22. Brooklyn
brOOKLYN
It’s a weekday afternoon, and I’m sitting across from Emzee at a tiny table outside a famous Hyde Park deli that’s overrun with locals and tourists alike.
After standing in line for over twenty minutes, we’re finally reaping our reward: a massive Italian beef sandwich we’re sharing under the shade of a huge umbrella.
The famous special is served on a soft house-made roll, with piles of thinly sliced meat smothered in giardiniera, roasted peppers, and au jus.
Emzee insisted we get Cherry Cokes and a side of cucumber salad to go with it, and I’m glad I agreed.
“This is literal heaven,” I mumble around a mouthful of, well, heaven.
“Told you,” she says, her mouth equally stuffed and her words equally garbled. After washing down her bite with a slug of soda, she sighs happily and looks around. “I love this neighborhood. The barrel-fronted brownstones, the parks, the big old trees.”
“Sorry Tori has to miss it,” I say, snapping a few photos with my phone to send to her.
“The pregnancy is really taking its toll,” Emzee admits. “I don’t think she’s kept a full meal down in weeks. The doctor has her on some anti-nausea meds, but it’s still pretty tough.”
“Poor thing. Hopefully the morning sickness will be over soon, though.”
“Yeah.” Emzee clears her throat and avoids looking at me as she asks, “So, uh, do you want to take a picture of me with my sandwich?” She takes a big bite of cucumber salad and raises her eyebrows in a failed attempt to look innocent.
“Excuse me?” I tease. “The ever-camera-shy photographer herself is asking little old me to take her photo with a deli sandwich? Sounds suspicious.”
“You take great photos, Brooklyn,” she says defensively. “And your social media posts are always on point. I just want something fun to post on mine, that’s all.”
“Oh really…” I take a long sip of Cherry Coke, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asks after dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “Will you just do it already?”
I grin. “What’s his name?”
“What? It’s not like that!” Her cheeks grow pink and I know I’ve got her.
“Ha!” I boast with enthusiasm. “You’re totally crushing on someone! Is he an artist too?”
“You’re being stupid. And I don’t date other artists anymore. I’ve learned my lesson.”
She takes another big bite of the sandwich, but I know I’m right.
This is totally about a guy. Maybe it’s a good thing we ended up here today, just the two of us.
It means I’ll finally have a chance to really bond with Emzee, who’s usually pretty quiet about her own personal life and more than happy to let Tori and me dominate the conversation.
Maybe I should try to take advantage of this time with Em and use it to subtly interrogate her about this mysterious crush of hers.
Leaning back, I frame the photo so the deli sign is behind Emzee’s shoulder, then hastily clear away the mess of napkins and utensils and arrange the food more prettily on the table.
“Okay,” I tell her, “now pick up your soda like you were about to take a sip from the straw, but then you started laughing instead. No, wait!”
I tug my designer sunglasses off and place them gently on the top of her head.
“How do I look?” she asks.
“Panicked,” I answer. “You need to think happy thoughts. Like the first time Munchkin met Stefan and started humping his leg in front of his date.”
I’m glad Luka told me that story, because it’s exactly what Emzee needs to hear. She starts laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh that instantly lights up her face—and these photos. Passing my phone to Emzee, I see her flick through the shots I took with a grin.
“These are great,” she says. “Thanks. I’m going to forward them to myself.”
“No problem.” I return my attention to the food, and when it seems like Emzee has relaxed again, I casually say, “So. I’ve known you for a while now, Em. And I find it odd that not once, not once, have you ever mentioned going out on a date.” I lift a brow.
She shrugs. “I’m not seeing anyone. Simple as that.”
“So who are the photos supposed to impress?” I ask. When she’s silent, I shoot her the puppy-dog eyes. “Please, Emzee! I’m dying for some gossip. Come on.”
“I mean, I might like someone…but he’s totally off limits.” She pops another bite of cucumber in her mouth with a wistful look in her eye that dares me to push the topic.
So, of course I do. “Listen, now that I’m all settled down and married, I don’t get to have a crazy dating life anymore—and I never will again!—so I need to live vicariously through yours. Isn’t that depressing and pitiful? Yes, it is. So do me a solid here. Lay it on me.”
Her upper lip curls before turning into a full-fledged smile. “I don’t date much, to be honest. It always tends to blow up in my face pretty horribly, so I kind of avoid it. That should be obvious.”
“You never say boo either way, so it’s really not obvious. So. Who’s Mr. Off Limits?”
“I don’t know.” She looks down and fiddles with her food.
I cross my arms on the table and lean slightly forward. I have a feeling she’s about to give me something I can work with. She waves her fork in a small circle and finally spills.
“The thing is, we’ve known each other for a while, but he has no idea I’m interested and he’s got a serious girlfriend anyway. So it doesn’t matter how I feel.”
“Then what’s with the happy deli photo for your social media?” I prod.
Her brow furrows. “Okay, the truth is, he asked me to help him pick out her engagement ring last week and I’ve been down about it ever since. I guess since he’s obviously never going to come around, I thought I should try to put myself out there a little more. Okay?”
Empathy floods through me, and I have to stop myself from saying something annoying, like “poor baby.” Instead, I say, “That sucks. He sucks! But you know what? That just means the real Mr. Right For You is still out there somewhere. Or Ms. Whatever. Your soul mate. Your—”
“Soul mate? Eugh.” Emzee makes a face. “Next topic, please.”
I scramble for something safe. “Uh, I heard from Luka that you’re supposed to go to Turkey next year to shoot the ancient ruins at Ephesus?”
“Yes!” she practically shouts, her eyes sparkling. “I love ruins. They’re my spirit animal.” And with that, she’s off and running, sharing endless anecdotes about her passion.
When we finish eating, we’re so stuffed that we decide to take a walk around the neighborhood. Emzee chats about this and that, every topic easily moving away from anything too personal. When mention of Tori’s baby comes up again, I get a tickle of excitement.
“I can’t wait to hold that chubby little bundle in my arms,” I sigh.
“Oh yeah?” she says. “So when is Luka going to knock you up?”
Laughing, I say, “One baby at a time, okay? We haven’t even really talked about it.”
“You sure about that?” She looks like she’s ready to say more, but a rapid-fire succession of notification dings hit her phone, and she starts pawing through her bag to look for it. “What the heck is that all about?”
A second later, my phone begins to chime, too. I pull it out and see a barrage of incoming messages blowing me up. Before I get a good look, I hear a sharp intake of breath.
“Brooklyn…” Emzee says, voice tinged with horror, “look at your notifications. Now.”
My scalp prickles at her tone. As I click through a link, my heart starts to race.
Danica Rose Insider Leaks SHAM Zoric Marriage
Sources reveal Brooklyn Moss initially approached Luka Zoric while under contract to Elite Image, coercing Zoric into marriage with intent to commit corporate espionage.
At stake are Danica Rose Management’s upcoming campaign plans, information regarding their new talent roster, and the agency’s operational procedures and marketing methods, according to sources close to the couple.
I freeze on the sidewalk, the words on the screen jumbling as I struggle to make sense of the damning exposé. My lunch is churning in my stomach as I read the article. And then, further down the webpage, I see a familiar name that sends me into a fiery rage:
DRM model Monica Shore broke her silence after longtime friend and current manager Luka Zoric confided about his “sham marriage” to Moss, who Shore claims signed a contract to deliver DRM intel to Elite in exchange for a modeling deal.
A copy of a legal document entered into by both Moss and Elite Image’s CEO, dated earlier this year, appears to confirm this allegation.
Neither Elite nor the agency’s CEO Austin Spears responded to requests for comment, but in the months since the Zoric marriage, Moss has received a number of high-profile modeling contracts with major players on the national scene.
Now, after months of rebuilding the company’s PR status following family patriarch Konstantin Zoric’s arrest and subsequent criminal trial for trafficking, it seems the future of Danica Rose Management is once again on shaky ground.
I can’t read any more, my eyes blurry with tears and my blood pounding in my temples. My phone won’t stop vibrating with messages and notifications, so I turn it off and drop it into my purse. Emzee is still staring at me, a mixture of heat and judgment in her eyes.
Luka had to have told his family about the Elite contract he’d found with my name on it. Didn’t he?
“Is this true?” Emzee asks coldly.
“Em,” I say pleadingly.
“Did you sign that contract with Elite?”
“God, no.” I see her shoulders slump with relief, and then the guilt of my half-truth slams through me and I know I have to spill it all. “Can we sit down for a second?” I say.
We find a picturesque bench under a tree, and I drop onto it and take a few deep breaths.
“Look,” I tell her, keeping my gaze steady on hers. “Elite called me in after I auditioned with them in LA last year, and they offered me a deal if I’d get them intel on DRM. And yes, I said I’d think it over. I took a copy of the contract with me when I left their offices. But—”
“How could you?” she interrupts, crossing her arms and doing nothing to hide her anger.
“Wait! I never signed that contract, I swear to God. And you know what? After I met with Luka, I stopped feeling like spying for Elite was my only way out.
“It was my original plan, true, but I decided not to go through with it. I burned that document on our honeymoon. Luka knows all about it already, and things between us were shitty for a while because of it…but we’re better now. So much better.”
I stop to catch my breath. Emzee is still nodding, processing everything I’ve said.
“So my brother is fully aware of this.”
“Yes,” I say. “Water under the bridge.”
She taps her chin. “But…it still looks really bad to everyone else.”
“Yes,” I admit. “And I have no idea how to tell the rest of the world the truth.”
Emzee goes quiet for a moment. “This is not good for DRM’s image.”
“No.” I shake my head, so choked up I can barely speak. “And it’s especially not good for the state of our marriage. Things were finally feeling really solid. He…said he loved me.”
Her head whips toward me, a grin splitting her face. “He said that? He said the words?”
“Yeah.” I can’t help smiling back.
“What a marshmallow!” she squeals gleefully, throwing her arms around me. “This is amazing. You’ve turned my big bad brother into a teddy bear. I love it.”
“Yeah, but…when he finds out about this, he’s going to hate me.
What if this messes up everything?” Panic sets in, and I pull back.
“After all our hard work to build DRM’s reputation back up, Monica had to go and tear it back down.
Luka’s never going to forgive me. I mean, the whole point of this marriage was to improve the company’s image. Not destroy it.”
“This doesn’t destroy anything,” Emzee insists. “I guess you might look like a gold digger, and maybe Luka looks like he got tricked, but in the end people will see that your relationship is really real and that Elite doesn’t actually even have anything on our company.”
“I’m not sure Luka will see it that way,” I say with a sigh.
“Girl, please,” Emzee says. “He loves you, and he’ll understand you had nothing to do with this.”
“But I did! My original plan was to go through with it. I can’t change that. And now the whole world will be talking about it, and about us. And not in a good way.”
“Who cares? The important thing is that you didn’t go through with it—that’s what matters. And Danica Rose is going to be fine. Listen, let’s divide and conquer. I’ll call Stefan now while you go see Luka at work and talk it out. I promise everything’s gonna be okay.”
She squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. “Okay.”
I wish I could believe her.