Page 2 of No One But Us

Nope. Not seeing any indication there that his son wasfive.

Suddenly I see my two weeks here with him through a new lens. The hugs that went on slightly too long. The uncomfortable things he said that I ignored—telling me I wore “the hell out of” a skirt and had a mouth “that men dream about.” And last night at dinner, when he suggested that his apartment was right around the corner and I should just stay there. I thanked him andlaughed, telling him my dad’s place was nearby and I was going outanyway.

I glance at the paper, which shows Edward and me leaving Per Se last night, with a headline that clearly makes us out to be a couple, and it finally hits me: everyone who has seen this photo and recognized me now thinks I’m sleeping with my very famous, very marriedboss.

I’ve heard enough of my father’s stories to know my internship is over, whether I’m innocent or not. The guy who pulls in viewers matters more to the network than some stupid teenage girl he wanted toscrew.

“Can you help place me at another show?” I ask quietly. “Summer just began. There must be something elseavailable.”

Stacy may hate me, but it seems they owe me at least this much. No matter what the country believes, this was definitely not myfault.

“I need to internsomewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, her words undermined somewhat by the vicious glee in her tone. “We won’t be able to help you. We need you to stay out of thespotlight.”

“Fine,” I snap. “Good thing my dad has his ownshow.”

And that’s when she lowers the other boom. That’s when she tells me my father’s days are numberedtoo.

* * *

“Where are you?” my father barks in lieu of agreeting.

“I just got back to the apartment,” I reply. “They firedme.”

“Well, if you’d answered my calls, you’d have known not to go there in the first place,” he says. “Pack your stuff and get the first train to DC. If anyone asks you about me, say nothing. I need you out of the spotlight,ASAP.”

“What if they ask aboutme, Dad?” I reply with a sharp edge to my voice I know he’ll resent. “I’m in just as much trouble asyou.”

“You’re 19. No one cares about you, and it’s not your contract in jeopardy, it’smine.”

“So it’s true? About you and the production assistant?”The production assistant who was engaged to your next-in-command.

“It’ll blow over. These things always do. But not if you’re there handing them quotes. So not a word, Elle. I meanit.”

“But is ittrue, Dad? You got herpregnant?”

“Yes, but that’s not relevant rightnow.”

“Um, it’s kind of relevant to me. You’re married, in case you’dforgotten.”

“We filed for divorce last month,” he says, with a heavy exhale, as if I’m wearying him with my off-topic questions. “What matters now is that you don’t make things worse. Get to the townhouse and stay put until I’ve gotten my contractback.”

“I have to work,” I insist. “It doesn’t have to be on Edward’s show, but can’t you getme—”

“I don’t think you get it, Elle,” he snaps. “Your work this summer will be staying indoors and keeping your mouth shut. Youronlywork.”

“What if my name comes out? They’ve already printed mypicture.”

“It’ll blow over. You know what won’t blow over? My unemployment, if we play our cards wrong.” He hangsup.

Had I been an employee, he at least would have said goodbye. But I, his only daughter, don’t even get thatcourtesy.

I’m still staring at the phone when Ginny calls. Ginny Campbell has been my best friend since our first day of preschool, when we were the only girls in the class who didn’t want to play this completely pointless game called “Unicorn Fairy” that involved a lot of running around and neighing. We spent that entire year taking over the small playhouse on the playground, where I’d interview her while she pretended she was a judge, yelling “You’re out of order!” at 20-second intervals. Her nanny let her watch a lot more Judge Judy than her parentsrealized.

And even though my parents moved from Connecticut when I was 14—and we’ve only seen each other for a rare week here and there since—our friendship has survived as if I neverleft.

“I saw thepaper.”

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