If the Boot Fits

by Rebekah Weatherspoon

  “Oh fuck,” Helene said. The sound of her voice had Amanda’s blood pressure ratcheting up. She let out a shuddered breath as a text message alert pinged in her ear. She glanced at the screen and saw a text from a high school friend named Sarah. Before she could bring it back up to her ear, three more alerts cycled up at the top of her display.

  “What is going on?”

  “I’m guessing you didn’t approve a source close to you to go public with your relationship with Sam? Do you have a relationship with Sam?”

  Amanda swallowed, closing her eyes. “No. And yes. What the hell is going on?”

  “I’m sending you a link.” A second later a text with a TMZ link popped up on her screen. She ignored the now ten different alerts in her message box and went right to Helene’s text. She skipped the headline in the thumbnail, trying to convince herself that the words SAM PLEASANT IS OFF THE MARKET. OSCAR WINNER IS SINGLE NO MORE were nothing to be worried about. Amanda clicked on the link and did her best to keep from passing out as a picture of her and Sam dancing at Claim Jumpers filled the screen below the headline. Inset in the bottom corner was a selfie from Amanda’s Instagram. Her personal Instagram where she’d amassed a whole two hundred and ten followers, mostly friends from college and her early years in production.

  The room started spinning as she tried to make sense of the words below the photos.

  Sources close to the couple say Pleasant’s girlfriend is a former personal assistant. The two have been spotted around Hollywood in recent weeks and spent Valentine’s weekend in Sam’s hometown of Charming, California.

  Sure enough there was a picture below of the two of them talking at the Vanity Fair party where they’d met and another photo of them talking on the street outside of Delightly a few days before she’d gone back to the ranch. Amanda’s face was in shadow, but with context it was clear it was her with Sam. She scrolled back up to the top and the time stamp on the article was only thirty minutes ago. Whatever damage had been done was only going to get much worse.

  “Helene,” Amanda choked out.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m—I’m at home. Please tell me you’re back.”

  “Yeah, we’re on our way to the house right now. Okay. I need you to do two things. Set all of your social media to private. All of it. Even your Twitter even though you never use it. Lock down everything.”

  “’Kay.”

  “Then come over to Ignacio’s place. Our place.”

  “Okay. Okay. Hele—”

  “Don’t worry. We’re gonna sort this shit out. Just come over.”

  “Okay.” Helene ended the call before she could panic anymore. Amanda’s hands were trembling when she switched over to Instagram. Thirty-four minutes and she already had six hundred more followers. She sent her account to private. Then deactivated her Twitter. She didn’t even bother with the forty-step process to delete her Facebook. She quickly changed into presentable clothing, then sped across town to Ignacio’s house in Silver Lake.

  * * *

  All the drive did was ratchet her nerves up from a solid twelve to a very uncomfortable sixteen and a half. She needed to get in touch with Sam and she needed to figure out a way to murder Dru while making it very clear to the courts that her homicide was completely justifiable. Apparently, Dru had decided ratting Amanda out would help her career. Who else would leak those photos in such a spectacularly invasive way?

  Ignacio’s housekeeper, Meryl, buzzed her through the massive iron gates that led to the obnoxiously steep driveway that brought you up to their house. Helene was waiting for her in the ridiculous fourteen-foot doorway. She was wearing this effortless yellow maxi dress that made her dark brown skin glow. Amanda had to stop herself from flinging herself into a sobbing heap in Helene’s arms, but as soon as she got out of her car, Helene looked at her, her head inclined in that way that was pure love and concern. Tears started flowing down her face. She stepped into Helene’s arms and wept.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find out who we have to kill and then we’ll make it look like a very intentional message to anyone who thinks about fucking with you again.”

  Amanda stepped back, wiping her face. “It was Dru. I know it.”

  “Oh, I’m gonna fuck that bitch up. Come inside.”

  “How do you look even better than when you left? You look amazing,” Amanda said as they walked into the immaculately decorated 1920s Art Deco style home. She’d been to Helene’s apartment plenty of times, but only once to Ignacio’s house, which they were now sharing. Award-winning directors sure knew how to live.

  “Sun-kissed and dicked down. Girl. Honeymoon of a lifetime.”

  “Where’s Ignacio?”

  “He’s on the phone. He’s coming down in a sec. Come on.”

  Amanda followed her deeper into the house to the kitchen. For some reason she couldn’t help but think of the welcoming warmth that filled Miss Leona’s kitchen. Her heart clenched on itself again. Somehow she’s felt like she’d betrayed his whole family.

  She took a seat that Helene offered in the breakfast nook tucked against a large bay window that looked out over the backyard. Helene grabbed them some fancy boxed water Amanda had a seen at a few charity events, then sat opposite in her own chair.

  “Okay. Tell me literally everything. Last I knew you basically told him to kick rocks at our reception and now you’re a couple.”

  “Yeah, about that.” Amanda rehashed everything from the moment they met again in front of Delightly to the night before when Dru had essentially forced her to defend Sam’s honor and their new relationship. “He’s back from Bali on Sunday, but I can’t wait that long to talk to him. It’s the middle of the night there.”

  “And you know for sure Dru did this?” Helene asked as Ignacio came into the room, his light brown skin also a bit darker due to their tropical honeymoon getaway. He greeted them both with kisses on the cheek and then settled in in his silent, supportive observer way that made him both an amazing friend and filmmaker.

  “I mean, I don’t think anyone in his family would do this. They aren’t this bored or petty. And Sam would have told me.”

  “He would have. He’s not about this life. Not like this,” Helene asserted. “And no one at the ranch?”

  “I mean, it’s possible—” Amanda’s phone chimed in her purse. She looked down at it, her eyes springing wide. “That’s Dru’s alert tone.”

  “Answer it,” Ignacio said, his voice deadly. Amanda appreciated that he was ready to fight Dru on her behalf. She pulled out her phone and looked at the text message.

  See you locked your Instagram. Smart.

  I wouldn’t check Twitter if I were you.

  A lot of people are wondering the same thing I am. How someone so underwhelming could land Sam Pleasant. Somehow makes him seem less attractive. Weird. Anyway. Thanks for saving me from his horrible taste in literally everything. Byeeeeeeee!

  Amanda slid her phone across the table so Helene and Ignacio could read it. She shouldn’t have been shocked by the painful way Dru had just implicated herself, but the dig about her impacting Sam’s appeal had really stung. She could only imagine what people were saying about her and Sam. What they were saying about her. Amanda knew exactly how cruel people could be online, especially over something that shouldn’t matter like someone’s looks. She knew she was beautiful and she loved every inch of her curvy body, but that didn’t matter to avatared masses who’d already decided the types of faces, bodies, and skin tones that were acceptable in certain circles. She knew all kinds of people pictured Sam with someone more like Helene. Hell, someone more like Dru. Not a plus-sized, now unemployed nobody.

  “Oh, okay. So she wants to fight. Cool,” Helene said as she handed the phone to her husband.

  “I’m trying really hard not to be sick right now. Like, I had this feeling in the back of my mind that Dru was going to be the one to ruin this—”

  “She hasn’t ruined anything yet. Did she make your da
y very unpleasant? Yes, okay. This sucks. But we’re not letting this bitch-ass bitch ruin anything. You have to talk to Sam.”

  “I know. I—I don’t know how he’s going to react though. I mean, we talked about this. Specifically this. I practically begged him to keep this under wraps and then someone on my end of things blows it up to the whole universe. How am I going to explain this to him? How am I going to explain this to his family? Jesus. His grandmother!” The Pleasants were not a tabloid bunch.

  “No. No. Your end nothing,” Helene cut in. “Dru didn’t have to do this. She could have been happy for you. Even if she were jealous, which she clearly fucking is, she should have taken a deep breath and let you live your life. Also if she was into Sam she would want him to be happy and if he’s happy with you—”

  “Yeah, that’s not Dru. She is the misery who wants all the company. This is why I didn’t tell her you and I were friends. Can you imagine how she would have tried to use that to her advantage? You and Ignacio.”

  “I can’t be bought or used,” Ignacio said with a playful scoff that made Amanda finally laugh.

  “Okay. So fuck Dru,” Helene went on. “You don’t work for her anymore. She can eat all the dicks. Let’s talk full damage control. Does she have anything else she can use to hurt you? Does she have any of your things?”

  “No. I purposely made myself as bland and boring in her presence as possible and you see how she reacted when things changed. Jesus,” Amanda sighed, the tears rushing back to her eyes. She took a sip of water and tried not to let the tears win. “I need to talk to Sam, like, soon, and I have to find another job. Like now.” She took her phone back and like a complete fool opened her Twitter. Even with her account locked, her mentions had exploded. She quickly scrolled and stopped when she actually saw a picture of Sam coupled with a Bossip headline.

  “Oh my God. This is so bad.”

  “Give me your phone.” Helene took the device and set it over on the kitchen island.

  “Twitter is eating me alive. I wish I could be above all this, but I can’t.”

  “Amanda, stop. You’re human and this sucks. Forget all the people who want to tell me, every damn day, that I’m not half Mexican because I don’t look it. If you want I can show you all the awful things people said about me when we announced our engagement. Some woman sent Ignacio pictures of her nieces from Guatemala begging him to consider a woman from his home country instead of me. Then some ashy-ass dude actually said I was erasing the progress of the entire race for not marrying a Black man.”

  “If I’d known I contained so much power,” Ignacio said, shrugging. “Everyone is going to have their opinion, but it’s what you and Sam want that matters. What can we do?”

  “Yeah. We can reach out to People and at least ask them to do something.” Helene picked up her own phone. “My girl over there loves positive spin and a fresh love story. I am not above calling in favors.”

  “Just let me curl up in a ball and die.”

  “No can do. Let us help you.”

  Amanda ran her hands over her face and cupped her chin. She loved Helene so much and she never wanted to make her think that their friendship was about anything other than how well they got along and how much Amanda enjoyed her bright, loving company. “This is plenty. Just letting me come over. I mean, you guys just got back from your honeymoon and I just busted up into your house with my drama. Let me get out of your hair.” She’d started to stand up when Helen fixed her with a look that could burn a hole in the detailed crown molding high above their heads.

  “Where do you have to be?”

  “Nowhere. I’m just all up in your—”

  “Nah, park it.”

  “Helene.”

  “I’m serious. Stay as long as you like. This one might be itching to get back to work, but I’m off the hook for at least another week. You sit here with me and watch awful TV and eat amazing food and figure out how to stop me from driving over to Dru’s house right now so I can throw her off her balcony.”

  “She doesn’t have a balcony.”

  “Shame.” Helene reached across the table and took her hand. “Let me help you. What do you want? What do you need? Tell us and we’ll see what we can do. What’s the point of friends with connections and more money than the pope if they can’t help you out?”

  “I mean, friendship is the point,” Amanda said as Helene immediately rolled her eyes. She knew she wasn’t going to slink back to her hole of sadness and eventual poverty, not right away. Helene wouldn’t let her, not without a fight and what some might consider out-and-out nagging. She looked at her amazing friend and her equally amazing husband.

  “Just give me a moment. I’m not programmed to prioritize my needs.”

  “Oh girl, that’s my specialty. Come on. Let’s get selfish,” Helene said with a wink.

  Amanda smiled back at her as a wave of sadness washed over her. The truth was, she knew exactly what she needed. “I need Sam. I need to talk to him.”

  Chapter 21

  Sam came back from the bathroom to see his phone screen shining in the dark. He’d changed the Do Not Disturb settings on his phone as soon as he and Jesse had landed in Bali. He knew he’d miss Amanda like crazy, but even with his international cellular plan he couldn’t spend his whole vacation with his brother texting his new girlfriend. But as he crossed the expanse of their private beachside bungalow something told him whoever was blowing up his phone wasn’t reaching out with a calm, friendly hey-how-ya-doing.

  He scooped his phone up and saw the text from Walls.

  Sorry to bug you, man. But you need to see this.

  They are destroying your girl online.

  Sam clicked through to the article Walls had sent him, his blood boiling as he saw the headline. He clicked back to his messages and saw similar texts from Corie and Lilah with the same article and more from Bossip and TMZ. There was another text from Zach just saying to call him when he could. He had a feeling what it was about.

  He called Walls.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “No clue. I just got off the phone with Corie. They are trying to keep Miss Leona from seeing it for now. What’s the play? What do you want me to do? You want me to call Coffey?”

  “No. He won’t care about this. I mean, he will, but he trusts me. He won’t freak out unless I freak out.”

  “Are you freaking out?”

  “Not sure yet. I need to talk to Amanda.”

  “You sure? Looks like her people leaked this.”

  “What people? She’s—” He almost let slip that she wasn’t a writer, but a personal assistant, but he knew she still felt embarrassed about her job even though there was nothing to be embarrassed about. “She doesn’t have people. This isn’t her style of bullshit.”

  “Well, someone leaked it. What do you want me to do? What’s the next move?” Walls asked just as Sam heard the door to Jesse’s side of the bungalow open. His brother ambled in, half asleep, scrubbing his hand over his face, then sat down on the edge of Sam’s bed. He had his own phone in his hand.

  “Nothing. Don’t do anything yet. I need to talk to Amanda. If I know her the way I think I do she had nothing to do with this. She doesn’t want this kind of attention or this kind of heat.”

  “Alright. I’m turning off the comments on your Instagram.”

  “God, please. Thanks, man.”

  “No problem. Call me back.”

  Sam ended the call, then turned on the bedside lamp. Jesse looked up at him, squinting. “Lilah and Corie called me and told me to wake you up. You should call your girl.” This vacation had done wonders for Jesse’s temperament, but he knew what his brother wasn’t saying. Talk to Amanda and get to the bottom of this before I start making calls. Jesse didn’t play when it came to anyone in their family. If he thought for one second that Amanda was trying to hurt or use Sam, he’d do his best to make sure she never came near him again. Sam appreciated it, but he knew there was no way she did
this.

  He switched over to her contact, smashing his thumb on the little phone icon. The line rang twice before she picked up.

  “Sam,” she said, her voice breaking into a sob. “I’m so sorry.”

  He hated that she was upset, but the sound of her voice took some of the pressure off his chest. “Cha-Cha, don’t cry. Tell me what happened.”

  “You saw everything?”

  “I saw the TMZ post. I’m guessing there’s more.” He glanced over at Jesse, who seemed to be going through Twitter.

  “Same stuff on different sites. Dru did this.”

  “Dru who?”

  “Anastasia. I work, well, I worked for Dru Anastasia. She’s—”

  “A huge asshole!” he heard someone say in the background.

  “I’m with Helene and Ignacio.”

  “Oh, good. I—okay. Tell me what’s going on.” Sam listened as Amanda filled him in. She told him everything. How Dru had spotted her in the CelebGossipCentral photos and then tried to force her to hand Sam and his grandmother up to Dru on a silver platter. She showed him the texts that made it pretty obvious that Dru had been the one to contact TMZ and connect all the dots between the truth and the little information on the other gossip site.

  “Then I fucked up and told her you and I were together. I know I shouldn’t have said anything. And I definitely shouldn’t have quit. I just—”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Dru Anastasia. She’s been trying to get at me for weeks.”

  “Ugh. She mentioned thinking you were attractive, but I didn’t think she’d make a move.”

  “Baby. She did more than make a move. Hold on.” Sam went back to his text chat with Walls and scrolled up until he’d found the screenshot he’d sent him the same day he and Amanda decided to give things another try. He forwarded it to her. “Look at the name in the text. You were with me when she sent that text. She was pretending to be you.”

  “Oh my fucking God. She knows I hate the name Mandy too.”