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“No! We haven’t rekindled shit. The only thing I feel like rekindling is my knee in his balls.”
“Oh, honey, this can work to our advantage, though. You need to calm down.”
“Laurel, I can’t—”
Beep.
I looked at my screen, Mom calling.
Deny.
Dad calling.
Deny.
Christian calling.
“Fuck!”
Definitely deny.
“I gotta go.” I hung up, searching Yahoo News and getting smacked in the face with a picture of Julian and me kissing on his bed. It was one of the last pictures he took of us.
“Oh. My. God. He even leaked a personal fucking photo!” Grabbing my phone again, I called Charles.
“Hey, Cherry. You’re welcome.”
“How could you do this to me? How could you publish an article without my approval? We had an agreement!”
“What are you talking about? I just made your client the most adored man in the world. Did you read the article? Did you see how he spoke about you and your relationship?”
“No! I didn’t read the article! I didn’t get past the fucking title, Charles! You blindsided me! And we’re not in a relationship—other than I’m his publicist, and he’s my client!”
“Umm… That’s not what he said.”
“He was lying! How you, of all people, couldn’t tell he was full of shit is beyond me.”
“So you guys don’t have a history? He wasn’t your first love?”
“It’s not as black and white as you’re laying it out to be.”
“Did you or did you not have a relationship?”
I wasn’t expecting his interrogation, feeling like I was suddenly on the stand at my own trial.
“If you could call it that.”
“So he wasn’t your first kiss? Your first sexual experience?”
My eyes bulged out of my head. “He told you that?!”
“I think you need to read the article.”
“I think you need to pray that I don’t find you and kick your ass!”
“Cherry—”
“Don’t you Cherry me! I’m so pissed at you I can barely see straight!”
