Dirty Professor

by North, Paige

  “No, Kait, it’s not that.”

  “We go to press tonight. You better get your ass back to your desk right now and start writing,” she said. “And you better hope your fingers can type fast enough because if I don’t have that article in my inbox by nine o’clock tonight, you can kiss your career goodbye.”

  “What if we did the article showing the other side of Leo Armstrong, the one that goes against his reputation?” I tried. I’d thought of that as I sat in traffic, my stomach a gurgling mess of nerves on my way in. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I had to try. I was sinking fast.

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” she said. “After all I’ve done for you? I gave you your start in this field. Do you know how many girls wish they had your job? How many girls wish they’d been given free rein of the Crush fashion closet to pick out anything so that they could look good on their dates with the Leo Armstrong? Do you get that?”

  “And I’m so appreciative,” I said.

  “He has got you so fooled,” Kait said, shaking her head in disgust. “Pam told me not to trust some young, naïve girl like you and she was right. That man has got you so fooled into thinking he actually cares about you. I don’t know whether it’s sad or pathetic or both. Sophie,” she said, leaning forward. “Listen to me carefully: He doesn’t care about you. No matter what he’s said to you in those quiet little moments in his high-rise apartment, he doesn’t care about you. All he cares about is using you. He’s been using you this whole time. Do you get that?”

  “Maybe you’re right, Kait, but I don’t know why you hate him so much and why you’re out to get him. He’s not the man you think he is, he hasn’t treated me badly and I won’t say that he has just to make you happy.”

  She kept her gaze on me, and I refused to look away.

  “If you don’t write that story,” she said, “you can kiss your job here goodbye, and I promise you that there will be no other jobs to come. Los Angeles is a much smaller town than you might think.”

  I’d considered this all day. Kait wasn’t the type of woman to let anyone tell her no. Hearing her say the words, though, still shocked me. I paused, wondering for a moment if I was prepared to do that—to give it all away and maybe get nothing in return.

  “You know,” I said, “what you don’t understand is that Leo’s not the real user. You are.”

  With that I turned and left Kait’s office, pausing only to grab my bag from my desk as I marched down the halls. The other editors had apparently been straining to listen and they all stood at the edge of their cubicles and offices as I walked out of Crush.

  I didn’t care about their snide faces (Alexa, Bethany) or their victorious grins (Pam). I only cared about one thing—telling Leo the hard truth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Please answer, I silently prayed as I sat in my car outside the Crush offices—where my career had just been crushed—and listened to the ringing of Leo’s phone. Finally, thankfully, he answered.

  “Hi! Leo!” I said with a little too much pep.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said, making my heart sing. “How are you? Yeah, that tie is fine,” he said to someone else.

  “You busy?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “Only a little. The Trigger Happy premiere is tonight.”

  “Oh, right,” I said. “I forgot.”

  Trigger Happy was his biggest project to date. He’d mentioned the problems with it in passing. The co-stars hated each other, the director couldn’t control them, and the weather never cooperated. But tonight, all that would be put aside as the movie was finally released, and I knew Leo was ready to hopefully throw a successful launch and put the gossip in the rearview mirror.

  “My car is here,” Leo said. “I’m going in the elevator so I might lose you. Did you need something?”

  His tone wasn’t unkind, just distracted. I didn’t want to lose him, in the elevator or anywhere else. I had to see him and tell him the truth about everything before he found out from someone or somewhere else. Kait was surely right when she said it was only a matter of time before reporters found out who Leo’s mystery woman was. I couldn’t let him find out from anyone but me. I had to tell him the truth, and hope that he could somehow forgive me.

  “I have to talk to you tonight,” I said. “Where is the premiere?”

  “At Grauman’s Chinese on Hollywood Boulevard,” he said.

  “Can I meet you there?” I asked.

  “Sounds important,” he said. “Like I said, I’m leaving now. I’ll have Elaine email you a pass so you can get in. Good luck with parking, though. It’ll be a nightmare.”

  I didn’t care about seeing the movie or where I’d park my car. I just had to get to Leo, and fast.

  Of course, there’s nothing fast about driving through L.A. in the heat of rush hour traffic. The whole drive over I tried to stifle the voice in my head that told me I was crazy for everything I’d done since the day I arrived in the city. But I had to believe that there was something real with Leo. We hadn’t just been fooling around.

  Things had changed, at least for me, and it was more than just physical. It was how I felt when I was around him—content, at ease, happy, blissful even. The way he looked at me had changed, too. When Leo looked at me, I felt like he was seeing inside of me, at the person I was and trying to be.

  Of course, I hadn’t been truthful and it was an ugly side of me that I was now deeply ashamed over. The opportunity to be a journalist had brought out a weakness in me that I’d never known existed. I was sick with guilt over it, but tried to push it away as I finally exited the 101 Freeway at Highland and turned onto Hollywood Boulevard.

  The scene was a madhouse. The road was partially closed, forcing me to turn onto another street. I couldn’t waste time searching for a parking spot that I was sure didn’t exist so I pulled up at a restaurant and tossed my keys to the valet. I heard him yell at me about only customers being allowed to valet there, but I was off and running toward the theater.

  There were hundreds of people crowding the street in front of the historic theater. I took out my phone to text Leo to see where he was. Instead I found a text from Alexa.

  Thought you’d want to know. Kait didn’t even need you to write the article. She’s been keeping your notes and emails all long and just assembled it for a Crush exclusive. ;)

  I clicked on the link and it took me to the front page of the Crush web site.

  Exclusive: Leo Armstrong’s Womanizing Ways Exposed

  My heart raced as I scanned through the article, which was short and ended with the teaser, Read the full story in our next issue!

  Instead of being written by my perspective—the reporter—Kait had switched it up a bit.

  “Armstrong took Sophie as his carry-on as he flew up to Seattle for on-set movie trouble, and refused to even let her de-board the plane. She was relegated to being his in-flight entertainment...”

  “…kept a short lease on our young Sophie, refusing to give her his phone number even after several dates—dates which were carefully planned to include only the restaurants where he was able to bribe the entire staff into silence of his evening with yet another young, trusting woman on his arm.”

  “…uses his grandparents as an excuse to avoid commitment…”

  My hand shook as I read the words. I knew Kait was low and cutthroat, but I didn’t know she’d spin things this badly. She was evil, plain and simple. I knew she was out to get Leo but why did she have to throw me out as well? What had I done to make her hate me so much? I looked through the crowd to see if I could spot Leo. The only good thing was, he was surely too busy on the red carpet, posing with his stars and answering questions from entertainment reporters to see this bombshell on some women’s magazine web site.

  I’d only seen movie premieres on television and had no idea they were such frenzied, screaming affairs, and I’m not just talking about the fans who were pinned behind riot gates across the street. As I got closer I could hear th
e reporters yelling questions, jostling each other and cameras flashing, and it was all concentrated in one spot, on one person—Leo Armstrong.

  “Where is she? Did you bring Sophie Scott tonight?”

  “What do you have to say about your so-called mystery girl writing an exposé on you?”

  “Did you use the same tactics on the other women you date?”

  “Have you spoken with Sophie Scott since the story came out?”

  The use of my real name made me realize it was all happening, and they knew who I was. I stayed laser-focused on getting to Leo, whose tight smile showed me that he was just trying to get through this thing, and safely inside the theater. I moved to the side of the crowd, hoping to catch him and pull him into some relative safety on the side of the building.

  My heart went out to him, but my heart was also breaking at the same time. Why had it happened this way? Why hadn’t I just told him everything sooner?

  He moved down the red carpet swiftly, and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful he looked in his perfectly-fitted tux, his hair combed back but the waves still there. The screaming reporters and flashing lights could not pull me out of my goal of getting to him, talking to him and trying to explain things. Even as they screamed his name mixed with my real name, I refused to believe I’d lost my chance until I was face-to-face with him. So I slipped through the edge of one of the police barriers, sucking my stomach in to fit through, and stood on my toes to try to get his attention. Only instead of Leo’s attention, I attracted the attention of the reporters.

  “There she is!”

  “It’s Sophie Scott, Leo Armstrong’s mystery woman!”

  “The woman who exposed his truths!”

  Well, that got Leo’s attention.

  When he saw me, our eyes locked as the yelling and flashing continued all around us. Soon they were on both sides of me, surrounding me, screaming my name and shoving their cameras so close to my face. I felt like a fox trapped by hunters.

  Leo moved swiftly toward me, pulling me close as he ushered me toward the theater. My hand covered my face the flashes, and he kept me close to his body protectively, my head against his chest, his hand on mine. As we raced through the safety of the door, I realized that he did care about me. The minute he saw me, he wanted to protect me. I would be able to explain everything.

  The metal door we’d gone through banged shut behind us. Leo immediately released me from his hold. I pushed my hair back and tried to gather myself and calm my racing heart.

  I’d never been publically persecuted, and it was not an easy ride.

  Once I’d finally taken a breath, I looked at Leo, who stood away from me, leaning against the wall, his hands now safely in his pockets. He didn’t look at me. He kept his eyes firmly on the multi-colored pattern of the floor.

  “Leo,” I said, stepping toward him. He stiffened, standing up straight. When he looked at me, those eyes that I’d grown to love so much, looked as if I were a scuff on the toe of his custom-made shoes. I disgusted him. My presence annoyed him. Worse, I was nothing special. My chin quivered as I tried to hold my emotions together. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you. I came here to tell you.”

  “Tonight you wanted to tell me?” he said.

  “No,” I said, flustered. “I wanted to tell you sooner, weeks ago. I should have. I just…I was afraid and I…”

  “Afraid? Of what?” he pressed. “Of me? Did you not trust me, Sophie? Because guess what? I trusted you.”

  Tears slipped down my face, and I quickly brushed them away. He didn’t want to see me sobbing over the terrible things I’d done to him. I needed him to know the truth.

  “I didn’t write that article,” I said. “You should at least know that. I got fired today because I wouldn’t write it.”

  “You wouldn’t write it but you had no problem doing all the research. Is that supposed to make me feel any better?”

  “No. Leo please,” I said, and I could see it, right before me. This man I’d grown to love was slipping through my fingers—gone already, in fact. I could see it in his eyes. I had betrayed him, and he could never trust me again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Honestly. What I felt for you was real. I’ve been struggling with this story thing for weeks and I know I should have—”

  “I don’t need to listen anymore,” he said, his voice as cold as the cemented footprints outside the theater. “I get it, Sophie. No need to explain. It’s fine, really. This is L.A. and I’m used to having women use me. Men, too. Everyone wants to be around me just to create some attention for themselves so they can say they hung out with Leo Armstrong or are friends with Leo Armstrong or fucked Leo Armstrong. Now I can just add you to that list.” He turned and began walking down the long hall toward the screening area around the corner.

  “Leo, please. Wait…”

  He stopped, and the small, hopeful part of me thought maybe, maybe, he would come back to me, pick me up in his arms, and tell me it was okay. Instead, when he turned to face me, totally expressionless, he said, “Congratulations. I’m usually better at spotting users. But you were good. You were the best, Sophie.”

  This time, when he turned and walked away, I knew he wouldn’t come back. When Leo Armstrong was done with something, he made a clean break. He’d said so himself. He never went back, never stayed friends with ex-girlfriends or old business associates. I knew, as he turned the corner to try to salvage what was left of his premiere, that I’d never see him again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The thing about living in a city for a very short amount of time is that it takes no time to pack up and get the hell out of town.

  Ava Marie watched as I closed the last box in my room. Everything else was already on the little trailer I’d rented, attached to my car, ready to be hauled all the way across the country. Hardly enough distance between me and the mess I’d made of my time in Los Angeles.

  “You sure you’ll be okay driving by yourself?” Ava Marie asked. “It’s so far.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said. “I need time alone, to think.” Five days on the road traveling three thousand miles might come close to what I needed to clear my head of everything. Leo had put our relationship behind him and left me no choice in the matter.

  And by now, I knew that he definitely wanted me to put him in the past too—my unanswered texts and calls proved as much.

  Ava Marie carried my bag as I carried the last box outside. She had a long day of rehearsals for a television show she’d just been cast on. Tomorrow, one of her dancer friends, Rosario, was moving in to take my place. Everyone kept moving along while I felt like I was being pushed out. But I guess I’d done it to myself.

  Ava Marie gave me a hug at the curb. “You don’t have to go, you know. Don’t let that editor bitch run you out of town.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “I just need to get myself together. I might come back.” I didn’t really believe I would. I was already seeing L.A. as some sort of blip on the radar of my life, a moment I’d done something wild—moved across the country, dated a celebrity and had it all blow up in my face.

  ***

  A week later I was falling into another friend’s arms—my best friend, Delaney.

  “Screw everyone,” she said. “I hate them all. Whoever you want me to hate, I’ll hate them times ten.”

  I smiled, wearily. The drive across the country had been more exhausting than enlightening, although it had given me plenty of time to cry and cry without anyone around to tell me to knock it off. Now I just wanted to crash into bed and sleep for about a year.

  If I’d wasted my time in L.A., I didn’t intend to waste it now that I was back home. I was starting over at the ripe old age of twenty-one.

  I got a little apartment in Mechanicsville’s historic downtown, which was two blocks of old, preserved buildings from the 1930s. When we had tourists, it’s where they came, and Delaney’s family’s custard shop was a prime destination. She wanted to hire me to do their ma
rketing.

  “You don’t need marketing,” I said, sitting in her second-floor office above the shop. “Everyone knows who you are.” I knew she was just offering me a job to be nice as I tried to sort my life out.

  “Please,” she said. “You think Coca-Cola stops advertising because everyone knows who they are? Plus, writing marketing materials and handling our social media is basically writing, which is what you do. It’s a little off the path of where you want to be but not too far.”

  “I’m not even sure I want to write anymore,” I said, picking at the threads of my shredded jean shorts. No more slim fitting dresses and stilettos for me. I’d gone back to my roots, flip flops and all.

  “Don’t you dare say that,” she said, leaning across her desk.

  “You look fancy sitting at this big oak desk,” I said, trying to change the subject. The arched windows behind her did look pretty cool, though, I had to admit.

  “Plus,” she continued, ignoring me, “I’ll be down in New Hampshire more, and I need someone I can trust looking after things here. You’d really be helping me out.”

  “Taking over the world, one frozen custard at a time, huh?” I said.

  “If you ask my father, then yes,” she said. “Dad is breathing down my back to make the New Hampshire store bigger and better. He wants it to be a model for even more expansion.”

  I’d only been back in town a couple of days, and I was shocked at how differently I saw everything. Not just the town—which felt claustrophobic—but even some of my old friends, the ones who stayed behind because they loved it there and wanted to raise their families in a quiet New England town, where all the seasons were picturesque and every evening was safe and quiet. There was no risk, I realized. Nothing to shock you into trying something that scared you, to force you to be a stronger version of yourself. But had I really changed from my few months in L.A.? Or had I simply been burned?

  “Hey,” Delaney said. “Come back to me, daydreamer. I can’t have you zoning out on the job. The custard must be kept frozen at all times!” She smiled at me, trying to keep my head above water. She’d always been my biggest support, from talking me off the ledge when I didn’t get into my first-choice college to helping me get over Paul. Now, here she was again, throwing a job at me simply to keep my mind off the one thing I could not clear myself of—Leo Armstrong.