Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sophia
We make it back to Maryland in record time with only one stop. We’re only about an hour from my house when all our phones seem to simultaneously begin pinging with messages. Tate’s rings and a sinking feeling begins to form in my belly.
I sit up as Tate answers his phone.
“Carol, calm the fuck down. What? Oh, fuck. Seriously? When? Hold on,” he says, his voice filled with tension.
I look at my phone and see a message from Marti.
Marti: Call me! NOW! DO NOT LOOK AT THE INTERNET!
Fuck.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I press call on Marti’s name.
“Tabloids,” Tate says as he opens the browser on his phone. I don’t have a chance to look before Marti picks up.
“Thank fuck! Tell me you didn’t look yet,” she says, her voice breathy as if she was running.
“Marti? Look at what?” I ask, but then my eyes glance over and my jaw drops.
It’s a headline.
“Lacey Collins Devastated by Tate Anders’s Infidelity”
“There were some more photos that got leaked. Apparently, Lacey saw them. She texted Tate but he didn’t answer, so she talked to someone and…shit, it’s bad,” Marti says quickly, the words running together.
“Yeah. Fine! I’ll call her now,” Tate growls and hangs up on Carol.
“Marti, how? I mean, the only time anyone saw us was in Chicago. After that we were really careful,” I say as I feel the tears in my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Soph. It looks like maybe a few got taken by tourists at Mount Rushmore? I’m not sure. It’s a mess. As you are well aware, the media thinks Lacey and Tate are still together, so it looks…bad,” she says.
I swallow hard. “I know,” I whisper unsure of what to tell her. Do I say that Tate and I are together? Are we actually together? We haven’t formally spoken about the status of our relationship, but he did reference me as his girlfriend recently so…maybe? I decide to wait. It’s too early to tell her the truth. I don’t even know what’s going to happen between us when we reach my house. Hell, maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. Perhaps we should just remain friends—friends who had a hot tryst on a road trip.
“What do you mean you know?” she says.
“I mean…I know,” I reply. Fuck. Marti is going to see through me.
My phone pings then and I realize I’ve missed messages from both Anissa and Lex. And then I get one from Mark.
Mark: Uh, what the hell is going on?
Shit. “Uh, just a sec, Marti,” I state as I try to type a reply to Mark.
“Uh, guys?” Penn says from the passenger seat. My fingers pause on the phone’s keyboard.
“I know,” Tate growls and then presses call on his phone. I don’t see the name, but based on the tense look on his face and his locked jaw, I’m guessing it’s Lacey.
“Hey,” he answers. “Yeah…no. We were taking a road trip. I’m working on a new project. Yeah. Uh-huh. I told you it was good. Yeah. No. Fuck, I’m sorry, OK? I should have called. I know. Shit, Lace. Maybe a little warning next time? Yeah. OK. Yep. We’ll talk soon, I’m in the middle of dealing with this with Carol. You want her to call Sherry?” He pauses.
“Hello?” Marti’s voice pulls me out of Tate’s conversation.
“Uh, listen. We’re like an hour from my house. Can I call you back?” I ask her.
“Media outlets are calling me. What should I tell them?” she asks.
Tate hangs up and looks over at me.
“What do we say?” I mouth.
“Marti?” he asks me. I nod.
He takes the phone from my hand. “Hey, Marti. Call Carol. I just spoke to Lacey. Her agent, Sherry, is already working on damage control. The party line is I’m working on a new film project and was visiting some potential filming locations with the author, who is a good friend. Basically, all of this was a big misunderstanding,” he says. I feel the tears threaten again. A good friend. Why do those words hurt so much?
“Yep. Will do,” he adds and then hangs up and hands me back my phone.
For one long moment, everyone stops talking. The only sound is of the car’s tires on the road as Rex drives. I glance over and see Tate looking at his phone. He’s reading text messages.
I pull up my web browser, but before I can type in anything, Tate’s hand comes over mine.
“Don’t. Just…it never helps to look,” he assures me. “Just stick to the party line. OK?”
I swallow and nod. I don’t like any of this.
“Damn! This is everywhere,” Penn says.
“Penn, leave it. There’s nothing we can do at the moment. I’ll take care of things when we get back to Sophia’s house,” Tate says.
I look out the window and then my phone pings once again. Looking down, I read the text from Anissa.
Anissa: GURRRL! Call me!!!
Me: I’m in the car. I’ll call you tomorrow.
Anissa: Guess where I am?
Me: Where?
Anissa: Your house.
Me: WHAT?
I hit call and she picks up on the first ring.
“Why are you at my house?” I ask.
“Well, if you maybe would respond to a message, you’d know that I had a last-minute thing here in D.C. after my vacation and I had asked if I could stay at your place after asking when you’d be back and no answer. So, I sort of let myself in for the night. Also, it looks like you left in a shitstorm. I cleaned up, don’t worry. And no paparazzi have figured out where you live yet,” she says.
I roll my eyes. Anissa is a total neat freak. It’s no wonder we didn’t kill each other in college.
“Well, that’s good. I don’t need to be inundated with media. Listen, the guys and I are about to be back in like…thirty-ish minutes,” I say as I check the time on my phone.
“Coolio. I’ll see you and…the guys in a jiffy,” she replies, and I know she’s smirking. That beotch probably planned a trip here in hopes of meeting my new celebrity friends.
“I’ll see you in a bit,” I state and hang up because I do not want to have a heart-to-heart with my bestie in front of Tate, Penn, or Rex.
I return to my message with Mark and tell him that I’ll explain everything when I get back later, but it’s not exactly like it seems. I reply to Lex with a similar message. They both reply that the paparazzi suck. Now that, I can agree with.
“Give me your phone,” Tate says.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because nothing good can come of staring at it. Everyone in our lives will have questions and we’ll have to answer them, but not now. Let’s just get back to your place?—”
“My best friend, Anissa, is there,” I blurt out.
“Shit. OK. Well, let’s still just get back there and come up with a game plan. It’ll be fine. It always is. There will be another story that takes over the news cycle by tomorrow,” he assures me.
“Yes, but this will stay with us. It’s going to come up every time we get interviewed, every podcast, every news article,” I point out.
“Yes, and that’s why we have publicists. We’ll get our PR teams on it, and it’ll be fine. I mean, maybe they can even spin it to help get folks excited about the prospect of a film,” he says.
He’s right about that, but I hate that he’s right. I want him to be wrong. I want to be angry at him. I want it to be easy to end this for real.
“Fine,” I say as I turn toward the window.
“You guys need any help with this, just tell us what to say,” Penn says.
“We will. Thanks, bro,” Tate replies. His hand goes to my thigh, but I don’t turn back to him. Instead, I watch the mile markers pass by, counting each tenth of a mile as we inch closer to my home, closer to what I feel is the inevitable end to whatever this is blooming between us that’s about to be squashed like a bug. Because who am I kidding? A relationship with the world’s most famous movie star? It’s never going to work out. We’ll always have to be dealing with something like this and I won’t be with a guy who refers to me as just a friend every time things get hard. By the time we reach the last mile marker, I’ve made up my mind. It’s time to end this road trip and things with Tate before I get really hurt. And if that means no movie, then there’ll be no movie.