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"No!" he says sharply.
"It's okay, shit, I shouldn't have done this, I should have known better, but I thought you were okay since you came to me, Carter, I'm sorry I pushed you..."
I reach out to hug him to me, but he steps back, his arms tightly at his sides. "No! Please. Sanniyah. Don't touch me right now, okay?"
"What do you need?" I ask, feeling frantic. "We can go back, right now, okay?"
"No." He is still standing there, eyes darting, chest heaving.
My mind races. He's not hearing me. His fists are clenched at his sides, knuckles white. "Carter? I'm going to call someone, right now, okay?" Frantically, I scroll through my phone for the number.
The ten minutes that roll by are the longest I've ever spent in my life. Carter is frozen in front of me, his face a mask of anger and shame. No matter how much I tell him that it's okay, that I am sorry, he only says 'no,' over and over again until the black car rolls up and Camilla jumps out.
"Carter, here. Come right here." I feel my heart sink to see how he lets her lead him into the safety of the black Towne car. The instant he is behind the tinted glass, he relaxes.
"Thank you for calling, Sanniyah." Camilla sounds concerned, distracted, and a bit put out. "He shouldn't have pushed himself, it can undo all the good he's done up to this point."
"I'm sorry," I say dumbly.
"It's okay," she answers tightly.
But I know it isn't when she gets back into the car and shakes some pills into her hand. Carter shoots me one last anguished glance, then pops them into his mouth, dry. Then the door closes and he is gone.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sanniyah
Already my apartment feels too empty with him gone. I wander around, picking things up and putting them down, until, with nothing left to distract me, I fall into bed, wrapping myself in the sheets that still smell like him and cursing myself for being my bull-headed self. Anger courses through me in waves, each wave followed by another of heartbreak and sadness that startles me each time I feel it.
When my phone rings, I fairly leap for it without even looking at the number. "Hello?" I stammer.
"I'm trying to reach Sanniyah Jones?" The crisp, clipped voice of the woman on the other end is familiar, but I find that I don't even give a shit. She's tying up the line I need to use to find out if Carter is okay,
"This is Sanniyah," I bark, "I'm terribly sorry, but I'm going to have to call you back..."
"This is Felicia Doyle at the Tribune Styles desk," she interrupts, smooth as honey. "We spoke earlier?"
I feel the anger drain out of me, leaving me with nothing but confusion as I sag onto the bed. She finally calls me...now? "Yes, of course," I say, as quiet and meek as a mouse.
"I re-read your email, and did some preliminary background research and I would love to do a piece on you, if that's okay."
My heart should have leapt. This was what I had been doggedly pursuing for months now. Why wasn't I elated? "That sounds fine," I manage dully. Carter's stricken face is swimming in front of my vision and I can feel my hand reaching up like he is standing in front of me.
"Now, before we get started, I do need to confirm a few things."
"Uh huh."
"Can you please verify that you are involved with Carter Easton?"
Everything stops. "Excuse me?" I say as the hot blood begins to beat in my temple. "What did you just ask me?"
"We just received a tip about Carter Easton being sighted with a black woman who fits your description. This is a huge story. Mr. Easton has been MIA for two year now and...."
"I know," I interrupt, cheeks flaming. "But can you please clear something up for me? What does Carter Easton have to do with a story about my business?"
Felicia huffs into the phone. "Our readers are tired of the same sob stories about poor people," she says dismissively. "Shelters, deprivation, it's all depressing and boring." I see red as she breathlessly continues. "But an angle like this? A girl like you ending up with a billionaire like Carter Easton?"
"Excuse me?" I interject. Hot anger has been replaced with icy steel. "A girl like me?"
Felicia sniffs. "Let's not play the PC card, please, we're all grown-ups here. You know what I meant."
"I'm not actually sure that I do, " I say.
"You know, Carter is...."
"White?"
"No! Rich! And you ending up with him? That's the kind of wish fulfillment I sell here at the Styles desk. That's the angle I want to use. If you want to use me to sell your brand, you'd be wise to play that up. Now," I can hear her tapping her pen impatiently, "we already have the photographs of the two of you."
"Excuse me?" I feel like a parrot, only able to repeat the same words over and over again.
"The photos, of you two on the sidewalk by McMahon Park. You were awfully cozy."
It feels like an unseen hand had closed itself around my throat. I make a strangled sound that Felicia's business-like prattle plows right over as she continues. "They were brought in only a few minutes ago. I can run those along side a glamor shot of you, maybe we could even get a personal candid you can supply yourself? Oh yes, that would be perfect." I can fairly hear the triumphant bloodlust in her voice. "I just need you to confirm that yes, you and Carter Easton are dating and we can get everything rolling."
I could do it. Just one little word and I would nab a huge pictorial in the Styles section. My name would be on the lips of every bride in the Tri-County area. All I had to do was confirm what was actually the truth; that Carter Easton and I, at least until a few hours ago, were indeed seeing each other.
All I had to do was make his very worst fears a reality,
"Ms. Doyle?"
"Yes, Sanniyah?" She is so eager it makes me nauseous.
"Ms. Jones will be fine."
She pauses a little. I can tell it is rankling her how much she needs to have me cooperate. "Of course, Ms. Jones. Go ahead."
"Ms. Doyle, I just want to make sure we're clear. You are offering me a full page spread in the Styles section, profiling my business for all of your readers...how big is your circulation again?"
"131,000 paid subscribers and that's not including newstand." she sighs, impatiently. "Ms. Jones, I really need..."
"Just moment, I'm not through. But you're not actually going to profile my business at all, are you? It's not really going to be my story at all...it's going to be a puff piece about Carter Easton, who has made it quite clear, time and again, that he values his private life above all other things?"
"Er, no not exactly...."
"If I did, indeed, have a personal relationship with Mr. Easton, don't you think I would be aware of his desire for privacy, and don't you think I would know better than to exploit him for my own personal gain?"
"Ms. Jones, let me just be clear here, our readers..."
"No, you are quite clear. Your readers need a hook, and he is the hook."
"Exactly," she sighs with relief. "Now if I can just get the confirmation...."
"I can confirm one thing," I say, watching myself in the mirror.
"Go ahead?"
