Page 16 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
Hammond’s matter-of-fact tone pisses me off, and I whip a glare at him. He doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
“We have two options right now. We postpone the tour?—"
“No,” Mabel, Jo, and Sav say collectively.
I’m the only one with fucking sense, apparently. Hammond arches a disapproving brow, like a teacher dealing with unruly school kids.
“Orwe find a way to snuff out the Torren and Sav media fire. We can send cease and desists, but unfortunately the damage is done. I don’t see a retraction working.”
“Bring Levi out of hiding,” Jo suggests, and Sav immediately shakes her head.
“Absolutely not. I’m not throwing him and Brynn to the wolves. They didn’t sign up for tha?—”
“Kinda did when he decided to get back with you,” I interrupt, and she shoots me a glare so violent, it could kill.
“I will not do that,” she says firmly, eyes still on me. “Iwill notsubject them to this.”
I open my mouth to tell her it comes with the territory, but she slices a hand through the air and raises her voice.
“Do not. Do not, Torren.”
I clench my teeth.
“What makes you think that would even work?” Mabel asks. “Those assholes only care about what sells. They don’t care about the truth.”
Hammond pulls another magazine out of the folder and flashes the cover as he speaks.
“The only time the letters stopped was when this story was circulating. Now that it’s fizzled out, they’ve started back up. Got the first yesterday, only days after a gossip blog reported that the woman is out of the picture, and Sav and Torren are on again. Seems the relationship with Torren is the problem.”
I ignore the last sentence and focus on the magazine. It’s from three weeks ago when I was at the pier, and we had the mishap with the redhead. In the cover photo, she’s lying in my lap, and I seem to be caressing her face. I’ve never seen this picture. I meant it when I said I don’t pay attention to any of that bullshit anymore, but I did have paps throwing out questions about her for weeks after the incident. I ignore them as best I can, too, always rushing past with my head down. They only ever get two words from me: no comment.I don’t know why they still try.
The headline suggests it’s the start of a new romance. I lean in and look closer. In a few smaller photos at the bottom, there are morepictures of her. One of her outside of a convenience store wearing the same shirt she had on at the pier. One of her leaving a hotel wearing some sort of gray uniform. One of her stepping off a city bus.
“Who is this girl?” I ask, opening the magazine and flipping to the article.
I didn’t get her name at the pier, but I remember her eyes—green like moss. There’s something about them that tickles my memory. And her hair—the most unique blend of colors. Reds, browns, blondes. I feel like I’ve dreamed about it in a drugged-out slumber. Like I know her outline but nothing else. At the pier, there was something strangely familiar about her. Some magnetic pull that made me want to step closer. To touch her. To see if the feel of her could pull the whisper ofsomethingfrom the recesses of my memory. The wordagainkept circling in my mind. It’s doing it once more.Again again again.
I find the answer to my question in the article at the same time Hammond says it.
“Calla Lily Sunrise James. She’s twenty-three. Santa Monica native. Works at Bruno’s Market and the Oceanside Inn.”
I flip back to the cover and study the small photographs again. Nothing else jogs my memory. The nameCalla Lily Sunrise Jamesdoesn’t ring any bells. A name like that stands out. She’s young, too. The only time I interact with people younger than me is at meet and greets, and she didn’t act as if she’d attend a meet and greet. But...there’s just something about her...
The longer I study the photographs, an idea begins to take shape. My need to help mixes with my interest in the girl, and the words fall out of my mouth without care.
“I’ll date her,” I say, and the room goes still. I glance up and find everyone staring at me. “A PR relationship,” I clarify. “Give the media something else to focus on.”
“Yeah, because fake relationships have really worked out so great for us in the past,” Mabel says sarcastically.
“Absolutely not,” Sav argues, shaking her head and pursing her lips before continuing. “That’s out of the question. We’re not doing that.”
“Why not?” I ask, my tone more biting than I intended.
“Because, Torren. Are you forgetting what happened last time?You’re not putting yourself through that again. Especially not for me. I won’t allow it.”
“It’s not really your decision.”
“Itismy decision. It’smystalker.Myproblem?—”
