31. Will #3
Enrique and Monika led the charge across the narrow stretch of sidewalk between the hotel doors and the waiting limos. Andy and Nandi came next, followed by Noel and Theo. Those six made up the first limo.
The camera flashes were blinding, but as I’d hoped, the barrage of questions was directed at the real celebrities.
“Nandini, who are you wearing?”
“Enrique, is it true you’re going on the honeymoon?”
“Ryan, what can you tell us about your new movie? Are you playing a war hero?”
Andy and his friends made it look easy. They smiled and drifted through the press with ease.
The models posed, twisting and turning their slender, bony bodies to capture the best angles, while Enrique signed autographs and Andy and Nandi stared longingly into each other’s eyes.
The only one who looked as freaked out as I felt was Theo.
He squinted against the camera flashes and didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.
A guy jumped in front of me, camera swinging, and I stumbled back.
“William, what was it like seeing Derek again? Has your memory come back? What’s your response to Sharron Moore saying you should be glad she threw wine on you and not acid?”
I tried to walk around him, but hearing my name summoned more reporters, and soon I was trapped behind a wall of microphones.
“What’s your response to the allegation that you abuse your students? Is that the real reason you were fired?”
My throat constricted.
“William, is it true Michelle Liu wanted you in her new film, but your father convinced her to cast Ryan Ashbury instead?”
The camera flashes burned my eyes, and the questions, which had barely made sense before, got drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I knew I should take a breath—that’s what I always told my students to do when they were upset—but it was as if my lungs had collapsed. I couldn’t get any air in.
“William, is it true Robert is not your real father, that your mother was sleeping with her massage therapist? Is that why he didn’t want you in the movie?”
“William, how do you respond to the accusations that you’re a racist? Is that why you abuse your students?”
The questions kept coming, but I could no longer differentiate them.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist—James’s arms—and he pushed me forward, chanting, “No comment. No comment. No—”
Miles leaped in front of us. “Get the fuck out of the way, or I’m going to shove that fucking camera right up your fucking dick.”
A moment later, everything went cold and dark, and someone shoved my head between my knees.
“Just breathe,” James said. Yeah, you think? “There you go. You’re okay. We’re in the limo now. You’re safe. You’re just having a little panic attack, that’s all.”
A panic attack? Pathetic. I should be used to this by now.
“What just happened?” Tiffany sounded uncertain, and she never sounded uncertain. “How can they just make up shit like that? Will doesn’t abuse his students. If anything, he’s way too nice.”
“Yeah, that wasn’t normal,” Ryan said.
I couldn’t see James, but I could feel his hand rubbing circles on my back as I took in my first full breath. For the next five minutes, that was all I did: breathe. Once I was fairly certain I wasn’t about to die, I sat upright.
“Come here,” James said, drawing me into his arms.
I knew I should resist—this was just pretend—and I would . . . in a minute.
I closed my eyes and let my breathing synchronize with the rise and fall of James’s chest.
As we approached the restaurant, James gave Miles’s foot a gentle tap.
“Can you hit that intercom button for me?” He nodded to the control panel next to Miles, and Miles hit the button.
“Hey man, can you drive us around a bit longer? We’re not ready to go in yet. We’ve still got champagne to drink.”
I cast a look at the wood-paneled bar, where two bottles of Moet jutted from a silver ice bucket.
“I’m all right. I just thought . . .” What had I thought?
That ten years was long enough? That next to four models and three movie stars, I’d be invisible?
That being a teacher made me safe? It was worse than ever.
Now they were dragging my students into it.
“Seriously, what the fuck was that?” Miles asked.
Tiffany placed a gentle hand on my knee. “I’m going to call Principal King as soon as we get there. We’ll fix this.”
I wanted to believe her, but there was no fixing this. This was my life.
“I think I might know what’s going on,” Ryan said from across the limo. “I just don’t want to start any rumors if I’m wrong.”
I knew what was going on. I’d let James and the movie go to my head, let myself believe there might actually be a way out of this hole I’d dug for myself. This was just fate’s way of saying, “Not so fast.”
“Here’s the plan,” James said. “Will and I will get out a few blocks before the restaurant and walk the rest of the way. That should give you guys enough time to let us in through the back. And Ryan, while they’re doing that, maybe you can stay out front and sign some autographs, keep them distracted. ”