Page 8 of Fall I Want
“I stopped by your penthouse to drop off the suit for your television interview tonight and the front desk told me you weren’t there,” Roxie says. “Will you be returning soon?”
Sometimes, silence is the only answer.
“Hello?” she asks, growing frustrated. She’s worked with my family for the last two decades and has been tasked with keeping me and my sister Harper’s images cleaner than most celebrities and pop stars. We had a fantastic twenty-year run; however, my reputation is in ashes after my ex burned it to the ground with twisted truths.
“I’m not taking part in this,” I firmly state, taking back my power.
I glance up at the mountains in the distance. They called, and I answered. Nothing or no one can convince me to return to Manhattan.
“Excuse me? Did you say you weren’t doing the interview?” Roxie clears her throat. And it’s not lost on me that I’ve been difficult to work with, but I’ve always followed instructions and stayed hidden in plain sight.
“I didn’t stutter.” I stroll down the sidewalk, watching leaves rustle across the pavement.
A group of workers hammer together the wooden structure thatwill be used for the pumpkin patch that’s opening in two weeks. That flyer has already come in handy.
“We had a plan. You agreed, and we promptly signed a contract with the network. This was three months ago. Everyone wants you to break your silence and tell your side of the story. Not to mention, your father donated a lot of money for you to have a prime-time segment. They booted the president of the United States for you.”
“Really sorry about that. I’ve thought it over, and I changed my mind. Unfortunately, I won’t be participating.” I’m firm with my decision.
Sitting in a studio with cameras in my face as I spit out well-rehearsed answers to pre-written questions isn’t my style. And it never will be. “The world can believe what they want. They can believe her.”
“This isn’t about anyone other than you,” she says. “And your reputation.”
“Please tell me what part of ‘I won’t be fucking doing it’ is difficult to understand.”
“Maybe I can set up an online intervi—”
“Absolutely not. I won’t perform like a puppet, and I will no longer be used as a pawn. This is a publicity stunt, Roxie. Seems like you and my father constructed this spotlight to increase the business’s bottom line during the holiday season. I’m choosing to believe you wouldn’t be that stupid or assume I was. My eyes are wide fucking open.”
No one will control me.
Not my ex. Not my father. And not fucking her.
“Unbelievable. You’re off-script, and we all know that’s bad for business,” she sneers.
My father had plenty of scandals in his twenties and thirties, and it nearly sent my grandfather into an early grave.
To avoid his karma, my father spent ridiculous amounts ofmoney to ensure Harper and I never experienced what he did. The overprotectiveness worked. A few months ago, the dramatized docuseries of our lives was released and we were put on every popular network’s radar. My ex took center stage, stealing the spotlight by showing our private text conversations. Each one was taken out of context.
Overnight, I became the man in millions of women’s fantasies. I have no safe spaces except here in Cozy Hollow. I hope.
“Do the fucking interview.”
“My life isn’t a movie. Got it,Roxane?” I use her full name because she hates it.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I almost laugh because it’s been months since I’ve been okay, but no one notices until I fuck up their itinerary. “Areyou? Me skipping that hour-long spotlight tonight saved your goddamn job. Take this as a verbal warning. Treat me this way again, and I will fire you on the spot.”
“Your father hired me.”
“And you don’t think I can dismiss you? You’re not that naïve. Now, if you treasure being employed by me, continue sweeping the Internet for the bullshit that’s not true. I’ll reach out to you. Not the other way around. My life has been painted as something it’s not, thanks to your instructions.”
She says something else and I end the call. I’m over the conversation and exhausted by the nonstop need to make the world believe I’m perfect. I’m not and never will be.
Roxane and my father are worried about the rumors. Eventually, my truth will be heard, but I won’t be the one telling it. Everyone will figure it out.
The problem with liars is they can’t keep their stories straight. They’re too busy weaving together their tall tales that the wirescross. Celine believes she’s won the war, not realizing she’s setting up her own downfall. What she did destroyed me at my core.
