Page 34

THIRTY-FOUR

Ella

I WOULD’VE MUCH PREFERRED to be at The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon , but The Elliot Brown Show isn’t too bad, I guess. It’s the third talk show appearance Blake’s done this month. They’ve all gone great, but he’s still anxious. I’m losing circulation in my right hand because of how tightly Blake’s grasping it. His deep brown eyes look over every inch of the studio like it’s a torture chamber. The show producer is walking us around, giving Blake a breakdown of the segment. He nods along, half listening, half glaring. Marion’s elbowed him no fewer than five times, hissing that he needs to pay attention.

The halls of the studio are lined with framed wall portraits and posters of the famous guests who have appeared on the show before. I spy a photo of Elton John as we make our way to the dressing rooms. The moment the producer leaves to take care of some pre-show checks, Blake starts pacing the length of the room. Marion shoots me a worried look, but I give her a reassuring smile.

Blake only stops his incessant walking when the other guest for today’s show bursts in. Gemma Buckley is a health and wellness guru who’s launching her own book soon, hence their pairing for this episode. She’s a real-life Barbie doll with her honey-blond hair, unblemished skin, and kick-ass body. I may buy her book if it divulges how to look so … flawless.

“Blake Hollis!” she squeals, pulling my boyfriend into a massive hug. “It is so nice to finally meet you!”

I wonder if her boobs are real or fake. I’ll have to ask Blake considering they’re pressed up against him. I’ve decided I no longer want to read her book.

“Lovely to meet you as well.” He takes a step back, keeping a healthy distance between the two of them. “This is my girl-friend, Ella.”

Blake gently nudges me forward and two seconds later, I’m enveloped in Gemma’s toned, tanned arms. She smells like a rose-filled garden.

“You look so familiar,” Gemma muses when I’m finally released from her Velociraptor-like grip. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so.” There’s no way I’d forget that. “Maybe I just have one of those faces.”

She gently grabs my chin, turning my face from side to side. I awkwardly take a step back so I’m out of her grasp, bumping into Blake, who’s watching with amusement.

“I’ll figure it out.” She nods to herself. “I have to go finish up hair and makeup, but I’ll see you out there, Blake!”

“She’s nice.” Blake chuckles, leaning against the wall after she’s left. Nice is one way to put it.

A crew of people comes in to whisk him away thirty minutes later. It’s showtime, baby.

I’m not sure if Blake’s gotten better at being interviewed, or if he’s just ready to get this round of his press tour over with, but he’s brought his A-game. He’s the perfect combination of charming and confident with a side of cheekiness. The audience is loving every minute of it.

“So your girlfriend is one of your biographers,” Elliot says with a wink. “Tell us about that. Work hard, play hard?”

I hear Marion sigh frustratedly under her breath. Same, girl, same . This interview is supposed to be about Blake and the biography, not the writer he’s dating. I’m almost positive I’m listed as a persona non grata on Blake’s release form. The audience laughs as Elliot leans forward like he’s about to receive salacious information.

“Well, she wasn’t my girlfriend when she took the job,” Blake responds coolly. He likes not having to hide our relationship, but he’s still fiercely overprotective of me, threatening to keep reporters out of the press room if they don’t respect my personal space. Having me brought up on live television? Not going to bode well for anyone. “She’s a journalist first and fore-most and a phenomenal writer, so she’s not biased. Just the other day she asked me if I pay extra when I travel since my confidence must take up so much luggage space, if that tells you anything.”

“What’d you say?” Elliot asks. The way he’s resting his elbows on the desk in front of him makes me roll my eyes. He couldn’t be more desperate for information if he tried.

Blake grins, his teeth flashing white against his tanned skin. “I fly private, so it’s never been an issue.”

The audience gobbles it up like cake, leaving no crumbs left behind.

“Good on her.” Elliot nods delightedly. “I can imagine it’s hard to be unbiased since it looks like the two of you are in the honeymoon phase.”

An image of Blake and me appears on the screen behind them. It’s from the last Grand Prix. Blake’s holding his trophy above his head with one arm, the other wrapped tightly around my waist. We’re staring at each other like we’re the only ones in the room. It’s one of those photos you would want to add to your Pinterest board titled “J’adore” or something cheesy like that. The audience erupts into a chorus of “awwws.”

“Look at you lovebirds!” Gemma places her hands over her heart. “You two are positively adorable.”

Blake barely acknowledges the photo.

“In case the audience doesn’t know, Blake’s girlfriend is pretty successful in her own right,” Elliot continues. “She used to host a podcast for PlayMedia, which is one of the largest sport and entertainment media companies in America.”

Elliot Brown fucking sucks in comparison to Jimmy Fallon.

Gemma turns toward Blake, smacking him lightly on the arm. “That’s why she looked so familiar earlier!”

Blake says nothing, but I see the muscles in his neck tense. Mine do the same. I really don’t want to be the topic of conversation anymore.

“We pulled some stats and her podcast received four point seven stars from over seventy thousand reviews. Quite remarkable for a female-hosted sports show!”

“Go fuck yourself, Elliot,” I mumble under my breath.

“That is quite impressive,” Marion whispers to me, trying to diffuse the situation. “At least it’s not mean tweets or anything sordid like that.”

“One of PlayMedia’s biggest podcasts is blowing up in the UK right now,” Elliot continues with a relaxed smile. “ Trash Talk I think it’s called. Have you listened to it? I haven’t yet, but I know they’ve covered some Formula 1 races.”

“No,” Blake states, his voice flat. His demeanor has changed from relaxed to angry within the span of a question. It’s not lost on anyone.

A new image appears on the screen and I blink in a stupe-fied trance. It’s of Connor and me at the launch party of Coffee with Champions . It feels like I’ve been sucker punched. A lump rises in my throat as I look at myself grinning next to Connor like it’s the best fucking day of my life. I was excited to learn from him, to have him as a mentor. His arm is draped over my shoulders, a slight smirk on his face. At the time, I thought the worst thing I’d have to deal with was bad reviews on Spotify.

“Where’d you get that photo?” Blake hisses. He’s gripping the arms of the chair so tightly he may claw through the fabric. “Take it the fuck down.”

“Oh!” Gemma giggles in delight. “Are you jealous?”

“Bloody fucking cock-up,” Marion swears. She waves her hands, trying to catch Blake’s attention, but it’s no use. His eyes are focused on Gemma. He needs to control himself and walk away. My entire body is on edge, my chest tightening. I’m biting my lip so hard I taste blood.

“She’s obviously close with him since they worked together,” Gemma says, completely oblivious to the effect her words are having on Blake. “Maybe she had a little office romance with him. I’d be jealous of that if it were me.”

“An office romance?” Blake spits out. The sharpness of his voice could pierce through stone. “Brixton’s a fucking predator.”

Adrenaline swirls through my veins, igniting my fight-orflight instincts. I silently beg Blake to let it go. He’s already said too much.

“Just because he worked with Ella doesn’t make him a predator,” she scoffs critically.

“He’s a bastard who harasses and assaults women,” Blake states flatly. “He belongs in a jail cell.”

This is not happening. This cannot be happening. My body trembles as waves of anger and fear flow through it. Marion places her hand on the small of my back to steady me.

“How do you know he’s done that?” Elliot inquires. “That’s a pretty big accusation to make. I know you should never judge a book by its cover, but he seems like a proper fellow. The people love him. It’s why he’s got such a cult following.”

He knows his question is going to push Blake over the edge and he knows what it’ll do for his ratings. Hot, angry tears roll down my face as I clutch my hands to my heart.

“Oh my God,” Gemma balks, realization claiming her features. “Did he harass your girlfriend?”

“Do you consider him asking her if she wants a dildo that was made from a silicone mold of his dick harassment?” Blake’s so angry that he’s visibly shakings. “Or how about when he choked her and then tried to force himself on her? Is that considered assault?”

There’s a small circle of close friends and family who know what happened at PlayMedia, but that number just grew to include the half a million people tuning in. Gemma’s jaw drops and she struggles to regain her composure. Elliot, on the other hand, jumps on the opportunity to probe more. I know as well as he does that this interview is going to go viral.

“That’s definitely inexcusable behavior.” He nods sympathetically. “Is there proof of her alleged assault?”

Alleged. The word presses down on me like a bruise. Painful and sore. It bothers Blake just as much because he loses any and all restraint. There’s no stopping him unless security drags him out, and even then, he’d be kicking and screaming. I stop listening. I can’t focus on what he’s saying, nor do I care to. I’ve already lived through this in private; I don’t need to hear about it while the world finds out.

It feels as if drops of ice are trailing down my spine as I stumble away from the stage, finding my way outside. The fresh air dries the tears on my cheeks, staining them against my skin. I wrap my arms around my waist, trying to calm my erratic breathing. After a few minutes, I’m able to wave down a cab. I give them Josie’s address, knowing I can’t go back to my own place.

Josie’s waiting for me outside of her building, bundled in a winter coat. She pulls me into a hug, telling me that I’m going to be okay, that it’s going to be okay. Nothing about this is going to be okay. She keeps her hand interlocked with mine as we make our way up to her apartment. I’m holding on to her like she’s a lifeline, unable to stop my heart from thudding against my ribcage.

She gives me clothes to change into and sits me down on the couch. Fierce sobs wrack my body, making it hard to catch my breath. I feel like I’m drowning in tears, unable to wipe them off my cheeks quick enough before more follow suit. Josie doesn’t leave my side, petting my hair and rubbing calming circles into my back. All the memories I’ve fought so hard to get control of are swirling around in my head, not stopping to let me take a breath. It’s like I reverted to where I was a year ago. It’s the last place I want to be, but I don’t know how to escape it.

Josie takes control of my phone, fielding texts and calls like she’s J.J. Watt. There’s no way anyone in America will see this before tomorrow, so at least I don’t have to deal with Poppy or my parents right now. I don’t even know what to say to them.

“Marion texted you, asking if you’re all right,” Josie informs me. “She said she’s working on getting them to scrap the episode, but no luck so far. Blake’s also been calling you nonstop.”

The last thing I want is to talk to Blake. “Just turn my phone off.”

She nods. It may not be the most mature thing, but I can’t deal with him right now. Josie makes us tea once I’ve calmed down a bit, and I sip it gratefully. My throat feels raw from crying, the hot green tea a much-needed antidote.

Theo starts calling Josie incessantly. She turns her phone on silent, letting each one go to voicemail.

“Blake’s going to show up here sooner or later, babes.” She looks at me for direction on how to proceed. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t care.” I don’t have enough energy to care. “I just don’t want to see Blake.”

She answers Theo’s next call on speakerphone with a curt, “Hello.”

“Is Ella with you?” Theo greets Josie with a strained voice. “Blake’s absolutely losing his mind trying to find her.”

“Yes,” Josie reveals after a long pause. “She’s here.”

We can hear him telling Blake that I’ve been located like he’s some fucking secret agent. “Blake’s going to—”

“Theo, she doesn’t want to see him,” Josie interrupts, her voice stern. “The front desk of my building knows not to let him up, so don’t bother trying.”

I can’t help but crack a small smile. Josie lives in a walk-up, but neither of them knows this.

“Um, that’s … not going to go over well.” Theo sighs. “Will you talk to Blake, at least?”

“I have nothing to say to Blake, so no.”

“Josie,” he stresses. “The guy’s a fucking mess. At least let him know she’s okay.”

“He’s a mess?” Her voice rises with incredulity. “How about his girlfriend? You know, the one he just sandbagged on national television? He can go fuck himself up the arse for all I care.”

My jaw drops at Josie’s words. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear so aggressively.

“Well, I’m not going to tell him that.” Theo chuckles quietly. “Please just talk to him.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between them. “He has thirty seconds,” she decides with finality.

“Josie?” Blake’s voice comes through the phone loud and clear. “Is Ella okay?”

“I don’t know, Blake,” Josie says, each word more sarcastic than the last. “Would you be okay if the situation were Uno-reversed?”

“No, of course not.” His voice is so husky it’s almost imperceptible.

“So then obviously she’s not okay. Is that all?”

“Can I talk to her? Please, Josie.”

She cocks her head at me. I take a deep, steadying breath, gathering the little energy I have. I feel each heartbeat pounding in my throat as I turn the phone off of speaker-phone and press it against my ear.

“How could you?” I murmur quietly. Every nerve in my body seems to cry out. “How could you do that to me?”

“I am so fucking sorry, Ella,” Blake says hoarsely. “I lost it and I know that’s no excuse, but I need you to know I did not mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did,” I snap fiercely, the betrayal in my voice harsh. “I told you that in private , Blake . You know it’s not something I like talking about or want people knowing, yet you told the fucking world.”

“Tell me how to fix this.”

“You can’t.” I rub my eyes. My contacts are long gone, cried out somewhere in the streets of Waterloo. “It’s already out there.”

“I’ll have them stop it from airing and I’ll issue an apology. Or I’ll—”

“Stop,” I plead, my voice so low it’s barely audible. “Please.”

“Ella, baby. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I can’t do this,” I interrupt. “Not now.”

“You can’t do what?” The unspoken questions hang in the air.

I can’t do this conversation? This relationship?

“I don’t know.” My voice cracks as I fight to get words out. “I need … space.”

“Okay,” he agrees quickly. “I can get you from Josie’s tomorrow and—”

“No.” I’m trembling, struggling to find my breath. “I need space from you, Blake.”

The silence through the phone is deafeningly loud. My throat is thick with guilt, not wanting to hurt Blake, but not wanting to comfort him either.

“What does that mean?” Blake asks, an eerie calmness in his voice.

“I-I don’t know. I just … need time.”

Time to mourn the loss of privacy this will bring. Time to figure out how this impacts me and any future career I may have. Time to deal with everything without also having to handle Blake’s own emotional fallout.

“Okay,” he says slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “If that’s what you need, Ella.”

“Thanks,” I say so quietly it’s a surprise he can even hear me.

“I’m so sorry, El. I promise I’m going to make things right,” Blake continues agitatedly. “I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk, okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble before ending the call.

Sagging into the couch, I make no attempt to wipe away the tears falling down my face. I try to create a tally of all the shit that’s gone wrong in the past few hours, but I don’t have enough fingers or toes to count that high.