by Amity Cross
I tried Eliza at Foothold Press first.
“Hi, it’s Jade Forsyth calling for Eliza Simmonds,” I said to the receptionist.
“I’ll just see if she’s available.” I was placed on hold, my heart beating in time with the fast dance track that was playing down the phone. “I’m sorry, but Miss Simmonds is unavailable. May I take a message?”
Knowing she would never get back to me if I did, I replied, “No need. Thank you.”
Hanging up, I gritted my teeth in frustration. Eliza had always taken my calls. Always.
I could go back to agenting authors. I’d done it for two years straight out of Uni. Shit, I’d scored Alexis Storm her first contract, and now she was worth millions. Her books singlehandedly kept Slattery Press afloat. Who wouldn’t want me?
Yeah, that was right. No one wanted the woman who was so good at her job she’d had to resort to sleeping in a stolen car.
Knowing my attempts were futile, I tried the next number—Harry McKay at Scout & Yardley literary agency—and had the same response. Can I take a message?
I called five other numbers and had a range of reactions. I’m sorry, Jade. She’s not in the office. He’s in a meeting. We don’t have anything right now. Bollocks. I would have to go the old-fashioned route—old-fashioned being the newspaper—until I could find someone with a laptop I could borrow.
I rode the elevator all the way to the basement where the kitchen was located.
Stepping out, I saw all the other backpackers had already gone out on their adventures for the day, but British Brian was sitting at the long table, his glasses perched on his nose. He was a fifty-something guy from London, who’d given up his corporate career to travel the world after his wife had passed away. I’d been staying at the hostel for almost a week now, and he was the first person to welcome me. I’d slunk into the kitchen, and seeing how uncomfortable I was, he’d immediately offered me a cup of tea.
I was beginning to understand more and more of Ryan’s perspective on life the more time I spent here. Different people with different views and cultures were really opening my eyes. I didn’t even miss my fancy clothes or my underfloor heating after a few days.
“Jade,” British Brian said, looking up from the newspaper he was reading. “Cup of tea?”
“Don’t get up,” I said, waving at him. “I’ll grab some hot water from the urn.”
Finding a spare mug and pilfering a tea bag from Brian’s plastic tub, I made myself a cup of black tea. I wasn’t even worried about the germs on the communal dinnerware anymore, and I wondered if it meant my quest to find a better person in myself was moving in the right direction. Either that or my immune system was developing its own version of an iron gut.
“How are you this fine morning?” Brian asked as I sat across from him at the table.
I shrugged and muttered something incomprehensible.
“That good, huh?”
“I feel like I’ve been slapped back into last century,” I replied before sipping my tea.
“Job hunting going that well?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Worse.”
“I’m finished with the paper. Would you like it?”
“Thanks.”
Glancing at the newspaper, I saw it was today’s copy of the Herald Sun. What day was it today? Thursday. It was hard to keep up now I didn’t have anywhere to be.
“Would you like some advice?” Brian asked, peering at me over the top of his glasses.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Maybe it’s my age talking, but yes, it is.”
“Great.” I sighed and began fiddling with the corner of the paper.
“Some people would say just rise above and forget about those people who’ve cast you aside,” he began, giving away that he’d actually listened and cared when I’d told him a little about my circumstances. “That you shouldn’t bother about setting them straight and having your say. There are two sides to every story, as they say. Some people are quick to believe one and won’t even bother hearing the other before making their judgment. I say, fuck them all.”
“Brian!” The sound of a curse word coming out of his mouth sounded crass and unfamiliar. He was such a proper Englishman.
“They want to push you out because they’re afraid of what other people think. Nobody wants to take a risk these days in case they get a three star or less review on Amazon. Stick with the status quo? It’s all bollocks. If I’ve learned anything these past few years after all the shite I’ve gone through, it’s that you should never go down without a fight. Even if you know you’re going to crash and burn…burn brightly.”
I stared at him, my mind beginning to tick over. I felt the fires of inspiration burning underneath the surface, the thought of reclaiming the parts of myself that had withered was suddenly an exciting prospect.
All this time, I’d been fighting pointless battles. Margaret’s blackmailing, a career that had only chewed me up and spat me out, a fake fiancé with a wandering dick… It was all pointless.
The only thing I should’ve been fighting for was the forgiveness and love of Ryan Harper. It was time to let go of everything—who I thought I was, and who I’d wanted to be—and let all those other moronic fuckers win their pointless battles because at the end of it all…I would win the war.
She’s gotta be real… His words that night at the club came back to me with startling clarity.
“She’s gotta be real,” I murmured.
“Real is a good place to start,” Brian said.
Blinking, I smiled, my body humming as an idea began to form in the back of my mind. I had one number I could call, and it had nothing to do with clawing my way back into my old profession. Nothing at all. That number was all about the truth.
“Thanks, Brian,” I said, rising to my feet. “You said exactly what I needed to hear.”
He nodded and watched in amusement as I practically ran from the kitchen and into the elevator.
It was time to tell my side of the story. It was time to stop letting people walk all over me. It was time to burn brightly.
If I lost everything, at least I would be free. Free of Hunter and his poor attempts at love, free of Margaret and her toxicity, and free of all expectations on the rich and powerful social ladder. Finally, truly and utterly free.
When the elevator opened up on the ground floor, I powered through reception and outside. Crossing Flinders Street and weaving through the masses of slow walkers going to and from the train station, I darted over Swanston Street and found a spot to sit on the stairs at Federation Square. Opening the contacts on my phone again, I found the number I was looking for and put in the call.
“Hello?”
“Kevin,” I said. “It’s Jade Forsyth.”
Kevin Merritt was a journalist at one of Melbourne’s most prominent newspapers, the Herald Sun. I’d known him for years on and off. We used to kick around at University a bit before we all grew up and went our separate ways on the career ladder. We’d remained friends since, and he’d helped me out from time to time with an in at the paper. He was gold at getting their arts section to report on my authors around release time. Even my steamy romances had some air time over the latest literary snob sensation with his help. Hopefully, he would be all over my current proposal…despite Margaret’s blackmail photograph going viral.
“Jade,” Kevin replied. “I’ve been hearing and seeing interesting things about you.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling.”
He grunted. “For someone who’s had their misfortune circulated around the country, you sound pretty excited.”
“Misfortune?” I asked. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
“I was being polite.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, Jade. Someone’s really got it in for you.”
“Margaret Anastas,” I declared.
“You’re kidding? I thought you were friends?”
“So did I. Anyway, that’s why
I’m calling. How would you like the story of the year? Hell, the story of the decade.”
“I’m not getting involved in your back and forth,” he said quickly. “I’m not a gossip columnist, Jade. I’m a journalist. Shit, I’ve had front pages. I even had a piece picked up by the New York Times. I’m not going to do a report on gossiping rich bitches and their made-up hearsay.”
“Bloody hell, Kev,” I exclaimed. “It’s not like that at all. I want to tell a story, an honest story, from start to finish, and I want you to be a part of it. Just hear me out, okay?”
Silence, then, “I’m listening.”
“Have you ever seen that movie Never Been Kissed?” I asked. “The one with Drew Barrymore?”
“Jade, I’m too refined to watch romcoms.”
“Ha! You do know it! Then you’ll know the bit at the end where she bares her heart and soul to the entire city in a feature piece in the Chicago Sun-Times in hopes the hot school teacher will see.”
“Keep going…” Kevin’s ears had pricked up big time.
Excitedly, I gave him the low down, explaining everything that had happened and everything I wanted to say. There was no more humiliation as I recounted what had befallen me. The only thing that radiated from my heart was the desire to own up to the awful things I’d done and set them right. For the first time in my life, I needed to be real. With myself…and with Ryan.
This was the truth—no agenda, no attempts at repairing my reputation—and it would serve as a warning and a reminder that the life I wanted wasn’t the key to happiness. And when all that was said, hopefully, Ryan would see, and I would have a chance at showing him how I’d been feeling this entire time. That I was in love with him.
I’d had my Eat, Pray moments, and now it was time for Love to have its shot.
26
Jade
Sitting beside Kevin at his desk inside the Herald Sun offices, I waited as he pulled up the finalized article he’d put together.
After a day and night of answering questions and detailing every sordid little part of my once charmed life—the fake kind of charmed—the words now sat in front of me, and all that was left to do was hit send.
My story was a last-minute addition, cleared by the editor in chief and fast-tracked for an appearance in this Saturday’s edition of the Lifestyle magazine. Everyone loved a tearjerker, and the paper wanted to cash in on sales, clicks, and shares on social media. I knew all about leveraging a good story to make a buck. I used to sell this kind of thing for a living.
“Do you want to give it one last look?” Kevin asked.
Glancing out the window, I studied the darkening city beyond. Lights had flicked on, and office buildings and the street below were lit up like it was Christmas. I’d always wondered who sat behind all those glass squares. Maybe they were people like me, making last-ditch efforts to apologize and declare their love.
“Jade?”
Glancing at him, I smiled. It wasn’t easy to see my selfishness laid bare, but it was the truth. Every grain.
“Can I put a note at the end?” I asked. “Just a few lines. There’s someone who needs a special mention.”
“Ryan?” he asked, his lips quirking. “Are you going to ask him to meet you somewhere and kiss you?”
Shaking my head, I laughed softly at the reference to the romcom Never Been Kissed that inspired my story. “No, nothing like that. I don’t think he would like the attention.”
Taking the keyboard, I tapped out my last words. It read like a eulogy, a final goodbye to a life that had never been worth much at all despite the flashy facade. Finally, I allowed Kevin to read over my declaration and make a few grammatical corrections before we were done. The story was ready to send to the typesetter to prepare for tonight’s print run.
“Are you sure about this?” Kevin positioned the mouse over the send button on his email. “You could go viral for all the wrong reasons.”
“I’m sure,” I replied firmly. “That’s why they call it a risk, right? You never know what will happen. Not for sure.”
“You’ve got guts, Forsyth.”
Grabbing the mouse, I clicked the cursor on the send button.
“I sure do, Merritt. I sure do.”
Ryan trained on Saturdays.
Standing in the entrance of Pulse Fitness, I took a deep breath. My palms were sweating, my knees were shaking, and vomit was percolating in the back of my throat. Any second now, my head would spin around and I would puke everywhere, Exorcist style.
A copy of the Lifestyle magazine was shoved under my arm, a bright yellow Post-it note marking the place where a two-page story about all my mistakes and regrets was printed for all the world to see.
C’mon, Jade, I thought to myself. If he doesn’t see it, then it was all for nothing. This is your grand gesture. He wanted real…this is as real as it gets.
A man and a woman in their fancy active wear scanned their security tags and pushed into the gym. Before I lost my nerve, I slipped through the door behind them.
Being Saturday, the place was pumping. Classes were underway in the private rooms to the side, almost all of the machines were taken, and a training session was happening in the ring at the rear. Scanning the bustle, I couldn’t see Ryan anywhere, and my heart began to sink.
“Jade?”
At the sound of my name, I turned and came face to face with an intimidating, hulking man. His brow was dark as he looked down at me, and I noticed an intricate black and gray tattoo peeking out from behind his tight tank top. He was hot, but I also noticed he was wearing a wedding ring.
“You’re…” I began, starting to feel out of my depth. My bravado was fading fast.
“Ash Fuller,” he said. “Ryan’s coach.”
“I’m sorry to sneak in like this, but I need to see Ryan,” I blurted. “It’s important.”
“He’s not here,” Ash said, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s got a fight tonight.”
“A fight?” I asked, my mouth dropping open. “He finally got his first fight?” To myself, I muttered, “Then he wouldn’t have seen it…”
“Seen what?” Ash narrowed his eyes but not in a menacing way. He looked genuinely curious.
“I, uh…” I handed him the copy of the Lifestyle magazine. “It’s all in there.”
He flipped open the magazine, and his eyebrows quirked as he read over the article headline and studied the picture of me.
“Ryan’s been tight-lipped on what happened the week he was away,” he said. “When he got back, he was more rattled than when I told him to take the time off in the first place.”
“I’m to blame for that,” I muttered. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t fuck up his training, did I?”
“No.” He shook his head. “He hasn’t been himself, though.”
I lowered my head, my confidence fleeing the building. I’d ruined him, hadn’t I? I’d never realized how I’d affected the course of his life, but then again, I hadn’t realized a lot of things.
“Do you want to explain it to me?” Ash asked. “I’m listening.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
He held up the magazine. “If this headline means what I think it does, then I don’t think it matters.”
Fortune, Fame, and Fakery. The Rise and Fall of Jade Forsyth…a Modern Tragedy, by Kevin Merritt.
“I hurt him,” I said. “I didn’t mean to, but I did. I was so blind to everything until he opened my eyes.”
“So, this is your story?” When I nodded, he grunted and looked at the magazine again. “Pretty ballsy. What’s it say?”
“How much of a selfish bitch I was. How I got caught up in a game, lost everything, and learned from my mistakes. It all started when I caught my fiancé fucking another woman,” I said. “That day, I ran into Ryan and he… He rode with me to a hotel and made sure I was okay. My friends, they didn’t even care. They laughed behind my back like I’d deserved everything I got. When I came back to find Ryan… He…
”
“He was the only one who gave a shit?” Ash asked. “Sounds like him.”
“All that time, I never realized all that was fake, you know? The engagement, the money, the clothes, the ridiculous amounts of overtime I was putting in at my job, my friendship group. It was nice to be part of something,” I said. “Even though it was toxic, I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted someone to listen to me. I wanted to be accepted and liked. You should be able to voice your frustrations to your friends and have them listen without judgment. That’s what they’re for, right? They shouldn’t take notes and screenshots to use as ammunition. I knew I was walking a fine line, that my turn was coming. I’d sat there listening to the drama and did nothing to stop it. I was part of the problem.” I sighed, feeling completely duped. “I knew I didn’t quite fit in, but I wasn’t strong enough to let go. I ignored my gut, and by the time I realized I should back out gracefully…amicably…it was too late. Now I’m the bad guy…all for wanting to belong to something.”
“You’re not the bad guy,” Ash said. “Everyone has faults, you know.”
“My faults cost me dearly,” I argued. “Ryan showed me a life I never thought was possible for someone like me. He showed me there was more to living than work and money. He showed me the person I had the potential of being if I had the courage to let go. He’s always been there, helping me see these things despite me choosing someone else over him time and time again. The wrong someone. But it wasn’t until now, until it was too late, that I saw… That I saw he loved me. And even then, it took losing everything to realize I love him. This…” I tapped the magazine. “This is my last shot at being real and owning up to the things I did. This is my last chance to tell him how I feel. He will never speak to me after what I did, but he might read this.”
“He might…” Ash peered at the magazine.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I added, “Would… Would you give it to him? Please?”