Page 15

Chapter 15

The Ugly Side Of Things

Bex

M y phone chimes with a text message.

I immediately regret opening it after seeing where it comes from.

Dad :

I don’t know where you are and I don’t care. I no longer have a daughter. And like you ceased to exist for me the day you ran away, so did Rebecca Shine. I created her and I have the right to destroy her.

The good news is that Dad isn’t trying to bring me back into his fold. The bad news? He made sure that my social media career was well and truly dead.

When I left his house, I knew he would probably have a couple of weeks’ worth of the content I recorded in the last few days before the wedding.

While I hated that he would continue to profit from my hard work, there was nothing I could do to stop him. He owned the rights to Rebecca Shine. I was na?ve enough not to even look at the contract he made me sign, and I only have myself to blame for it.

If I thought that Byron Harper was my dad before being my manager, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Another thing I should have known is that my dad is an all-or-nothing kind of man. You’re either with him or you’re against him. And he obliterates his enemies, even if they’re his flesh and blood.

So he chose not to use the final dance videos I recorded. Good news, right? Wrong.

Like I regretted reading his text message. I know I shouldn’t have checked the Rebecca Shine account the second I open it from my personal profile.

At first I’m surprised that I wasn’t blocked, but when I see what he did, I understand why.

Dad didn’t use the videos I worked on before leaving. At least, not the edited version.

What he posted is a series of segments that had been cut.

I look sloppy, uncoordinated and a million miles away from the dancing sensation that amassed over ten million followers on the most popular video app on the planet.

But if that is horrible and career destroying, Dad didn’t stop there. During my time in the house, we were filmed during our “downtime.” That content was supposed to look candid, but of course it was staged. Cameras were also always on in the communal areas of the house; so if there was anything that was usable, after some editing work, our day to day life could end up in our feed.

At least that was what I thought.

In reality, there must have been hidden cameras in every room, because together with my “bloopers,” Dad also posted some extremely unflattering photos and videos of me.

The worst ones are the one from when I had an allergic reaction to seafood and blew up like a balloon. He chose the right frames after I came back from the hospital and most of the swelling had come down. However, my face was covered in red, angry hives. With the right lighting and angle, I look like I have really bad skin. Another video shows me a few weeks later, when the steroid therapy I was given has caused me to bloat and gain weight.

The captions are what truly bring tears to my eyes.

This is the real Rebecca Shine. Without all the makeup and the clothes, especially designed to make her look beautiful.

But what hurts the most? All my friends and co-workers are sharing those photos and videos to make them go viral. And they’re posting mean comments.

Aisha : Ugh. Rebecca, you’re so ugly, girl.

Kev : Fat. No wonder she couldn’t dance to save her own life lately. I almost broke my back trying to lift her in our latest video .

Daisy : Go on a diet, girl. Stop eating pizza, you look like one. Round and full of blemishes.

Kurt : I dodged a bullet when I broke off the engagement. Ugly, untalented, unfaithful. She brings shame to us all.

Those are the kindest comments. Seeing their favorite stars hating on me makes the millions of fans I thought I had go absolutely rabid.

Jodi4ever : You should kill yourself, you fat, useless waste of space.

ValfromCali : You can’t polish a turd and make it shine. I’ve always thought Rebecca was shit .

Walter123 : It shows you the power of filters. Without a filter, Rebecca is an ugly c*nt. I bet Kurt had to fuck her from behind not to look at that face. Oh, wait. That’s if he could find her c*nt with that huge ass in the way !

Tears blur my vision, hot and welling up, ready to spill. With millions of followers, I’ve seen negative comments before, but never this vicious. And every nasty comment has thousands of likes and comments agreeing and piling on. Everyone hates me.

I know I should stop looking at those posts. I also know that the things my former friends said aren’t necessarily what they truly think. I’ve lived in that house too, and I know what happens when someone falls out of my dad’s good graces. The bullying starts with small things. Like your content is always deemed sloppy and you’re asked to shoot it again, and again. Other people in the house ignore you and refuse to collab with you. You’re put on probation, which means you have a set number of weeks to increase your followers by a certain percentage. If you fail, you’re evicted from the house and dropped as a client.

Dad has everyone so brainwashed that they don’t realize how over the years, he’s taken all their freedom. He’s exploited their skills and star power, profiting from their work in exchange for a room in a gilded prison that looks luxurious only because all his clients tend to come from nothing.

They’re scholarship students, people without the financial and often physical support of a solid family. All it takes to suck them into the vortex of Pure Shine is a few promises and a couple of branded trinkets. A new phone, some designer clothes. The promise of fame.

The fear of losing all those things is such that they don’t realize how their freedom is chipped away little by little. How one rule turns into ten, twenty, fifty. Until they follow because they’ve stopped thinking with their own head; they have too much to lose if they fall out of line. Because Dad holds their destinies in the palm of his hand. He owns them thanks to cleverly crafted contracts that make his clients products, of which he has total control.

I know those things were posted out of self-preservation. Because anyone who refused to bully me would end up just like me.

That’s another thing Dad is excellent at. He makes an example out of the people who wrong him.

I know all that, and yet… those words hurt anyway and those tears break their dams and fall, hot and fast.

I curl up on Luke’s bed, my bed now, with my arms around Lady Marmalade’s fish bowl.

My goldfish swims as close as possible to my face. Her little mouth touches the curved glass near my cheek, as if she were trying to comfort me with a kiss. “You and Luke are the only family I have left, Lady M,” I tell her. “The only parent I have, the man who should have loved me, protected me, and looked out for me, has cut me off. He cut the fat, like he likes to say. Me. I’m the fat. I don’t know if you miss your fish family, Lady M. But I promise I’ll take care of you. Always.”

The tears keep coming and at some point, I fall asleep with my face against the fish bowl and my body curled up in the fetal position. I don’t wake up until someone sits on the edge of the mattress and moves a strand of hair away from my forehead.

Jamie

Bex’s room is dark when I open the door after knocking a few times without a response.

At first, I almost think that she must be out. Then my eyes adjust to the darkness, and I see her curled up on top of Luke’s comforter with something in her arms. I can’t see the color of the dark blue comforter I know Luke favors, but I decide I’m going to take Bex out shopping this weekend and get her a new one. She should have her own bedding.

“Bex?” I call out, but she doesn’t even stir. We’re supposed to go eat dinner in the main dining hall tonight.

Maybe I should let her sleep, but it’s only six pm. And besides, she needs to eat dinner too.

The thought hits me that maybe she’s sick, and I sit on the edge of the mattress, turning on the lamp on Luke’s nightstand.

Bex has her arms around the fishbowl with the little goldfish she won at the county fair the night she arrived in Star Cove. Her face is streaked with tears and I can’t help but worry. Did she run into Connor or Keene? They both weren’t pleased with me and Luke for making that deal with the Dean. But Keene was especially furious, and I wonder if he took out his frustration on Bex.

“Baby?” I whisper, moving a lock of silky blonde hair away from her forehead. Her skin feels hot and clammy at the same time. “Bex?”

Her long eyelashes flutter a couple of times as she stirs. The green depths of her eyes are darkened by sleep when she finally looks at me.

“Jamie?”

“Hey.” I murmur. “I was waiting for you in the living room. We’re supposed to go to dinner. Remember?”

She sits up with a gasp. The abrupt movement causes a little bit of water to slosh out of the fishbowl.

I grab it from her and set Lady Marmalade’s new home safely on the nightstand. “Are you ok?”

Her eyes drift away, her gaze lowered to the comforter. “Yeah, sorry.” She lies.

This is uncharted territory for me. This emotional stuff. Usually, I keep things with women as superficial as possible. I’m their guy if all they want is a night of fun in bed, but my involvement ends the second the condom hits the trash can.

Bex is my girlfriend. It doesn’t matter that we aren’t really dating and we aren’t madly in love like we need everyone to believe.

If she isn’t happy, it’ll show when she’s out with me and everyone will believe that I’m a shitty boyfriend. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I trap her chin between my fingers and coax her eyes back up, forcing her to meet my gaze.

“You’ve been crying.” I keep my voice as low and as gentle as I can muster. Had she been one of my teammates, this would have been easy. A slap on the back and a crude joke would have conveyed the message that I’m there for them. But I doubt that would work with the soft, delicate creature who’s looking at me with a sadness so deep that it makes me want to go after whoever caused it and make them pay.

“I—you don’t have to worry about that, Jamie.”

That’s where she’s wrong. “Hey, of course I worry about you. This dating thing might not be what we want everyone to think it is, but we can be friends. Right? And I care about my friends.”

She closes her eyes for one moment. When she looks at me again, I see new tears welling up in them. “I would love to be friends. God knows I don’t have any.”

“Why do you say that? I’m sure that isn’t true.” I attempt to console her, letting go of her chin and tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Her eyes drift to the nightstand, where her phone is lying face down, next to the fishbowl.

“What happened? Did Priestly bother you?” I can’t stop thinking about what Luke told me. That piece of shit she almost married had better watch out next time we play against Bridgeport.

The story comes out bit by bit. Bex is hesitant at first, but in the end she shows me the posts and comments that upset her to the point that she cried herself to sleep.

I’m livid. I knew that their dad wasn’t father of the year material from Luke’s story. Who kicks their child, a minor, out of the house because their sexuality isn’t what you wanted it to be? But if that’s despicable, what he’s doing to Bex is criminal. Literally.

“Cyber bullying is a crime in California.” I tell her. “You should report all of them. Including your dad.”

She exhales a shuddering breath. “Dad would just say that he has nothing to do with those posts and that he can’t control what other people say online.”

I disagree. “Those are his clients. He should be able to control them at least online. You should report them to the platform they posted on, and to the police.”

She begins shaking her head, her eyes wide with fear. “I can’t. If I ignore them, they’ll eventually stop. But if I go after them, who knows what my dad will do? He could take me to court for breach of contract. He could try to hurt Luke’s career if he knew he took me in. He has so many connections everywhere. His text message says he doesn’t care where I am. I’m fine with that. If I can help it, I never want to see him again.”

I pull her closer to me. She nestles into my arms, with her head resting on my shoulder. I’m not used to being this close to someone unless we’re fucking, of course. Somehow, this feels even more intimate than sex. “Ok. I understand.”

Bex lifts her head to look at me. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” I say softly. I don’t tell her that I’ve been bullied before. I don’t want to make this about me. But I understand.

A loud noise surprises both of us. It comes from Bex’s stomach.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” She blushes.

“Come on,” I encourage her to get out of bed. “It’s obvious that your stomach agrees with the plan to get some dinner. I came home straight from practice, and I’m starving.”

She grabs the jersey I gave her and puts it on, over the tank top and leggings she was wearing in bed. “Is this ok?” she asks, pointing at her clothes.

“You’re perfect.” I smile.

I haven’t given my jersey to a girl since high school. Of course, fans wear my number six jersey all the time, but this is different. For a while, I really thought I didn’t care about this stuff. But I like it. I like to see my name and number on Bex.

“Do we have a minute?” she asks, heading to the en-suite bathroom. “My face is a complete mess. I can’t be seen in public like this.”

I enter the small bathroom, stopping behind her and meeting her eyes in the mirror above the sink. The red blotches and the puffiness caused by her crying are gone. “If you want to put on makeup, I can wait. But don’t do it for me. You’re perfect the way you are. Beautiful.”

I hope she knows I mean it.

A small smile curls the corners of her soft lips. “Thank you, Jamie. But if we’re going to be seen together, I don’t want to tarnish your image. We want people to think you’re off the market and not interested in hooking up anymore. No one will believe that if your girlfriend looks hideous.”

I grab her hips, turning her around to face me. Her body is trapped between me and the vanity cabinet. The urge to lift her to sit on the edge of the sink and kiss her is strong, but I resist it.

“Fuck them. Fuck anyone who has nothing better to do than to worry about what other people do and what the fuck they look like. You could never be hideous. You’re beautiful with or without makeup. And actually, if you don’t feel like going out to eat, I can order us some takeout and we can eat it here.”

“Why would we do that?” she chuckles. “The entire point of us going out is to be seen together.”

Her hand lands on my chest, and I cover it with mine. I like her touch and I wonder if she can feel how fast my heart is beating. Hopefully she can’t feel the way my cock has taken notice of her nearness, beginning to harden in my jeans.

“We’re friends, right?” my tone is serious and she nods. “Then our fake relationship can wait for one night. If you don’t feel up to going out, we’re staying in.”

Bex shakes her head. “No, let’s go. Going out will take my mind off of all my past life drama.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Yes, ma’am.”

Going out is fine by me, because it means I get to kiss her. When I saw Bex for the first time, I was disappointed that she was so hot. The team’s bro-code is clear about not messing with a teammate’s sister. But what do you know? Sometimes the universe works in mysterious ways.