by Thorn, Ava
"What do you want me to say and do? Lie and say that I don't love this woman?"
"Yes," Samuel said. "First, we're going to pay Ms. Rue to keep her mouth shut. Second, you're going to do interviews announcing your love for Rebecca and tell them that you were just suffering from pre-wedding jitters. Now, shake your head yes."
Austin reluctantly nodded. "Hire a PR person for Farrah."
Samuel groaned. "Not Farrah, Austin. You need to address her as Ms. Rue, not Farrah."
"Help Farrah. I'll pay for the PR person," Austin said before walking out of Samuel's office.
***
"Home wrecker!"
"Slut!"
"Whore!"
For the past week, Farrah had been bombarded with strangers and media people taking shots at her. Maybe she deserved everything she got. She knew what was at stake when she was romping in the sack with Austin. There were personal pictures of her posted online, and photos of her cuddling with Austin had gone public on entertainment shows. Her health and her business were suffering. Customers stopped coming to her restaurant; Farrah had to lay off employees because business became slow.
"Maybe you should take the time off." Vivian handed Farrah a cold compress.
"I'm okay. We're seven workers down; that just leaves Shawn, you, and me. I can't afford to leave you guys. Hopefully this will all blow over very soon," Farrah said.
"Can I ask you a question?" Vivian asked.
"Go ahead."
"Why him? What's so special about him?"
"I don't answer that question."
Farrah's eyes traveled to a middle-aged white man sitting in a booth in the nearly empty restaurant. "Can I help you?" she asked him.
"Actually, I'm here to help you. Travis Anderson, at your service."
"I don't need your help."
"You need me more than I need your delicious food I tasted an hour ago. I'm a public relations guru. Your name is being dragged through the mud on every news station, blog, and entertainment show. Since I've been here, I have only seen three customers enter your restaurant. Yes, my dear, you need me."
Farrah looked around the restaurant. There were no customers. She wasn't used to her restaurant being quiet and not having customers chit-chatting or cooks calling out orders.
"We can talk in my office," Farrah said, leading the way. "Who sent you, and why are you here?"
"Picture me as your fairy godfather, hired by your lover to make this situation a little easier for you to manage."
"What are you going to do, snap your fingers and make all this go away?"
"I don't have that special power, but I do have the power to spin this into our favor, Farrah. In case you haven't been paying attention to the news and blogs, Austin McBride and his fiancée are telling their side of the story. They have been portraying you as a manipulative, greedy bitch."
Farrah couldn't deny that every last word stung her to the core. It was just like her mother used to tell her: what makes you cry only makes you stronger. "Are you sure Austin is saying this?"
"Farrah, you're a grown woman who spread her legs to a man who was spoken for. Tell me, didn't you see any wrong in that?"
Farrah sat in her chair and sipped her tea. She didn't need anyone to tell her that her actions and judgments regarding Austin were poor. She had never had a relationship with a man who had a girlfriend. She was always one of those women who believed in karma; you reaped what you sowed. Was Farrah now destined to be a cheater or the one cheated on?
"Your silence is telling me that you saw something wrong with having an affair with Austin."
"I don't want to talk about the past." Farrah stood up. "I just want my life to go back to normal."
"Normal is not going to happen anytime soon for you." Travis looked at Farrah with pity in his green eyes.
"These bloggers and reporters are like a pack of wolves. They will dig into your past to use anything and everything against you."
"I have nothing to hide." Farrah folded her arms.
"Really? Not even your momma and your daddy and not to mention that police report on your ex, Frederick Wright?"
The room felt like it was caving in on her. Farrah stood up, her breathing becoming heavy as she tried to get some air. Her heart felt as if someone were squeezing it.
"You're having a panic attack." Travis left the room to get Farrah a glass of cold water. "Here, take a sip."
"Thank you." Farrah took a swig of the cold water and tried to calm down.
"Farrah, McBride and his camp want you to sign a confidentiality agreement stating you will not talk about the affair. This is not up for debate."
Farrah watched as Travis opened his briefcase and pulled out a file containing the agreement she was supposed to sign.
"His camp is offering us five million dollars for you not to talk about the affair." He handed an ink pen to Farrah.
"I don't want the money." Farrah stood and grabbed the desk when a wave of nausea hit her.
"What do you want?" Travis asked.
"To be left alone. He sent you to help me." She shook her head. "Leave! I'll sign the damn paper, but tell him to keep his money."
Farrah scribbled her name on the paper. Travis packed up his belongings and left Farrah with her thoughts.
After closing the restaurant, Farrah went home. She prepared herself a small dinner and soaked her achy body in the tub. Drinking a bottle of wine seemed to make all her troubles disappear for the moment, until the telephone rang.
"Hi, Nana." Farrah tried to sound cheerful.
"What is going on, Farrah? Are you sleeping with a married white man?"
"Excuse me?" Farrah wasn't sure she'd heard her grandmother correctly.
"I didn't raise you to be sleeping around with no damn married man!"
"Nana!" Farrah pinched the bridge of her nose to keep her emotions and herself under control.
"You should have stayed with Frederick."
Farrah laughed. "You want to me stay with the man who was beating my body and mind. You want me to stay with the man who broke my ribs and busted my lips. I get it, Nana—you want me to stay with the man who used me as a punching bag until he put me in the hospital. You want me to stay with the no-good brother because that's what you did."
"Watch your tone with me, Farrah. I'm not the one who was gallivanting around the country with a married man!" Mona yelled.
"No. Nana. You're the only family member I have left in this cold world. I will continue sending you money on the first day of the month like always." Farrah paused to control her shaky voice. "Goodnight."
"Farrah, you're being too sensitive," Mona tried to say, but it was too late. Farrah had already hung up the phone.
Farrah needed to get her emotions in check; lately she had been like a weepy willow, crying on a dime. She looked over at the phone. She loved her grandmother and could never disrespect the woman who raised her after her mother was killed. But Farrah had this sneaking suspicion that no matter how good or successful she was, her grandmother would never be happy for her.
She had turned off the lights and was lying in bed trying to sleep when she heard glass breaking. Standing up, she walked over to the window. A car alarm sounded. Grabbing her shoes and car keys, she ran outside. Farrah stood in front of her car, numb and in shock.
***
This wasn't the first time Farrah had been victimized with graffiti. One early morning she had gone to open the restaurant and found the word "Whore" spray painted on the large window outside her eatery. Shane had filed a report and helped her clean off the paint. She knew Shane was the only person she could depend on and trust for help.
Now they stood in front of her Mini Cooper, which was practically destroyed. The windows were smashed, the tires were slashed, and in bold red letters, the words "Home Wrecker" were sprayed across the side of her car. Farrah was mortified for people to see the damage.
"Anything else happening besides this?" Shane asked as he jotted down inform
ation.
"You know, Shane, it's my fault," Farrah said as she stared at her car.
"Farrah, you don't deserve this." He bent his knees to look Farrah in the eyes.
"Shane, for once in my life, I caved in to love, and now I hurt all over." She nodded at her car. "I know people are mad at me. My house has been broken into twice, not to mention the explicit art work on my business and now my car!"
Shane could see fear in Farrah's brown eyes. "Pack a bag, Farrah. You're staying at my house tonight."
She shook her head no. "I can't impose."
"Yes, you can, plus it's just me in my big house." He gave her a stern look. "If you don't pack, I'll pack for you."
"Fine," she said, and threw her hands up.
After packing enough clothes for a few days, Farrah sat beside Shane in his pickup truck as he drove them to his house.
Farrah finally went to sleep when Shane gave her a sleeping aid.
While Farrah was sleeping, Shane called in a favor with a tow trucker he knew to have Farrah's car taken to a body shop for repairs.
Shane looked over a sleeping Farrah. Her ringing cell phone caught his attention. It was one o'clock in the morning—who could be calling her? She told him that she had been getting weird phone calls since news broke of her affair with Austin.
***
Austin held the picture of him and Farrah in his hand. He hadn't seen her in a month. Every moment since the day he had last seen her, there had been things he wanted to tell her. He still loved her. He never meant to hurt the woman he used to hold in his arms at night. He reminisced about their perfect day out on the lake together.
He looked up to see Rebecca staring at him. "What do you want?" he asked.
"I was thinking we should sleep in the same bed together." She walked over to him, sitting down on his desk, showing off her slender figure in barely visible lingerie.
"Rebecca, I don't love you. Loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things. I'm not in love with you," he said truthfully.
"We're having a baby in eight months." Rebecca ran her finger up and down Austin's chest.
I wish it was Farrah's belly swelling with my seed. "Goodnight," Austin said as he moved away from
Rebecca.
Rebecca stood up and marched away, but not before Austin's words caused her to stop dead in her tracks.
"When is your doctor appointment?" Austin asked.
"In a few weeks," she stuttered.
"Let Megan know the appointment date, so I can rearrange my schedule," Austin said as he watched Rebecca retreat back upstairs.
Since he'd allowed Rebecca back in his life, they slept in different bedrooms. He knew where his heart was. He looked at the photo of Farrah on his desk holding the trout she'd caught at Lake Lewisville and hoped that one day she could forgive him. He knew that she didn't want anything to do with him. She had signed the confidentiality agreement without batting an eye. But she also sent Travis back with the five million dollar check.
Austin had this sneaking suspicion that Rebecca was responsible for outing his affair with Farrah. It was awfully convenient that his relationship with Farrah hit the tabloids when the engagement was called off. Picking up the phone, he dialed Farrah's home phone. An automated voice switched on, telling him the number was no longer in service, so he called her cell phone.
"Hello," a familiar voice said.
"Shane?" Austin looked at the phone to make sure he'd dialed the right number.
"What's up, country singer?"
"Why are you answering Farrah's cell phone? Where is she? Is she okay?" he rambled off questions as he looked for his boots.
"I'm taking her somewhere safe."
"Why doesn't she feel safe at her house?"
"Since you've been gone, she has been feeling the brunt of the scandal. Her house has been broken into twice, not to mention her restaurant being vandalized numerous times. Farrah is not the same. She is letting all this shit fuck with her health."
"Where are you taking her?" Austin was already putting on his boots and looking for his truck keys.
"Home."
Austin stopped in his tracks. "You're not taking her to your house."
"Yes," Shane said and hung up.
"Shit!" Austin cursed as he walked out of his office, meeting Rebecca's eyes as she watched him like a hawk.
"Where are you going?" Rebecca asked, holding a glass of milk in her hand.
"Out," he said.
"To her?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied.
Austin walked out the door, slamming it behind him, jumped into his truck, and barreled down the dusty road.
***
"Shane!" Austin yelled as he banged on the front door of Shane's house.
"Why are you fucking yelling this late at night?" Shane opened the door wearing only boxer shorts.
"Why are you only wearing that bullshit?!" Austin said as he stalked into the house, searching for any signs of Farrah. He saw her purse on the sofa and a piece of luggage he recognized from their trip to New York.
"It's my house, duh." Shane smirked.
"Where is Farrah?" Austin said as he peered inside the house.
"Why, cousin, I'm doing pretty well, thanks for asking," Shane said.
"Cut the crap, Shane. Where is Farrah?" Austin said as he tried the first bedroom.
"She's asleep. I already tucked her in for the night." Shane laughed when Austin scowled.
Austin looked into the second bedroom; in the middle of the bed slept Farrah. Her rich brown skin was pale. She hugged the pillow as she slept, and he wondered if she wished that the pillow was him. He stroked the side of her face and kissed her. When he adjusted the blanket on her, he realized that she was naked except for her bra and panties.
Austin rushed into the living room. "You took her clothes off!"
"She couldn't sleep comfortably if she had all those clothes on." Shane paused and looked at Austin strangely. "Why do you care who undresses her? Go back home to your soon-to-be wife."
"You don't understand what I'm going through," Austin said sadly.
"No, I don't, but I do know that if I had a woman like Farrah, I would fight tooth and nail to be with her. It's funny that you can write and sing those damn songs, but you can't express to the world how you feel about the woman sleeping in the next room," Shane said with an amused look on his face.
"You make it sound easy," Austin said. "I have a woman who is pregnant with my child."
"I wouldn't be surprised if Rebecca was faking it to stay with you. Do you know her mother gets nothing from her divorce? Do you know that Rebecca's father, Peter Stephens, cut her off and married a new woman? If two plus two equals four, then add up that shit with Rebecca."
Austin heard movement from behind him. It was Farrah, wearing one of Shane's Texas Ranger t-shirts. "Why are you here?" she asked.
"I wanted to see how you were feeling." He took a step towards her, but she stepped back.
"I'm okay."
She turned to go back in the room, but he grabbed her hand.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I don't want to hear your apology. It's okay, because you know that I love you. My love for you hurts, Austin. You meant so much to me. I would have done any and everything for you because you meant that much to me," she said as she fought to keep her composure.
"Farrah, I don't want to see you cry," he said as he wiped the tears from her eyes.
"You gained my trust, my body—you even gained my heart, and then you stomped all over it like it didn't mean shit to you." She shook her head.
"I swear I didn't mean to hurt you. Do you know I would take a bullet for you?" He tried to pull her to him.
"Stop!" she screamed. "I made a mistake with you, and I promise to God I won't make that same mistake with you again."
"Do you mean that?"
He was hurt, but what did he expect her to say?
"Yes," she cried. "I want you t
o leave."
Her cries were cutting him deeply. Austin pulled her into his arms; he could smell her sweet perfume. "I can't let you go, Farrah. I tried, but I can't."
Farrah held onto Austin. "It's killing me, but we have to let go," she said and moved out of his arms. "Get married and bring your child into the world."
Farrah kissed Austin on the lips, a soft, tender kiss, before leaving him standing there. He watched her disappear into the room.
"Three years or maybe five days from now," Shane told him, "you're going to realize you made the biggest mistake of your life. Farrah will not be waiting around for you. It's going to be too late then, because she will never forget the hurt and pain you put her through."
"I like how people think the decision I'm making right now is the easy one, but it's not," Austin said. "When Farrah told me about her soul mate, well… I knew the first day I met her that she was the one for me."
"You are standing there telling me that you're going to let your soul mate go?" Shane asked.
"I have to let my future play out with Rebecca," Austin said.
"Just stay away from Farrah," Shane pleaded. "I love this woman like a sister. And she reminds me of Sarah," he added softly.
Shane's wife, Sarah McBride, had been killed one year ago by a drunk driver on her way home from culinary school. She had had the same ambitions as Farrah. Shane was the responding officer; he didn't recognize Sarah until it was too late.
Running his hands through his hair, Austin walked to Farrah's bedroom and stepped inside. He knew this was decision time for him.
***
Farrah sat on the bed, muffling her sobs with a pillow. Love was terrible. You never knew what you were going to experience. One minute it could be comforting, and the next moment it could be scary and painful. Farrah didn't feel okay; getting up, she rushed to the bathroom.
She stood in front of the mirror. Austin stood in the doorway looking at her. She brushed her teeth and refused to look at him.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he handed her a towel. "Stress and not eating will make you sick," she said. "Farrah—" he started to say.