Chapter 25
Rafi
The door clicks open, and Alice slips out, moving fast enough to slam the door behind her, so I can't try to catch it before it locks shut. I guess I know what that means.
She doesn't want to see me.
"Hey," she says somberly.
"Where is she?" I demand, and I don't mean to scare her, but she takes a step away from me regardless.
"She's… look, she's not ready. She said she'll call you later—"
"Fuck that. I need to see her. I need to know she's okay!"
"She is not okay, Raze! She got fired, and she's losing her apartment. Our boss is kicking her out, bad publicity or whatever."
I didn't know it was possible to become any more enraged, "Are you fucking serious? He can't do that!"
"No shit Sherlock, it's illegal. But she wouldn't want to stay here anyway after the message he left her. It's terrible. And people are tearing her apart online. And her email is exploding with people calling her a whore for cheating on you."
"She didn't cheat on me!"
"Yes, I know that. You know that, and Stetson knows that. No one else does."
"FUCK!" I pick up a flower pot off the ground and throw it against the brick wall. It shatters, leaving silence in its wake. We both just stare at the shards of ceramic and soil for a minute before I collapse into a crouch near the ground and drop my head, my hands wrapped around the back of my neck.
"Look," Alice begins, softly, "for a girl who has always hidden from the world, this is monumentally traumatizing and terrifying. You're used to the limelight. I'm not saying this is easy for you, I can see it isn't. But… just give her a little more time. This all just happened yesterday. Give her space to breathe. She'll come around. She loves you, you know she does."
I shake my head, in disagreement or disbelief, I don't know. Tears prick my eyes and I'm suddenly standing and storming away. Alice calls after me, but I ignore her.
I get to my truck and call my agent. Obviously, both he and my coach know what's going on and have been trying to talk to me, but I've ignored their calls. Security had to walk me out of the hotel yesterday and get me to the airport because of the mass amount of reporters. I wasn't supposed to leave until today, but I told everyone to fuck off and deal with it, I needed to see Emma.
She won't take my calls. I even tried emailing her—nothing.
Jim picks up on the first ring, "Jesus, Raze, where the hell have you been? I almost geo-tracked your ass. Look, I need to know what to tell the press. They are fucking losing it. I'm losing it. What happened? Did you have a falling out? Who took these pictures?"
"That's why I'm calling, I need to know who took them. Call the hotel, get me some fucking answers. Emma thought she heard someone in the room around 1 am, check the cameras, see if anyone other than Stetson left our room in the surrounding hours. Fast, Jim. I want this information yesterday, feel me?"
I don't know why this wasn't one of my first calls, but I'd been so wrapped up in seeing Emma that I hadn't been able to think straight. But she needs me to pull my shit together for the both of us, so I focus.
"Yeah, okay, no problem. So, it's true, then? She and Stetson? You okay buddy?"
I hate when people call me 'buddy.' "I'm fine. And the pictures were photoshopped. I was there. Find out who took them. Don't call me until you have answers."
I hang up and look at the clock. It's 8 pm now. He's in Vegas, and I'm his top billing client. He'll get to the hotel tonight and should have answers for me by the morning.
I drive back to the house. Stetson is nowhere to be found, but his truck was parked on the street. Like Emma, he's being raked over the coals.
I need to find a way to fix this. I need answers. An idea forms, and I run up the stairs to the opposite side of the house and bang on Stetson's door. I have a plan in mind, but it involves him. I don't know how he'll feel about it, but it's all I've got.