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I hate to put it so bluntly, but it’s the one thing to make Jack stop and listen, hearing my side of things. This is one thing I know about, what that woman and her column, what that paper is actually capable of.
“What do you mean bury me?” he asks, making a face that’s almost too funny but I stand my ground and keep serious for his sake.
“Naomi Pilkington,” I almost hiss. “She’s just told me she wants to ruin you with anything she can manufacture, Jack. I know this woman, she won’t stop until you’re finished.”
“But my worst movie’s on Blu-ray,” he counters, cocking his brow before he takes my hand in his, lowering his voice.
“Olivia. I know all about your boss and everyone like her. I’m not scared of some bad press, are you?” he asks me honestly.
I feel my head shaking from side to side, but I have to remind myself it’s not what I’m getting at.
“But she wants me to make it happen,” I finally tell him, admitting my part in every story like it the paper’s run so far.
Admitting I’m not a hundred percent honest myself.
“I’m just as much a phony as she is,” I sigh, sulking more than helping.
“You never wrote a bad word about me,” he counters, and although it’s true I can’t tell him that my words weren’t twisted once they hit the editor’s desk.
I can’t plead full immunity against the cruel press-driven machine that has Jack Mercury in its sights.
“That was before I met you,” I tell him honestly. “Before I could tell you I actually love you. And I really do.”
“Before you knew me,” he echoes back, forgiving me without a second thought.
“I don’t blame you, Olivia. I blame myself,” he says seriously. Thoughtfully.
“I made it in this business and a million others didn’t. I’m bound to make enemies, even people I’ve never met. And that’s the crazy thing. I make a million people happy with what they see, what they like. And I make a million, maybe two million mad just by doing the same thing. Doing what we all do, earning a living,” he says with no subtle hint of irony.
“Then what should I do?” I ask him, gripping at his huge arm, begging his advice.
“Like I said, do what you think is right.” That is all he has for me.
He’s not mad, but I can see he’s thinking, hard.
He pats my hand and even kisses the top of my head again. Something he’s started doing often enough that always makes me feel a little better.
Before I know it we’re at the airport again, the same jet waiting to take us both home.
There are a couple of hours left with Jack and me alone. Enough time for me to make up my mind about what I really want.
To see if I’ll take the chance, to choose which side I’m really on.
But looking over at Jack as we pull up to the plane, he’s still got such a boyish look. That expression of amazement that his life is where it’s at for just one more day.
I can’t help but know for sure that it’s him I love, more than anything I want for myself.
More than any sense of security I could get from any job, other people, places, or things.
Oh, Jack. I just want this to be about us, nothing, and nobody else. But I don’t want to be a hanger on.
Not like some groupie or fan with benefits.
Chapter Sixteen
Jack
The flight home starts out a lot less intimidating than our trip over, and I can see Olivia’s still torn between a few things internally as I study her.
I admit I’m beat from zero sleep last night, and I almost doze off more than a couple of times once we’re in the air, but it’s Olivia I’m thinking about when I look over to her, not the press.
Not the so-called scandal her boss is trying to generate.
Even the press she thinks she’s been a part of. The press she’s telling herself she may or may not have fed lies to about certain people.
Even people like me.
It’s just another form of acting. You get your script and you run with it. People buy it, read it or watch it.
Is it real? Is it true? It’s all ratings. All business at the end of the day.
Beauty, like so many other things, is in the eye of the beholder, I always say. And to me. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, no matter who she works for.
No matter what she thinks she’s done in the past.
I’m feeling pretty smug about my sleepy analogies, one eye on Olivia and the other half-closed as I start to doze off again, just for a moment before my phone buzzes me awake.
I set it to mute. Silence. That’s all I want for a while.
