Bloom (22 page)

Chapter 49

It’s Ginny who
brings it home.

She lays the magazine on the counter and slides it toward James. “Maybe now you’ll believe me,” she says to him.

James glares at her. “What the hell, Ginny? I told you to stop bringing this shit home!” He takes it and begins heading toward the trash.

“Wait, James,” I say. “I probably need to find out what it says.”

“No, you don’t. It’s just a bunch of lies, Elle.”

“It’s a bunch of lies that color the way the entire world views me. I need to know.”

“You’re the one who needs to read it, James,” says Ginny. “It’s time you knew who you’re dealing with.”

He ignores her. “Do you want me to read it first?” he asks, meeting my eye. He knows I’m petrified. I shake my head mutely. The truth is that if it’s bad enough, I don’t want him to
ever
read it. I’m worried that if it’s bad enough, he might believe it’s true.

I take it out onto the back deck. Inside, I can hear James’s voice, harsh and angry, directed at Ginny.

The article is titled “‘I Made a Mistake.’” I relax a little. It seems like a promising start.

I’m tense again by the second line. And three paragraphs in I am boiling mad. By the end of the article I’m ready to kill someone. I don’t even have the heart to ask James not to read it. It’s so bad that you’d have to live in a cave not to hear about it eventually.

Edward’s ‘mistake’, apparently, was that he allowed himself to be ‘seduced’. I am no longer a clueless 19-year-old intern in this tale, but a nympho with a thing for older men and power. Apparently I am some combination of Mata Hari, Helen of Troy and the Sirens from “The Odyssey.”
No one
, it seems, can resist me when I put my mind to it. They’ve even created a nickname for me: “The Teen Temptress”.

And then there are the pictures. In one I’m draped across Ryan’s lap, though his face is blurred out. In another I’m the only female in the middle of a group of frat guys, dressed like the St. Pauli girl, all bosom in the German dress I rented for Halloween. And then there’s one where I’m leaning over and you can see straight down my shirt.

A source ‘close’ to me tells the magazine “she’s always had a thing for older men”, and “what Elle wants, Elle gets.”

I know enough about how the media works to know that any idiot could have given them those quotes. But there are things here that couldn’t have come from just anyone. Things only a few people knew. It mentions the flowers Edward’s sent here and even the notes that came with them. It claims I’ve been caught emerging from “more than one” of my male housemates’ bedrooms this summer. And there’s one quote in particular that destroys me: “There’s nothing she likes more than taking what belongs to someone else.”

It’s nearly verbatim what Ginny said the other night.

I reenter the house. My voice shakes as I face Ginny. “Did you do this?” I ask, holding out the magazine.

Her brows pull together. “Do what?”

“Are you the
source
, Ginny?” I shout. “Are you the one who told them all this shit? About the flowers? Who said I was hooking up with multiple guys in this house?” James places his hands on my shoulders, as if he thinks I’m going to throw a punch. Maybe I am, come to think of it.

Her face pales. “I didn’t say any of that to the magazine,” she says.

Her answer is too specific.

“Then who did you say it to?”

“I may have said some things to Allison.” I feel James stiffen behind me.

“I knew it,” I say quietly. James’s grip tightens on my shoulders and I shrug him off. “I’m not going to hit her,” I snap. I turn back toward Ginny. “She’s not worth the effort.”

I can’t be around any of them anymore. I grab my keys and go outside. My car is blocked in. I drive straight across the front yard to get out.

**

Three minutes later, James calls. “Where are you?” he asks.

“I’m at the park, by the canal,” I sigh.

I really didn’t make it far. I’m not sure why I even bothered to drive.

He’s there in five minutes, on foot. He sits on the bench beside me, breathing heavily.

“You ran?” I ask.

“You were upset, and I didn’t want you driving back without me.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and I lay my head against him. “She feels really bad, just so you know. And the only thing she told Allison about was the flowers, and the fact that we were together.”

I nod. “You know, I’m not even mad it got into the magazine. I’m just hurt, and I was already hurt. How can she be so willing to believe such awful things about me, James?”

“I have no idea,” he says. “But I know it’ll work itself out. So the article was bad, huh?”

“I guess you haven’t read it then,” I sigh. I tell him the highlights, feeling him tighten beneath and around me with each detail.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

“I don’t know. If I call my mom, she’ll tell me to talk to their lawyer. And he’ll tell me not to say anything, because that’s what my dad will have told him. But I’m sick of making decisions based on what works best for other people.”

“I wish you had better parents,” he says quietly. “Don’t get pissed when I say this, but you’re too young to have to deal with all this shit by yourself.”

“I kind of agree,” I tell him. “But you know, my mom did give me one good piece of advice when this all began. She said to be smart, not defiant. And I think, in this case, that maybe speaking up is both. Even if my dad doesn’t care about my reputation, I do.”

Chapter 50

I ask Corinne
to set up the interviews. It’s a lot to ask, given that when she sets up a TV exclusive it will be with the competition, something that could easily get her fired. But she’s happy to do it, and agrees with my strategy: one print interview and one TV interview, each chosen with the utmost care because I’m not going to say what I have to say more than twice.

She squashes my initial plan to do the interviews on the way back to school. “If you wait that long, the story will have cemented itself in people’s minds. You need to get on air the very first minute you can.”

James and I are sitting on the deck waiting for Corinne to call back when Ginny walks out. Her movements are purposeful, heavy, as she approaches.

James jumps to his feet. “I’m gonna shower,” he says.
Liar
. He already showered this morning. I sense I’ve been set up.

He walks inside and we sit in a silence so awkward that I begin to stand and follow James. “I’m sorry,” she says abruptly. The words are so rushed it’s hard to tell if she actually means them, but I lower back into my seat. “Not just for what I said about you and James. For everything. The whole summer.”

I’d thought an apology would make me feel better, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t change the things she’s accused me of this summer, and that’s what sits at the root of my anger. “I just don’t get it,” I say. “We were best friends for 16 years. You don’t turn on someone after that long the way you did.”

“I know,” she says in a choked voice. “You’re totally right. Allison had a lot to do with it, but I’d be lying if I said it was all her fault, because the truth is I was already jealous.”

“Jealous of
what
?” I ask. She’s got a brother who loves her and two parents who are still together and appear to care about her and a boyfriend she’s been with for three years … what could I possibly have that she would want?

“Everything’s always come so easily to you,” she replies. “Always. Look at this summer — I have to work two jobs because my parents think it will ‘instill responsibility’ while you don’t even
have
to work at all. But even as a kid, you just had this amazing life. Me and James are stuck back in Connecticut every summer while you take off for Italy. You meet celebrities, you travel. My whole life revolved around the last presidential campaign, but you were the one who got to go to the inauguration and you didn’t even
care
.”

“Ginny, I would have … ”

She cuts me off. “I know. You’d have gotten me a ticket. You’d have given up yours. I know you would have. That’s how you are, and you’ve done things like that for me our entire lives. I didn’t want to ask. I was tired of being the person who had to ask. I was tired of the fact that you were always in the position to give. It’s not like I sat around dwelling on it, but then last year Allison started pointing it out. And once she did I started seeing it everywhere.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you could have believed I’d cheat on your brother or try to steal someone’s boyfriend.”

“Like I said, I can’t blame her entirely but she just kind of put ideas in my head. Like when she found out you were coming down, she said I was lucky Alex was gone for the summer because girls like you tend to prove their worth by accruing men, especially those who belong to someone else.”

“She didn’t even know me … ” I argue.

She stops me. “I know that’s not you and I told her that, and then she says, ‘so you never liked someone who liked her instead?’ and of course that did happen. It happened all the time. Not just Timmy Phillips but like, every guy I ever liked wanted you instead and … ”

“That’s not true,” I counter. “
Tons
of boys liked you.”

“But they always liked you
first
, Elle,” she says quietly. “And that gets old. I don’t think I knew how sick of it I was until Allison pointed it out, and then I was like, ‘wow, I’d never thought of it like that’. And the thing is, Alex was gone but I did have a crush on someone here. I didn’t tell anyone because I was embarrassed, but then you’re here for two seconds and all of a sudden you’re best friends with him and spending all this time together and I just started to believe her theory. Especially after she caught you guys together … ”

“Wait,” I say, cutting her off. “There is so much to clarify in that statement. ‘Him’? Who’s ‘him’? The only guy I hang with aside from James is Max.”

She runs her tongue over her teeth, a habit from the days of braces, and shrugs.

“Max?” I screech. “
He’s
your ‘crush’? You spend all your free time maligning him and lecturing him. You
like
him? Like
that
?”

“Yes,” she says reluctantly. “I like him. Like
that
. But he was always hitting on you. You know, all ‘ooh, Elle looks just like her mom’ and shit like that.”

“He hits on everyone,” I say.

“Yeah, I know. But I could tell you had something going on with someone, and then Allison told me she’d caught you in bed with him.”

“What?” I gasp. “She didn’t ‘catch’ us. I was sleeping in his room because you locked me out and when he came in – with another girl, I might add — I got up and left. We were in the same room for all of five seconds and Allison knew it.”

She nods, her fair skin getting a little paler, and she studies her clasped hands. “I never thought she would lie,” she finally whispers. “I mean, she made law review … ” I roll my eyes. “But then I saw those quotes she gave the tabloids and it occurred to me that maybe she had.”

“Ginny, you’ve known me for 16 years. When have I
ever
been the type to steal someone’s boyfriend, or cheat on my own?”

“Never,” she murmurs, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my God, Elle. I’m so sorry. She thought you were sleeping with Max and trying to sleep with James and I … sort of believed her. So when James said he was with you I figured you’d been cheating on him with Max and I … ” her words trail off.

“Let’s get something straight,” I say. “Allison never for one moment thought I was with Max. She’s just a scheming bitch who played you like a fiddle and you allowed the fact that she made
law review
to trump 16 years of friendship.”

She starts crying, an unrestrained, wild crying that is so unlike her that it twists my heart a little even though I want to stay angry.

And a part of me
is
still angry – that she could doubt me, that she could believe an idiot like Allison, that she could think me capable of so many terrible things – and a part of me gets it. I
have
had an easier life. And if I thought a girl was hooking up with the guy I liked
as well as
my brother, I probably would have done a lot more damage than she did.

“Don’t cry,” I tell her, feeling an unwilling sort of forgiveness steal over me.

“I should have figured it out,” she says, still crying. “She was jealous before she even met you. Ever since she saw our spring break pictures she’s been weird.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, though it’s really not. But I know that one day it will be, and maybe I’ll just have to fake it until then. We were too close for too long just to let it all be ruined by one bad summer.

**

“So are you guys okay?” James asks when he comes back out.

“You totally set that up, didn’t you?”

“No,” he says defensively. “But I did ask her when she was going to apologize and she asked how she possibly could with me always ‘hovering’.”

“I like that you hover,” I smile.

“I don’t hover,” he argues. “I just want to be near you. So what was her deal?”

“I think the problem was mainly Allison. Putting ideas in her head and then telling her she’d caught me and Max together.”

He stills. “Where’d she get that idea?”

“She saw me leaving Max’s room one night during a party. I was sleeping in there because I was locked out of our room and … ” I pause, watching James tense up like he’s bracing for a bad blow. “Give me a break, James. He wasn’t even in there! He came in with some girl and I left.”

He relaxes and I continue. “But I don’t get how Allison knew that Ginny liked Max? She never said a word about it.”

“It was totally obvious,” he argues. “She was always getting mad and storming off around him.”

I sigh. “You Campbells ought to consider finding a new way to show you like someone.”

He smiles and pulls me closer. “But look how well my way worked,” he says against my ear.

Chapter 51

The next morning
we are headed to New York, and not a moment too soon. There are photographers outside as we leave, and I’m not really surprised. It’s more amazing that my anonymity lasted as long as it did.

“This could have been such a good trip under different circumstances,” I say, watching the trees give way to fields dense with end-of-summer corn.

“It’ll be good in its own way,” he says, grabbing my hand. “You’re going to do what you need to do, and we’ll be together when it happens.”

“This could all backfire,” I sigh.

“It can’t backfire,” he insists. “Those messages are too damning.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were just going to the city to hang out, though? Without any of this other crap?” I ask.

“It’d be nice if we were going to the city without having to see your ex-boyfriend,” he grumbles.

Ah, yes, Ryan. The other less-than-ideal part of this trip.

It seemed serendipitous - the fact that Ryan and Tommy McPhee would be in the city at the same time. Tommy might be washed-up, but he still has tons of contacts that could help Ryan. So naturally I set it up. And naturally James is unhappy.

“You know you can come to dinner with us,” I tell him for the millionth time.

He sighs. “It would just be awkward. Me and your ex-boyfriend meeting your mom at the same time? And this isn’t really how I want to introduce her to the idea that we’re dating.”

I laugh. “Oh my God, James. Are you
still
under the impression that the age difference matters?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Elle, but it might matter to your mom.”

I roll my eyes. “My mother wouldn’t think a thing of it.”

“You keep saying that, but a lot of people don’t see it the way you do. Which I know for a fact because my parents went through the roof.”

“You told your parents?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “Ginny did. And they haven’t seen you in a few years, which I’m sure didn’t help, but their basic reaction was complete disgust. I felt like I belonged on a pedophile watch list by the end of the conversation.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You had enough shit going on with Ginny and then the Edward thing,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “So did Ginny tell them that I ‘lured’ you in with sex?”

“I’m sure they figured it out,” he says, nudging me. “You
are
the ‘teen temptress’ after all.”

“Funny,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

We put the Ryan thing to the side for a while, but James’s tension begins anew as we approach the city. He is silent and brooding by the time we get our bags into the elevator, his worry a weight I feel dragging us both down. I tug him toward me the second we’re in the apartment.

“Stop,” I demand.

“Stop what?” he asks.

“Stop fretting.”

“I’m not fretting. Men don’t ‘fret’.”

“Fine,” I laugh. “Stop doing whatever it is you’re doing that’s just like fretting but sounds more manly.”

“I can think of several things we could do right now to take my mind off it,” he says into my hair.

The mere suggestion is enough to send a jolt to my abdomen, but I look at my watch and sigh. “I have to get ready. Ryan will be here in less than an hour.” I wish I’d planned this better, given the two of us a little time alone first. Instead I’ll be with Ryan while James is meeting friends in Battery Park. “How late will you be out?”

“The only reason I’m going out at all is so I don’t put a hole in the wall waiting for you to get home,” he says. “Just text when you’re wrapping up and I’ll be here.”

I shower and then go check out the dress my mother left for me in the hall closet. A simple slip dress with spaghetti straps, the fabric insubstantial, ending at mid-thigh. There was a time when I’d have been horrified by the amount of skin it shows. But I’m not scared of that anymore. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when I walk out in this.

I dry my hair and do my makeup and finally slide the dress on, bouncing into the living room to show James, who’s been waiting on the couch.

Silly me. Expecting a compliment.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he says.

“What?”

His jaw drops a little, as if he can’t believe I don’t already know. “You cannot go to dinner with your ex-boyfriend in that dress.”

“James … ”

“Don’t ‘James’ me,” he retorts. “Like it’s not bad enough you’re taking him on a date to introduce him to your mom and her fiance.”

“I think it would be more accurate to say that I’m going to a dinner you’re too much of a coward to attend,” I snap.

“I’m not scared of your mom,” he scoffs. “I’ve just taken more shit about this than I can stand for one week.”

I put my hands on my hips. “It wouldn’t bother you if there wasn’t something in your head that still believes your parents are right.” The doorman calls up to tell me that Ryan is downstairs. “I have to go. Enjoy your shame-free night without me.”

“Elle, cut it out,” he says, following me to the elevator. “You know that’s not what it is.”

“No,” I reply, swallowing through the thickness in my throat. “I think that’s exactly what it is.”

Meeting Ryan in the lobby is high on the list of the most awkward moments of my life. James’s hand at the small of my back, an intense scowl on his face; Ryan smirking and making comments about my appearance intended solely to piss James off. Not surprisingly, James does not handle Ryan’s assessment that I look “so fucking hot” and “edible” particularly well. Ryan doesn’t handle James kissing me goodbye all that well either.

By the time Ryan shouts back, “Don’t wait up!” I don’t want to be around either of them. There are photographers outside, and I just can’t bring myself to care. All I want is for this trip to be done.

“How is it possible,” Ryan says, climbing into the cab behind me, “that your parents had that apartment all along and we never had sex there?”

“Well, for starters because I never knew when my dad was going to be in the city using it,” I reply.

“He’s not there tonight,” Ryan grins, waggling his brows at me.

“No, but my boyfriend is.”

“Once for old time’s sake?” he asks, but he’s kidding, and it’s impossible to stay mad at him.

I laugh. “Exactly how many favors are you planning to ask for tonight?”

“As many as you’ll grant,” he says honestly.

“I’m only granting one.”

“Do I get to choose what it is?” he asks.

“No,” I smile. “You absolutely do not.”