41. Tatum
41
TATUM
I ’m still not entirely sure how going on a shopping spree is taking the power back from the stupid paparazzi who think they have me pegged. But Pax is right about one thing. Okay, he’s right about a lot of things, but he’s also right about this. They’re going to write whatever they want. Make up whatever lies they feel like creating. And it has nothing to do with me. Not really.
Thanks to my dad’s time in the NHL, the drama behind my Uncle Colt’s relationship with Jaxon’s mom before he settled down with my Aunt Ash, and Uncle Henry “slumming” it with my Aunt Mia, I’ve heard all about the bullshit the paparazzi like to throw at the wall, hoping the drama will stick long enough for them to cash in on their photos or articles or…whatever they can sell while the story’s hot.
It happened with Archer, too. After his death. Most of the memorials were pretty on point…if you didn’t care about Archer. They focused on the positive. On Maverick’s life-saving surgery. On his adorable relationship with his sweetheart, aka my sister, now that he had a heart again. They always managed to skim over the whole unexpected death of his twin brother, but hey. What can you do?
I push the thought aside and grab another dress from the rack. Paxton hired a private jet to fly us somewhere tonight, telling me it would be the perfect cherry on top of an updated article. Honestly, it’s such a bold move, I’m impressed. Even though he’s keeping me in the dark about where he’s taking me, I know I need to be ready by seven with a new dress, shoes, purse, hair, the whole nine yards.
Not going to lie. It is a little hilarious. Playing right into the paparazzi’s fake-ass story. Pretending like I’m the star in Pretty Woman or any other rom-com with a solid butterfly moment where she comes out a different person, complete with highlights, a new handbag, and main character energy.
Ridiculous.
But the really crazy part? It’s that I have no idea if I have an audience for this little act. How can you tell if someone’s following you when you got caught with your pants down, literally, two days ago? And if I didn’t notice then, when I was alone with Pax on the beach, how am I supposed to notice now?
Glancing over my shoulder, I take in the other customers scattered around the boutique before attempting to focus on the clothing in front of me.
“What do you think of this one?” I ask.
Rory stops her perusal, taking in the dress I’m holding. It’s silky and short and red, just like the dress that stained my bra not so long ago. Paxton will love it.
“It’s gorgeous,” she decides. “Kind of like one you already have, though, isn’t it?”
“This one’s a little shorter, and the top is cut differently,” I add, showcasing the neckline.
Tilting her head, she decides, “I say go for it. Besides, the color’s perfect.”
“Right?” My mouth splits into a grin. Yeah, Paxton’s gonna die when he sees me tonight.
“What do you think of this?” Rory holds up a creamy peach dress with spaghetti straps. Maverick informed her that Lia picked light peach, cream, and white as her wedding colors. I reach for Rory’s dress and rub the fabric between my fingertips. It’s like butter. Soft. Smooth. Breathable. Perfect.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur.
“You think?”
“Yes. Jax won’t know what hit him,” I add with a wink.
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t care about Jax or his opinion of my outfit, so…”
“Come on,” I tease. “We both know there’s no harm in rubbing a guy’s nose in what they missed out on, even if the door was never really open in the first place.”
She lifts the dress higher into the air, examining it. “True, but?—”
“Sir, we don’t allow cameras in this facility,” a woman announces.
I turn to the front of the boutique, surprised to find a camera pointed directly at me. “What the hell?”
The familiar click-click of a photo being snapped makes my nose wrinkle.
Following my gaze, Rory sighs, then shifts to give the camera her back. “Seems you have an audience after all.”
I’d find it funny if he didn’t seem so forceful.
The woman’s voice cuts through another round of photo snapping clicks. “Sir, I insist?—”
“I’m a customer,” he argues.
“Then I’m sure you don’t mind leaving your camera at the front desk while you shop.” The young woman reaches for the camera, but the paparazzi jerks away from her, making the girl’s face flame with embarrassment. “Sir, this is my first day. Can you please?—”
My legs move closer like they have a mind of their own as I call out, “Hi, is there a problem?”
“Tatum,” Rory warns from behind me.
“It’s fine,” I tell her.
The flash of the camera blinds me, and I pull back, blinking in an attempt to regain my eyesight.
Damn, that thing’s bright.
“Sir,” the employee begs.
Still half blind, I step between them, refusing to let this poor woman fight my battle when the paparazzi reaches for my arm. My knee goes up on instinct, I swear, connecting with the man’s balls before he even has a chance to realize what’s happening. In a flash, he doubles over, cursing as Rory rushes toward me.
“I—we’ll be—uh—” With wide eyes, she looks up at me, her shoulders practically touching her eyes in a massive shrug of discomfort.
Well, this just got interesting.
Helpless, I stand beside her, unsure what to do because no matter how many scenarios I could’ve dreamed of finding myself in today, this is one I never saw coming. So, what now? I could always drag Rory out of here and pray I don’t get arrested for assault. Or I could stand my ground until the bastard decides I’m not one to mess with and leaves on his own. Hell, maybe if I’m lucky, the door will hit his ass on the way out. A girl can dream, can’t she? Yup. Now that I think about it, the latter option feels like the way to go.
“We’ll be taking these dresses,” I announce. “Please put them on this card.” I glare at the man on his knees. “It belongs to Paxton Six.”
Stepping around him, I follow the girl to the front desk. As she rings me up, the paparazzi mutters something into his cell, but I don’t pay attention to him. Instead, I keep my head held high and hand the girl Paxton’s credit card.
“Would you like anything else?” she asks. The girl looks absolutely terrified. Hell, her hand’s shaking, and she can barely hold my gaze without it darting to the man on the floor behind me. It’d be comical if I didn’t feel so bad, considering this is kind of all my fault.
“Is this really your first day?” Rory whispers to her.
She nods, peeking at my best friend. “Uh, yeah. Great way to start, right?”
“Memorable,” I offer, my tone thick with sarcasm. “And yes. I would like something else. Do you have any of the red heels in a size seven? I think they’d look great with the dress, don’t you?”
As if seeing what we’re purchasing for the first time, her head bobs up and down. “Uh, yes. Yes, I think they’d go great. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back with those shoes.”
“Thanks.”
As we wait, the bell on the front door chimes as someone else enters the building. Or maybe the sniveling paparazzi decided to leave. That would be a pleasant surprise. I don’t bother checking, determined not to give the asshole another second of my energy or attention, even if I’m more curious than I’d like to admit.
“You know, when Paxton told you to go wild, I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean kneeing anyone in the balls,” Rory quips beside me. She peeks over her shoulder and blanches. “Uh, hello, officer.”
“Miss?” a low voice interrupts.
Shit .
With a fake smile, I turn around, trying not to cower. “Uh, hello?”
“Hello,” the officer returns. “We received a complaint.”
“Yup, and he’s right there.” I point to the asshole at the back of the store.
Without following my finger, the officer places his hands on his hips. “Yes, well, I’m sure there are two sides to every story?—”
“Yeah, and I have the right one,” I interrupt. “I’m sure there’s a camera in here somewhere to prove it.”
“And we’ll be sure to look into that,” he placates, though he doesn’t back away or even give the asshole a second look.
Fighting my annoyance, I reply, “You do that.” I turn back to the front of the shop, preparing to pay for my things and get the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible because a confrontation with the fuzz was not on my bingo card for today.
“Miss, are you the, uh, the owner of this card?” The officer reaches for the black card on the counter and lifts it into the air, reading the owner’s name out loud. “Paxton Turner?”
Well, shit.
Buzzing hits my ears while I stare at the officer’s mouth, trying to read the words coming out of his lips since my hearing has apparently decided to exit the building.
Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.
“This card,” he repeats. “Does it belong to you?”
“It sure does,” I lie.
“Then, I assume you won’t mind showing me your ID with the same name on it.”
Well, double shit.
“I, uh, I don’t…”—I give Rory a panicked look, my calm facade cracking like an overcooked cookie—“have it with me at this time, but?—”
“Is it stolen?” he demands.
My eyes bulge. “No, of course not!”
“Miss, I think it would be in your best interest to come down to the station with me.”
Ignoring my racing heart, I ask, “For what?”
“For having a stolen credit card in your possession and for assaulting a civilian,” he clarifies.
Well, triple shit.
“What?” Rory interrupts. In a flash, she transforms from my quiet, timid mouse of a friend to a damn-near mama bear, twisting around and facing the officer with her head held high. “She didn’t assault anyone!”
“Did you or did you not hit that man?” The officer points to the exit, and I follow his line of sight, only to find the paparazzi’s camera pointed directly at me. He’s still in the building, documenting my little chat with Officer What’s His Name.
Yup. This will make for a great story. But hey, let’s look at the bright side, right? If Paxton’s goal is to stay front and center in the gossip column, I’m doing him a huge favor, and he owes me big time.
Glaring at the paparazzi, I raise my hand and give him my middle finger.
Document this, motherfucker.
Rory reaches for my arm and tugs it back to my side, scolding, “Tatum! Will you just…play nice for once in your life?”
She’s right, but still. This is bad. Very bad. I’ve never been arrested before, but this is a complete misunderstanding. Isn’t it? I mean, I did kind of knee a stranger in the balls, but he also deserved it, so…
Not the time, Tatum.
Ignoring Rory’s what the fuck, keep it together expression , I ask the officer, “Are you arresting me?”
“Not at this time, no.” The bastard doesn’t even look apologetic. “But I think your friend will agree that it’s in your best interest to cooperate and let me take you to the station to see if we can figure out exactly what happened.”
“Of course it is.” I give him a smile, then add, “Hey, Rore?”
“Yeah?” she squeaks.
“Make sure you give Paxton his credit card back, okay?”
“I’ll meet you at the station,” she promises. “Don’t say anything.”
I give her a thumbs up. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tilting my head up at the officer, I add, “Lead the way, Officer.”