23. Brooklyn
brOOKLYN
I just hit a car.
Heart pounding, I grip the steering wheel of my SUV and stare blankly at the light blue Prius next to me. I tried to pull into the parking space so fast, I didn’t turn enough and clipped the back end of the other car. Their taillight is smashed, the trunk slightly dented.
Jesus H. Christ. I have to calm down. My adrenaline is pumping and I can’t get my breathing under control. I haven’t checked my phone since I left the deli. Emzee kept telling me it was going to be okay, to just talk to Luka and we’d work it out. I hope she’s right.
I want the exposé fiasco to just go away. But rationally, I know it won’t happen—so we need to figure out how to do damage control. Together. That’s what we should be focusing on right now, and instead I go and hit a damn car.
My hands shake as I throw the SUV in reverse and carefully park.
Then I slip out and scribble an apology, my contact info, and the number of my insurance company on the back of a receipt and tuck it under the windshield wiper.
I don’t know if I should call the police to report myself, but right now this is the last thing I have the energy to deal with.
My marriage is on the line. Again. My career is on the line.
Again. The Zoric family business could very well face another fallout, but this time, it’ll be because of me.
I’m sure by the end of the day, it will be all over social media that I ran into someone’s car and fled the scene, too.
The dirt will just keep piling up and up and up against me.
By morning, I’ll be part of cancel culture.
My Insta followers will abandon me, my social media standing will dry up, and I’ll never be offered another contract again.
A desperate laugh bursts out of me, but it does little to fend off the wave of panic.
The truth is, I can imagine overcoming all of these things, starting over again even if it all blows up in my face…
but what I can’t imagine is recovering from the ruin of my marriage.
Luka finally told me he loves me, and in a blink, it could all be gone.
I keep my sunglasses on and my head down as I hurry through the parking garage and toward the elevator that will take me up to the Danica Rose offices.
My skin prickles as I anticipate paparazzi jumping out from behind parked cars, snapping their cameras in my face and bombarding me with questions about my alleged betrayal of both my husband and DRM.
I make it free and clear into the private elevator, then close my eyes and take a moment to calm down as the car goes up.
Time to focus.
Luka and I have absolutely got to lay all our cards out, once and for all.
All these lies of omission, all the secrets—not even secrets, really.
Instead it’s issues that we think we’ll take care of alone, or problems we don’t want to bother the other person with, or that we tell ourselves we’ll just put off addressing until later when there’s a better time to discuss them.
This is what has ultimately built the walls between us. We haven’t been a team.
No wonder we can’t seem to get it together. We’ve been working against ourselves from the very beginning. That has to stop now. I know we can figure this out if we put our minds to it.
I’m not ready to lose him.
The office is quiet, eerily quiet, as I stride in toward the reception desk. I don’t look around. I don’t want to see anyone’s eyes on me.
It only takes a second to realize that most of the employees are probably still out to lunch.
Even Yvette, the receptionist, is gone. I head down the hall in the direction of Luka’s office, but on the way there I notice his assistant Damien is in the fancy break room.
He’s reading XXL magazine as he eats takeout and sips an iced coffee. Thank God.
“Hi, Damien,” I say, popping my head in. I try to keep the panic from my voice and casually ask, “Is Luka around?”
He shrugs. “Our meeting ran late so Stefan offered to take everyone to lunch. Luka might still be in his office, though. He had a client call lined up right after.”
“Thanks.”
With that, I bolt down the hall, more thankful than ever that my husband has a private corner office where we can talk without an audience. The door is ajar, and I’m just about to knock when I hear his tense voice. Judging by the sound of it, it’s been a rocky conversation.
“I mean I can’t disagree, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to fire her,” he’s saying.
“You’re serious?” a voice I don’t recognize shoots back. “You honestly want to keep Monica on your roster after all this? I’m all for giving her the boot, truth be told.”
My stomach drops, and I go still at the mention of my nemesis.
“Just hear me out, Guy,” Luka says, and that’s when I realize he’s on the phone with the Maxilene exec who chose Monica for their huge campaign.
“I know full well that Elite still has their hooks in Monica, or maybe it’s her that’s got them by the balls, but it doesn’t make a difference either way.
She looks good as the face of Maxilene, and anyone who’s seen her in your products is racing to the store to buy them.
Trust me, this won’t affect your bottom line. ”
I tiptoe a few steps backward, still listening. It’s unbelievable that he’s fighting to keep Monica secure in her job after she pulled the rug out from under all of us. Whose side is he on?
Luka goes on, “This exposé frankly sucks and so do her ethics, but you know as well as I do that nothing in this industry is about ethics. It’s about glamour. DRM provides that glamour, and that’s the end of my involvement.”
There’s a pause as Guy seems to consider Luka’s words, but my pulse is still racing.
“Let me get this straight,” Guy says. “You don’t want Monica to face any repercussions? Because if DRM isn’t planning to take any action, I can advise the company to go full steam ahead on our end as planned. Though personally, I’d sue her ass. But that’s off the record, man.”
Luka laughs coldly. “I won’t go into detail about all the ways I’d like Monica to pay for this little stunt, but let’s face it—she’s a cash cow. She can face judgment day another time.”
Tears sting my eyes, not just at the injustice of Monica getting off scot-free after trying to sabotage my marriage and undermine the entire agency, but because my husband clearly still cares more about image and turning a profit than anything else.
And what’s even worse than that? He’s right.
This could sink Danica Rose. Sink everything we’ve worked for.
I clench my jaw, determined to wait out the rest of the conversation.
“Glad we had this talk,” Guy says. “I thought we’d be scrambling to look for a backup from some other agency in the middle of what’s shaping up to be Maxilene’s most profitable marketing campaign.”
“Not at all!” Luka replies. “In the long run, it’s going to be better for your image and ours if we just stay the course. DRM’s got some serious PR hustling to do, stat, but we’ll roll with the punches. This isn’t exactly brand-new territory for us, as you and I have discussed.”
My husband’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. I’ve really, really screwed up. Right when the Zorics’ agency had finally regained its reputation and was starting to make waves in the industry as Danica Rose Management. I have to fix this. And I know exactly what to do.
As I take a deep breath and start to turn away, I hear the men getting off the call.
Guy says, “I won’t take up any more of your time, but give a shout if you need anything.”
“Oh, I will,” Luka says good-naturedly. “In fact, how would you like to be my stand-in at the board meeting this afternoon? I’ve never been a big fan of tar and feathers.”
Guy laughs at Luka’s joke, and I hurry out of there, brushing tears from my cheeks.
So there’s a board meeting this afternoon, and Luka’s expecting it to go poorly. I hadn’t even considered that—they could vote to drop him from the company if they think he’s had a hand in this latest scandal. Hell, he was barely hanging on to his job before I came around.
He’s spent months proving himself worthy of his position, working his ass off to show Stefan and the board that he’s capable. What if they fire him because of me? He married a traitor, after all. They’ll question his judgment, his business sense, his integrity. Fuck.
After I duck into the elevator and punch the G button for the parking garage, I blot my runny mascara with a tissue and put my sunglasses on.
I’m sure my eyes are puffy and red by now, and I can’t risk anyone seeing me fleeing the DRM offices looking like this.
I check my phone again. There’s a text from Emzee, just saying she hasn’t been able to get ahold of Stefan yet.
Great. I know she’s in my corner, but who knows how Stefan is reacting to all of this?
The doors ding and I step out into the parking garage, only to find a swarm of paparazzi hanging around in a cluster, waiting for me like predators.
My stomach twists, and I’m beyond grateful my sunglasses are already on.
I’ve never been bombarded like this. I’m usually with other people who can shield me, and I’ve never been considered so interesting that a dozen people with cameras are sent to flood my personal space.
This is a nightmare. Holding my head high, I’m determined to walk right past them. They can’t touch me.
“Is it true you married into the Zoric family so you could sell the agency’s secrets to their biggest competitor?” someone shouts.
“Can you confirm or deny the details of Monica Shore’s story?”
“Look this way! Brooklyn! Hey, over here!”
I hurry to my SUV. Clicking the fob to unlock it, I try to ignore all the strangers yelling at me as I jump in and slam the door.
My ears ring from the shouting and clicking, but I do my best to keep a neutral expression on my face.
The car that I hit earlier is gone now, giving me plenty of space to back up, make a sharp turn, and make my tires squeal driving out of there.
My eyes are filling up again, and it’s hard to see. I slow down and bump out of the parking lot, then zigzag my way through the city until I reach a quiet park near the water. My chest heaves, my mind races, and I let out a few sobs before steeling myself for what’s next.
I can’t allow Luka to take the fall for this. I can’t hurt Danica Rose Management, or Tori, or Emzee, or Stefan. The new baby needs a dad with a stable job and income. She deserves to have a good family name with a good reputation. It’s time to make a call.
My phone rings. I almost shout with joy when I see who it is. It’s like he read my mind.
“Mateo!”
“Brookie? Oh, thank God. Are you holding up okay?”
“I’m really not,” I admit, my voice shaking a little. “And I need a favor, a big one.”
“Yes, I will kill Monica. How do you want it done? Messy to make a statement, or pig-farm clean so there’s no trace?”
I laugh through my tears. “Thank you for that, but no. Listen, remember when you were banging that editor from TMZ last summer? What was her name?”
There’s a beat of silence before Mateo draws out my name. “Brooklyn…”
“I need to do this, Mat. I’ve got a story to tell. Hook me up.”
He huffs but I know he won’t deny me. “Blair Roberts. I’ll send you her number.”
“Thank you.”
We talk for a few minutes more before I end the call. Seconds later, Mateo texts me her contact info.
I stare at it for a moment before taking a deep breath and dialing.