4 Men Of The House with correct Also By page

by Knight, Natalie

  I park the car and turn to my guest.

  “I think it might be best if we walk in separately.”

  Emma laughs, a high-pitched unpleasant—almost evil—laugh, and a shiver runs down my spine.

  “I don’t think so, Todd Alexander. We will walk in together. Arm in arm. Screw it up, and the movie suffers. I have the connections to make it happen. Or have you forgotten our little deal?”

  How could I?

  As she takes my arm, Emma snuggles real close into me.

  “After tonight, you won’t want to go back to your boring Sophie anyway, so relax.”

  It doesn’t take long for us to be spotted by the vultures. Instantly a hundred or more cameras are snapping away madly, capturing each step we take toward the entrance of the Black Rabbit.

  “So it’s over then, between you and Sophie?”

  “How long have you been seeing Emma?”

  “Emma, how do you feel being here tonight with Todd Alexander, the superstar of the movie?”

  “Have you two been an item for a while now?”

  Those and another hundred other questions are fired into our direction.

  I ignore all of them, but it’s very difficult to remain cool, calm, and collected. My insides are burning.

  Emma, on the other hand, is smiling brightly and waving at everyone. She even blows kisses in the direction of some of the reporters.

  I scan the area. Where’s Sophie? I need to find her before she forms the wrong impression of what’s going on.

  Fool, fool, fool.

  There’s that darn inner voice again. It seems to be getting louder and louder. For the umpteenth time, I regret entering into this little deal with Emma.

  Sophie

  I push the oversized microphone away from my face. The overeager reporter has it shoved so close my nose it’s tingling from the fluff.

  “Viewers,” she says as she smiles into the camera, which is also just inches from our face. “I have been lucky enough to secure a little chat with none other than Sophie Palmer.”

  I bow my head a little and smile.

  “Sophie has just finished directing her latest feature film. And not only did she direct it, she also played one of lead characters.”

  I wish she’d get to the point and ask a question. The way this petit blonde is starring into the camera, I get the impression she’s more interested in being on screen than asking me any direct question. Her head bounces from side to side as she talks.

  “We, of course, are all familiar with your dad’s work, the great Mr. Palmer.”

  And here’s the inevitable comparison everyone interviewing me makes.

  “Did your dad give you any tips?”

  It takes me a second or two to realize she has finally asked a question (a rather stupid one), but at least I get to say something and not just stand here like a puppet.

  “Just like I stay away from the sets of Mr. Palmer, he makes a point of not visiting mine either.”

  She turns her head toward me and giggles. I wonder how many interviews she’s done.

  “Are you looking forward to the film being released?”

  I wonder what she would say if I said, “No, I hope the film never makes it onto the screens.”

  “Any director looks forward to sharing their creation with the world,” I say instead, and I hope this interview will be over soon.

  “Tell us, Sophie,” the woman lowers her voice a little, “what about the rumors that you are dating bad boy superstar Todd Alexander?”

  Involuntarily, my smile widens. Brief images of Todd holding the car door open for me, Todd kissing the back of my neck, and naked bodies entwined in wild animalistic passion flash through my mind.

  “Todd and I have been seeing each other for a while now.” I pause. There appears to be a commotion near the front door. “And things are going well between us. I enjoy Todd’s company and find him stimulating.”

  Just then, I see Todd enter the room. I catch my breath. People and faces around me are going out of focus, and the world starts to spin.

  Emma is by his side.

  How could he do this to me?

  I grab my gold pendant and run it along its chain.

  “Well,” the voice of the reporter seems a long way away. “Nice chatting, Sophie, and good luck with the Oscars.”

  How could Todd betray me like this?

  Emma in her tight black minidress and high heels looks like a tart. Her victory smile speaks volumes.

  I see the reporter make a beeline for the happy couple.

  My knees are threatening to give way, and I swallow. How will I get through this night?

  My words to the stupid interviewer come back. I just told the world things are fine between Todd and myself, and here he waltzes into the room with another woman on his arm.

  How stupid was I?

  “Watch him,” Mum said to me. She tried to warn me. I didn’t listen; I had become too confident.

  I blink, partly to try and stop any tears, and partly to make sure what I am seeing is really what I’m seeing. For the briefest of seconds, I clutch onto the hope my eyes are deceiving me, but the scene hasn’t changed when I open my eyes again. Todd is still standing there with Emma on his arm.

  It takes every ounce of self-control not to throw up. My insides feel as if they’ve been ripped out and trampled to pieces.

  “You okay?”

  The voice beside me startles me. It’s Alice.

  Mechanically, I nod. I wish the earth would swallow me up.

  “It’s okay.” Alice puts her arm around.

  I find myself leaning into her.

  “I can’t believe he would show up at your party with her.”

  The venom in Alice’s voice is obvious. At times like these, it’s awesome to have my best friend so close.

  “I…” I start but stop. I don’t know what to say. I want to leave, run out of here, and hide.

  No, I want to walk over to the smiling bitch and punch her.

  No, Jesus, what’s wrong with me? I’m not violent. Violence doesn’t solve anything.

  I want to run out of here and go home.

  My mother would be sympathetic, but she’d remind me she tried to warn me. And Dad.

  “Here.” Alice hands me a tall glass of champagne.

  I gulp half of it down. The cold bubbles make me cough. Once I get over my coughing fit, I take another sip, this time a smaller one.

  “I don’t understand how he could do this to you.” Alice shakes her head. “It’s your party. And he brings her.”

  Surreal, this entire scene is surreal.

  If my heart hadn’t just been smashed into millions of little pieces, I might even laugh at it. A movie scene couldn’t have been written better than what’s playing out in real life.

  Of course, that’s often the way, isn’t it? Life is stranger than fiction.

  I don’t want to look at the happy couple, but I can’t help staring. Trouble is, Todd looks so goddamn gorgeous tonight.

  We had planned to arrive separate but leave together. Somewhere our plans obviously diverted.

  As I continue to stare, he looks over to me.

  Try as I might, I cannot see remorse or even the slightest hint of compunction in his face. I also don’t see any attempt on his part to come over and explain what’s going on.

  “Arrogant prick,” I tell myself, “he’s not worth crying over.” To drown my sorrow, I grab another glass of wine. This will be one long night.

  “You look gorgeous,” a kind, familiar voice says from behind me.

  “Thanks, Mason,” I finally force my eyes away from the awful scene and look at my dear friend Mason.

  “That dress is gorgeous. Red suits you.”

  I pat Mason’s arm, stand on tiptoes, and kiss him on his cheek.

  Todd

  Sophie keeps eye contact for what seems like an eternity, but then she looks away. My eyes plead with her, but she doesn’t seem to understand. I will he
r to look at me again, but she doesn’t.

  Instead, she turns toward Mason. Why would she turn toward him of all the people in the room?

  I want to walk over and tell her it’s not what it seems, but Emma is holding tightly onto my hand. Unless I make a scene, I’m trapped here with the evil Witch of the West until who knows how long.

  What’s wrong with Alice? Why aren’t any of them coming over to speak to me? And Eric, where the fuck is Eric? Eric, who allegedly knows all about this.

  I’m clenching my teeth so hard it hurts. My hands are by my side and balled into fists. I curse Emma silently. She really is a class A bitch. I need to fix things before they get out of hand.

  Fuck the deal—I’m going over to set things straight.

  Emma doesn’t let go of me. Instead, she leans into me and whispers.

  “You’re not going to renege on our little deal, are you? Remember, all it takes is a few calls and offhand comments to reporters for Sophie’s little film to become a shit show.”

  There’s that over powering perfume again nearly making me sick.

  I shake my head.

  “Good,” she murmurs and her lips brush over my cheeks.

  Repulse builds in me.

  Somewhere across the crowded room, I see Jordan. I try to get his attention, so he could come over. I want to ask him to pass a message to Sophie, but the bastard is deliberately ignoring me. Has Emma let him in on the deal?

  Emma works her magic around the room. She’s a pro at making her way from group to group, staying only a few minutes if the people bore her, and longer if she thinks they may be of use to her.

  As we socialize, she makes sure she is making body contact with me at all times. Obviously, she’s flaunting being with me. Try as I might to keep a professional distance between us, Emma does the opposite.

  She’s either resting her hand on my shoulder, or she puts her whole arm around my waist. A couple of times, she kisses me on the cheek. Each time, I wipe off the offending lipstick.

  “Let’s sit down, darling,” Emma purrs and points to a black leather lounge in front of a small round table. On the other side are several mushroom type stools, all of them occupied.

  Grudgingly, I sit down. Promptly, Emma seats herself on top of me.

  “Tone it down, will you?” I growl into her ear. At the same time, I grab her by the hips to push her off me.

  “Darling, please not in front of all these people,” she shrieks and slides onto the couch next to me.

  I’m about to say something, but she’s already talking to the people across from us.

  “Todd can barely keep his hands off me.” More giggling. “He didn’t really want to come. Said we should get a room instead.”

  She shoots me a playful glance.

  “Champagne, please,” she calls to a waiter who is walking past with a tray of drinks.

  “Listen,” I whisper into her ear but again, but she stops me.

  “You listen to me,” she says. “I’m only just getting started. And need I remind you of our deal? More than ruining the film, I can withdraw my rights. Yeah, that’s right,” she adds, watching the stunned expression on my face. “I’ve managed to secure some of the rights. I can kill have this film killed easily.”

  She smiles brightly, takes a sip of her drink and continues.

  “And surely, little Toddy does not want that, does he now?”

  With a sigh of defeat, I shake my head. The bitch does really have me by my short and curlies.

  The evening drags on. I pay very little attention to any of the conversation around me. Sophie is surrounded by people. I wish I was one of them.

  She seems to be drinking too much. I didn’t know her to be a big drinker, and I can’t help but be surprised by the number of shots she’s downing.

  Alice is with her and both of them are laughing. Mason is also there.

  Mason. Good ol’ Mason.

  Of course, he would be there to comfort her. Since day one, I knew Mason had the hots for Sophie. She is, of course, oblivious to the effect she has on men.

  Sophie downs another shot and takes a step. She wobbles, stumbles and then falls. Alice giggles. I want to go and help her up. I make to stand but Emma’s hand moves onto my thigh with lightning speed.

  I stay where I am. Emma giggles and says something. I don’t pay any attention. A photographer comes over to us.

  “Smile for the camera,” he says and snaps a photo. Emma wraps herself around me.

  “Can you take another one please?”

  Snap. He does.

  Sophie is back on her feet. She’s wiping the front of her dress. Alice seems to be saying something to her.

  I wish I knew what they were talking about. Fuck, I wish I was there with them. If I were, Sophie wouldn’t be getting drunk the way she is.

  I wonder how she’s getting home. Just then Alice hands Mason car keys.

  Mason puts them into his pocket. Then he puts one arm around Sophie’s waist, whilst the other supports her around her shoulders. Her head rests on his chest.

  My heart is beating so wildly, I think it might burst out of my chest any second.

  I should be there. That should be me.

  Now Alice hands Mason Sophie’s bag and all I can do is watch as he gently maneuvers her toward the back of the restaurant. Clever man.

  He’s going to take her out the back exit, make sure she does not come to the attention of the press. It wouldn’t do much for Sophie’s image to have a photo taken from the venue, plastered and then have it spread all over the papers tomorrow morning.

  I envy Mason. I envy him so much it’s starting to fucking hurt. Why is he the one looking after Sophie when it should be me?

  Fool, fool, fool, my inner voice reminds me.

  Sophie

  I furrow my brow. A movement sends shock waves through my head. Who’s working with a jack hammer at this time of day?

  It takes me several minutes, maybe even longer, to realize the jackhammer is working away inside my own head.

  My left hand gropes for something to cover my head.

  Nothing.

  I groan and moan. Slowly, memories of last night push their way through the hazy fog. Pain shoots through me at the thought of Todd with that bitch Emma.

  Why am I still alive? Why haven’t I died? Surely a broken heart will lead to death?

  A shadow of some sort blocks out the streak of sunlight creeping along the carpet, forcing its way through the curtains.

  My heart beats a little faster. He’s here. It was all a terrible nightmare after all. I smile. Life’s good. Life’s perfect, except for the massive pain in my head.

  Gingerly, I sit up and open my eyes. It takes a few minutes until my vision clears. I wonder how much I actually drank last night. Getting drunk really isn’t my thing.

  The face slowly comes into focus. I can’t believe it. Elation turns to devastation.

  “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

  Does he have to shout?

  “What are you doing here, Mason?”

  How stupid I am to delude myself into thinking Todd came here after all? He was probably in Emma’s arms.

  Tears threaten to spill. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

  “You had a little bit too much to drink last night,” Mason starts his explanation. “And Alice asked me to take you home. By the time I got you here, it was pretty late and so I just crashed on the couch.”

  Images of gulping down several glasses of champagne surface in my mind. Nausea overcomes me. I debate my next move.

  Shall I run to the bathroom and throw up or shall I try and ride it out?

  Mind over matter, I tell myself over and over like a mantra, until I no longer feel the need to throw up.

  “Coffee,” I mutter, more to myself than to Mason. “I need a strong cup of coffee.”

  Mason hands me a steaming mug of black liquid.

  “Strong and hot. Just what the doctor ordered.”


  I smile at him.

  “Thanks, Mason. You’re a gem.”

  Quietly, I sip on my caffeine. What will I do now? I can’t go getting drunk every night—that’s not going to solve my heartache, is it?

  Curling up into a tiny ball while waiting for the pain to subside…well, that’s a plan. Not a good one, but a plan nonetheless.

  With a sigh, I make a mental note to visit mum and dad in the next few days. Parental comfort and support is what every broken-hearted girl needs.

  “Do you want to come out with me for brunch?”

  Mason’s question rouses me out of my navel gazing. I glance at the clock. Ouch, I seem to have slept most of the morning away.

  I run through my options. Get some food ready at home, or go back to bed and wallow in self-pity.

  “Sure,” I reply. “Let me just make myself a little more presentable.”

  I ignore the fact that I’m no longer in my evening dress but my pajamas. Sometimes it’s best not to ask too many questions.

  Ten minutes later, we’re seated in the courtyard of the Breakfast Bar café. To my relief, they advertise all day breakfast.

  My mother is a great believer in a big fatty breakfast being the best cure for a hangover. I don’t feel particularly hungry, but I order the big breakfast with a double shot espresso.

  I see Mason study me after we order. It makes me feel a little awkward. I search for something to say to start a conversation.

  “You know Sophie,” Mason starts before I get the chance to say something. “I have always admired you, ever since film school.”

  My heart beats a little faster. Oh, please, don’t let him declare his undying love to me. I can’t bear to hurt his feelings.

  “Mason—” I start but he stops me.

  “No. Let me finish. Ever since film school, I’ve had a crush on you. I think you are the sexiest, most talented and beautiful woman I know.”

  My face goes red. I look down. Poor Mason.

  My thoughts go to Todd. Why did I have to fall so miserably in love with someone who not only couldn’t be faithful, but also do not reciprocate my feelings? Why do women always choose the wrong guy?