26. James
26
JAMES
“ B aby , what’s wrong?”
I couldn’t tell Heidi that absolutely everything was wrong with what we were doing together. We were in the VIP section of a packed nightclub at midnight, celebrating the product launch of some random twentysomething influencer named Brayleigh because Heidi thought being connected with the up-and-comer would look good on her social media accounts. She’d dragged me along because I was now her miserable plus-one.
The only piece of luck working for me was that Chazz wasn’t there. The model from our launch had come to me in tears days ago, apologizing left and right for being the one who had snuck Heidi in. She swore that she didn’t know that Heidi planned to grab the finale dress and steal the show. Heidi had supposedly told her that all she was going to do was take a look at things and then leave. No one with a brain in her head would have actually believed Heidi…but Chazz wasn’t exactly known for being the brightest crayon in the pack. When she said she didn’t know what was going to happen, I was pretty sure she was telling the truth. No model would cry that hard, dripping snot with her eyes red and swollen, unless she was sincere.
And honestly, even if I wanted to retaliate—which part of me really, really did—what could I do that wouldn’t blow up in my face? If I got Chazz blackballed out of modeling or tried to bring her up on charges, it would just expose publicly that Heidi had fooled us and that our “amazing publicity stunt” of her wearing the dress hadn’t been our plan after all. No way would I put Branson Designs through that embarrassment. So I’d let the situation with Chazz slide. As far as anyone knew, there was no bad blood between us. But that didn’t mean I was eager to run into her socially.
On the other hand, there wasn’t a single person there with us in the VIP section who I actually wanted to spend time with. Chazz, even when she was crying buckets and looking like she thought I was going to tear her throat out, had actually been better company. At least she didn’t bore me. The real test of the night was having to look totally enamored with my drunken mess of a girlfriend when the truth was that I was tired, aggravated, and very ready to leave.
But I was well aware of how many people were watching us, despite being in the “exclusive” section of the club, where everyone was usually too snobby to care about anyone else. There were cameras everywhere, and beautiful people pretending that they didn’t notice us even though they were avidly listening in on everything we said. And everyone on the dance floor below us was watching. So that meant I couldn’t tell her what I was really thinking. I needed to fake it.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
I managed a weak smile and managed to keep from grimacing as she leaned closer to kiss me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw phones swing in our direction to capture the moment.
Heidi had been drinking all night thanks to the event sponsor, the influencer’s new prosecco called “Bubbles and Baubles.” I’d tried a sip and nearly spat it out, but Heidi couldn’t seem to get enough of it.
The DJ shifted from techno music and Heidi perked up when she heard the drums.
“Oooh, this is my song!” she yelled over the noise. “Let’s go, Queen B! Who run the world ?”
My heart seized when I heard the unmistakable voice cranking over the sound system. It was the song Natalie had been singing the first night we met. I’d put it on my gym playlist, and I now knew every note of it.
I caught myself smiling at the memory of Natalie attempting to sing it, until Heidi stood up on the banquette and started dancing. It was supposed to be cute and sexy, but to me she looked desperate, like she could feel that Brayleigh was getting more attention than she was. Her wild gyrations also showed that Heidi was tipping over from buzzed to full-on wasted. Not a good look for either of us. I tried grabbing her hand and pulling her down, but she shook me off.
People started cheering, which made Heidi gyrate harder, even though the woman didn’t have an ounce of rhythm.
Brayleigh appeared out of nowhere, probably attracted to the noise of the crowd. She was in a tiny cut-off white shirt and a complicated looking leather skirt that showed off lots of leg, which Heidi had deemed “tacky as fuck.” I knew she was jealous of the much younger woman. It was no secret that Heidi hated anyone she saw as a threat.
Brayleigh jumped up on the banquette next to Heidi and started dancing with her, and I saw the flash of anger in Heidi’s eyes despite her wide smile. Brayleigh was everything Heidi wanted to be: young, adored by Gen Z, and an incredible dancer.
Heidi tried to shimmy away, but Brayleigh didn’t seem to get the hint. She shook her shoulders and flirted with the crowd, then pretended to grind up against Heidi. I could see Heidi getting more and more frustrated, because the younger woman didn’t understand that she was stealing Heidi’s moment in the spotlight—and worse, making her look like a trying-too-hard older sister.
Every eye in the club was on the pair, and I knew Heidi was struggling to keep it cute despite her rage at Brayleigh. The song seemed to be an extended cut, so the dance drama kept cranking up like something out of a teen movie.
Heidi raised her arms over her head and closed her eyes, which Brayleigh seemed to take as an invitation to get even closer. She stepped in front of Heidi and started twerking, and the crowd went wild. Heidi opened her eyes, and her expression went hard when she realized what was happening.
At first, her reaction seemed like a joke. She pushed Brayleigh, causing her to stumble a half step. Brayleigh laughed and bent over again, this time pushing up against Heidi.
“I said knock it off !” Heidi screamed, her face twisted with rage. She pushed Brayleigh again, harder—and this time the girl tumbled to her knees.
The young woman tried to play if off, still smiling as she stood up. I had to commend her savvy, since she knew that the interaction was being broadcast live to her millions of followers. This wasn’t the moment to lose her temper, not with everyone watching. If only Heidi had gotten that memo…
“Get the fuck away from me!” Heidi screamed. “You stupid little cunt, you’re nothing! Do you know that? I’m the star here! No one will remember you next year, but I’ll be on the cover of Vogue for my fifth time!”
Oh fuck .
This was bad. Very bad. Suddenly, my connection to Heidi felt like a disaster. She was lining herself up for an extended, humiliating apology tour, and I didn’t want a whiff of that anywhere near Branson Designs.
The cameras around us seemed to multiply, and the crowd let out a collective “ oooooh ” as the standoff continued.
Brayleigh walked over to Heidi wearing a giant smile, placed her hand up to Heidi’s face, then drew it away quickly, like she was a witch pulling Heidi’s soul from her mouth. The crowd erupted into cheers and laughter as she walked away.
Heidi finally collapsed next to me, still fuming. She didn’t seem to realize just how badly she’d come off in the brief interaction.
“Who the fuck does she think she is?” she asked as she reached for the prosecco bottle and took a swig from it. “ She needs me . I’m the name, not her.”
People were still watching, and worse, recording us. My reaction in this moment mattered. I only had seconds to control how I’d be viewed from now on.
I stood up. “It’s time to go.”
Heidi ignored me, so I leaned over and plucked the bottle from her hand.
“It’s late,” I said, hoping my tone would convey how absolutely urgent it was for us to leave.
She gave me the finger.
How could a woman, who’d been in the public eye for over ten years, be so absolutely idiotic? Did she not realize that she was incinerating her reputation, and probably mine too?
Then it hit me. This was my out. My exit from a fake relationship that would be believable and wouldn’t make me look like an asshole this time around.
An “anonymous source” could put out a statement that Heidi Jones (the last name she refused to use because it made her sound common) had an alcohol problem, and she needed time to heal without the distraction of a relationship. Of course, I wouldn’t come out and say anything on the record, but there were ways of getting my point across. The public would learn that I was concerned for her health, and that I’d pledged to always be there for her.
As a friend.
I leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. “I’m leaving, and I suggest you do, too.”
Heidi placed her hands around her mouth. “ Fuck off, James Branson .”
She screamed it loudly enough to be heard over the music.
And that was that; she’d just given me the perfect exit line. I kept my expression neutral as I stalked out of the club, fully aware of the people capturing my every move.
As I walked out to the street I felt relieved that it was over, but also pissed as hell that I’d needed an excuse to end it. Every second with Heidi had been torture, and in the end, I didn’t care what it did for Branson.
All I could think about every time we were photographed together was how badly it was probably hurting Natalie.
Natalie
Steph had actually managed to get me out of our apartment and into her gym for a workout so challenging that it was making me question why we were friends. I was there on a guest pass, because there was no way I had the time or bandwidth to commit to working out anywhere but our family room. But today, on a dreary Saturday, it felt right to sweat out my troubles on complicated-looking machines.
“This is making me feel like I’m at the gynecologist,” I said as I finished a set on a contraption that required lots of wide thigh opening and closing.
“That’s why I’m body-blocking you,” Steph said. “No one can see your crotch with me standing here.”
“Is this seatbelt really required?” I asked, plucking at the thing she’d insisted I clip on.
“You’re a newbie, so yes.”
Her face looked odd, like she was keeping a secret.
“What are you up to?” I looked around the gym. “You’re acting weird.”
“Moreso than usual?” She laughed. “Okay, yeah, I’ve got news for you. And I think you’re going to like it.” She pulled her phone from inside of her sports bra and wiped down the screen. “Did you know that not locking your phone can lead to all sorts of mischief?”
“ My phone? What do you mean? What did you do, Steph?” Ice water shot through my veins, because I knew my friend was capable of anything.
Including reaching out to James. My heartbeat picked up at the thought of it.
“You know that group chat you have with your classmates?”
I ignored the wave of sadness when I realized that she wasn’t working behind the scenes to try to repair things with James.
“Yeah, of course. For projects.”
She nodded. “Yup, for projects, and for starting a tsunami.” Her mischievous grin widened. “A #MeToo tsunami.”
“Oh my god.” My mouth dropped open. “Did you…”
Her face lit up as she smiled triumphantly at me as she showed me a text thread she forwarded to her phone. “I did! I sent the group screenshots from some of the creepy messages MG sent you. Not the one where you talked about James, but some of the other gross passes that he made to you. Don’t worry, I didn’t impersonate you or anything. I said it was me and I was stepping up because I thought everyone had the right to know—and the chance to share their own experiences, too.”
“What…how did they respond? Did they think I was exaggerating?”
Everyone seemed to love the man, so me calling him on his bullshit could go either way.
“They lost their damn minds because you’re not the only one, Nat! Six women had similar stories, and a few of the men said he’d texted creepy shit about the women in the class to them.”
“No way!”
Steph nodded vigorously. “We talked about reporting him to the school, but we worried that they might look the other way because he’s a star. So one of the guys, I think his name is Ted, compiled the screenshots and sent them to a reporter he knows who works at The New York Times . She’s putting together a story on this, and she’s been interviewing the other women in your class. She wants to talk to you, too—but only if you’re interested.”
I went cold despite feeling sweaty. “Hold on… I don’t want that sort of attention, Steph. What if MG sues me for defamation or something? I can’t afford to go to court. And if Branson was mentioned…”
I couldn’t help caring about the damn company, despite everything I’d been through there.
“You don’t have to be part of the story if you don’t want to. Or you could go on background, or ask the reporter not to use your name. It’s not just you, so it’s not like you have to be the face of this thing. But it’s happening. He’s not going to get away with what he’s done.”
I managed to untangle myself from the machine and stood up to give Steph a hug. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”
She patted me on the back, then pushed me away. “Oh, something else happened too! Do you know Carly?”
I nodded. “Yeah, she’s super talented. I like her.”
“Well, once I got onto the chat, we got to talking and Miss Carly just got a gig designing for Athleta, and she asked me to be her fit model!”
“ What ? How did this happen? And when?”
She squeezed my shoulder. “You’ve been a little, uh, distracted over the past few weeks. Carly and I met for coffee a few times. It’s been in the works for a bit, but I didn’t want to say anything until it was official. Carly said there’s a chance they’ll use me on the website and in their catalogs. Imagine it; me, a model!”
“I don’t have to imagine it; I’ve seen you in action. Steph, it’s perfect. I’m so happy for you.”
She puffed up with pride. “I’m psyched. But you know what it means, right?”
“Fame and fortune?”
She laughed. “No, it means a complete moratorium on sugar and alcohol at our place. My abs are going to be on display every damn day!”
I smacked her tight belly. “Doesn’t look like a problem to me.”
“Says you. Anyway, it’s time for some stress-release,” she said, beckoning me to follow her. “We’re going to box.” She put her hands up in fighter position.
We walked through the gym laughing about the different poses she was going to do in her first shoot, passing by the treadmills and bikes on the way to the boxing room. The bank of TVs were all tuned to the same channel, some inane entertainment program.
Steph’s happy expression dimmed when she glanced up at the screens. “Uh-oh…”
I looked up and saw grainy footage that showed two women dancing in the darkness of a nightclub.
“Wait, that’s Heidi ,” I said. My heart fractured when I spotted James in the shadows behind her.
“And Brayleigh D’Amato, the TikTok star.”
We watched as the dancing turned to shoving.
“Yikes.” Steph sucked in a breath. “Heidi looks really drunk.”
The footage cut to a close-up of Heidi that looked like it came from someone’s live feed. She seemed unhinged, yelling at Brayleigh. The subtitles censored what she was saying, but the meaning behind it was still unmistakable.
“Heidi called Brayleigh the c-word!” Steph slapped her hand over her mouth in shock.
I didn’t notice what was going on between the two women because I was too busy watching James, as much as it hurt me to do it. There he was, looking weary and disgusted, with his arms crossed as he watched the drama unfolding. The footage cut to James leaning over to whisper in Heidi’s ear, and her screaming at him. The next stitched together scene was of him outside the club, getting into his Maybach alone.
“Wow,” I said softly. I didn’t even realize that I was rubbing my hand against my chest, over my heart, as if trying to soothe an ache.
“You okay?” Steph asked, studying my face.
I shrugged. “Whatever. It’s not my business. This is what he wanted.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t seem happy at all, even before the slapfight. He looked like he’d been taken hostage or something. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who appreciates that sort of attention.”
“That’s because he doesn’t,” I said.
A part of me wanted to grab my phone and dive into the rabbit hole of Reddit gossip about what had gone down. I was sure there was more footage to watch and eyewitness accounts of the whole thing. But what good would it do me? James wasn’t a part of my life now. He’d made his choice, which clearly included late nights at clubs and an unhinged girlfriend who threw the c-word around.
I didn’t recognize this version of James. I thought I knew who he was, that I’d met the real James. The man who had so much more to him than the bosshole persona he showed the world.
I was wrong.
“Let’s glove up,” Steph said, sliding her arm around my shoulder. “I have a feeling that you have some pent-up rage that’s ready to come out.”
I didn’t answer her, because my rage was long gone, and all that was left was sadness.