Page 9 of Overexposed

Seven

The incessant, never-ending buzz of my phone on the glass-topped nightstand was what finally dragged me out of my deep sleep. I fuckinghatedbeing woken up by my phone, but whoever was calling seemed fucking desperate.

“Whatthe fuckdo you want?” I barked into the phone without even opening my eyes to see who was calling. Either it was someone I knew, and therefore they knew better, or it was a journalist…and quite frankly they could go fuck themselves.

“Open your goddamn emails, Seven!” my manager, Jerry, snapped back. “Or your socials. Or the fucking internet. It’s fuckingeverywhere! Whythe fuckwould you do something so stupid,nowof all fucking times?”

The fury shaking his words made me sit up, sleep haze evaporating in a flash of dread. “What are you talking about, Jerry? I was dead asleep until you blew up my phone.”

“Me? Just me?” He scoffed. “Bullshit. I bet every reporter with your number has tried to get through to you this morning. Fuck knows they’ve been harassing the shit outta me.”

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I put Jerry’s call on speaker and checked notifications. Sure enough, I haddozensof missed calls and voicemails. I had notifications for social media turnedoff, but when I opened the app, I wondered if maybe it was broken.

Then I saw the images.

“Whoa.Whoa. Jerry, what the hell? What is this?” I exclaimed, sweat breaking out all over my skin as I frantically checked my missed calls again. Sure enough, there were a handful from my longtime girlfriend, Clara Belle, and I groaned.

Jerry inhaled deeply. Smoking. Jesus Christ, I’d driven him to smoking again. “You tell me, Seven,” he coughed on the exhale. “This scandal willnotgo down well with Carriage Pictures.”

“Fuck!” I roared, resisting the urge to throw my phone across the room. Instead, I sprang up out of bed and stalked out of my room, slamming the door open as I went. “I’ll call you back, Jerry.”

My manager started to protest, but I ended the call right as I reached Gem’s bedroom door. My fist pounded against it, then I shoved my way in without waiting for a response. He was my identical twin; there was no privacy between us.

“Gemini!” I bellowed, searching his empty room with a glance. “Where the fuck are you?” I all but kicked his bathroom door open, then growled my frustration to find it also empty. His bed was perfectly made and his bathroom spotless. The fucker wasn’t even home, and by the look of things, he hadn’t been all night. Our cleaners didn’t make the beds this early.

My next stop was downstairs to hammer on Ollie’s bedroom door. He, thankfully, had actually come home last night. We’d all been out at an exclusive club in the penthouse of the Covington, and Gem had left early, grumbling some shit about hitting the gym in the morning. Ollie and I had stayed way too late, playing Texas Hold’em and drinking forty-five-year-old Port Ellen whiskey. Hence my irritating behind-the-eyes headache right now. Or shit, maybe that was from the photos splashed allover the tabloids of myfucking idiottwin brother hooking up with some random chick in a parking lot.

Problem was, the tabloids all claimed it was me.

And I, among other things, had a very committed, verypublicrelationship with Hollywood’s sweetheart Clara Belle Lafleur.

Or I used to anyway.

“What’s going on?” Ollie asked, scowling at me with sleepy eyes. “Why all the shouting? What’s Gem done?”

I shoved my phone in his face, too irate to explain. A picture was worth a thousand words anyway, and there were a half dozen pictures to choose from. Hell, there were even sensationalist headlines to accompany.

Superstar Seven Harrison Caught Cheating!

Slimy Seven Shows His True Colors!

Seven Harrison Sets His Career on Fire With Mystery Woman!

“Oh shit,” Ollie spluttered, jaw dropping as he scrolled through. “Bro…when the fuck did this happen and why didn’t you tell me?”

My head might have just exploded. Fucking half-asleep dickwad. I smacked him in the side of the head in an attempt to wake him the hell up. “Ididn’t!”I roared.

“Ow,” Ollie protested, rubbing his head, then, “Oh. Ohhhhh. Gem. What a moron.”

I grabbed my phone back. “Exactly! And the little dick isn’t even home right now to fucking explain himself. Where is he? He said he was hitting the gym early but his bed wasn’t slept in.”

Ollie yawned, running a hand over his messy inky-black hair as he exited his bedroom. “I reckon I know where he spent the night based on those pictures.” He chuckled, and it irritated the fuck out of me. It wasn’thisrelationship or career on the line.

“Those pictures weren’t from last night,” I muttered. “They were taken in the parking lot of Cactus, and I know he was drinking there on Saturday night. So where the hell is he now?”

Right on cue, the huge front door of our house swung open and my mirror image came strolling through in his signature baseball cap and sponsored athleticwear.

“You two are up early,” he muttered, brushing past both Ollie and me as he headed through to the kitchen. “Figured you’d both be nursing hangovers with how hard you were hitting the scotch last night.”

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