Текст книги "Playing Pretend"
Автор книги: Juliana Haygert
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 12 страниц)
Chapter Eighteen
Mason
I brought my coffee to my lips and the doorbell rang. I almost spilled the whole thing on me. Christ, it was ten in the morning. Didn’t people know I went to bed at four last night? Unless it was Charlotte, then I wouldn’t mind at all. We could crawl into bed together and I could nap on her arms. Nothing sounded better.
But she had been here yesterday, and I knew she had some event to attend today with her mother—most Saturdays were busy for her. Maybe she had escaped.
The bell rang again and I marched to the door.
I opened it and froze.
“Hello, Mr. Rowell,” Donnie said. “May I come in?”
I recovered from my shock and put on a pretend act. “Who are you?”
“You know very well who I am. But you see, I also know who you are.” He examined me with something like disgust in his eyes, and I gulped. Fuck. He knew about Charlotte and me. “Now may I come in?”
* * *
Charlotte
I strolled to class on Monday with gusto. After all, it was the last class before finals and then goodbye summer semester, hello three weeks of vacation.
I checked my phone as I sat in my usual seat. Three days of sharing only messages and quick calls with Mason weren’t enough. I needed to find a way to see him soon.
After a boring lecture, the professor dismissed us and I walked out of the classroom, checking my phone again.
As I looked at the screen, messages from Liana, MaryAnn, and Becca exploded in my inbox. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Fifty in less than a minute. What the hell?
My belly growled. It was past lunchtime and I was starving. I would check and respond to those messages when I got home. My mother wouldn’t be there, but our cook was supposed to have lunch ready for me.
I stepped out of the building, intent on marching to the parking garage as fast as I could, and noticed how campus was too crowded for a Monday, or any other day or time of the week during the summer semester.
Every student was looking at me, whispering to his or her friends, pointing at me. A few of them spied at cell phones or tablets or newspapers, and then turned his or her judging gaze at me.
Uh-oh.
My cell phone rang, but I didn’t check it either. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to stand here and find out. My mother had drilled me about this once.
“Just get out of there,” my mother had said. “Get to your car and drive away, or find somewhere safe and hide. Only then you stop to see what’s happening.”
With my heartbeat speeding out of control, I lowered my head and rushed my steps. As the seconds passed, the crowd grew, and the whispering grew louder.
“Miss McClain!”
Oh, shit. I didn’t have to turn to know that a wave of reporters had landed on campus and was now in pursuit.
My cell phone kept ringing and ringing, the reporters yelled my name, and the students stood there, not helping me in my escape. In fact, they stood in my way, making it harder.
Against my better judgment, I broke into a run. As I stepped onto the parking garage’s sidewalk, a sleek black car appeared beside me.
The passenger side window rolled down and my mother’s chauffer spoke. “Enter, Miss McClain.”
I didn’t think twice. I opened the back door and launched myself into the car.
I half-expected my mother to be inside, yelling at me for whatever had happened.
“Are you okay, Miss McClain?” the chauffer asked.
“Yes,” I answered with a shaky voice. It was an automatic answer. I wasn’t okay at all. “Where’s my mother?”
“She’s on her way to the Executive Mansion. She’ll meet you there.”
I nodded and pressed the button to raise the black glass between us.
As the car drove off campus, I leaned back in the seat and looked at my cell phone. Over four hundred messages from Mason, Liana, MaryAnn, and Becca, and fifty calls from them, my mother, and Donnie.
I didn’t check those though. Instead, I opened the internet browser and google myself. Tons of news headlines showed up on my search. I clicked the first one I saw.
Oddly, it was from the Washington Post. The picture caught my attention first: Mason and I getting heavy against a tree. My heart raced as I shifted my gaze to the headline: The Secret Life of Charlotte McClain.
Without reading the rest of the article, I turned off my phone as if I could erase it all along with it.
* * *
Charlotte
“I told you this would happen!” My mother threw the newspaper on her desk, making me flinch in my seat. She pushed her chair back and paced. “I can’t believe you did this, Charlotte. I can’t believe you let this happen.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was still in shock from what I had read in the newspaper and several gossip websites. Some of them had more pictures of me, Mason, or us together. Me on my knees, drawing on a sidewalk, my short skirt almost too revealing and my hair a mess. Another, I was roller-skating in an abandoned park. They also had photos of Mason working in shitty bars and around his not-so-great neighborhood.
According to them, Mason had gotten involved with me so he could do this, so he would have pictures of us to sell to the paparazzi for a fortune. It all had started during spring break. He had seen me, recognized me, and seduced me. Then, he arranged the move to Washington so he could start part B of his plan. He found out I was going to the Memorial Day Ball and got a job there. From there, he manipulated me more and more. He was the one who took the pictures to the newspaper, and then later to every gossip blog on the worldwide web.
They also mentioned me. How I had let Mason use me, how I had used him. How I spent my time in dangerous parts of the city, went to raves—really?—and done several other crazy stunts, all because he had enticed me. The press called him my boy toy—disgusting. The boy toy had brought out a crazy-driven Charlotte, and now that she was out, who knew what I would do?
Christ, the shit they invented!
Apart from Mason’s act. That had been an act, hadn’t it? Each time I remembered how Mason had touched me, how he had breathed on me, pulled me close, groaned in my ear, a piece of my heart fell away.
When I first bumped into him in Washington, I thought this was his intention, but he had promised it wasn’t. He had proven it—though I knew it was all an act now. He never liked me. He liked money. And since I didn’t shower him with gifts and such, he came up with a new plan.
I shook my head. This couldn’t be true. By everything holy in this life, this couldn’t be true.
My mother turned to me, her eyes fuming. “Is this his name? Mason. Is this the same guy you were with when you came back to the hotel at 5 a.m.? Please, tell me it is, because I can’t deal with it if there are more of your boy toys out there.”
I sob coursed through me. Boy toy. He hadn’t been my boy toy. I liked him too much for that. In fact, I had already passed that phase. I had fallen for him. Now, he was ripping my heart out.
“Only him,” I muttered.
Sarah sneaked into my mother’s office. “Mrs. McClain, I just talked to the security company. They will send more guards immediately.”
Nodding, my mother stopped by the window behind her desk and pushed the curtains half an inch to the side. My curiosity got the best of me and I stood so I could look out too. A swarm of reporters was stationed outside the front gates—and some had tried to climb over the fence around the back, but had been caught and sent to the nearest police station. The reporters and paparazzi kept asking questions to the guards and yelling our names.
“How am I going to fix this?” my mother asked, her voice strained. “Even if we do everything we’re supposed to, it’ll take years for them to forget this.”
For once, she was deluding herself. She knew that they never forgot. Once she started her next campaign, the opposing candidates would dig this out and hang it over her head.
I had no idea how she would fix this, either, and I felt so bad for having caused this. I couldn’t blame her if she hated me right now.
“First things first.” She let go of the curtain and gestured for Sarah to come closer. Her assistant pulled out a notebook and pen, knowing what this meant. “We need to call a press conference. You will tell them how you were tricked. This guy, this scheming and evil man, made you believe he loved you and you, a kind and gracious lady, fell for him. You’ll cry and show them how much you’re hurt.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Are you serious?”
“Excuse me?”
“I was tricked. I am hurting. Really hurting, and you want me to stand in front of dozens of cameras and microphones and use my feelings to save your face?”
“We need to do anything we can to save both our faces.”
“No, Mother, you’re trying to save yours. Your face, not mine.”
Ignoring me, she continued, “Then, we’ll revise your schedule, Charlotte. For a week, you won’t leave the house and we’ll tell everyone it’s because you’re not feeling well after everything that man did to you. I’ll talk to your professors and you’ll finish the summer semester at home. You’ll lie low on a few events, and I’ll ask Tracy to spend a few days here. It’ll be good for you.”
“If you could, you would just erase all of this, because then your reputation would never be tainted, right? You wish you could have kept a tighter leash. Now, you have a rebellious daughter. God, I feel like Prince Harry.”
Apparently, my mother didn’t know much about sarcasm, because she stared at me with pure rage in her eyes. “Don’t you speak to me like that, Charlotte. We’re in this mess because of you. All of this is on you.”
Now I was the one enraged. Yes, I had screwed up everything, but she could try to be more understanding. I thought Mason had been in love with me too. My heart was breaking. And what was my mother doing? Applying more salt to my wound.
The hole in my chest grew and grew. I was tired of how everything was about her, about how I had to behave for her, on how I had to dress for her, on how I had to look for her, what I had to say for her. I wanted to be my own person, to have my own life, to decide my own future.
I raised my chin and stuffed my chest. “That’s enough. I’m done.”
She stared at me as if I was speaking in riddles. “What are you done with?”
“You.”
A frown wrinkled her forehead. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t do this anymore. You can’t rule me as if I were a slave. I’m a person and I have my own wishes, wishes that you never bothered to learn. Hell, you never bothered to know anything about me.”
“But, Charlotte, everything I do for you, everything I chose for you, it’s in your best interest. I would never do something less than stellar for you.”
I shook my head. “Even now, you don’t get it. It’s not about what you want for me, Mom. It’s about what I want for me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Charlotte.” She gestured to the newspapers on her desk. “Didn’t you just prove that you can’t decide anything by yourself?”
I pressed my lips into a thin line and clenched my fists, counting to twenty, because ten wouldn’t do it. Rage and frustration swam in my veins. “I’m out.”
I turned my back to her and marched to the door.
“Charlotte, what are you doing?” my mother asked, her tone rising a little.
“I’m leaving.”
She gaped at me for a moment. “You can’t do this. Look at the mess you caused. You want to add more wood to the fire?”
I paused. I knew this would make things look worse, but I couldn’t sit here and let my mother rule my life and stomp on my dreams because I had ruined her precious career. Come on! Ruined was too strong of a word. Maybe I had caused a huge bump, but she would survive this. After all, the picture was of me, not her. She could simply spin this story, saying I was crazy and she had tried everything to help me, but I was too far gone. Then she would redeem herself by visiting some mental institutions. Or whatever other insane story her publicists could come up with.
I turned the doorknob. “Goodbye.”
“Charlotte Anne McClain!” she yelled. “If you walk out of that door now, be prepared to never come back!”
I looked at her one more time. She would forgive me someday, even if it was in thirty or forty years, when she was dying of old age.
Taking a deep breath, I walked out of her office.
Chapter Nineteen
Charlotte
I left the Executive Mansion as soon as I finished packing two bags with some clothing and other essential things. It had been a pain to drive by the reporters as they threw themselves over my car, but I had made it. As I expected, I was followed, but nothing that driving around in circles, and entering and exiting interstates didn’t solve.
I drove around until it was late night, then turned on my phone and called the only person I could think of. The hundreds of voice mails didn’t escape me, but I ignored them all, and as soon as my call was over, I turned my phone off again.
Perhaps it wasn’t my wisest decision to date, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go. The two-hour drive to Washington passed in a blur. Numbness and shock still inhabited my senses, and I wasn’t so sure I would ever recover from their marks. Not so soon, at least.
Liana waited for me in front of her house. She opened the garage and I parked my car inside. I felt bad for making her father leave his car in the driveway so I could hide mine, but it was his suggestion since my car was easily recognized.
As soon as I stepped out of my car, Liana brought me in for a bear hug. I sagged in her arms, and the tears I was able to fight until then fell mercilessly.
“It’s going to be okay, hon,” she said, rubbing my back.
She let me cry and snot all over her for what seemed like an eternity. When I finally was able to take a deep breath without tearing up, she brought me inside her house. Her parents were in the kitchen, waiting for me with fresh coffee and chocolate cake.
I smiled and teared up again.
Joan put her arms around me, and guided me to a stool around the kitchen island. She cut me a piece of cake, brought me a mug of coffee, and then sat beside me. Liana sat on the other side. Then the four of us sat there, in silence, for a long time.
It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Quite the opposite. It was comforting and secure. I knew I was safe here, though they wouldn’t be. If I were discovered, it would end their peace. I couldn’t do that to them.
“Thanks for taking me in,” I said.
“You’re always welcome here,” Joan said.
“I know, but I shouldn’t stay long. The paparazzi might find me here and it’ll be a nightmare for you.”
“We don’t care about that,” Liana’s father said.
I smiled again. “Thanks, but I do. Besides, I have to think about what to do with my life now. Should I stay in the city, move to another state, hide for a few months? And there’s school. I have to decide what to do about it. Drop out? Take a break while I hide? Change maj—”
Joan reached over and squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to decide anything now. Right now, you’re going to go to bed and try to sleep. Tomorrow is a new day and you can start thinking about what you want to do. But no rush, okay? You can stay here as long as you want.”
I knew she really meant that, but I wouldn’t put them in the spotlight too.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling a tiny bit better since this mess exploded.
* * *
Mason
David and I stared at the TV as the reporter showed the latest news: Charlotte driving away from the Executive Mansion. Some tried following her, but she was too smart and drove around until they lost her.
I had called her five hundred times since I saw the newspaper this morning. At first, she didn’t pick up. Now, her phone was turned off and the call went directly to her voice mail.
That didn’t stop me from trying again.
“Hello, this is Charlotte McClain. I can’t answer now. You know what to do. Bye!”
I threw my phone on the floor and punched the coffee table. “Goddammit.”
“Hey!” David interjected. “Please, don’t break our apartment.”
I grunted.
When David got home late this afternoon, he seemed a little wary because of the newspaper story. Of course, he didn’t know the truth, and to him, since they accused me of taking advantage of her for money, he sort of believed it. He was also upset that I had hidden Charlotte’s identity from him, even when he knew she looked familiar.
“I knew I had seen her before. I just had no idea from where,” he said. I knew he would connect the dots sooner or later, but I didn’t think it would be like this. With my name all over the news. “Did you do it?” David asked.
“No!” I shouted. Come on, did he really think I had sent those pictures? “I never cared about her money. She could be penniless and I would still love her.”
He stared at me, appraising me. “Love her?”
I sighed. “Yes. I love her.” I had never said it out loud. In truth, I hadn’t even acknowledged it to myself until now. Now that it was out, I knew I really loved her. “With all my heart and soul.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“No. Now, with this lie spreading, I bet I won’t be able to tell her. I need to fix this shit.”
With nothing else to lose, I sank into the couch and told him everything. About spring break, about finding each other again, how Charlotte resisted at first, but we kept on meeting by chance, like fate. I told him about Donnie Williams and how the guy never left Charlotte alone, about how strict her mother was and she couldn’t break away from it that easily. I also told him about Donnie’s visit.
The reporter kept on talking. “As of right now, Charlotte McClain is in hiding, and the governor is unavailable for interviews. With the rumors of Governor Peyton McClain running for the presidency in the future, we can’t help but wonder what kind of family problems they have and if we should be worried about it.”
Fuck, this wasn’t good.
Charlotte must think the worse of me right now. If only she would turn on her phone and answer one of my calls so I could tell her that it wasn’t me, though I was somewhat guilty.
Shit. Whichever side I took, there was no positive outcome.
I picked up my phone from the floor and stood.
“Where you going?” David asked.
“I don’t know. I wanted to go for a run, to clear my mind, but I bet the press is already after me and it’ll be a matter of time before they hound me.” I sighed. “I guess I’ll just lie in my bed until a way of fixing this shit comes to me.” David frowned with his finger on his chin. His thinking face. “Uh-oh,” I said.
He offered me a sly grin. “I think I know how we can fix this mess.”
What? Hope surged in my chest and I inhaled a deep breath. I sat back on the couch. “Fixing is good. I’m all for fixing. Tell me.”
* * *
Mason
At 8:30 Tuesday morning, I stepped into the oppressive building David had directed me to and approached the reception desk located on the center of the lobby. I would have come last night, right after my talk with David, but the building would have been closed.
“Good morning,” one of the receptionists said. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here to speak to Donnie Williams.”
The lady turned her gaze to the computer’s monitor. “What’s your name?”
“Mason Rowell.”
With wide eyes, she did a double take. Did she recognize me from the pictures? She cleared her throat and stared at her monitor again. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rowell, but I don’t see your name here. Do you have an appointment under another name?”
“I don’t have an appointment.”
She frowned. “Then I’m afraid you won’t be able to speak to Mr. Williams today. However, we can schedule something for next week. How is—?”
“Look,” I interrupted her. I made sure to put as much self-confidence in my eyes as I could and stared at her. “Just please tell him Mason Rowell is here. I know he’ll want to speak to me.”
She considered it for a moment, and then she nodded and picked up the phone. “Mr. Williams, I have a walk-in.” She paused. “Yes, sir, I know, but he said you’ll want to talk to him.” She paused again. “But, sir, it’s Mason Rowell.” Another quick pause. “Yes, sir.”
She produced a visitor’s tag from a drawer and gave it to me. “Use this to pass through the security team.” She pointed to my right, where two guards were stationed beside card reading machines, like some sort of checkpoint. “Go to the twentieth floor. Mr. Williams is waiting for you.”
“Thanks.”
I walked to the security team, passed my card through the slot, a green light blinked, and I crossed through the turnstile. The guards didn’t even look my way as walked past them and into one of the elevators.
I pressed the button to the twentieth floor and leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady myself. I wasn’t nervous per se, more like uneasy. This could go all sorts of wrong.
The elevator door opened, revealing Donnie standing right there.
“What do you want?” he asked, his tone unfriendly.
I stepped out of the elevator and halted two feet from him. I held my head high and my shoulders poised, even though the guy was a couple of inches shorter than I was. Intimidation played a big part.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“We already talked.”
“Not really.”
Reluctantly, he nodded toward the double glass doors and started walking. I followed him through those doors, ignoring the curious stare from the secretary as we walked past her, and inside his large office. Comfortable chairs, a big mahogany desk set against a floor-to-ceiling window, an incredible view of the National Mall a few blocks away, sofa, coffee and end tables, and a bar area. Really? All of this for a guy who was probably what? Twenty-five, twenty-six?
I shook my head as Donnie closed the door.
He walked to his chair behind his desk and gestured for me to take one of the chairs.
I sat down.
“So,” he started.
“So,” I repeated, suddenly confused about how this would go down. “I wanted to talk to you about the deal you offered me the other day.”
“Well, haven’t you seen the pictures everywhere? The deal doesn’t stand anymore.”
“I know, but I want to know why you did it. I didn’t think you would go through with it. When you threatened to send those pictures to the press if I didn’t break up with Charlotte, I honestly thought you wouldn’t do it. After all, you said you like Charlotte. If you like her so much, you wouldn’t hurt her.”
“I didn’t hurt her. You did.”
This guy was getting on my last nerve. “I wasn’t the one who sent the pictures. You did.”
“Does it matter? She thinks it was you and that’s all I needed.”
I shook my head. “How could you hurt her like that?”
“She’ll get over it. I’ll give her a couple of weeks to heal on her own, and then I’ll be there, to help her move on.” He grinned as if he had won the lottery. If he wanted to make me uncomfortable, this wouldn’t work. If he kept this up, he could make me enraged and get a punch in his pretty face.
This guy was pathetic. Did he really believe Charlotte would fall into his arms like that? She didn’t like him. Period.
“You don’t regret sending the pictures to the press?”
“I don’t. Do you regret not taking my deal?”
In a way I did. If I had taken the deal, I would have hurt Charlotte by breaking up with her, but her relationship with her mother would be okay. She would hate me. In the end, I hadn’t taken the deal. Donnie went ahead with his threat and Charlotte was hurting, thinking I was responsible for her pain. She still hated me. Almost the same outcome. Almost.
“Not really.”
“Then you’re a bigger fool than I first thought. You do realize she will move on, right? You’re not her type. She might have lived an adventure with you, but when it comes down to it, she’ll look for a familiar environment. Like money and power.”
I refrained from answering, because I was one hair from clocking his eye. However, in truth, I wasn’t so sure he was wrong. Charlotte might be this happy, lively girl, but she had the other side of the coin. She had money and status behind her. Take that away, would she truly be happy?
Donnie adjusted the tie around his neck. “Anyway, what do you want here? To try to make another deal? I won’t accept anything, unless it’s to pay you to leave the city and never come back.”
Punch line. I wasn’t expecting that part, but it would be a great addition.
I stood. “Well, then I won’t even bother you with details.”
I turned and walked to the door.
“Mr. Rowell,” Donnie called. I halted and looked at him. He had a winning grin intended for me. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her.”
Rage filled my veins and I clenched my fists, holding it all in, before I lunged over his desk and squeezed that stupid smirk from his pompous face.
I nodded, not trusting that I wouldn’t insult him if I opened my mouth and then ruin my plan.
As much as I wanted to run out, I forced myself to walk calmly out of his office, into the elevator, through the lobby, and out of the building.
Then, I didn’t hold back. I exhaled through my mouth and rolled my shoulders. I counted to fifty, thinking of a peaceful beach, the waves breaking on the sand. Charlotte sprawled on a beach blanket, and me seated beside her.
A little better, I fished my phone from my pocket and pressed the big red button on the screen, turning off the recording. Donnie’s reputation was in the palm of my hand, and he didn’t even know it.
