by K. S. Thomas
“I’m not sitting down, I’m at the market packing up.” I stop what I’m doing for a minute. “You’re starting to scare me now. Just spit out whatever you have to say. It can’t be any worse than dragging it out would be.”
I can hear her making noises, a wide array of squeaks and groans she makes whenever she’s profoundly frustrated by something. Then, finally, the release of a long-winded breath and then, at the tail end of it, the words, “You’re all over the internet.”
“WHAT?” I yell so loud, several of my booth neighbors turn around to check on me and I hastily gesture my okay for all to see before I practically crawl under the table to carry on my conversation with Kaleaha. “More words this time. What happened?”
“Apparently,” she starts reluctantly, “someone from the media tracked Bodhi down just in time to take pictures of you both canoodling in the parking lot.”
“What parking lot?”
“You were canoodling in more than one parking lot?” She stops. “Never mind, not important. The high school. They must have been out there waiting when you two left here together yesterday.”
I close my eyes as tightly as I can as if that will somehow help me travel back in time and undo what was done. It doesn’t, it does however start to replay my memories from yesterday. Our walk from the door to the truck really wasn’t that significant. Well, visually anyway. The words that were exchanged are another story, one I’m sure no reporter was close enough to hear. “Okay.” I swallow down the lump of panic in my throat. “I think it’s okay. Outside of a little hand holding, there really wasn’t anything to see. The pictures can’t be that bad.”
“The pictures aren’t the problem.” Kaleaha no longer sounds frustrated or antsy. She just sounds sad. “It’s the story they’re running with them.”
“Story?”
“I can’t,” she says, voice tapering off at the end. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to see it for yourself.”
“Kaleaha.” I’m stumped. I can’t even think of a time when she wasn’t the one who just gave it to me straight, said the hard thing no one else could. It’s part of what makes her the sane one.
“Just, don’t read it alone. Okay? Promise me, you’ll go home. Sit with Dinah. Then google it.”
“I’m not...no. Besides, Bodhi’s on his way over here to meet me as we speak,” I explain, confused by this sharp turn suddenly flipping my happy day upside down.
“No, he’s not,” she says. “He’s here. That’s why I had to call you. To tell you. He’s busy trying to get to the bottom of this bullshit. He’s furious, Lilan. Hannah says she’s never seen him like this and Teran had to physically stop him from storming out into the parking lot and having it out with them.”
“Them?” It’s not the only question I have, it’s just the first one I can clearly verbalize.
“Reporters. Paparazzi. They’re swarming the whole school. Cops are already here, dealing with them. And you should probably see about sneaking out while you can, just in case they’re roaming the market as well.”
My fingers curl around the edge of the table, searching for something solid, something I can brace myself with, because everything around me is gradually starting to spin. “Why would they be here?” I wheeze, struggling for my voice. “I’m not the famous one. I’m only newsworthy when I’m with him.”
“Just get out of there, Lilan,” she insists in a calm but stern tone you imagine a nine one one operator to use with people in the midst of a trauma they may or may not escape. “Grab your purse and go. Just tell Marion you’ve got an emergency. I’m sure she’ll be happy to finish up for you. You’ve done it for her plenty.”
“Okay.” I nod several times, not for Kaleaha’s sake, obviously, she can’t even see me, but for my own. Maybe if I nod often enough, I can convince myself that I’m agreeing to what she’s saying and accepting that this is real. “Okay. Bye.” I don’t hang up, just drop my hand away from my ear and consider it done.
Legs shaking, I stand up from behind my table. Marion spots me as soon as I do. Almost instantly, concern shadows her face. “Lilan? Everything alright?”
“Something’s come up,” I ramble, shifting into auto-pilot as I snatch my purse and keys. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Go, go,” she says, already waving me off. “I’ve got this. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Thank you, Marion,” I call out, taking off and blending in as best as I can with vendors still here, busy breaking down their stands.
I make it out to the parking lot before all hell breaks loose. Apparently, no one was inside the marketplace because they were all out here, standing huddled around my truck, just waiting for me to come out.
“That’s her!” I hear a man shout out about a second after I realize the trap I’ve run right into. “Miss Rossi!”
I don’t know whether to turn and run back inside or forge onward completely oblivious as if no one is even here. Mostly, I’d just like for the earth to open up and swallow me away from this nightmare.
As that doesn’t seem to be an option, I go with B. Forge on.
Head down and purse pressed against my chest, I pummel my way through the oncoming reporters. I can hear cameras going off and a million different questions being fired off in my direction, but I don’t pay attention to any of it. Only when I get to my driver’s side door do I look up and acknowledge the man blocking my way.
“Why do you do it?” he asks, his camera phone thrust in my face as he’s talking, “Is it for the fame? The fortune? Or did it thrill you to get away with murder without getting caught so much you needed to try it again, this time with a higher risk?”
“What? What are you talking about? Murder? I never murdered anyone! You and your camera toting stalker friends are here because I’m involved with Bodhi James. Can’t you even keep your stories straight when you’re going around victimizing people to get your next trashy headline?!” I demand, suddenly furious by his nerve to keep me from my escape when he doesn’t even know why he’s here harassing me. In an instant, I decide to solve my own problems and I change course, marching straight for the passenger seat before anyone can beat me to it.
As soon as I’m in, I lock the doors again, then slide myself over into the driver’s seat.
“MOVE!” I shout. Even with all the windows up, they seem to get the message. Or maybe it’s because I just turned on the motor and pressed into the gas while still in park, that let them know I mean business. Either way, they’re scrambling now, and I have a clear shot out of my parking spot and toward the road.
Paranoia roars inside my brain the entire drive home and I spend more of my time checking the rear-view mirror to make sure no one’s following me than I do looking at the road ahead. Halfway to the house I wonder if they already know where I live and have taken to camping out on my front lawn, then I spend the second half rationalizing that Mama would be out there with her daddy’s old shotgun threatening them all within an inch of their lives without any of them ever knowing she never learned to load or shoot the thing.
Whatever the reason, my house seems quiet and perfectly normal. Taking the steps up to the front door same as always, I almost let myself think the last thirty minutes of my life never happened. Maybe I got confused. Maybe those people in the parking lot weren’t even talking to me.
I’m close to believing my own drivel, desperation taking over for reason which was not buying my bullshit for even a second, when I walk in through the front door and Mama comes rushing toward me so fast, she beats Jax to greeting me.
“Lilan.” She hugs me tight. “Kaleaha called me.” She releases me and starts to guide me through my own foyer into the living room. “Did you wait like she told you to?” she asks, practically forcing me to sit on the sofa. “You look paler than I’ve ever seen you. Oh, Lord. Did you peek?” she presses, taking the spot next to me.
“No,” I stammer, shaking my head and begrudgingly accepting that my life really is coming off the rails
and I wasn’t just imagining things like I’d hoped. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. What could they possibly have written that would be so upsetting? Even if it’s insane or hateful, who cares? I mean, it’s obviously not true.”
Mama sighs, reaching for the laptop she apparently had out and ready on the seat beside her. “You better just see for yourself.”
I keep my eyes on hers, trying to read the bad news in them everyone’s been struggling to tell me, but all I can see is worry. And hurt.
When my gaze finally slides down to take in the screen, I understand why.
The headlines are worse than I ever could have imagined. And the guy asking me questions, suddenly seems to know exactly what he’s talking about. He didn’t have the wrong story at all. I did.
“This isn’t...what I thought it would be,” I say, staring blankly as I scroll down the screen, taking in one headline after the next, each more devastating than the one before it.
Blueshadow Black Widow has Hollywood’s golden boy in her deathly web!
Everyone fears for Bodhi James as known husband killer catches his eye.
Bodhi James – could he be Lilan Rossi’s newest victim?
They’re all different, and yet completely the same. I’m not some nobody a celebrity is falling for, I’m a husband killer threatening to take out everyone’s favorite movie star. And get away with it.
“What am I going to do?” I whisper, pushing the laptop away. I can’t take another second of those words searing themselves into my brain. As it is, I won’t be able to close my eyes and find my own unpolluted thoughts for a long time to come.
“You’re going to do what you always do,” Mama says calmly. “You’re going to allow yourself some time today to feel everything this very hateful and unjust thing makes you feel, and then, you’re going to pick yourself up and get back to your life. Which isn’t on anyone’s screen or somewhere on the internet. It’s here. With Mona. And me. And all the people who love you. All the people who know the truth.”
Bodhi
“ANY WORD YET?” HANNAH asks as soon as I walk into her kitchen. I’ve been on the phone for hours, between my lawyers, my PR and my management team, everyone is officially working overtime to make this story disappear.
“No one’s saying where they got the scoop,” I tell her. “But they’re all insisting it was a reliable source.” I shake my head at the insanity of it all. “I can’t believe how ruthless they’re being. Attacking Lilan like that. It doesn’t make any sense. You said Marc died in a car accident. And that they weren’t even married anymore when it happened. How the fuck are they stretching that story into some warped tale of husband killing?”
Hannah stays silent. A surefire sign I ought to be suspicious.
“What are you not saying?”
“I can’t tell you.” Her hands fly up instantly to stop me from digging further. “But you need to know, that them printing this story, those headlines...Lilan is devastated right now. And honestly, I don’t know that you’re going to be able to come back from it.”
“What are you talking about? Of course, we’re getting through this. You don’t know how things have changed. She’s in this. Me and her? It’s for real. And you don’t just walk away from something like that. Not permanently.”
She walks across the small space and pulls a chair out from her kitchen table to sit. She gestures for me to do the same. “We need to talk about some things. And you’re not going to like any of it, so you might as well sit for it.”
“I don’t want to sit.”
“And I don’t want you to run a permanent ditch into my kitchen floor from your angry pacing. Which is what you will do if you don’t put your ass in a seat.” She points at the chair across from her. “Sit!”
“I’m not impressed with being ordered around right now, Hannah.” But I do as I’m told anyway. I have enough to battle at the moment, I don’t need to go to war with my best friend on top of it. “Now spit it out.”
She flares her nostrils disapprovingly. “You’re a real hothead, you know that? It’s a rarely seen side of you, but damn when it shows up, it’s a real pain in the ass.”
“I’m sorry, this is the conversation I had to sit down for?”
“No, jackass.” She slides her butt to the edge of her seat and leans all the way back until her head is propped against the top of the backrest. She’s got her arms folded over her chest, and a proper disapproving glare shot directly at me before she begins. “This isn’t about you.”
“Excuse me? Which part? Where my life is being completely invaded by the media? Where my relationship is being attacked? Where the woman I’m in love with is completely freaking out? What part of this isn’t about me?”
“All of it. Is not about you,” she reiterates her former point. “Fine, the media is up your ass today. But that’s your life. That’s what you chose. I know, because I was there the night you mulled it all over and decided it would be worth it all and so you took that part in Gina Birne’s movie knowing full well it would launch your career and turn your entire world upside down. Which it did.” She unfolds her arms to release one hand, whipping her pointer finger out to start gesturing. “So this, the stress of the paparazzi stalking your ass? Not about you. Know what else isn’t about you? Lilan freaking out. That’s about her. You’re nowhere near that equation, mostly because there isn’t a goddamned thing you can do about it.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Yeah, I do.” She sits up straight, arms crossing again, this time I think it’s more for armor than anger. “Look, I can’t tell you why this is so bad. But I can tell you, that it is. It really, really is.”
I hate that I’m sitting. I want to pace. Pacing stops me from wanting to hit things. Not that I hit things. But, there are moments, I would like to. Like right now, where I feel helpless and stuck and like everything is completely out of my control. “I know you warned me that she wanted no part of the attention that comes with fame. And I get, I get that she’s private and protective and especially with Mona.” Thank God, no one dared print a picture of her. As it is, my lawyers are prepping to serve every news outlet that played a part in this with defamation lawsuits. “But maybe this will turn out to be a good thing in the long run. Maybe, if I can prove to her that I have measures in place to take care of stories like these and make them go away as fast as they came, maybe it’ll give her peace of mind moving forward.”
“You’re not listening.” Hannah moves her arms from her torso to the table, leaning forward and staring me straight in the eyes. “This is not about having her picture taken or being blasted on the internet as your new girlfriend. It’s about the stories they’ve attached to her, as your girlfriend. And I sincerely hope you do find a way to make them disappear, but I don’t think it’ll matter. The damage has been done.”
“It’s just a ridiculous attempt at getting attention and making money. Everyone knows how insane these gossip rags get. It’s not real. Nothing about it is true.” I slam my hand on the table, at my wits end with all of it. The only thing I really want to do, is talk to Lilan, and she’s the only one I haven’t been able to reach since all of hell broke loose.
“That’s the thing,” Hannah says quietly. “Not everyone knows what’s true. And what’s real. And this won’t be the first time, Lilan has had to face off with those who don’t.”
“Hannah.” I can’t keep going around in circles with her if she’s going to keep being so vague every time she mentions Lilan.
“I can’t.” She sits back again. Arms crossed.
“I can’t even get her on the phone. How am I supposed to help her, when I can’t even talk to her?”
“You have to go see her. Talk to her in person.” She nods toward the hook hanging beside the fridge. “My dad keeps an old pick up in the shed behind the house. Keys are hanging up. If you take the dirt road behind the property, it’ll bring you out on the main drag. You should be able to get to her house sa
fely without being followed that way.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LILAN
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting out here, staring blankly into the night, swaying without moving in the swing. Last night seems like a million years ago now. Maybe another life entirely. That’s how foreign it seems, thinking of it while being present in this new reality.
Mama took care of Mona tonight, everything from homework to dinner to bedtime has been a special Grandma-Mona treat to spare her my meltdown. Mama’s wonderful like that.
I start to see lights, and I blink. At first I think my eyes are just straining from staring so long. It takes me several seconds to register what I’m seeing. Headlights. A truck, coming down toward the house.
Instantly, my heart begins to race. All day, I’ve feared this moment would come. That they’d storm my front lawn and rip me of my last saving grace - a place to hide out.
As tempted as I am to run, I don’t. This is my home. My family. And maybe I don’t have much in the way of honor according to the news today, but I will be damned if I sit back and let the enemy invade my home while my daughter is fast asleep upstairs.
Then, the truck comes to a stop, right below the garage lights and I’m able to recognize it. It’s Hannah’s. Or rather, Hannah’s father’s. Which begs the question, who’s driving it?
I take a step closer and watch as a dark figure gets out of the driver’s seat. I hear the door slam shut and the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow.
“Lilan?”
My pounding heart lifts for one brief second, before it plummets. “What are you doing here?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve been trying to figure out how to get to you, talk you, anything – all day. All I keep getting is voicemail and messages that deliver but never get read.” He moves up the walkway, speeding up the closer he gets to me. “I’m so sorry...about all of this. I swear, I had no idea anyone even knew where I was. Let alone who I was with.”