—anything related to sports management or perhaps something in fitness. I knew it’d have to be something flexible with the wedding coming up and Bentley’s demanding schedule. I knew I still wanted to be around to support him and travel with him occasionally, but I also knew I had to start building my own career.
* * *
I’m half way through my latté, emailing my resume for the third time, when I’m interrupted by a familiar voice.
“Cecilia?” I look up and see Jason staring down at me. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“Jason? Hi!” My eyes light up at seeing a friendly face. “How are you?”
“I’m doing great, now.” He smiles wide. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
I shift in my seat, move my iPad over, and wave my hand. “Oh, of course.”
“What are you doing here? I’m surprised you’ve even left your house.” His tone is sincere, but I hear the concern laced in his voice.
I frown, hating that everyone in this city probably knows my business by now, especially Jason.
“I’m not going to let the assholes keep me from living my life. Plus, as soon as a famous celeb goes into rehab, everyone will forget.” I shrug, trying to play it off. “Thank you for checking up on me before. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” He keeps his eyes on me as he brings his coffee up to his lips. He looks like he wants to say something else, but instead, shifts his eyes to the iPad in front of me.
“So what are you doing? Writing a rebuttal story?” He smirks.
“No...” I laugh lightly. “Job searching. Every college graduate’s—with zero job experience—dream.”
“You?” His brows rise. “You’re searching for a job?”
“I’m offended!” I jokingly put a hand to my chest. “I am very capable of working, thank you.”
“Well, I’m sure you are, but...”
“Just because my fiancé is a model, doesn’t mean I want to just sit at home and knit.”
His lips form into a devilish grin. “Um, I don’t think anyone does that anymore. Unless you’re living in a nursing home, which in that case...I’d be out looking for new friends.”
“You’re an ass,” I scowl playfully, punching him in the arm. “I’m probably your only friend.”
“My only hot friend, yes. Otherwise, the rest are covered in tats with shaved heads.”
His confession hits me off guard, but I choose to ignore it anyway.
“Well, friend, I need to get back to job searching. Minimum wage isn’t gonna find itself.”
He laughs, but suddenly his face goes serious. “Wait. What kind of job are you looking for? I might have a few connections, depending on what you can do.”
“Well, I’d love to do something with sports and fitness. I did an internship at my college with the hockey team, but that’s basically my only experience. I’d probably even get denied being the water girl.” I frown.
“I don’t think that’s even a paid position.” He laughs.
I scowl at him, and then begin laughing. “Oh, my god. I’m never going to find a job. My experience is laughable.”
His face turns genuine. “I have an uncle who works at the university. He’s one of the men’s baseball coaches. I could...ask him if he has an opening available. I mean...if you’re interested.” He grins as he watches my expression.
“Seriously? You aren’t just messing with me?” My eyes light up as my heart speeds up at the thought of getting my dream job.
“Yes, for real. When I came back, I moved in with him, and he just mentioned an opening—”
“Oh, my god!” I squeal, jumping up and hugging him. “That’d be so amazing!”
He wraps his arms around my waist, making me highly aware that we’re touching. I didn’t mean to—it just sort of happened when I got so excited about the job opening.
I push back slightly, taking a step backward to avoid any awkwardness. I think he feels it too, his hand brushing roughly through his hair as we avoid eye contact.
“I’ll give him your number, I mean if that’s okay?” He smirks.
“Yeah, absolutely! I can email him my resume or whatever,” I stumble, too excited to slow down. “Let me know what he says.” I smile back.
“Will do. Well, I’m going to head out. I’ll let you know what he says.” He nods, and I thank him for his help. I can hardly believe it, but for a moment, it helps me forget the mass chaos that my life is in right now.
I sit back down and scroll through my iPad and groan over the hundreds of emails I have yet to go through. Most of it is spam, but the rest is Mrs. Leighton emailing me details of ‘my wedding’ and reminding me of appointments and fitt
ings. I’m so over her taking charge that I decide to email her back—with a piece of my mind.
* * *
I drive back home with peace and happiness finally overwhelming me, instead of anxiety and stress. I’ve let Mrs. Leighton know exactly how I feel about her taking over my wedding and that from now on, I’ll be handling all the details. I expect a phone call or threatening email to come any time now.
I walk in with a ginormous smile on my face when my cell rings with Bentley’s name on it.
“Hey, I’m just getting in—”
“What the fuck did you do?” he growls, his voice deep and demanding.
I stop dead in my tracks when I hear his words.
“Wait, what?” I throw my purse on the table, standing in the middle of the dining room. “You told me to stand up to your mother, that’s—”
“This isn’t about my mother, Ceci.”
“What the hell are you talking about then? What’s wrong?” I ask hurriedly.
I hear something slam against a wall through the phone, an object sitting in the hotel, I assume.
“I just got a call from Angie. Apparently, you’ve been spotted hugging and flirting with a guy at the coffee house. Not only that, there are pictures to prove it, and not only that, they’re headlining them as ‘Trouble in Paradise? Bentley Leighton’s fiancée moves on already.’”
I gasp as my heart sinks at his words. I have no clue what he’s talking about.
“H-How is that possible? I was literally just there.” I wave my hand in back of me although he can’t see me. I’d only been gone a few hours.
“The Internet, Ceci. Someone recognized you, took your picture, and tweeted it.”
“But...it’s not true!” I shout, defending myself. I shouldn’t have to, though. Bentley knows me better than that. “It was Jason. It was not some random guy or a hookup. And we weren’t flirting. I was there looking for jobs just like I told you I’d be.”
“Well, you left out the meeting up with Jason part. However, now everyone thinks my fiancée has moved on since Hannah’s story. It’s exactly what they wanted.”
“Exactly! They’re just spiraling the story out of control to make money. It’s not true.”
I hear him moving around as he speaks. “Well, even to me it looks true.” His voice is low, defeated.
I rush to his office and immediately get on his computer. I Google my name, the article popping up right away. I examine the pictures displayed online. There are a dozen of them. Me laughing. Jason laughing. Me gasping when he told me about his uncle’s job opening. Jason looking at me in pure lust. Us hugging. Shit, shit, shit. It was all innocent. But, of course, they could pull any story out of their asses without actually knowing what was really going on.
“You’re a moron,” I spit out, chucking the mouse across the room.
“Excuse me? I’m a moron?” His voice is higher now, obviously taken back by my response.
“Yes.” I throw my hand up in frustration. “I wasn’t even doing anything. You of all people should know how the tabloids twist shit around and form fake stories.”
“Ceci, I know that. It’s the fact that they have pictures. It’s hard to deny something that’s clearly obvious.”
My blood boils as I hear the accusation in his tone. “Obvious of what? That I was hanging out with a friend who happens to be a guy? That I was thanking him for helping me and for being there when I needed someone?” I question loudly, but I continue without letting him speak. “I stand by your side when your ex-whatever-she-is goes public with your sex lives and even your horrendous playboy ways. I stand by you in your career—putting mine on hold—while we travel, and I sit by awkwardly watching as girls throw themselves at you. And the one time—one time—I go and actually do something for myself, I get it thrown back in my face. I wasn’t there to meet Jason. He was there grabbing coffee. And if you must know—because it’s not like you’ve asked—once I told him I was looking for a job, he offered to help me. His uncle is a coach for the baseball team at the university. There’s an opening, and he offered to give my information to his uncle. So, yes, I was overly excited and hugged him for helping me. Excuse me for showing any excitement that isn’t about you and your career.”
The words spew out of my mouth before I realize what I’m saying, and then, once I start, it continues to spill out of me. But part of me feels relief that I did.
The line stays silent on the other end. I’m practically panting, waiting for him to say something—anything. Nothing between us has ever been easy. We’ve always had to fight to be together and this is no different.
“Sorry...I don’t mean to yell at you, it’s just...this is really unfair,” I speak up again. “You know I support you in your career. I just want something I can feel proud of for myself. I didn’t go through all the trouble of finding out about my dad and finishing college to just sit around and plan a wedding or following you around to watch you make your dreams come true. I have dreams and goals, too, and I want to do them with you. But I need your support, as well.” I finally hear him breathing on the other end.
“God, I’m sorry. I...didn’t mean to take it out on you.” His voice is weak, defeated. “I’m just so over this bullshit. It’s been days and still the press and media are all over this damn Hannah story, and now they’ll be all over it with you. I just…I don’t want to lose you over this, and you know that’s my biggest fear. The media is good at pulling people apart. And with Hannah’s interview and your pictures, they’ll really make up some bullshit story.”
I sniff back the tears. I love strong, determined Bentley, but I fall in love with him even more when he’s vulnerable Bentley. It reminds us that throughout everything—his career and how we met—that we’re still just two people who want to maintain a normal, healthy relationship.
“We’re going to get through this,” I tell him. “We can’t let the press get in between us. We need to stay strong and lean on one another. We can’t turn on each other.”
I hear him exhale deeply. “You’re right. I just...hate this. Being in different states makes them think it’s true. I hate letting anything get in between us, and I fucking hate the fact that they think you’re with that guy.”
“He’s just a friend,” I remind him calmly.
“Friend or not, he looks at you like he wants more. It was quite obvious to me and the person who snapped the pic.”
“Well, it’s not my fault he looks at me like that. I don’t give him any advances to think we’re more. When I hung out at the bookstore, it was strictly friend-zone. I mean, there was nothing electric between us.”
“Wait.” He pauses. “What bookstore?”
“Across the street from the coffee house,” I clarify.
“You’re going to have to fill me in.” His voice is rough, demanding.
Shit, I was sure I told him about this.
“Jason was watching his friend’s store for a couple weeks while he was on vacation or something. While you were gone that first week, I went and kept him company. We just hung out while I looked through books.”
He’s silent for a split second before rushing out, “Are you fucking kidding me? You...you spent days with this guy? You hung out with him while your fiancé was out of the country? Do you know how wrong that fucking sounds?”
My heart begins racing again. “What the hell are you talking about? I can’t go to a bookstore now? How many times do I have to tell you...HE’S JUST A FRIEND!” I wave my hand in the air to emphasize it although he can’t see it. I continue ranting, “We haven’t hooked up since I was seventeen years old, and oh, yeah...I’m engaged now,” I mock, upset that we’re still arguing about this.
“Well, you could’ve fooled me.” He deadpans. Before I can respond, the phone goes dead. I pull the phone away from my ear. He hung up on me.
When it rains, it fucking pours.
“AH!” I scream out in frustration, not knowing what else to do. One minute we’re fine and th
e next...it fucking goes to hell.
My cell interrupts, beeping with a message.
Jason: Shit, Cecilia. I’m so sorry. I just saw. Anything I can do to help?
I sigh to myself. Jason has only been kind to me and it’s the last thing he deserves to be in the middle of.
Me: Not unless you have a time machine?
If it can go wrong, it will go wrong.
Murphy’s Law.
Chapter Ten
Bentley
DEALING WITH THE bullshit of the press is becoming too much. I’d always been able to handle them. I’d ignore their absurd comments and move on, but now it was different. Now it was affecting Ceci and I, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
I decide to seek Hannah out. She’s living in Hollywood right now with about five roommates. Angie contacted her agent and told her she’s been struggling to get auditions. I wasn’t about to let her damage my name to get ahead and get away with it.
Angie told me to let it go—for now—but I brushed her off anyway. I was going to handle this my way.
It wasn’t hard to find out her address, especially when you know the right people. She lives in a crappy part of the city, but I drive there anyway. Unsure if she’ll be home, I’m determined to find her somehow.
I stand outside my rental car in front of her apartment complex—if you can even call it that. The siding is falling off, the front covered in weeds, and the metal mailbox is smashed to the ground.
I hesitantly walk up to the front door and hit the buzzer. I already know which apartment number she is, but I buzz anyway.
Before anyone can buzz me in, the door opens. “Oh, hey, man. Buzzer is broken. Just walk in.”
I nod my thanks, not surprised to hear that too is busted.
I walk up the steps to apartment number nine and knock. I look completely out of place in my three-piece suit and designer shoes. I wanted her to see the Bentley she last knew.
After the Internship: A Novella (The Intern #4) Page 6