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"So, you’re not officially seeing anyone?"
Kline glanced back to Savannah and shrugged. "I could take you for drinks," he offered. “See where the night takes us.”
Rhiannon snapped off the remote and jerked back down into bed, nestling into the covers miserably angry. He certainly seemed to be taking the photos well. Her parents had been as understanding as possible, but her mother had called to say that her grandmother was thinking of disowning her. She was just humiliated, and Kline was calling her a stunning date. For all she knew he was sleeping with Kara Viceroy, Jill Parker, and half of Hollywood.
She dragged herself out of bed, showered, and dressed for work. Thad had told her she should take a few days off if she wanted to, but she couldn't face knocking around the house aimlessly, doing her own head in. She needed to work. Everyone was going to keep staring, and so be it.
She couldn't believe how angry and upset she was. Aside from the humiliation and utter embarrassment of having her sex life splashed all over the pages of who knew how many papers, the Martha’s Vineyard crowd was going to have a field day with that, she was discovering that there was so much more to Kline and Jill than just 'old friends', despite their assurances to the contrary. Rhiannon knew that she didn't have any right to make demands on Kline, and he'd made her no promises, but the last thing she wanted to do was be in the midst of a sordid triangle with him and one of her friends.
If he or Jill had just told her the truth upfront, then none of this would have happened. Especially not their cozy weekend live sex show. The fact that neither Kline nor Jill, who she thought was a friend, had been straight with her about the whole thing was most upsetting of all. At the moment, she wasn't sure she would be able to face either one of them again. She wasn't sure she wanted to.
Tears sprang to her eyes again and she had to sit down, grabbing for tissues to dab them away. Her first lesson in love in Hollywood had been a harsh one. She'd never wanted to be the star of a scandal. She hadn't even given the media a thought. Looking back, that had been naive, given who she'd agreed to go out with. Why had she thought that dating Kline would be a good idea? He wasn’t a person. He was a fantasy. Every girl's dream come true. Her teen dream had turned into a nightmare. Of course, he had come out of all of this as the conquering lothario. Never mind what effect it was having on her life.
She'd warned herself not to get too close. Not to care too much. Not to be too eager or hopeful with him. But she had done all of those things. Instead of pressing the issue with him about Jill, after her dinner with her friend had yielded similar secretiveness, she had gone over to his house and ignored the warnings because she wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he was feeling similarly for her.
Then he’d taken a call from Roland and left her house like his tail was on fire to take the next flight to New York, and right away he and Jill were together. He explained it away by saying Roland had sent him to rescue Jill from the courthouse. That may have been true, but who does that? If they weren't close, why would Roland send an 'old friend' to pick Jill up and not some muscle-bound handler?
Even if she could dismiss that as PR spin, it didn't change the fact that he was with Jill at Colbert, and when he called her afterwards about the photos, and apparently, she was with him at the Today show as well.
Rhiannon growled through the tears and tried to blink them away. She was usually a rational person. She was careful. She thought things through. She never let anyone too close without extreme caution. Now this. She had been reduced to a seething, jealous, teary, quivering mess over this man. She didn't know which particular piece of the puzzle upset her more.
Eventually, she pulled herself together, tossed the sopping tissues in the waste basket by her bed, and went to splash cold water on her face. She reapplied her makeup, slipped on a pair of dark glasses, and picked up her bag, intent on going to the studio and getting some work done. When she opened her door, she was met with a light show of flashing bulbs and people calling her name. She froze for a moment, caught completely by surprise until something clicked in her head, and she slammed the door closed again. She threw the bolt closed and wrestled her phone out of her pocket to call the police.
After that she dialed the studio and talked with one of the secretaries, then she dialed Thad.
"Rhiannon? What is it? Are you alright?" he asked, immediately concerned. He'd been surprisingly caring and supportive through this whole mess, but it still amazed Rhiannon to hear the timbre in his voice.
"They found me," she said, with a sigh. "There's a troupe of them on my doorstep. They know my name."
He sighed. "Right. I was afraid that would happen after the Today show this morning. Bloody Savannah Guthrie." He was quiet for a moment, then said, "Alright. Have you phoned the police?"
"Yes. They're on their way."
"Good. First problem solved. Second problem--I'll send two rather large blokes to come escort you to work. You do still want to come to work, don't you?"
Rhiannon tucked her hair behind her ear and gripped the phone a little tighter, "I can't stay here, Thad. I'll just go crazy. Especially now."
"You'll be safer at the studio, anyway. We'll sort the rest of it when you get here."
She sighed, slightly relieved. "Thanks, Thad. I really appreciate it."
"No worries, love. See you in a bit," he said, before ringing off.
True to his word, Thad had two men at her house in no time. She recognized them as his own personal assistants, who went out with him to the bigger events, and she relaxed finally. These guys knew their stuff. She watched through the peephole as they muscled their way to the door, the press easing back away from them, then nearly laughed when one of them pulled out a pop-up screen that reminded her of what she used to block sunlight off the dashboard of her car. Once it was in place, the other knocked and they ushered Rhiannon through the now mewling throng and into the backseat of a limo. Once they were inside, one in the front seat, one in the back with her, the bald one grinned hugely, "I'm Chuck," he introduced, offering a beefy hand to shake. "That's Doug. Our driver is Ned."
Rhiannon said hello and thanked them. "No problem!" Chuck hooted, "I love getting the best of those monkeys."
They made a quick trip to the studio where Chuck saw her inside and handed her off to Thad. "There you are," Thad smiled. "And all in one piece. Hey Chuck, be back by six, yeah? She'll need an escort home."
Thad followed Rhiannon into her office and shut the door behind them. "You okay? You look like you've been crying."
"I'm wearing sunglasses," Rhiannon half sniffed, half laughed. "How can you tell?"
"Well for one, you're wearing sunglasses. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine," she rolled her eyes as she took off the shades. "I'm humiliated, betrayed, and violated, but I'm fine."
"Humiliated and violated I get," Thad said, kicking back into a chair. "How betrayed?"
