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Juliet After Romeohas officially reached post-production hell.
The marketing team is having a hell of a time trying to drum up hype because of the one-two gut punch of scandals, and half the internet either thinks I’m a sexist, abusive womanizer or a fucking Chad.
I’ve decided to pull away from the public eye for a while for my mental health. I can’t go anywhere these days without dealing with odd looks or whispers. Everyone and everything irritates me. I’ve been stuck in this slump for so long that I don’t remember what it was like to be out of it.
It’s a beautiful day, Mei-Lee continues.I can serve lunch outside by the pool.
I don’t respond. What’s the point? Even if I did feel well enough to enjoy the sunshine, the tiny voice in the back of my brain is worried that my stalker will be out there lurking, waiting for another chance to take pictures of me against my will. And if it isn’t my stalker causing trouble, the paparazzi sure will. No, I’m much safer inside with my film collection and the quiet I need to be alone with my thoughts.
Though they’re not any more pleasant.
I’m sorry about Eden, Mei-Lee says, looking grim.I really liked her.
I finally glance up at my housekeeper.Did you?
Yes, she was a real firecracker. I like how she kept you on your toes.
I guess.
You always smiled the widest when she was here.Mei-Lee sighs, shaking her head.Are you going to sit here all day, boy?
I might.
If that’s the case, I put your lunch in the fridge.
Can’t you bring it down here?
I feed you out of love, not because I’m your servant. You want food, you get up off your ass. Besides, if you make a mess down here it could ruin your collection.
With a look that reinforces her statement, Mei-Lee turns and heads upstairs, disappearing from sight.
I have to give credit where credit is due, that woman has never babied me once and I don’t ever expect her to. When my stomach growls in protest, I turn off the projector, seal the precious role of film in its can, stow it on the shelf, and finally leave my basement-turned-dungeon.
I hate how quiet the mansion is. It didn’t bother me before I had Eden to share it with. Sure, we were only two people, but she had a way of filling up the space that made it far livelier. I try not to think about the sound of her laugh carrying down the halls or the way my bedsheets no longer smell like her. I do my best not to stare at the pool, wishing I could see her there lounging, enjoying herself while getting a light tan.
I wind up eating lunch in the living room in front of the TV. Mei-Lee’s probably going to give me shit, moving from one screen to the next, but at least I’m not wallowing in the dark basement anymore. Sometimes we have to choose our battles. I flick on the news despite my better judgment, releasing a sigh when my name isn’t mentioned once during the segment. It looks like things are finally dying down, the rest of Hollywood and the world moving on to the next big scandal —a senator with a drug habit or something.
My phone buzzes but doesn’t ring. I’ve had to put it on silent to avoid losing my goddamn mind. When I read the screen, the caller ID says it’s an unknown number. I have half a mind to ignore it and let it go straight to voicemail, but a nagging voice in the back of my head gets the better of me.
What if it’s Eden?
I haven’t heard from her since the hospital, so it’s probably too good to be true. In hindsight, giving in to my urges to fuck her right there wasn’t doing me any favors. She was already in an emotionally vulnerable state. There was a good chance I only made things worse. I’d kick myself black and blue if I weren’t already feeling like shit.
Against my better judgment, I answer the call, the tiniest spark of hope flickering in my chest.
“Hello?”
There’s no response, but I can hear someone’s heavy breathing on the other end of the line. It’s creepy as hell, the sound leaving trails of goosebumps crawling down the back of my neck and along my arms.
“Hello?” I try again. “Who is this?”
The call ends.
I clench my jaw. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s my stalker. When I try calling the number back, the automated voice on the other end tells me it isn’t in service.
I’ve done a complete security overhaul in the past few weeks, not just to deal with my unwanted admirer, but with the teams of paparazzi I see scouting up and down my street. I changed all the locks on my doors and windows by hand, unable to trust a contractor to come in and do it for me. I’ve fired the team responsible for monitoring my home alarm and security cameras since they’ve done fuck all for me. I’ve even given Mei-Lee a panic alarm to wear on her person to alert me of anything suspicious.
My mansion is now a fortress.
