Ramona opens it up on her phone. It probably only fed her the notification because she was googling him the other day. Fucking spying on her.Zander Parrish Accused of Sexual Misconduct by Crew Member, the headline reads. The article elaborates on the information Petra gave her: a costumer, remaining anonymous, says she was dressing Zander in his trailer when he forced himself on her. The thought of it churns Ramona’s stomach. Then there are the statements from past high-profile girlfriends, just like Petra predicted.
And in the third paragraph from the end:
Parrish’s romantic relationships first started gaining notoriety when he dated his former costar turned musician Ramona Wilder, who announced her retirement from music earlier this year. The pair were together for three years before breaking it off in 2019. A source close to Wilder says the two had a special connection from the beginning.
“They were attached at the hip back then,” the source says. “And he was always so sweet to her.”
“ ‘A source close to Wilder,’ ” Ramona reads. “Who the hell could that be? I told you, no comment.”
Petra levels her with an icy glance, clearly not thrilled by the accusation. “And that’s precisely what I told them, just like you wanted. Seems like maybe someone you know has loose lips?”
Ramona racks her brain. Betty wouldn’t talk to the press, and anyone else…The relationship was just so long ago, she can barely remember who was in her orbit back then.
The missed call from her mother.
She almost doesn’t want to believe it. Refuses to acknowledge that DeeAnn isn’t done hurting her. But now there’s this article about a horrible crime her ex may have committed, and she’s in there next to a reference about some dreamy relationship they had. Even if Ramona’s not the one who said it, the association is too close for comfort.
“This will blow over,” Petra says. “No one’s going to think you’re condoning—”
Ramona straightens her spine. “I pay you to keep my nameoutof the media.”
“And we’re doing our best.” Petra clasps her hands together. “I’m sorry, Ramona, I can’t control every publication in this city, as much as I might try!” She punctuates this with an airy laugh. “Our best bet right now is to do nothing. Let it pass on its own. In the meantime, my suggestion is that you do some inventory of your inner circle.”
Inner circle.Herself, her cat, and her personal trainer? Sure. She’ll get right on that.
Ramona leaves the office on wobbly legs. She was all adrenaline when she blazed inside, but now Petra’s managed to flatten her in a way she never did when they were working together more closely.
Of course, Petra isn’t the real problem. Zander Parrish has been on her mind far too much lately, dragging forward memories she’s tried her best to forget.
Zander, being exactly the kind of guy who’sso sweetuntil no one else is around.
Zander, telling her he was sick of waiting. Giving her a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.No one thinks you’re a virgin, Ramona. Not after thatInterviewphoto shoot.
Zander, urging her to relax. Promising,You’ll like it.
Her chest tightens in that too-familiar way.
Don’t panic, don’t panic.At least, not until she gets to the car.Think about happier things.Janet making biscuits on the duvet, wearing the little bandanna Betty got her that saysStar Baker. A tangerine sunset at Ascot Hills after a hike.
Nick.
Nick, and the way he looked at her when she messed with his hair. When she untucked his shirt.
Ramona lets out a shaky breath, clings tight to that image. She waves goodbye to the receptionist, who gives her a blank look that she assumes is an eyebrow-lift of acknowledgment.
Nick, and the way he panicked at the knock on the door—her breathing quickens again.
But before that abrupt ending…it had beengood.
She’d never had an orgasm with someone else before.
She steps inside the elevator, giving herself full permission to bask in the memory.
Maybe at first, she was doing what she usually does, trying to keep the power firmly on her side. But then…then he surprised her.
I’d like to touch you,he’d said, and her face warms. This almost doesn’t compute. Sex has always been transactional for her, no matter how infatuated someone seems at the beginning. There was Eli, the British actor she’d dated after Zander, who sent her all those charming DMs before they met in person. Ryan, the metal drummer who seemed unable to believe she was givinghim the time of day. Thaniel, who was hypnotized every time she was onstage.
They’d touch her, of course, but either they didn’t really know what to do or they didn’t care, with their clumsy hands and tongues. Then they’d push her head down or reach for a condom and she’d know her own pleasure was off the table. Sometimes she’d enjoy it but most of the time she wouldn’t, and she always wondered if maybe she wasn’t meant to. There wasn’t anyone she could talk to about it, not really—for how much all of their careers revolved around Ramona’s body, DeeAnn was skittish when it came to sex itself. The most she did was leave a box of condoms in Ramona’s dressing room when Ramona told her she and Zander had started sleeping together.
