Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
My phone buzzes relentlessly in the palm of my hand, a cold and unforgiving metal against my clammy skin.
Reporters from Backstage Magazine want my statement.
Fans and friends are DMing me.
Jill is texting me.
Yet I find myself unable to answer any of them. Instead, I keep staring at the picture on my phone. The harsh glow of its screen lights up my face in the corner of the room, casting long shadows that seem to dance with every flicker of the viral image that now holds my life hostage.
It’s currently going viral on social media with every passing second, getting more shares, likes, comments…
It’s an image from the day I found Holden, playing in the park with Jamie and Megan.The photo shows him playing with them… and me in the background, looking on like a lost woman scorned.
The headline above reads:
Oh, Baby! Broadway’s Golden Boy has a Secret Golden Love Child.
The comments below it were even worse.
There’s been rumors that he’s had a secret family for years!
Didn’t he JUST start dating his co-star?
Oh please, this is just to cover up the fact that he’s gay and not ready to come out!
A ghost from our past is now a viral sensation, framed by the harsh light of public scrutiny and the relentless chime of incoming notifications. The air around me pulses with the acidic sting of scandal as my name is dragged through the digital mud alongside Holden’s.
If Holden wasn’t such a public figure; if he wasn’t Broadway’s latest it boy or the senator’s son; if he hadn’t broken up with Missy so publicly, the picture might have been innocuous. Innocent, even. Just a guy, playing in the park with a woman and child.
But add his public break up with Missy; his father as a senator; and me… the girl whose relationship he only just took out into the spotlight after hiding it for years in the shadows… Well, now it’s an open, oozing wound on social media, bleeding rumors and speculation about Broadway's Golden Boy and his secret love child.
I force my eyes closed and exit out of the window on my phone. Absolutely no good can come from looking at this. And especially not from reading the comments.
Paralyzed by the onslaught, I'm rescued only by the sudden ring of an incoming call—Ms. Greene, my landlord. Her timing, as always, impeccable.
I’m so not ready to deal with her, but I answer it anyway.
“Hey Ms. Greene,” I croak. “I sent you the first two months rent, did you get them?”
“I did, sweetheart, thank you.”
Sweetheart?
Well, that’s new.
“Um… okay. I’ll have the third month for you soon, I promise.”
“Don’t you worry about that third month,” she coos in a maternal way I’ve never heard from her before and my eyes immediately narrow.
“Don’t worry about it?”
“Yes, I’ve sent notice to the US Equity Assembly that you’re fully in the clear financially now. So you’ll start paying your rent again three months from now.”
This is a jarring departure from the woman I’ve known for years. The woman who would hunt me down at the cafe when I worked as a barista to get the rent checks from me. The woman who once camped outside my building in her car until I came home late one night then ambushed me before I could get into my building.
Now she’s ready to just let a month’s rent slip through her fingers?
Something was really off.
From across the room, I watch Holden hang up his own call, his exhaustion showing through despite his attempt to mask it.
The weight of the conversation lingers in his tired eyes as he takes a moment to collect himself. His fingers twist anxiously around his grandfather's old ring before he swipes them across his weary brow, a subtle gesture that betrays the emotions he tries to hide.
I can sense the weight of the world on his shoulders, the exhaustion etched into every line of his face. But in that brief moment, when he thinks no one is watching, Holden allows himself a glimpse of vulnerability. A deep breath escapes him before he squares his shoulders and turns to face me. The small tilt to his mouth shows an illusion of confidence; of unconcern. But I know better.
Or rather, I know him better than to believe that ghost of a smile.
“Ms. Greene, I’ve got to go. Thanks.”
“Okay, darling!”
I cringe at the terms of endearment I’ve never once heard from this woman and end the call quickly. I don’t know what’s up with the rent situation, but we have other more pressing matters.
"I've got to run to a quick meeting with my dad before rehearsal," he says apologetically.
“Need me to come?”
Holden shakes his head as he slides his phone into his back pocket. “No. It’s with his political analyst team,” Holden adds with a sigh. “They’re not worried about you, me, or the show… only his ratings in the polls.”
I reluctantly nod, my heart aching with conflicting emotions. I wish I could be there for Holden. I wish he would allow me to be there for him. “Of course, go ahead. I'll see you at rehearsal," I reply with an encouraging smile. Holden's shoulders relax slightly in relief.
He grabs his jacket from the back of the chair, giving me a grateful nod.
“Wait!” I stop him before he heads for the door. “Should you call Megan? Warn her about the headlines?”
He lets out a weary sigh. “Yeah, I tried calling her once, but she didn’t answer. They may already be on the subway.”
“Keep trying,” I say, with an encouraging nod.
“I will.” Holden's lips curl into a confident smirk—not a fake one, this time—as he leans down and covers my mouth with his. The touch of his lips against mine sends electricity shooting through my body despite the turmoil of the day. Our kiss is intense, filled with passion and longing, igniting a fire within me that threatens to consume us both. “I’ll see you at the theater,” he whispers, his lips gently lingering on mine. And then, he’s gone, dashing out the door.
I glance at the time, realizing I have about an hour and a half before I need to head over to the theater. I take one last sip of coffee, gathering my things.
As I walk out of the ice cream shop alone, I call Jill back.
I don’t know how that girl finds out things so fast, but it’s like she has a radar set up for when things get rough for me.
Or she has google alerts set up in my name. The latter is probably more logical than some sort of telepathy. She answers before the first ring even finishes.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” she blurts out.
“I’m… I’m fine. I’m barely even mentioned in the article other than being the scorned, forgotten lover. Holden and his dad are freaking out, though. And I can’t imagine Megan’s going to be thrilled. She already seemed hesitant about letting Holden in Jamie’s life. This might push things over the edge.” I pause, pulling my jacket tighter around me as the afternoon sun dips behind the high rise buildings, casting a cool shade. “How’d you find out, anyway? You don’t subscribe to Backstage, do you?”
“Um, no. Nolan told me.”
“Nolan texted you?” I haven’t heard much from Nolan since he quit the show. A few messages here and there, some condolences when my dad died. But that was about it.
“Um. Sort of. He was, um, in the neighborhood when the story broke.”
Mid-stride, I freeze, my lips stretching into a wide grin. “He was in the neighborhood, was he?”
I could sense the blush on Jill’s cheeks without even seeing her face. “Yeah, he, well, he came to the cafe while I was working.”
“Did he now?”
Jill let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes. He did. Can we focus, please? Missy promised you she wouldn’t release that story and she went behind your back and did it anyway!”
I lean against the corner of the nearest building, the cool brick pressing into the back of my neck. “I hate to say it, but I don’t think she did this, Jill. She didn’t have anything to gain by betraying me?—”
“This is Missy Fucking Howl we’re talking about here, Kate! She doesn’t need a reason to be a bitch… she just is.”
I shake my head. “Maybe. But I don’t think so.”
My fingers tap restlessly against the phone in my hand, a nervous habit of mine. The smooth touch of the device grounds me in the present.
We’re silent for a moment on the phone, when I hear a male voice murmuring quietly in the background.
“Nolan asked what about Addison?”
Even though I know Jill can’t see me, I shake my head again. After our conversation the other night, I can’t imagine she would double back and betray me again like that. She seemed genuine. “If the article took me down and out of the running for the show, then maybe? This is just my gut talking, but I don’t think it was her, either.”
I glance up as the streetlamps turn on, casting an eerie orange glow on the buildings around us. That combined with the lowering sun makes shadow dance on the pavement beneath me and the scent of garbage and decay tinges the air, like an ominous foreshadowing of our show.
“Then who was it?” Jill asks.
The words hung in the air like a dense fog, swirling around us and obscuring the truth. But I was determined to find a way through, to decipher the secrets hidden within the betrayals and lies.
“I’m not sure. But I’m going to find out.”