by Lex Martin
“Not if I can get to him first.” Daren stands up and walks over.
I shoot an exasperated look at my roommates. Jenna loops her arm through Harper’s. “We didn’t think you should deal with this by yourself, so we called your brother.”
“Yeah, I caught that.”
“Clem, how is it that you wrote a book and I had no idea?” Jax stares down at me with a hurt expression. How the hell is he so much taller than I am? I’m barely five five while he’s at least six feet tall. “Answer me.”
“It wasn’t a big deal, and anyway, what did you think creative writing majors do?”
Ignoring my question, he asks, “How am I just finding out that you’re a bestselling author? And why are you using a pen name?”
Jax lets go of me and starts motioning with his hands. Why does he care that I wrote a stupid book? He’s always so wrapped up in soccer and random girls.
My eyes lock with Harper’s, and she gives me a sympathetic smile as she drags Jenna back to her room.
“Jax, calm down.” Daren places a hand on his shoulder.
I blow out a slow breath. “Daren, you might not be quite as understanding when you read my novel.”
He angles his head toward me, clearly not getting my point.
“Okay, both of you, sit. Now.”
My brother sighs and stomps over to the couch. Daren joins him. If I weren’t in some deep shit right now, I’d laugh that I ordered these huge guys to sit like little boys, and they totally followed my command.
Sitting on the coffee table in front of them, I brace myself for what I need to say.
“Aside from hating being in the tabloids, unlike some people,” I say, giving my brother a pointed look, “the reason I used a pen name is because the book is autobiographical. It’s about what happened my senior year.” I look at Daren. “With us.” His eyes begin to widen with understanding. “Before you freak out, you should know that it’s fictional—the names and places are different, but it’s about a girl named Isabelle who falls in love with the star quarterback, Evan, who cheats on her.”
He starts to say something, but I hold my hands up. “It’s about how she ran off and slept with some other guy because she thought it would lessen the pain somehow.”
Daren winces as my brother groans.
“Shit, Clem. Don’t tell me this,” Jax grunts.
“Everyone else is about to know, so you’d might as well hear it from me.” I grip the hem of my t-shirt and twist it, which will ruin the fabric because nothing that’s stretched out that far ever goes back to normal. “It talks about her mother who told her she should have sex with Evan or he’d lose interest but otherwise didn’t give a shit. Actually, she cared, but not in the way I thought.”
“What does that mean?” Daren sits forward and touches my knee gently so that I’ll look at him.
I clench my eyes shut as I think about it. “She said I could learn a few things from Veronica and that I should crawl on my hands and knees and beg you to take me back. Because I’d probably never do any better. And because a Sloan-Avery marriage was great PR. For her. Then she left for a meeting like she couldn’t be bothered with my life. And I lost my state meet later that day.”
Swallowing so I don’t throw up, I wrap my arms around my waist.
“Jesus.” Daren stands up and pulls me into a hug, crushing me into his chest. “I’m so sorry, honey. I know your mother is a bitch, but I never realized she’d hurt you like this. No wonder you were reluctant to—”
“Dude, don’t fucking say it,” Jax says, his hands forming tight fists. “Don’t fucking talk about banging my sister.”
“Calm down, asshole. I would never talk about Emmie that way.”
“So I have a few problems,” I say, scooting out of Daren’s hold and making him sit again. “Obviously, our parents are going to freak out, but I’m also being accused of plagiarism.”
My brother makes me explain exactly what happened in class. After I spill the details, I get to my most pressing concerns. “I have two serious legal issues: the public accusations along with what I suspect will be an academic investigation. I could get expelled if Wheeler somehow convinces the school that I’ve stolen these ideas from him.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, babe.” Daren whips out his phone and dials a number. “Prescott, this is Daren Sloan. I need to talk to that libel attorney in your office. No, this is not about me.” He covers the phone. “Wheeler is lucky I don’t rip his dick off.”
“That’s… graphic.” I laugh weakly as the tension starts to dissipate.
When Jax and Daren leave two hours later, even though I’m humbled that I had to explain this ugly ordeal, the fact that neither of them asked me if Wheeler’s accusation has any merit comforts me. They simply assumed I was telling the truth. I smile, knowing that those two are on my side. Maybe I’ve done something right after all.
When I wake up the next morning, someone is shouting. Rolling over in bed and placing a pillow firmly over my head does nothing to shut out the noise. Someone yells my name.
I wander out of my bedroom to find Dani pressed up against the front door.
“Dani? What’s wrong?” I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and yawn.
“There are people here to see you.” Her bed-head makes her look like she’s twelve. Why does she look so weirded out?
Jenna comes jogging out of her bedroom. “You can’t leave, Clem. The press is out there.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Come look out my window.”
I scurry into her room and peek out through the blinds to see a couple of news trucks. The sight makes my heart race. “Why are they here?”
“You and Wheeler, I think. Ryan says the whole campus is talking about it.”
A loud knock on the door jars me from my out-of-body experience.
“Clementine. It’s me.” The sound of Gavin’s voice makes my knees weaken. The thought of him knowing what’s in my book churns my stomach.
Jenna takes one look at me and grabs my arm. “You haven’t told him what’s going on, have you?” she asks in a strained whisper so he won’t hear through the door.
I shake my head and remind her of the break.
She smacks me on the side of my head, and her face twists into a scowl when I yelp. “I am not going to curse at you because my momma would say that you never want to hit someone when they’re down, but for fuck’s sake, Clem, you need to talk to that guy before he gets tired of your shit.”
So much for not cursing at me. “Jenna, you think I should’ve called him yesterday so he could see how pathetic I am?”
Jenna doesn’t miss my use of Wheeler’s word. She turns to me, hands on her hips, and lets out a deep sigh. “Good lord, girl. What am I going to do with you?” The more frustrated she becomes, the thicker her Southern accent gets. “Go clean up because I’m letting him in, and you are going to talk to him. I don’t understand how you can go to Daren for help, but you leave out Gavin.”
“I didn’t call Daren for help. You called my brother, and they’re attached at the damn hip. Since Daren and I talked the other night and cleared the air, he’s been acting like he did before we dated. It was always the three of us since we were little. I can’t help that we have that history. He’s helping me a lot, and before you give me that look, you should know that nothing is going on. I’m not interested in him. At all.”
I don’t wait for her reply as I shut myself in the bedroom and change. I pull on jeans and a t-shirt and tie my hair into a messy ponytail. A few minutes later, there’s a tap on my door.
Placing my hand on the handle, I close my eyes. You have to stop hiding. Let him in.
When Gavin sees me, he looks as uncertain as I feel, which unsettles me more, but he’s here, now, and my heart thuds faster, quickened by his close proximity. I think back to Monday night when I saw him walking into the gym, laughing with his friends. The realization that he isn’t like this with me, not anymore, makes me wond
er if I’m even any good for him.
“I guess you heard what happened yesterday.” I want to hug him but don’t.
He takes a few tentative steps into my room. I’m pained by the distance between us that started with Angelique and wormed its way to Daren. The burden of unspoken things is clearly taking its toll. We are three feet apart, but it might as well be a gulf.
“I did, but I wish I’d heard it from you.” His jaw tightens.
The only way to break these barriers, to be close again, is to tell him everything, but he’s yet to disclose the secrets he started keeping first. Do I really want to do this? To keep tabulations of past insults? This is exhausting. I don’t do angst well.
Maybe I could start by saying something small but honest and see if he reciprocates. I want to take a small step and be vulnerable with Gavin.
“I was embarrassed. I didn’t want you to know what I’d written, to see me in that light.”
His eyes soften, and he takes a step closer. “I know what it’s like to be judged for what you write. For every article I publish, I get an inbox full of hate mail.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve read your stuff. You’re a brilliant reporter.”
He shrugs as though uneasy with the compliment. “You’ve had that advantage.” I raise my eyebrows, wondering what he means. He clears his throat. “You know what I’ve written because I don’t use a pen name.”
My eyes turn down to the floor. Of course he’s known I have a pen name. I told him as much when we first started studying together. I just never told him what it was. Nothing was stopping him from asking. Unless he was waiting for me to offer it.
“I wish you felt like you could talk to me.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“I could say the same thing.” My stupid mouth opens before I realize what I’m saying. He nods slowly, his distance growing.
I think about how he spends time with Angelique. Hell, I saw her walk in with him at the gym only two nights ago, and yet he and I aren’t spending time together. I’ve never thought of myself as a jealous girl, but damn it, I’m pissed.
Gavin exhales and starts for the door, pausing to place a pink square of paper into my palm and kiss my forehead. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Don’t leave.
But I don’t say the words. I can’t. And then he’s gone.
I open my hand to find a Post-It with something scribbled across it. A quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald. “That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you’re not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong.”
God, I’m an idiot. He comes here to comfort me and I piss him off. I suck at relationships. I start to go after him but stop at my front door, remembering I have a lawn full of reporters. My situation has garnered enough attention to have a few news trucks parked outside, and yet Gavin didn’t ask to interview me or get a story when his specialty is investigative reporting. He never leveraged me for his own advancement. My vision gets blurry, and I blink back the tears, the ache in my chest overwhelming.
I stare down at his note in my hand and wish I knew what to do.
- 25 -
The best distraction from how screwed up things are with Gavin is to deal with the shitstorm brewing over my book. If I can deal with this myself, maybe I can figure out how to straighten things out with him. Time to make some calls.
The first one is to the dean’s office.
After I’m on hold for about ten minutes, a polite elderly-sounding woman tells me Dean Marshall wants to see me on Monday to discuss the allegations made by Wheeler. Her calm, perky demeanor is better suited for taking my lunch order at a 1950s diner than asking me to attend the Spanish Inquisition.
Daren’s legal firm hooks me up with top-notch representation, a woman named Kate Peterson. I can hear the disgust in her voice for Wheeler, and thank Jesus, Joseph and the Easter bunny that Daren got me an attorney who sounds like she might tear off my former professor’s man parts personally and enjoy it. She says she’ll start working on a slander lawsuit immediately.
Gathering up a little more courage, I call my boss Roger who chews me out for not letting him know about my alter ego sooner so I could do some in-store book signings. After grumbling about how his week is shot to shit because I can’t come in this evening, his voice softens.
“Look, kid, take the week off so you can deal with school, but you have to promise to do a few promotional events when you get back. That book of yours is a hit.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“Don’t call me that. You know it makes me feel old.”
“You are old,” I tease.
He laughs. He’s taking this really well. Guess I need to address the polka-dotted elephant in the room.
“Roger, I want you to know I didn’t plagiarize.”
Before I can say anything else, he cuts me off.
“Of course you didn’t. Any jackass knows that. Now hurry up and figure all this out so you can get back here and do next month’s schedules.”
I’m relieved not to have to explain more, and he wishes me luck, offering me more time off if I need it. I start to relax now that everyone in my small circle of friends has been so supportive.
My phone rings for the tenth time in the last hour, and although I’ve managed to dodge a couple of reporters so far, I know I have to make a statement soon. As if on cue, a familiar name flashes on my cell. I don’t get a chance to say hello before Maeve, my publicist, starts in on me.
“I don’t think I need to explain my job to you, Clementine, but I’m your liaison to the media. However, if I don’t know what the fuck is going on, I can’t do my job, which makes me very unhappy.” Her British accent sounds amazingly sophisticated even though she’s telling me off.
“It’s nice to talk to you too, Maeve.” I roll my eyes. She can be so dramatic. Of course, I’ve never made her job easy.
After listening to a few rounds of apologies, she’s quiet. “I hope there is no merit to the charges.”
“No, God, of course not!” I share what my attorney has said, which seems to assuage her ruffled feathers.
“Great. Now get yourself a few nice outfits.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Why?”
“You need to get in front of this. I made a few calls to the Sunday morning news shows. I’d love to get you out there this evening, but the story will resonate more if you issue your statement during a slow news cycle. So pray there isn’t a terrorist attack or natural disaster this week that messes with your PR.”
“You want me to do an interview?”
“Interviews. Plural. Or maybe one big one. I’m still working out the details.”
My mind floods with fears, but she’s right. I have to state my side. It’s like being on trial. If I don’t do the interviews, it’ll seem like I have something to hide. And I don’t. Not anymore.
“About that. I have one request.”
After being on the phone for two hours, I’m in a nearly vegetative state when my cell rings again. I should let it go to voice mail when I see that it’s an unknown caller, but I accidentally hit accept.
At first, all I hear is music. I recognize it as a Beatles tune, but as the lyrics become clearer, my hand starts to shake. It’s called Run for Your Life. The evil song about a guy who would rather kill his girl than watch her end up with someone else plays in my ear.
“Did you get that, love?” Wheeler asks with a snicker before he hangs up.
I’m still gripping my phone when I walk out into the living room and find Jenna, Harper and Dani watching an episode of True Blood.
“Is it weird that I think Eric Northman was hotter when he was a heartless asshole?” Dani asks.
Harper turns to her with a raised eyebrow, looking like she might launch into a clinical assessment when she spots me. The phone slips from my hand, crashing to the wood floor.
“I… I might need to take off for a few days,” I say before
I break down, sobbing.
- 26 -
You’ve got to be kidding me. The first thing I notice is that my palatial hotel suite smells like lavender and candles. The second is the massive mahogany sleigh bed dressed in a delicate ivory comforter that looks way too big for one person. The last detail that sends my wallet into heart-attack mode is that from my balcony—yes, I have a balcony—I have the most stunning view of Copley Square below where dozens of people stroll around the fountain in front of the majestic Trinity Church.
“This can’t be right,” I tell the bellhop, who sets my small suitcase by the door.
“Ma’am, if you’re Mr. Sloan’s guest, this is the room.” He stares at me like he’s waiting for me to say something and itches his collar nervously. Oh.
“Shit, hold on.” I reach into my bag for my wallet and hand him a five, which I realize is probably a small tip for a five-star hotel, but I’m on a budget.
As soon as the door closes, I dial Daren.
“Are you crazy? This is too much!” I yell the second he answers.
“Do you like it?” he asks with a laugh.
“It’s gorgeous.” Uh, understatement! Try bridal-suite amazing. Wait, that’s bad.
I stop breathing, trying to choose my words carefully. “Daren, I really appreciate your help, but why are you doing this? You know I’m in a relationship, right?” Or kind of in a relationship. Damn it. I don’t know what Gavin and I are anymore, but he’s where my heart is, and I don’t want to give Daren any mixed messages.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I saw how you looked at that guy at the gym, and I’m not trying to throw my hat in the ring here, but I owe you, and we’re friends, right?”
“Yes, we’re friends, but this goes above and beyond—”
“You need a place to stay until Boston PD can get back to you about another restraining order, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Look, I know you don’t see your brother often because he’s been afraid to put us in the same room together, so if we can put this behind us, maybe the three of us can go back to being friends. Besides, I put you through a lot of shit. I know because I read your book, and even I think I was a dick, so look at this as my way to put the universe back in order again. You didn’t deserve how I treated you, and if I can do something nice for you once in a while, you should let me. My dad’s hotel has great security, and at least I’ll know you’re safe. Jax has an away game this weekend, and he doesn’t want you to be alone, so unless you want to sleep on my couch, you’re going to have to deal with it.”