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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The trophies handed out onstage were not actually the trophies that were for keeps. Didn’t matter, though. Ella won each of her categories, though she had apparently missed a couple presentations. Thankfully, Tara had gleefully given her speeches. The Best of the Best award was what sent Tara over the edge of happy to thrilled. Interview upon interview had been lined up afterward, all live broadcast on every possible social media source.
Ella was exhausted, and even though Bishop had kept the Vicks fresh and discreet, she was in desperate need of a shower. More than that, for the last hour, she had felt a cold chill—the same feeling that came with every stalker incident. Whoever had caused her problems was in the room; she was sure of it. But looking around, there was nothing to pinpoint.
“I want to get out of here,” she said to Tara. Ella eyed Bishop and tried to flag him over. The few feet of distance might have been miles as Tara stood between the two of them, trying to snag every person she could to cover any angle on Eco-Ella.
“No can do.” Tara shook her head. “We have five more—”
“Nope.” Bishop must have bio-enhanced ears. He took a step around her publicist. “We’re out.”
“I don’t think you call the shots here, buddy,” Tara snipped.
“I thinkIdo.” Ella grabbed onto his outstretched hand. “And I’m done, Tara. Honestly. My voice is gone. My answers sound canned. No one left here even cares about what I say anymore; they won’t post or air my interviews.”
Tara didn’t disagree.
Bishop urged her a few steps. “Let’s blow this place.”
Jay stepped closer. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m tired. Done with all of this.”
“I’ll—”
“We’re headed out,” she said, standing closer to Bishop. “I will touch base with you both tomorrow. Thanks for everything.”
If she had one more ounce of energy, she would tell them to go celebrate the enormous success they had just achieved instead of trying to land one more iota of coverage. But then again, it was their job.
With Jay and Tara bitching in the background, Bishop parted the crowd like Tara never could. Ella suspected it had something to do with that menacing-handsome combination he managed to work so well in a tuxedo.
“This way.” They ducked out the back side of the overhead tunnel made from tents and exited into an alleyway.
She picked up her skirt and tried to keep pace in her heels. Finally, they reached a parking garage, and he led the way to the elevators.
“You’ll have to survive a ride in the eco-gas guzzler.”
“If you recall, I handle your ride fine.”
He looked down, letting his eyes linger on her face long enough to make her feel an uncertain scrutiny. “I know.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Holding them for her with one arm, he swept the other arm out, gesturing with a bow. “Eco-Ella. Winner extraordinaire.”
“Stop it.”
He laughed and followed her into the elevator. “You racked up tonight.”
“We did.”
He tilted his head back as they ascended floors. “You know, I’m aware that you’re actually the only person who does the whole blogging-vlogging-posting thing. Everyone else takes their marching orders and works part time, but you—” The doors opened, and he did the grand gesture thing again, holding them at bay.
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You do everything. You’re the brains of the operation.”
“Don’t blow too much smoke my way.”
He caught her shoulder, swinging her around to face him. “Congratulations. From someone who had little idea what you’ve done but has clued in pretty quickly. It’s impressive.You’reimpressive.”