The Fiction of Forever (A Stand By Me Novel Book 2) (16 page)

“Hello.” I peer around to see if I’m alone or if some camera guy is two feet behind me as the case has been all morning.

“Man, you sure know how to make the news.”

“What?” I don’t ask it because I feel the bad thing coming. This is tied to the conversation with Tony and the reason I never trusted that guy in the first place.

“You look at the news today?”

“No.” My stomach churns. What could it be? That the show has realized they don’t want me to be their guy? Yeah. Of course that’s all it is.

“Infrared footage,” he says. “Kiley going into your tent on that camping date and a timestamp. Kiley leaving the tent and another timestamp. And there’s an audio clip playing on one site.”

I’m silent. I cannot wrap my brain around it. Who took pictures? And more, who is the son of a bitch posting them?

Tony. That SOB has to be guilty.

I’ve let the phone fall away from my ear without realizing it until I hear Dane whistle into the phone.

I pull the phone back to my ear. Then I remember the second part of what he said. “I’m here. What’s on the audio?”

“Holy shit man. I really don’t want to repeat it. I think you need to hear it for yourself. I’ll send you a video link in a text message.”

“Thanks,” I say, my voice strangled as I think about Kiley’s behavior this morning.

“Settle down. Do I need to come help you beat somebody?”

“No. But do me a favor. Can you ask Josie to call Kiley and check on her?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“And one more thing. I need you to show me this social media stuff. I need to get up to speed before tonight. Also, I might need a lawyer.”

C
elebrity Online
:

The Internet is on fire today with sneak peeks of filming for
Forever
. Sources say that Gunner Parrish, this season’s bachelor, has been fighting off inappropriate advances by the show’s Matchmaker, Kiley Vanderbilt. While many skeptics had their doubts about Ms. Vanderbilt’s ability to match Gunner Parrish to the perfect mate, they didn’t predict she’d stoop to bribery in the form of hanky panky. Shame on you, Ms. Vanderbilt. Even the producer’s daughter must play by the rules.

W
e captured
some tweets of the outraged public:

“@RealityGirl823: Beauty queen @KileyLoveWins keeps relying on her looks to win. #Skank #ForeverLoses #loveormoney”

“@
P
iousPixie0
: Poor guy. Can we get a Matchmaker with morals? #Forever #sexisnteverything #Gunnershouldcallme

“@
S
tudHasGame
: Will you marry me, Gunner? All of the honesty, none of the games. #Forever #kileyisahoe”

E
ntertainment Deets
, America’s Real Source:

Interview Excerpt with Mason DuMonde.

Entertainment Deets: You were recently engaged to Kiley Vanderbilt and that’s no longer the case. Did Gunner Parrish have anything to do with your break-up?

Mason DuMonde: Absolutely not. Kiley was the love of my life and we’d honestly been talking about calling off the wedding long before we parted as friends. Kiley’s goals are more career-oriented. Mine are family. It was simply a clash of what we want in life. She wasn’t ready to settle down and I am.

Entertainment Deets: As an entertainment attorney, should the studio investigate whether or not there are grounds for sexual harassment by Gunner Parrish?

Mason DuMonde: This would be a contractual issue, if any issue merits an address. I’m not assuming there is. Mr. Parrish or Kiley are not subordinates of each other and both are under contract on the show; therefore, it can hardly be sexual harassment.

Entertainment Deets: So, do you believe she’s sowing her wild oats now that she's no longer engaged?

(Mason DuMonde refused further comment and our interview ended.)

C
urrent Day

Kiley

A
girl can only take so
much drama before she needs therapy.

I sit alone in the movie theater with a large bucket of buttered popcorn, extra salt. I’ve purposely chosen an empty theater in case I should succumb to blubbering into my movie snack.

At least the bucket can catch my tears.

Once, when I competed in Miss Junior America, I overheard some girls whispering about me backstage. They said I slept with all of the judges to get where I am. The judges consisted of two former pageant queens and one male who was a day short of ninety.

My cell buzzes for the forty-billionth time. I dig into my bag. It’s Josie again.

If I don’t answer, she’ll continue to distract me from the marvel of Chris Hemsworth on the big screen and then the crying will ensue.

“Hey,” I say in my cheeriest voice. “Sorry I couldn’t answer, but I’m swamped today. What’s up?”

“Where are you?”

“Well, I…”

“I would appreciate a straight answer. When you wouldn’t pick up, I called the studio and the hospital. Now, where are you?”

I sniffle. “You saw the news.”

“Of course I did. Anyone who isn’t dead has seen it. Or they will.”

“Gee, thanks. It’s not what it looks like.”

“Honey, I know. If you don’t tell me where you are, I’m going to think you’re standing on the Cumberland River Bridge about to jump.”

I heave a surrendering sigh. “I’m at Grand South Cineplex watching a movie with Chris Hemsworth.”

“With Thor? You’re at a movie with Thor? And you didn’t ask me?” she screeches.

I roll my eyes. “No. He’s acting. I’m worshiping him on the screen.”

She doesn’t say anything for several seconds and I imagine Josie speeding over in her little convertible.

“You’re not coming, are you?” I sit straighter and nearly upturn the popcorn bucket in my lap.

“Do you want me to come?”

“No. I don’t. But thanks. I’m fine.”

She promises to call me later and I toss my phone back into my purse. Josie—friend, accomplice, nuisance. Sometimes a girl needs time to drown her sorrows in butter.

I lose myself in Chris’s earnest gaze, grabbing handfuls of popcorn like there’s no tomorrow.

Thump.
I jump at the sound. Someone has taken the seat directly behind me. I purposely chose an empty theater and some creep has the nerve to sit where she or he can breathe on my neck for the rest of the movie. I look right and left.

This is awkward. Moving will be obvious. Staying in my seat will be torture.

“I haven’t seen this one,” he says.

I twist around at the sound of Gunner’s voice. “You have got to be kidding me. Josie is a dead woman.”

“I forced her to tell me.”

“How did you do that?” I mumble the question and turn back around so I don’t have to look at him. I shove popcorn into my mouth.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans in with his forearms draping my seat back and the one next to me. “I don’t care what anyone thinks about the photos.”

“I do,” I say through a mouthful of popcorn.

“I figured.”

“You realize all the bad press is about me. Not you. It’s a double standard world.”

“Hm.” He stands behind me and I tense. In another thirty seconds, he’s moved to the seat beside me. I don’t look at him and stare straight ahead. My stomach is beginning to churn from the onslaught of butter and salt.

“I’m fine,” I say as my eyes fill with tears. “I just needed a movie.”

“I need one, too.” He reaches into the bottom of my popcorn bucket to help himself.

We sit together while the images flicker across the screen. He doesn’t fling his arm around me or anything to suggest we’re more than two friends seeing a movie together. I never glance at him, knowing I won’t be able to hold it together if he smiles or gives me a pitying look.

When the movie ends, we continue to sit until the dim lights illuminate the theater. It’s still only the two of us. I get to my feet, wordless and empty. Well, not totally empty, since I’m stuffed with a pound of popcorn.

“We can’t leave together. I don’t know if paparazzi are following either of us.”

“We’re leaving together.”

“Gunner. Are you listening to me? They are calling me Vixen Vanderbilt. One tabloid said I’m teaching you how to please your dates.”

“What does Ed say about all this? Is he going to fire Tony? It has to have been him that leaked this stuff.”

My face burns with the rush of embarrassment. “Tony was doing his job. He can’t treat me differently. It’s what he would’ve done in the case of any Matchmaker on the show. My dad says not to worry about it. All press is good press.”

Gunner tilts his head and gives me a flinty look. “He’s your father. He can stop it.”

I laugh, the sound bitter and crackly as dry leaves. “No one can stop it. He said, ‘Toughen up, Buttercup.’ And Dad’s right when he says gossip comes with the job. We are public figures now and it’s going to happen. No one wants to report the sweet, innocent stuff. So they find the dirt or they make up something.”

“Then we should do whatever we want if they’re going to make it up.” He reaches a finger out and tucks my hair behind my ear.

“Easy for you to say.”

“I talked to a lawyer about my contract. About quitting the show.”

“What? You can’t do that.”

He shrugs and turns, walking down the aisle and leaving me with no choice but to follow if I want to talk to him. “I can,” he says. “But I’ll forfeit all compensation Rolling Hills Productions owes me so far. Still…money isn’t everything.”

He strides down the rest of the aisle, his long legs leaving me behind.

“No. That’s crazy.” I grab the back of his shirt.

Gunner whirls and takes both my hands in his. His gentle grip comforts me, his thumbs stroking the tops of my hands. “Everything about our conversation at the campground went wrong.”

My belly does a little flip and I lean forward, so tempted to lay my cheek against his chest and give into the pull of his body. I’m weak. After berating myself all morning that I’ve brought this on myself, only one touch and I want to fall into his arms.

I say the only thing I can think of to push him away. “We can only have a professional relationship. We can be friends later. But for now, I need you to respect me enough to back away.”

He releases my hands. “You need to take some time to recoup from today.”

“You’ve got that right. It’s only a matter of time before they start saying I broke off my engagement because of you—”

“That’s not true.”

“I know that and you know that, but the press will love spinning it. Gunner,” I pause and inhale. “I can’t handle the bad publicity right now.”

He shakes his head and rubs a hand along the back of his neck. “I know you’re taking the heat. I can take some of it. I can make a statement on social media.”

“That will make it worse.”

“I can confess that I have it bad for you and you tried to tell me to back off.”

“And you’ll come off looking great and I’ll still be the whore. Let it die. I have to get ready for the filming tonight. I’m supposed to interview Melanie on her thoughts about you before the date. Then you and I do the same thing afterward.”

“But I want to talk about us.”

“There is no us. You are my bachelor. I’m the Matchmaker. You have a date later.”

He doesn’t move and I feel as though the walls are closing in on me. “Please,” I say through gritted teeth.

“I came here to say it’s not your fault and that we are OK. To offer to quit the show. To tell you that I was an ass for acting like it was all about sex the other day when you know that isn’t true.”

“Oh really? How am I supposed to know that? I need some space right now. I’m sorry.”

I follow him out of the screening room and into the theater lobby. A girl working behind the concession stand points at me. “I knew it was her.”

She holds her cell phone, obviously taking video. I panic, my feet stuck in place on the red theater carpet as if in concrete.

Gunner backs up, takes my hand, and guides me to walk on the opposite side from the girl, effectively shielding me from her phone. It’s the nicest, yet worst thing he could possibly do.

In the parking lot, I stalk to my vehicle and hit the unlock button on my key fob. “Why-why-why?” I pace five steps past my SUV and then back. “Couldn’t you just go on? Her video will be on YouTube before we make it out of this lot.”

“I’ll go back in and take her phone. She won’t be putting it online if her phone is busted.”

I shake my head, horrified. “Listen to yourself. I’ll be bailing you out of jail next. No. Go home. Please, for my reputation, go home.”

A
t home
, I pull a couple of pieces of popcorn from my hair. Oh so attractive. I’m lucky I don’t have a ring of butter circling my lips. It shouldn’t surprise me after my fiasco of a drive home from the Grand South Cineplex Theater where I wiped my tear-filled eyes with salty fingers.

Mistake.

I have exactly forty-five minutes to prepare myself for the evening’s filming. The camera crew will set up in Dad’s study and record. Normally, we’d film interviews like this one at the studio downtown, but not tonight.

“Kiley, have you got a minute?” Dad’s voice surprises me.

“Sure.” I open my bedroom door and step back to let him in.

“I thought we’d chat before the filming.” He examines my face. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing.” The popcorn would’ve been a clear sign of something amiss, but I’m hoping I simply look tired.

He points to my eyes and then to my hair. “You look…not like you normally do.”

“Well, yes. I’ve been a little distracted today.”

“It’s like a train wreck.”

“What is?”

“This media coverage. I keep telling myself not to watch, but then I can’t look away.”

“That’s what you wanted.” I walk to my vanity and sit in the chair. Picking up a hairbrush, I drag it through the mess.

He sits on the edge of my bed. It’s the first time he’s come into my room in ages. “You want to call a decorator in to redo this room?”

I chuckle under my breath and pull my hair back in a headband. “I’m not living with you forever. I thought I’d be moving into Mason’s after the wedding. I’ll find an apartment. Do I need to move soon?”

He rises and strolls across to a wall filled with photos. He’s removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie. Still, he hasn’t taken the tie completely off. That would be far too relaxed. “You could stay,” he says. “I don’t mind. It’s a big house.”

“I appreciate the thought.” I grab a tube of makeup remover and a cotton pad. In the mirror, I notice he’s studying all my photos. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

He’s silent until he takes a photo off the wall and turns around while gazing down at it. “Did I go to this?” He holds up my Teen USA photo.

I scrunch my forehead. “I don’t remember. But I’d guess not.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.”

I shrug and never take my eyes from him. “It wasn’t important.”

He meets my gaze. “It was. Do you mind if I take this and make a copy? I’d hate to think I don’t have one.”

“You can have it. I have a box full of photos.”

Dad studies it for another moment. Then he lifts his gaze to meet mine in the mirror. “Elena called me today.”

I raise one eyebrow. He never mentions Mom. But I don’t either, so we’re even on that score. “Why?”

“To tell me how embarrassed she was over the show and the news.”

I stay silent. I forget how much I despise her until times like this.

He fidgets, shoving one hand in the pocket of his jacket. “It’s water under the bridge, what happened between you and your mother when you were younger, but I’m ashamed that I wasn’t more vocal in defending you.”

“It’s in the past,” I say, swallowing hard. “Really, it was a long time ago—”

“I told her today that she’d better not state her asinine opinion about you to me, the press, her friends, or her husband. I promised I’d make up some scandalous story about her. She’d never be able to show her face in public again.”

“Daddy.” The corner of my mouth twitches. “You wouldn’t.”

“Tit for tat. She did it about you.” He pauses. “I wanted to apologize for not being more sensitive about the photos.”

“You treated me like you would anyone.”

“You’re not anyone. You’re my daughter and I wanted to do something the minute Tony told me he did it.”

“Dad—”

“Hear me out. I don’t apologize often.”

Never have truer words been said.

“When we run the camping trip episode, I predict ratings will be like never before.”

So much for apologies.

“And I’d give up those ratings to have stopped the social media. But it’s too late and I’ve always been taught to make lemonade out of lemons.”

“Hm,” I say, channeling the response that Gunner seems to give me every time we talk.

“Tony honestly thought the cameras would capture what happened between Gunner and Addison. He never dreamed it would be the two of you in that tent. We’re still trying to figure out how the footage was leaked.”

I look down at my vanity table, unable to meet Dad’s eyes. The man who never tucked me into bed a day in my life shouldn’t pass judgment on whether or not I was alone in a tent all night with a guy.

“Kiley?” he prompts.

“Yeah, Dad?” I search through my makeup caddy for foundation and eye concealer. A truckload of it.

Maybe I should skip the concealer and look for a ski mask. It’s going to take more than a swab of goo to hide this much unhappy.

He lays a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I want you to know I’m proud of you. You always hold your head up high and never let anything beat you. You’re the best daughter a man could have.”

My throat tightens and my bottom lip wobbles.

He nods and stares at the framed photo in his hand. “OK then. I’m going downstairs.”

Filming begins in a half hour. “Thanks,” I say in a husky voice.

He slaps me on the back once. “Melanie’s downstairs and they need you ready for makeup. Let’s show them how Vanderbilts do television.”