Blake: A Bad Boy Romance (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ivy sat on her bed back in her old apartment. It felt wrong to be at Blake’s place without him there. She still felt like a guest. Besides, Darryl was still in jail. This was as safe as she was going to get. But she was too sad to appreciate it.

She felt listless and useless. She was “on leave” from work and she didn’t want to intrude on her father’s happiness. So now she was alone her apartment. Doing anything felt like a Herculean task. Just getting out of bed seemed to take more energy than she was capable of. She would finally start to move, only to lose her motivation halfway there.

Finally, she lugged herself out of bed and walked over over to her closet. Buried far in the back underneath old quilts and stuffed animals was her evidence against Darryl: her phone logs detailing the long string of unending calls from unknown numbers, the strange and disturbing letters she had received, some blank, others with disgusting notes written in them, stuffed animals with their eyes removed and their stomach’s split open.

It went on and on. Clearly Darryl was obsessed with her. Or obsessed with this. He loved it. She could tell that he took great care in the “gifts” he left her. Nothing was cheap or shoddy. It somehow made his actions even more frightening. He was a smart and dedicated psycho, the worst kind.

Ivy looked down at the box and wondered what to do next. She knew Blake’s attorney would want all of this evidence and she knew the police had already given him a lot of information. But it didn’t seem enough somehow. All of these horrifying presents to her and they were going to be locked away and Darryl given a slap on the wrist. It wasn’t fair.

There was another box on her living room table. This box has spent the last five years hidden in a corner in her father’s attic. She had buried it under piles of old clothes and CDs. But now it was out. It was her Blake Box: all of her memories of her relationship with Blake, all of the little mementos she had kept from their high school romance.

She had almost forgotten about it. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down at the table, gently opening the flaps on the cardboard box and peering inside. The first thing she pulled out was an old photo of her and Blake. It was taken when they were on a tenth grade field trip to the Space Needle. They were still friends at that point, though Ivy was already crushing on him hard.

His arm was draped over her shoulder. She was staring into the camera, a choker wrapped tightly around her neck with her hair up in some elaborate style. But Blake wasn’t looking at the camera; he was looking at her. She loved this picture. Something about Blake’s eyes forever looking at her, it was always such a romantic idea.

There were movie ticket stubs and little things from strange gas stations. On bored Saturdays they use to just drive in one direction for hours. They would stop in every weird little town they passed – small towns that had a gas station and not much else. It was their odd hobby, driving around the state with no destination in mind. The only thing they had wanted was to spend time with each other.

He had been a great boyfriend. Attentive and sweet and patient. Not that Ivy was shy or chaste. She and Blake had been each other’s first everything. And no one had ever been better than he was. He was a good kisser. If only he would have been less of a trouble maker. But Blake was never willing to let an opportunity to get into a fight pass him by.

Anytime anyone started anything Blake had to finish it. Once they had been playing pool at a dive bar when a biker brushed against Blake’s shoulder as he lined up for a shot. Ivy remembered begging him to just let it go, but Blake refused. He got in the other guy’s face and demanded an apology.

It ended with Ivy running for the car as the owner chased them out of the bar with a gun. She had broken up with him over that. They had gotten back together, of course, and, to Blake’s credit, that never happened again. But there was always something. Some guy who gave him a look he didn’t like, or car that was tailgating him. He would take any opportunity to fight.

He was protective of her. If a man were to wolf whistle at her Blake would have him in a headlock and apologizing in under a second. If anyone ever leered at her, they immediately regretted it when Blake stood directly in front of her. Ivy would never admit it out loud, but she had liked how protective he was. She felt safe with him. She knew that if she were ever in danger all she would need to do was look at Blake and she would know she was safe.

But now an immovable object had met an unstoppable force. Blake would do anything to protect her and Darryl was desperate to destroy her. She was trapped between them. Somehow she had ensnared Blake in all of this and that wasn't fair to him. He deserved better. How was she ever going to forgive herself if Blake lost everything because of her?

Headlines blared about Blake’s arrests and worries from sponsors. Blake’s lawyer told her to ignore the news and not worry about it. He was adamant that she not speak to anyone who called. “People lie,” he warned her. “They call and say they’re Blake’s cousin and they’re worried about him and you give them an update and the next thing you know TMZ is tweeting it out. We need to control this story. Right now we are saying Blake was goaded into fighting someone, but he regrets it and is looking forward to getting back in the gym.”

He regrets it.
Those words stung in a way she couldn’t define. He regretted it; did he regret her and being mixed up in her crazy life? If they had stayed apart, none of this would have happened. Her guilt was eating her up inside. She needed some outlet for her energy. She needed something to do. But she had been instructed to do nothing.

Then finally his bail was posted and his lawyer was paying the fee. Ivy stood in the waiting area of the courtroom and tried to keep from fidgeting. The room was filled with men, women, and children, none who looked very happy. They sat in their chairs and stared into space. Mothers hushed their children while an older couple in the corner shared an oxygen tank. Ivy hoped she would never have to be somewhere this depressing again.

She saw him coming. She saw his face in the small square of glass and she stood up to face him. She tried to fix her hair and then realized how dumb it was to care about her looks at the moment.

Blake stepped through the doors, his hands free and, without missing, a beat Ivy wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a long hug. “Are you all right?” she whispered in his ear, refusing to let him go.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered pulling away from her to look her in they eye. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He looked the same, thankfully. He was still covered in tattoos and there was still the hint of a smirk on his face. She was worried he would come out looking sallow and broken. But he was still the same Blake and he slung his arm around her and looked around the precinct.

Tim strode towards them and cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s some press outside. You are not giving a statement at this time. You will be giving an official statement tomorrow at noon, all right?”

“What’s my statement?” Blake asked.

“I have no idea. We’re gonna do this one thing at a time. You two should separate, for now. Let’s not give the press anything else to feed on,” He pointed at Blake and Ivy and she immediately understood and slipped out from underneath his arm.

“Ivy, you don’t have to do that,” Blake said. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“I know,” Tim said. “But you’re used to the press, the invasion of your privacy, the photographers. Ivy isn’t. Do you really want to throw her into the deep end? Let’s just try and keep as much information private as possible. We have to wait until we have all our ducks in a row before we start talking to the press.”

“It’s fine,” Ivy said. She didn’t want the press in her life. She didn’t want her photo in the supermarket tabloids. She didn’t want anyone digging through her history. There was still the problem of their status. They were almost stepsiblings. What were people going to think when they heard?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Blake stepped out into the street and flashbulbs immediately blinded him. It was nearly night outside. The sky was dark and there were a few stars visible above him. The sidewalk in front of him was filled with about ten different reporters. They stood next to cameras and when he stepped out of the courthouse they descended upon him.

“Blake, what happened?”

“Blake, tell your side of the story.”

“Blake, we’ve heard you’ve been dropped by Adidas and Red Bull. Do you have a comment on that?”

“Blake, the fight’s been cancelled. How are you planning on rebounding from the loss?”

He looked from face to face unsure of what they were saying. How had they found this out so quickly? The news about his sponsors was the worst. They hadn’t even bothered to ask him what happened. They heard assault and arrest and they dropped him like a hot coal.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say a word Tim was at his elbow. He gave the press a moment to wrap themselves around the two of them. Where was Ivy? Blake looked for her, staring past the faces of the eager paparazzi. He finally found her to the right, standing next to a fountain. She was looking at him with a worried expression on her face. He gave her a smile, but she wasn’t capable of returning it.

His lawyer gave his statement and the paparazzi cleared the way in front of them. He felt like Darth Vader as the crowd parted in front of him and Blake climbed into Tim’s car.

“Ivy came on her own. She’s going to meet us at your place,” Tim said as he put the car in drive and took off down the street.

“Was that right? Did Adidas and Red Bull drop me? Has the fight been cancelled?” Blake demanded.

Tim nodded and made the turns towards Blake’s apartment. “Yes and yes, but I don’t want you to worry, Blake. If we manage this, it will just be a blip on your radar. You’re a fighter. You were goaded into a fight by a spoiled rich boy who lost and then cried to the police about it.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Blake said looking forward. He could see Tim looking at him as he drove.

His manager’s eyes darted between Blake and the road as if he were trying to figure out what Blake was thinking from the expression on his face. “How do you know Ivy? What’s the deal there?” Tim asked.

“Also complicated,” Blake said closing his eyes. He had been serious with Ivy. He didn’t want to lie or hide, but that didn’t make telling the truth easy. It was a crazy story when he told it in his head, but he knew it would sound worse when he said it out loud.

They arrived back at his apartment and there were more reporters and photographers waiting outside of the building. Blake put a serious expression on his face and marched through them, refusing to react to their questions. Ivy was sitting as his table when they walked into his place.

“I just got back,” she explained tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“All right,” Tim said, putting his briefcase down on the table. He pulled out a chair and sat down as he pulled out a pen and a pad paper. “Tell me everything.”

They did. They told him about their rekindled relationship and every horrible and nasty thing Darryl had done. Tim didn’t speak or interrupt. He sat and took notes and listened and nodded.

“So that’s...that,” Blake said glancing at Ivy.  She nodded at him and they both looked at Tim.

He stared at the two of them a look of total confusion on his face. Finally he nodded and the expression on his face changed. It was like they were watching him come up with an idea.

“Blake Lambert defends girlfriend from deranged stalker. That’s the headline right there. We get that to the press tomorrow. We leak Darryl’s name. We send them pictures of the notes he’s sent you. We upload the voicemails online. Within ten minutes Blake will have gone from villain to hero and everyone will be tripping all over themselves to apologize to you.”

“But we can’t prove Darryl did any of that stuff. He’s good at covering his tracks.”

“So,” Tim said with a shrug of his shoulders. “This isn’t a court of law; this is the court of public opinion. It’s much easier to manipulate.”

“His parents are rich and well-connected,” Ivy said.

“Even better. Some spoiled old money brat harassing a hard-working woman. The narrative writes itself. But for this to work, we would need you on our team, Ivy. You would need to give interviews and answer questions. Are you willing to do that?”

“What are you going to tell people about me and Blake?” Ivy asked, glancing up at Blake.

“You are two high school sweethearts whose parents are getting married. It’s not that strange. You guys came from a small town. It will be a small aside at the end of the article. If we get ahead of this, we control the narrative. We can control what people are saying.”

Blake looked at Ivy. He knew that most of what Tim was saying was correct. But he couldn’t control the entire narrative. If it were that easy to control, no politician would ever have a scandal. But Blake didn’t care about the fact that they were almost stepsiblings and he couldn’t understand why Ivy did. They were both adults who wanted to do this; why couldn’t she see that?

“This might be what does Darryl in,” Blake offered. “If we can’t get him in court we can at least let people know what he’s done.”

“What if his parents sue us for defamation?” Ivy asked.

“I’m on it. I’m a lawyer. I know how to stay on this side of the law,” Tim said.

Blake looked at Ivy. Internally he was begging her to say yes. But on the outside he stayed calm. He knew she needed to make this decision herself. He just hoped she chose to be strong and fight instead of running away.

“Okay,” Ivy said with a nod. “I’m in. Most of the Darryl stuff is with my lawyer now.”

“I’ll call in the morning and pick it up,” Tim said. “I’m going to start drafting your statement and getting into contact with reporters. This is a big story, Blake. I want the two of you to stay here today. Don’t answer your phone, don’t answer the door, don’t go anywhere. Just stay here.”

Blake nodded and Ivy did the same. They watched Tim leave and then it was just the two of them, alone. Ivy turned in her seat to look at him. But she didn’t say anything. What was there to say? Everything had exploded in the worst possible way and now they had to deal with the fallout.

“What’s prison like?” Ivy asked as her thumb traced a scratch on the surface of the table.

“Boring,” Blake answered with a rueful smile. “I mostly thought about you.” She looked up at him with a weak smile and opened her mouth to speak, but Blake interrupted her. “Don’t apologize again. You didn’t do anything wrong, you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

She nodded and then stood up and walked over to him. “I thought about you, too,” she said. She leaned forward and then put her leg over his, settling on his lap, straddling him.

Blake smiled at the woman on top of him. He had missed her. He pulled her close for a hug and buried his face in her chest as she ran her hands though his hair. This was what made it all worth it. He wanted to be with Ivy, and moments like this made punching out Darryl worth it.

“Come to bed,” Ivy whispered and Blake nodded. She stood up and he followed. When they were standing he leaned down and kissed her deeply before swooping her up into his arms and taking her to the bedroom.