Chapter 10
All Hell Loose
Fenella
She’s such a mess!
What the hell was Mallory thinking when she approved an ad like that?
I don’t know, I thought the ad was actually kinda funny and creative.
She and her friends should’ve died and gone straight to hell!
I sigh as I scroll through the comments on Mallory West’s official page. The internet’s still buzzing with arguments about the ad. Driven by a mix of dread and curiosity I open my own page and find the same madness waiting there.
Why’d you even take a job like that? The ad ruins your reputation.
I thought she was on her way up, but looks like she’s running out of work.
Isn’t it her agency who chooses the jobs?
No excuses! She should’ve refused if she didn’t want to. This proves she was fine with doing it.
I don’t know, I think it was funny and creative.
People are reacting like it’s the first time they’ve seen something like this LOL. Hollywood does way worse every day.
She should’ve died and gone to hell!
I groan in frustration. Even though every post about the product’s already deleted, people keep dumping comments on my other posts. My follower count has dropped like bricks since yesterday.
Ugh, bad idea opening social media at all. I toss my phone on the floor face down. I just lie there, my chest heavy.
Following Alan’s advice should’ve kept my professional image clean, that was the whole point. Who the hell could’ve guessed that finishing that damn project would blow up into public outrage? Instead of protecting me, his advice basically torched my career in one night.
I sprawl out on the carpet while Jessy’s crashed on the sofa after painkillers. He gave up after I begged him to put his phone on silent, no vibration, and just get some sleep.
It’s his first time dealing with a scandal this big as an agent, and he’s not handling it well. His calm efficient vibe has gone completely out of the window. Who the hell wouldn’t break when every call is more bad news?
They scrathed my name off the lineup for spring/summer show. Some even called and asked to talk about contract termination. Isn’t that great? No more excuses for Alan to hold me back. But yeah, I’m still disappointed as hell.
My eyes have been swollen and raw since yesterday. My hair’s a tangled mess. The floor’s littered with a half-rotten fruit on a plate, a pizza box gaping with scraps inside, and empty beer cans scattered everywhere.
My phone rings, the distinctive tone only one person has. Laird. I pick up with a weak little “hey.”
“Hey, baby. How you holding up?”
I scanned the chaos in my room. “Pretty good.”
“Good. Okay. Listen, I know you didn’t mean to lie to me about Alan. I know he pushed you to keep quiet about that ad.” His voice comes low, tight, like he’s holding back pure rage.
“Wait, you actually watched the ad? Didn’t you promise me you wouldn’t?” My voice spikes, breath snagging in my chest, because God, I can’t handle another betrayal right now.
“Yeah, I know I promised, but come on, everyone at the office had seen it already. They shoved it in my face, asking if I broke up with you.” His tone is fast, impatient, like he hates even saying it.
“Oh…” So it doesn’t matter now. He’s still calling me, so I guess that’s a win. No silent treatment this time.
“I’m sorry, Laird. I knew you’d be pissed, but you know I hated the ad too. And don’t listen to them. You’re my only boyfriend and I didn’t do a thing with Alan,” I say, scrambling to defend myself.
After the ad dropped, fans spun it into wild theories that Alan and I were dating. All those old posts where I never tagged Laird’s account finally made sense to them. But none of it was true, it was all just garbage.
He stays quiet a beat, then exhales hard. “Yeah, I get it. Let ’em say what they want. We’re the only ones who know the truth.”
He actually gets it? Of course he does. He trusts me. I should’ve never doubted him in the first place. My breath releases in relief. “Thanks, babe.” Tears prick again, burning hot.
“By the way,” his voice suddenly sharpens, “I got what I needed. I know who Alan really is now.”
His words sound ragged, almost breathless, and my brain doesn’t even work fast enough to take them in.
“Ugh, you mean his thing with Amy? Seriously, is that still important? Because honestly, I don’t give a damn anymore,” I mutter, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it.
“You need to care. You need to know why he’s been pulling all this shit on us. Meet me at Alan’s office—we’re making him confess. We’ll break him until he admits it.”
“But—”
“I gotta ride now. Just meet me there, okay?”
“Okay.”
He hangs up, and I just stare at his profile picture glowing on my phone screen, thinking how lucky I am to have a guy like him. He’s someone who doesn’t just throw sweet promises but actually fights to protect me, proving again and again he means it.
Whatever Alan’s reason is, whatever Amy means to him, it doesn’t matter. He wrecked my career, yeah, but he’s not touching what I have with Laird, and that’s what counts. That’s what I should be holding onto.
So why the hell am I still gutted about my career going up in flames?
Laird doesn’t care if I’m a model or just some ordinary girl, but without career I feel like nothing.
Like I’ve lost the only thing that made me confident, and I hate that.
Though I keep telling myself this is supposed to be my passion.
My phone buzzes again, a new message, Alan’s name lighting up. My eyes roll. Two days of silence and now this? Yesterday he only texted once, telling me not to leave the apartment. Now he’s back with a picture.
Alan:
Help me. Laird is going to kill me.
My brows knit. A screenshot follows, and yeah, it’s Laird’s threat staring me in the face. We were gonna pressure Alan to stop his crap, but murder and torture? That can’t be real. Right?
I bite my lip, think for a second, then shake Jessy awake until he groans and blinks at me. “Jessy, wake up! Laird figured out who Alan is. He wants us at Alan’s office now.”
“What?” He rubs at his neck, his face scrunched like he can’t process it.
“Can you drive? We gotta go now, before Laird loses it on him.”
The mood shifts in a heartbeat. It’s full emergency mode now; only Jessy can get me there quickly. I throw on a black jacket over the same jeans, grab my little sling bag, while Jessy splashes water on his face and snatches up the car keys.
We bolt out of the building, bracing against the cold wind, then dive into the car. As soon as we settle in, my phone buzzes again. It’s another message from Laird, this time a huge file that takes forever to load. My thumbs hit the download button while Jessy drives us to office.
When it finally opens, my eyes skim the file. I gasp, my breath catching sharp. My jaw drops as I clutch the phone so hard it hurts. I press it down to my lap, my other hand flying up to cover my mouth.
“What the hell, Fenella?” Jessy glances between me and the road, still pushing the car fast, weaving through traffic and slipping into side streets to dodge the jams.
“He’s my friend,” I choke out, my voice shaking. “Alan used to be my classmate.”
“What? For real?” Jessy shoots back, still gripping the wheel as he speeds us deeper into the city.
I check and read the document once again. Though reading something this heavy on my phone while Jessy’s driving like a maniac is such a stupid idea. My head starts throbbing hard, the motion of the car only making it worse, and nausea kicks in until I gag.
I give in, yanking open the dashboard, pulling out a small plastic bag, and covering my mouth before I throw up. Jessy cracks the window so the cold air rushes in. My hand grabs some tissues to wipe my mouth once my stomach finally calms down.
“Sorry,” I mumble, voice raw.
“You alright? Maybe we should pull over for a sec, take it easy,” Jessy says, easing his foot off the gas.
“No, don’t stop, Jess, keep going, we have to stop Laird before he goes too far.”
“Fine, but put the damn phone away, reading that file over and over isn’t gonna change a damn thing,” he mutters, trying to calm me down.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I shove my phone into my bag, lean my head against the headrest, and pray this nightmare would just disappear.
Fifteen minutes later we pull up in front of Gene. As soon as we get out, I spot Laird’s motorcycle parked right out front.
“He’s here already,” I whisper, pointing at the bike.
Jessy squeals, “Then we gotta head straight up.”
We half-run inside, but before we even make it to the doors, men come rushing at us out of nowhere. “That’s Fenella! Over here, Fenella!”
“Oh, fuck me,” Jessy curses under his breath.
The paparazzi swarm, flashes popping in my face like grenades as I try to push through. But Silas and John rush in, pulling me inside and locking the door behind us.
“Thanks, guys,” I pant. “God, coming here was a mistake.”
“What did I say? At least your outfit’s not a disaster,” Jessy huffs.
“You’re seriously still worried about my outfit? Who gives a damn—I’m already ruined,” I snap, skipping up the stairs.
“Jessy! Fenella! You made it!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I groan when Mike, Jessy’s ex, standing at the top of the stairs like he owns the place. He’s grinning and blocking the way up to the third floor.
“Not now, Mike, move,” Jessy barks.
“Just hear me out, Jess,” he insists, stepping right in front of him.
“I said not now, Mike, get the hell out of my way!” Jessy’s voice cracks, loud enough for half the office to stop and stare.
“Why you acting like this? You barging in here to make a scene like her boyfriend?” Mike’s voice pitches high, needling him.
“Fuck off, Mike.” My patience snaps.
“You fuck off! You think the world spins around you? Look at us—we bust our asses every day, and you just whine after taking all the projects.”
“What?” My brows knit hard.
“You blaming Alan for that condom ad? You don’t even realize how ungrateful you sound.” His voice is smug, like he’s got a point.
“Shut the fuck up!” Jessy roars, drawing even more eyes. “Go, Fen, upstairs. I’ll deal with this asshole,” he says, shoving me forward.
“Finally, you’re talking to me again,” Mike sneers.
I groan, shove past, and storm up the stairs. I don’t know what the hell Mike’s ranting about, but clearly it hit something with Jessy, and I’ll pry it out of him later. Right now, Laird and Alan are all that matter.
The third floor is too quiet, only Alan’s office door hanging half-open. I hurry straight to it, bursting in without thinking.
“My, my, what a sick bastard you are,” Alan’s voice drips.
Something so shocking knocks the air out of my lungs. It’s worse than Tom naked with his secretary. Alan’s got his hands gripping the back of Laird’s head while Laird’s fists twist in Alan’s collar, and their lips—God, their lips are pressed together.
The world stops. My heart pounds so hard it aches, blood roaring in my ears, and my hands fly up to clamp over my mouth.
No. This can’t be real.
Laird freezes too, but only for a second. He shoves Alan off and smashes his fist into his face. “Get the fuck off me, you psycho!”
Alan stumbles, twisting down onto the sofa, chuckling like a maniac. Laird doesn’t stop, and doesn’t even blink. He grabs Alan by the shirt and slams him again, another punch cracking across his jaw. Then another, then another.
“Stop! Stop this, both of you!” I scream, my body shaking so hard I can barely move.
Laird halts, his chest heaving, and his eyes flick to me. He drops his grip. “Fenella,” he rasps, but my sobs drown it out.
“Don’t!” I shoot up my finger, trembling so bad it barely stays steady. “Don’t you say my name with that mouth.” My lungs seize, panic crashing over me, and I glare at him with all the rage I can scrape together.
“I’m so fucking done with your jealousy, with your moods, with having to babysit your feelings while you’re wrecking my heart.” My fists clench so tight.
Alan laughs.
“And you!” I whip around, pointing a finger at him. “What the hell do you want from me? You trying to wreck my life?”
I’m screaming like a mad woman. My body shaking, breath tearing raw from my throat.
“You want revenge, Clark?” My voice cracks. “Are you really Clark Thomson?”
Silence slams down. The ringing in my ears is unbearable. Alan freezes for a second before he straightens his shirt, and clear his throat. His eyes flash with something that looks a lot like fear.
Jessy’s voice cuts weak from behind me, his breath hitching. “Oh my God.”
Alan swallows hard, then forces a shaky calm “Fenella, hey, relax, alright?”