Chapter 2 Fickle Fame #2
Emerson expands the comments, and there it is …
readersforlyfe89 OMFG, this is @sagecollinsauthor! I love her book!!!!
“Fuck,” Sage says again as she clicks on Theo’s tagged photos. Variations of the picture—zoomed in, pixelated—are everywhere. E! News. People. Fan pages (Theo’s, obviously). The Daily Mail.
The news that it’s her has started to spread, and some of the photos even have her tagged, and Sage has never hated the Internet’s propensity to make Something out of Nothing more.
Because there they are, splashed all over social media, and it looks so goddamn condemning with their ball caps and the way they’re leaning toward each other and the captions of “mystery woman” and “romance” and “cozy.” Sage wants to laugh, or cry, or maybe find Theo and throttle him for not disclosing who he was sooner.
“I’m really sorry, S.” There’s a softness in Emerson’s voice that speaks to years of knowing someone and what sinks beneath their skin. Emerson’s face is earnest, her eyes steady as they lock on hers. “We can fix this.”
Sage remains silent as she returns Emerson’s phone and picks up her own, navigating to her most recent Instagram post. It’s from the hotel yesterday, a quick little snapshot that’s all about being excited for her first Con.
There’s an influx of new comments beneath it, and Sage feels nauseous as she reads them.
589 likes
sagecollinsauthor So excited to be in NYC for @newyorkcomiccon!! Are you going to be there?!
View all 70 comments
carlasingerx Seriously? She’s basic.
theosgirlfriend4 Looks like a publicity play to me.
unknownuserforev So sick of authors trying to be celebs
theosharpeunlimited We all know she’s just using him!
1 DAY AGO
This … this cannot be happening. Not now. Not during the biggest week of her career. She has a panel to do and booksellers to meet and a goddamn studio to charm and the absolute last fucking thing she needs is a publicity scandal that makes her look like some sort of … some sort of …
She’s so irritated, so uncomfortable, she can’t even think of the word.
And then there’s something deeper …
Something shaky, a strange buzzing in her body that she’s never quite been able to avoid when she faces rejection. It’s reminiscent of the first time a negative review about her book went viral; it’s the same anxiety-riddled feeling she’d get when she was younger and she got a bad grade in school.
Except this feels even worse.
She doesn’t even know Theo. She’s certainly not using him. Sage inhales through her nose and forces her mind to focus on the facts:
She’s not actually dating Theo, so these rumors can be easily squashed.
Taylor, her publicist, is literally blocks away in a meeting. Sage can talk to her as soon as she’s done.
She didn’t do anything wrong.
“Sage,” Emerson urges, her hand warm on her wrist. “Say something.”
Sage swallows. Runs through the facts again.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
She nods.
“I’m fine,” she finally manages. She copies the link to the Instagram post and pastes it in a text to Taylor, along with a Need to talk ASAP.
Taylor’s text comes back immediately. Vaguely, Sage remembers her saying something about having Google Alerts for her authors’ names. She imagines Taylor’s phone buzzing like a vibrator in whatever meeting she’s in and promptly wants to perish.
Saw it. Where are you?
Wine bar—28th and 11th.
Be there in five. And for fuck’s sake, stay offline.
Sage lets her head fall back against the booth as she tosses her phone on the plush seat next to her. “First major event, and I’ve caused a scandal large enough for Taylor to leave a meeting.”
“She’s on her way?” Sage can’t tell if it’s worry or relief that coats Emerson’s tone.
Sage just nods, her thick hair staticky against the velvet.
“She’ll know exactly what to do,” Emerson assures her.
“And look. It’s not all bad, you know? See how many new followers you have. Those are all potential readers!”
Sage’s head feels heavy as she lifts it to narrow her eyes at Emerson. “These people do not give a shit about Nights.”
“Not with that attitude they won’t.” Emerson wilts a little under her continued glare. “Too soon for humor?”
Sage is trying very, very hard to not take her anxiety and spew it like fire onto Emerson.
She’s done it before to those she loves, when the spinning record in her mind goes too fast. As easy as it would be to blame Emerson for this mess …
it’s not her fault. It’s not like Emerson planned for Sage to be photographed with Netflix’s newest darling.
God. What are the odds of something like this? Theo being Theo and Sage tripping and the fucking paparazzi being there to catch it all?
“Why do they even care?” Sage grumbles. “I thought you said Theo was a new celebrity.”
Emerson’s mouth pinches in concentration as she scrolls through her phone. “It looks like there have been rumors lately that he’s seeing someone. Unconfirmed, of course. But just a few weeks ago, there was a big stir online about it.”
“You just happened to miss that, did you?” Sage deadpans.
Emerson looks sheepish as she dutifully fills Sage’s wineglass.
Sage takes a long sip of the pinot and focuses her attention on the door.
In what feels like no time at all, Taylor is striding through it, looking far too composed for having just found one of her authors in the middle of a gossip column scandal.
She sits down, takes Emerson’s wineglass, and drains it in three long gulps.
“Right,” Taylor says. “So when we caught up yesterday, you didn’t think to tell me that you’d met Theo Sharpe on the plane?”
“I didn’t know who he was,” Sage mutters, as if this would at all help her case. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”
Taylor blinks at her, her jaw shifting as if she’s trying to determine if she wants to pick apart Sage’s stupidity. “Well, I’d say it’s pretty relevant now.” To Emerson, she says, “I take it you knew?”
Emerson has the decency to look properly scolded. “I might have recognized him.”
Taylor lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Do I need to get Anna on the phone for this?”
Sage feels her shoulders curve inward. “She’s on a transatlantic flight right now. Email her a debrief?”
“Fine. Here’s what we’re going to do. I guess first, I need to ask—you’re not fucking Theo Sharpe, right?”
“I just told you I didn’t even know who he was!”
Taylor shoots her a look. “Forgive me for making sure I get all of the details this time. So you met him on the plane and just happened to be bombarded by paparazzi?”
“We think they were there for Chris Evans,” Emerson chimes in, as if that’s somehow helpful.
She looks down at her phone, thumbs moving rapidly across her screen.
“Yep,” she chirps, holding up her phone.
Sure enough, there’s Captain America in all of his glory.
Sage’s lungs squeeze in her chest as she notes, hysteria edging into the inner voice that narrates constantly in her head, that his aviators aren’t enough to hide his identity, even from her.
Taylor closes her eyes and inhales deeply, as if praying to some higher power for patience.
“Okay,” she says levelly, meeting Sage’s gaze and ignoring Emerson completely. “We’re going to issue a very, very casual statement. And by we, I mean you.”
There’s a bitter taste of guilt on the back of Sage’s tongue, that voice whispering something that sounds like you and a problem, but she swallows it down. She needs to focus.
“How bad is it really, Taylor?”
Taylor waves a hand. “A truly unreal situation, but … it’s fine. I’m more annoyed that you didn’t tell me. Now get drafting.”
It takes them thirty minutes and several glasses of wine (for Emerson at least, given Sage and Taylor need a clear head) to come up with something that Taylor approves and Sage feels sounds enough like her.
The post is simple: black text over a white background. And yet hitting Post feels sort of like jumping off a cliff without a parachute.
Wow. Hi to all the new faces! The good news (for you, and Theo, I guess!): I am very much not with Theo Sharpe.
We just happened to be on the same plane out to Comic Con!
Was great to meet him, though, and who knows—maybe you can still go shoot your shot?
! The bad news (for me): I’m fairly certain 99% of you are here because of those pictures.
But that’s okay! Anyway, if you’re at Comic Con this week, come say hey! Would love to meet you!
The comments start immediately, but Sage turns off her phone per Taylor’s instructions as her publicist shoots off an email to Anna. She’s definitely not looking forward to that late-night phone call when her agent lands in New York.
“I really think this will blow over,” Taylor says, an uncharacteristically soft look on her face as she holds Sage’s gaze. “Try not to stress too much about it, okay? If anything, we can work it to our advantage.”
Sage will most definitely be stressing about this. Her overactive mind has already added it to the litany of other things that she’s been cycling through on repeat leading up to this week, but if she buries herself in her draft tonight, maybe she won’t have to think about it too much.
“Two hours, no Internet,” Taylor continues, her voice hardening as she points a finger at Sage. “Don’t make me take your phone away.”
“Yes, Mom,” Sage intones, her lips quirking into the closest thing to a smile she’s been able to muster in the last hour. It’s a miracle she can even manage humor this soon.
Taylor rolls her eyes and drains the rest of Emerson’s wine again despite her protests.
“I have meetings to get back to. I’ll see you in the morning for coffee with Ballad.
Try not to get papped with any more celebrities between now and then.
” She shoots Emerson a look that clearly says behave before sliding out of the booth and striding out the door.
“I take it we’re paying for her drinks?” Emerson says with a hint of incredulousness.
“Technically those were your drinks.”
Emerson flips her off and pays anyway.
Sage manages to wait three whole hours without checking Instagram, and it’s only because the last hour has been spent on the phone with Margot recounting The Incident fifty times over.
“Okay, but like … is he dreamy?” Margot’s voice is eager through the speaker. “He seems dreamy.”
Emerson snorts into the comforter of their king-sized hotel bed. “He’s dreamy!” she calls, dodging Sage’s attempt to keep her head buried.
“He reeks of pretty boy energy,” Sage says, her ankles crossing in the air as she lays face down on the mattress.
Margot gasps. “Oh my god, have you been reading that book on personal vibrations I gave you?!”
“No, Margot.”
“I’m telling you, Sage, it could be great for you. There’s a whole chapter on setting energetic boundaries. Imagine what that could do for your phone calls with your mom!”
Emerson waggles her brows at Sage, and Sage shoves Emerson’s head back into the comforter. “Speaking of boundaries,” Sage says over Emerson’s squeal. “I’m hanging up now. My energetic force field needs refreshing.”
“That’s not a thing,” Margot retorts with a sniff. “See if I help the next time your vibrations are low.”
Sage rolls her eyes. “Love you, M. At the highest vibration possible.”
Margot groans, but there’s a fond exasperation to it. “Love you too. Send me updates.”
“I will!” Emerson calls gleefully just before Sage clicks off the phone. “I’m going to shower,” she declares, rolling dramatically off the bed.
Sage puts on some rom-com for background noise before pulling up her email. There’s nothing from Anna, but she didn’t expect a reply yet. Anna takes flying without Wi-Fi very seriously. It’s about the only time her agent gets to binge movies uninterrupted.
She does, however, have a text from Noah, with a screenshot of her Instagram post and a bunch of question marks.
???? Is this a marketing thing?
Leave it to her brother to hit her main fear right on the first go.
For all he takes his role of big brother seriously, Noah lacks Emerson’s emotional finesse. He’s excellent if you want a five-pronged argument for why you deserve a raise, but quieting the inner voice that tells you you’re shit?
Not his forte.
It doesn’t make her love him any less. It does, however, mean she sends a pointed no, and moves on to Instagram.
Her notifications are still going wild, her post about Theo easily having become her highest liked. She’s sort of bitter about it, but at least that means people are reading it.
She swallows and pulls up the comments.
View all 200 comments
Emmairl55 oh thank god
Rrt9013 what a fucking transparent publicity stunt. using a celeb to boost your book? 1 star review, don’t even need to read it.
3 HOURS AGO
Her inbox is also full of messages, some from friends, some from readers, another from Noah (he’s sent her her own post with a simple WTF?
?), some from random strangers on the Internet.
She answers a few, tells Noah to stick to one medium for communication, and ignores the rest. She’s about to close out of the app when another message appears.
NEW MESSAGE: @theosharpeactor
Sage’s heart skips a beat. Was she supposed to loop his team into this or something? Is she about to be scolded by some fancy Hollywood PR pro?
What does ‘very much not with’ someone mean? Is it different than just … ‘not with’? You’re an author so I assume you use words intentionally. Should I not hold out hope?
She stares at the message for a long moment.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she mutters. But a reluctant smile tugs at the corner of her lips. She can, despite her annoyance at the situation, respect his audacity. Perhaps that’s why she types out a response before she can think better of it.
You can’t seriously be joking about this.
Tell your groupies to back down.
She tosses her phone onto the fluffy white comforter with an incredulous huff. Sure, a gossip scandal like this might not impact Theo’s career the way it could hers, but he could at least have some empathy. She’s getting dragged by his rabid fan base.
Sage hates herself a little for how she eyes her phone for a response.
Theo Sharpe
@theosharpeactor * Instagram
[View profile]
6:45 PM
First of all, they call themselves ‘Theologians,’ and secondly, I will do no such thing.
They bloody terrify me.
I’m going to share a screenshot of that.
Please don’t, I beg of you.
How do I know this is even you?
Aren’t you fancy enough to have people run this account?
Give me your number and I’ll prove it.
Sage hesitates, a feeling stirring in her stomach not unlike the lurch she feels on a roller coaster.
312-555-4789. Leak it and I kill you.