by Bry Foster
“The who?”
“It’s a news station. One of the most respected in my home because they usually have facts. They are not like a tabloid article; although, they do focus on the higher class families and the dealings of the politicians and what not.” Cash clarifies for me.
“Okay and why am I interviewing with them?”
“Both of you are interviewing with them because we need a reliable media source backing you and the family. We need to make an official statement that you two are engaged and explain that your relationship is real and these lies that are being told are just that. This will give the world an inside look at your relationship so that they can see for themselves that the lies have no basis. Magnus will be asking the two of you simple questions: how long have the two of you known each other? When did you start dating? How did Cash purpose? That kind of thing.” Leo says before sounding a little further away as he probably speaks to someone else. When he comes back to the phone he says, “We have already seen to it that Clara retracts her statements. She will also say that she was misquoted and that she in no way wishes any ill will towards Khloe.”
“When is this interview?” Cash asks as he stretches back on the Escalade seat. Long limbs reach out in every direction and I watch as his shirt lifts a little revealing the slight ridges of his torso.
“Magnus Greer should be landing there some time Tuesday night, so Wednesday after school when you get home he should be set up and ready for you two.”
“It’s Friday. You’re giving me less than a week to prepare for this?” I ask them, the stress in my voice adding to my stiff posture. I feel like a cobra about to strike.
“Well, I can send Clara back to help you prepare. She has been asking about the Louisiana estate anyway. She wants to see it in person.” Clara and Marley in the same state? They might work together to kill me and hide my body in a swamp, no thanks.
“Never mind.” I mutter and the publicists and Cash continue to talk and hash out the details of the interviews and whatever other wedding nonsense she is actually running by him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
In some ways, I wish that the interview would have been sooner rather than later. That way, Cash and I would have been able to set the record straight and get back to a semblance of my normal life faster. Delaying the interview process meant that I had to suffer through many irritating run-ins with classmates. Not to mention a bit of cyberbullying in two different countries and the continued stress of my father not returning home very often.
On the other hand, these events have brought Cash and I closer than I ever imagined it would. I guess going through difficult situations, really does bring people together. Cash has been so awesome. He always stands up for me, even when I tell him not to and that I can defend myself. He took to his followers to set the record straight in a way that only he could. Stating that though he is happy our relationship is strong enough to withstand all of this drama surrounding the scandal, it is really no one else’s business what goes on within it.
When Liz showed me the message I wanted to jump up and down on the spot. A small part of me wondered if this was all for show or if Cash really did feel this way about me. A larger part of me understands that Cash is pretty much a ‘mean what he says’ kind of guy. If he put that out to the world, it’s because he meant it. And I can do nothing but appreciate that.
Celebrity tabloid articles have dubbed us: CashLoe which, I find annoying but whatever.
Watching him get so defensive over me has really shifted another brick in the wall of our relationship. And through the newly opened hole, I am starting to see love shine through. All of this time I have been denying left and right that I felt anything more for Cash than friendship, but this experience is showing me that maybe I’ve always felt a bit more.
What scares me is the fact that I have developed real feelings for my fake fiancé. Does that complicate the relationship? Can the relationship stay real even if the marriage is fake? As the date of the wedding draws closer, there is little more I can do than wish that life had a brake pedal that I could slam my foot down on and come to a complete stop. Everything is moving too quickly. My feelings, this wedding planning, this interview.
Yet, I can’t help but feel like the only thing that is not picking up speed is the physical relationship between Cash and I. I often feel we’re at an impasse. If I don’t try to do more with him, will he lose interest and go back to someone who will? His caresses and kisses always leave me subtly squeezing my thighs together with a heaving chest but the thought of going passed that terrifies more than excites at the moment.
What if the only reason he is still so interested in me is because I haven’t put out. If he gets that…if we take that huge leap, what’s to say he won’t easily bore of my inexperience and drop me anyway? I want something from him but, I’m not even sure what it is. What is it that Cash could say or do to make me feel like he is a deep into this relationship as I am?
It’s as if the only brake involved in my life is the only one I wish wasn’t there. Cash is such a sexual person that it worries me that I may not do it for him. How could we ever have a real relationship if he is not nearly as attracted to me as I am to him? Is there something wrong with me? Am I doing something wrong? These are fears I have not even talked to Liz about. It’s beyond embarrassing to think that your hot as hell boyfriend does not want to be with you that way. But, for whatever reason I can’t bring myself to say anything to Cash about it. How is it so easy to be self-assured in almost every other aspect except with him?
I’m not sure how I get through the hectic days following the release of Clara’s statement, but I do. Thankfully, I have a great group of supportive people surrounding me. Even Corisande has surprisingly been very supportive of me. She tells me that I am strong enough to handle all of this and she asks that Cash and I lean on each other through these stressful times. And we have.
At school Marley and her cronies have still been antagonizing me but, I have had so many other things to worry about that I haven’t had the energy to respond. Cash, Liz and I are all heading to his family manor to have our interview with the famous journalist, Magnus Greer. The etiquette coach that was assigned to me, Mrs. Graham happened to be an older lady with a familiar bun and a large mole over the right corner of her lip that was hard not to stare at when she spoke.
My hands have been smacked so many times with her wooden ruler that I’m surprised I was able to unclench them after every meeting with her. That ruler was like an extension of her freaking hands! If she wasn’t smacking it on my hands, the table, or my back to remind me to straighten it, she was putting it under my chin to remind me to keep it perpendicular to my chest and not to slouch. I’m shocked that I don’t have splinters on every visible surface. What I do have is less money because it’s all been donated to the Swear Jar during my sessions.
Cash and Liz got a pretty good laugh at watching the old wench try her best to turn me into a somewhat “reformed lady”. By the end of the first day with me she left with her ruler in tow, hair much more frazzled than when she arrived and a deep frown. Mrs. Graham’s “Resting Bitch Face” put mine to shame. The fact that she had any wrinkles at all seeing as it looked like she never smiled was bizarre.
I remember asking Delano, Cash’s uncle, what his opinion on the old bat was. He laughed heartily reminding me of Cash as his dark eyes crinkled in the corners.
“I will tell you one thing. I have never seen Mrs. Graham so frazzled.” Well, at least everyone got so much entertainment out of watching my bad manners be criticized over, and over, and over again.
But, that was last week…and most of this week. Unfortunately, since Corisande couldn’t make it out here from Paris due to other commitments, Mrs. Graham will also be at the interview to remind me how to sit and speak while the interview is going on. It won’t be live so she will be able to stop and correct me much more often than I will probably like. Brilliant.
Cash’s hand reac
hes for mine, breaking me of my reminiscing. “You’ve threatened to castrate me without batting an eye. This is nothing. Don’t be so nervous.” He says before bringing the back of my hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss to it. My heart thumps an uneven rhythm that I have become accustomed to since meeting him.
I wipe my other hand along my skirt. Cash and I are going to change from our school uniforms once we arrive at his place.
“I’m not.” I start and Liz snorts in the back seat. “Okay. Maybe a little.” Cash snickers.
“Trust me. It is not nearly as bad as you are making it out to be in your head.” Laughter is still in his voice as we grow closer to his house.
“Are you sure? Between the cameras and the etiquette coach, not to mention this thing is going to air internationally in the next few days, I just know I am going to screw this up somehow.” I mutter the last part as I watch the scenery pass by the window. The sun is out and only a few thin clouds paint the sky. It’s a really nice day yet somehow I feel like it’s Doom’s Day in the making. I feel more jittery than ever and I may not be able to pull it together.
“Yes, I’m sure. You are an awesome person, Beauté. You’re smart, bold and hilarious. Just, be yourself.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I mumble as we pull up to the gate and we buzz in. I immediately notice that there are three unfamiliar, large vans parked outside of the staircase that leads to the double doors up front. Little insects erupt in my stomach and I bounce my leg in discomfort.
“Don’t worry Koko. I’m here.” Liz says as she grasps my shoulder and squeezes before climbing out of the car.
“Not to mention you’ll have all of this,” Cash gestures to himself. “Sitting right next to you the whole time. You’re not the only one being interviewed. I’m sure they’ll ask tons of invasive questions of me.”
“You have been hanging around me way too much.” I tell him. We both snicker and then he hooks a hand behind my head and brings me into a kiss that makes me so dizzy I almost forget what it is that I was nervous about.
We enter the house and we’re welcomed into a flurry of movement. Delano and Angel are talking to each other. Jacque is giving directions to cameramen and there is tons of equipment in the room. Much more than I thought would be necessary for such a thing. There are at least two different camera guys. The man who must be the reporter. Two large white screens and lots of bright lights. Three chairs sit in front of the cameras and between the large white screens and lights. A man holds a long pole with a fuzzy looking thing on the end. What the heck is this madness?
“Ah, here is the lovely couple.” A woman says in a thick French accent. “I was told you do not yet speak French, no? We will try to keep as much in English as possible. There is a professional translator here, though I am sure Cashel would be able to help you.” She has a bright smile, long blonde hair, red lipstick on her teeth and smoky eyeshadow on her eyelids. Her outfit is a cream fitted skirt and a matching top that shows a sliver of her stomach. She cannot be much older than us. I watch as she drinks Cash in.
“Cashel. It has been too long. Paris misses you.” She says, her voice sweet as honey. She walks over and kisses both of his cheeks and then mine. He nods at her.
“Yes well, Paige, the road called to me. And then I came across this little beauty and I had to stay longer.” He tells her resting his hand on the base of my back as he looks at her. Her eyes only flicker to me when necessary.
“I see. Well, come along, we must get your microphones put on and test the lighting.” She explains as she leads the way to the formal living room as though she lives here.
“Actually. Khloe and I must change out of our school clothes first. Grandmothers’ orders.” He informs Paige and she turns bright red.
“Yes, of course. Please do hurry.” We head up the stairs moving around bustling staff members. He goes to his room after escorting Liz and I to a guest room not far from his. It is immaculate. Cherry wood furniture sits in the room. A queen sized bed. Two night stands and an armoire all take up residence in the room. Pretty pictures in golden lined frames accent the gray wallpapered walls giving the room a regal feel that is odd to me.
Liz and I change in silence and she helps me reapply some eyeliner and a nude lipstick. We mousse my hair and pull it into a ponytail to make it look more manageable and less windswept when a knock comes to the door.
“You two ready?”
“Yeah.” We answer at the same time and Cash opens the door. He stops and looks at me with an expression I can’t decipher before walking over to me.
“You look beautiful, ma cherie.” My cheeks warm and he leans down and places an unusually gentle kiss on my lips. Whenever we usually kiss it is in a fervor of hormones that make me feel like I am going to erupt like a Hawaiian volcano. This kiss has a soothing effect on me. I almost sigh when he backs away.
“Hey, I’m still in the room.” Liz reminds us making us pull away from each other. I still can’t help but look up into Cash’s eyes and see everything I never thought I would see a significant other’s expression.
“All right.” I huff out. “Let’s get this show on the road before I lose my nerve.” I tell them before we all brave the halls and make it to the frenzy of the family room.
There are tons of people in the house. Cash and I sit propped up next to each other on strange, uncomfortable bar style chairs that are too far off of the ground for my nervous limbs. My feet swing and search for the floor at odd times while a makeup artist dabs powder onto my forehead and wherever else seems to be too “oily” to be on camera. He is thin and tan and keeps one of his hands under my chin so that my face stays angled the way he wants it while he completes his job and talks to some of the other people in the room in fluent French. I want to search for Liz with my eyes but I don’t want to see the catty glare I will get if I move again.
The journalist whom I just met about ten minutes ago asks something of Cash and they converse. The makeup artist smiles at me before finally letting go of my now stiff neck. My face must have been awfully oily.
Greer takes his seat across from us and the lighting flickers before it stops on the desired settings. The microphone pack that was placed on Cash and I digs into my back in an uncomfortable way. I focus on keeping my back straight, ankles crossed, and chin out. Mrs. Graham nods in acceptance, wooden ruler still tucked under one arm should she feel the need to whack me with it.
Greer nods at me. “Bonjour, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I have already heard so much about you.” He tells me in a heavy accent. He sticks a hand out to me and I shake it. “I know Americans are big hand shakers.” He smiles kindly at me and his mannerisms make me relax a little. I slouch and Mrs. Graham rapidly corrects the gesture by smacking my leg with the ruler.
“Son of a-“
“Ready to begin?” Cash cuts me off before I swear. I rub the now throbbing spot on my leg and send her a small glare.
“Oui.” Greer says. The lights are already starting to make me want to sweat. It’s like I’m sitting directly in front of the sun.
For the next two hours, Greer asks many questions. Cash translates for me when Greer can’t find the right phrasing and holds my hand, keeping me calm and comfortable enough to stop visibly trembling. Greer asks about our relationship, my family, Cash’s family and the trip I took with the Ms. Le Roux and Mrs. Castille to New York. He asks about Liz, my grades and school and my favorite hobby. Soon he digs in to Cash starting with where he disappeared to after leaving France. He asks Cash about famous relationships that he had with other wealthy girls and I try not to grind my teeth on camera.
We take breaks in between so that the make-up artist can wipe the sweat from our brows and re-powder us. When the interview is over I feel like I have a pound of powder on my face. There is a little sweat on my back, the mic pack is sticking to me, my thigh still throbs from being smacked with the wooden ruler and my butt hurts from the uncomfortable chair.
Cash
and I decide that we want to spend more time together but Liz has to study for an exam and an early practice in the morning so Angel offers to take her home. Cash grabs my hand and leads me towards the stairs, away from the crews that are packing everything up so that they can leave. Before we make it, Paige comes over to us; a smile still on her lips. I wonder if her cheeks burn.
“It was so good to see you again.” She purrs. I look at her with disdain. Cash barely glances her way as we try to make our way around her.
“Oui. You as well.” He replies. Not at all put off by our need to be away from her, Paige continues to follow us to the bottom of the stairs.
“Will you be returning home soon? Demetria still speaks fondly of you.” Now my eyebrows rise as I turn to look at Cash. Cash’s eyes narrow at Paige.
“Really? I have not thought much about anyone back home.” At that jab Paige’s smile finally slips. She quickly replaces it.
“Well. That is too bad. As they say, there is no place like home.”
“Maybe he’s found a new home.” I sneer. Paige sizes me up with disdain in her eyes.
“Well, I must get going. I hope to see you home again soon. In Paris, that is. I will tell Demetria that I have seen you and you are…well.” She leaves as quickly as she appeared. Cash hustles me up the grandiose staircase again. He pushes me into his room so quickly that I don’t get to see much of it. He’s pressed against me, my back to the door.
“You have no idea how hot it is to see you jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous.” I try to sound slighted but with him this close, our bodies touching the way they are…I’m not in the mind frame to argue effectively.
He leans in and runs his nose along mine. His lips are only inches from mine and he stares in my eyes. I know this game. He wants to see which of us will break first and kiss the other. Cash and I; forever a relationship of tug of war.