Hold Me by W. Winters
Ella
Kelly’s thin, arched brow hasn’t budged an inch and it doesn’t escape me that her gaze is firmly fixed on Zander’s ass.
I scold, comically, “You’re shameless.”
Her murmur is just as humorous. “And you’re fucking that hottie?”
My lips pull up as Trish laughs into her glass and the waiter comes by to drop off our appetizers. Ruze has an impeccable variety, from spring rolls and buffalo cauliflower, to steak tartare and caviar.
I’ve always loved this place. It’s laid back, with garage doors that stay open and let the breeze in. If I had to describe the style I’d say it’s botanical boho somehow mixed with a brewery. It’s high end and expensive as fuck to attract and keep the clientele … well, the rich and famous.
“The rumor mills were true then?”
“Kind of sort of, maybe.” I shrug and pop a bite-size crostini with crab into my mouth so I can’t say any more. We talked about heading to his place later this week. It’ll be the first time I’ll see it. He’s unpacked and settled in now and if I’m honest, that makes me nervous.
I’m not sure I want to leave. I’m not sure I want to give up my lifestyle because it’s something he isn’t sure he wants.
“So … what’s the deal for real? We know he was fired.”
“How the hell do you know that?” I question and my tone is harsher than I anticipated. Trish’s widened eyes are evidence that she’s taken aback. “Sorry,” I whisper and lean forward, snatching another bite from the plates.
“Is it serious?” Kelly asks, choosing a few pieces of deliciousness and sorting them on her small plate.
“How can it be if he doesn’t even have a job?” Trish says, piling on.
I don’t consider Trish’s sentiment emotionally, only logically when I answer, “He has income and it’s not like I’m after anyone for their money.”
Trish doesn’t bother hiding that she’s staring, lifting the martini glass to her lips.
“Well, honey,” Kelly says and tilts her head, reaching for a spring roll, taking her time to dip it in the accompanying sauce, not looking me in the eye, “it’s not his money that we’d be worried about.”
There’s a bit of a chill in the air all of a sudden. “How did you know he was fired?”
“You know how people talk.”
“Well, what else are people saying?”
Trish answers first. “That he’s broke but into you.”
Broke. In social circles, the word broke is blood in the water. “How broke?”
“Just not … not someone who could afford your lifestyle.” Chewing the inside of my cheek, I let her comment sink in. I’ve never really cared to talk about money. There’s a knot of guilt that twists in my stomach when I consider the hand I was dealt. I was born into wealth and then everything was left to me when my father was buried and I was only sixteen years old. The cherry on top is that Kam took over everything, keeping me safe, wealthy, and guiding me through a chaotic world of parasites who were after any cent they could suck from me.
I settle on a simple truth. “I hadn’t thought much of it.”
“I mean it’s not like you need Mr. Moneybags, but it’s just something to consider.” Her tone reflects the high society’s guide to staying elite. In other words, don’t marry someone who could be after your money.
“I don’t plan on ever getting married again.” I decide on another comment to keep my friends, as well as the rumor mills, away from the subject of Zander’s bank account. “We’re fucking and enjoying each other’s company. But this bill,” I say and gesture to the meal. “He’s paying for it and for all the nights we’ve been out.”
As Trish’s expression turns concerned, Kelly states she’s getting this tab since Trish got the last.
“How?” she asks bluntly and is rewarded with a jab in her ribs from Kelly’s elbow.
“Ouch!”
“The fuck is wrong with you,” Kelly hisses in a murmur.
I can only laugh, although that sick feeling remains. Before I can answer Trish, she changes the subject.
“There are other rumors too. Like Kam isn’t really your conservator and it’s a cover-up. You went to rehab.”
I don’t say a word, but my eyes are locked on Trish’s. “Don’t worry, my love, there are so many rumors no one knows what’s really going on … but the biggest rumor is that you tried drinking and fucking your way through mourning, and it ended up with a rehab hangover.”
“Your social being quiet since you came back is throwing people off, though.” Kelly’s comment once again holds a tone. She’s good at saying things without actually saying them. The hidden message: I better start posting and filling people in so they stop talking.
“You haven’t seen anything, have you?” Kelly asks and Trish answers, “We know Kam isn’t showing you the articles. But trust us, it’s a good angle.”
“What are most people saying?”
“You took a trip down to a private resort. A few do think you went to drug rehab. No one really believes the conservatorship is real. There’s a seal on it and since Kam knows the judge and Kam’s been telling everyone to mind their damn business and let you enjoy some sunshine … really people are just wondering if you’re mad at them. You’ve never been quiet before and most people miss you.”
“It’s just us who know, right?” Trish questions although I’m sure Kam has filled her in.
I nod.
“And what about that hunk over there?” Kelly asks.
Peeking over my shoulder, I catch sight of Zander just as he was glancing at me. Butterflies stir and when he winks at me, I blush violently. It’s a sin what this man does to me.
With a simper I tell them, “He’s my secret. Anything else out there is PR.”
Kelly questions, “So the bit about him getting fired because you were fucking?”
I laugh into my drink, some cucumber mocktail the waitress whipped up. “Well, sometimes PR does reflect the truth.”
“Mostly people are just happy to see you back and happy that you might be seeing someone else. Like, that’s the chatter. You’re back from wherever, you’re sober.” She looks at her mocktail and playfully clinks it with mine. “And that you’re fucking around again and causing all sorts of problems with your security team that you hired to keep people the hell out of your life.”
Trish nods with a half smile. “It’s a good spin on it, I think.” Then she asks me, “If we take a pic, can I post it?”
“Selfies with our mocktails?” I lift my drink in pose.
“Girl gang, bang bang?” Kelly offers the caption.
“Fuck yes.”
“Will Kam be all right with that?” Kelly asks and I shrug, quickly popping a cherry into my mouth before saying, “Yeah. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“And what about Playboy?” Trish’s question brings my gaze to hers. “Can I get him in the background?”
Another one of him in the background?”
“You know what they say …” Kelly says in a singsong voice.
Spotted once could mean anything or nothing. Spotted twice together means everything.
“Yeah,” I say, pushing the word out with more excitement than I anticipated I’d have.
I wonder when he’ll see. Who’s going to tell him. I want to know what he’ll think of it the most. Maybe I should be more careful, but it excites me that they’ll know he’s something to me.
“Don’t tell him you asked me,” I whisper to them.
“Feeling cheeky?” Trish murmurs as she applies a fresh pat of powder to her face.
Shrugging, I tell her, “He looks good.”
“He looks damn good,” she agrees and snaps her compact closed.
“Smile,” Trish says as she snaps a photo. I pop in another cherry garnish just as Trish says, “Wait, one more.” Back in position, with a cherry at my lips I pose humorously and then pull it out to smile.
“Hell yes,” Trish says and grins. “Check them out.”
“Oh, post both those,” Kelly suggests.
For a moment, there’s nothing but an easy happiness, like nostalgia and old times. A row of hot guys in the background at a bar, one of them I’m enjoying the best sex of my life with. Delicious food at an exclusive local restaurant, with damn good company. Not everyone has as good of girlfriends as I do. With secrets that always stay just that—secret.
“I’m still mad at Kam. Not wanting you to post. I miss your daily rants.” Trish’s admission is spoken beneath her breath as she types out the caption on her phone. “Done. Posted.” She nudges Kelly with her teeth sinking into the bottom of her teeth, placing her phone with the screen facing down on the table.
“I bet every comment is going to be about the cherry and Playboy in the background,” Kelly surmises, her gaze pinned to her phone. She barks out a laugh not ten seconds later. “Told you,” she states, pushing the phone in my direction.
She is so fucking him.
Omg that cherry *laughing emoji*
Our girl is back
BangBang is right! We see you ladies!
Check out who showed up in the background.
The comments filterin with tags to gossip columns and celebrity outlets, dozens by the minute. There’s a flip in my chest and anxiousness I hadn’t anticipated.
“Come on,” Kelly says, shifting her weight to the other hip. “This has to make you smile.”
“It does, it does.” I force my tone to be more upbeat. “Just … just wish I could post it too.” I don’t know why I lie. Maybe it isn’t a lie. Ever since the other night, there’s been a churning in the pit of my stomach. Like I sent something into motion.
“You’re the one who pays Kam. If you want to post, post.”
“I agree with Trish. Tell your man over there to get you a phone and just come back. You are back. So … if anyone says shit online, block, block, block, block, block.”
“I get why he doesn’t want me to … Just the thought of being hammered with questions and seeing that video or pics of us …”
“Kam can filter that out. He has his team.”
“I know … I don’t know why he is so damn adamant.”
“I think it’s time you put your foot down.” Kelly’s seriousness takes me aback. “Or I can put my foot down for you.”
Trish has far more compassion, but she doesn’t hide the fact that she has her qualms when it comes to my PR. “Everyone failed you; you paid them, and they failed.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” My comment sobers the mood too much, too quickly. “I do want to keep up with everyone again. It’s just, I feel like I should be careful … maybe. I don’t know. It’s … it all feels different.”
“Look, I didn’t want to say anything but the way they handled James’s passing was shit. That fixer bitch was dumped from Conntelex.”
The temperature of my blood plummets at the mention of that company. They’re the most sought-after company for “fixing” situations, images, for planting rumors even. I know Kam still has them on retainer.
“Cynthia, right? Like literally the day you woke up from … your fall,” Trish says, lowering her voice. I didn’t fall, I jumped, but I keep that correction to myself. They know what happened. She just doesn’t want to say it. “That next morning, she was fired.”
“It wasn’t her fault that I—”
Kelly’s small hand lands on mine. “She handled it poorly. Every step of the way. She was supposed to fix it, and her choice was to ignore it in the hopes it would blow over.”
Trish huffs, shaking her head as she taps her phone against the table.
I fumble with how to express anything at all from what happened that night. “I wasn’t in the best mindset—”
“You shouldn’t have been. You paid people to protect you. And they failed you.”
Kelly adds in a whisper, “Even Kam.” When my eyes reach Kelly, riddled with shock that she’d talk about Trish’s brother like that, she’s quick to add, “It wasn’t his job and I don’t blame him. He was relying on the fixer. What the hell was her name?”
“Cynthia. I’m sure it was Cynthia,” Trish states slowly, and then adds, “Even Kam will tell you he made a mistake and he wishes he could take it back.”
“Given how easily you two are talking about this—”
“Yeah. We’ve talked about it behind your back, but only because we love you and we’re mad on your behalf. It’s not in the tabloids; cross my heart.”
“Kam did his job there,” Kelly chimes in.
“You should have your fucking phone is all we’re saying.” Trish’s statement is final. “And I’ve told Kam exactly how I feel about it.”
“It wasn’t just your phone. It was access to support you had all of your life. They snatched it away. What the fuck did they think would happen?” Kelly’s eyes brim with unshed tears and it doesn’t go unnoticed that everyone is speaking in whispers now.
“We need chocolate.”
“Could we?” Trish says while waving down the waitress, motioning to our drinks.
They’re quiet, and in that moment, I remember that night, like it happened just yesterday.
* * *
“If she can’t stop going off, what else is there to do?”
She wants me to keep asking them for space. Just ask for space, as if they would listen.
Kam’s spoken up for me, but he’s nervous. He hasn’t been this nervous since… well since everything with my father. “You don’t know her. She doesn’t want space.”
It’s like I’m a child again, scolded, scared, and watching them fight through a cracked door. I can’t even bring myself to move to the bed. Instead I stay on the floor, staring at my hands that won’t stop shaking.
“You’re supposed to fix this!”
“She can’t do what she’s told,” Cynthia says and she doesn’t bother to hide her irritation. “She’s not supposed to comment.”
“They shouldn’t be there for her to comment on.”
“Kam, I just need it back.” My fingers are still shaking. I call out from my bedroom, not leaving where I am. “Kelly just messaged and she said—”
“Okay baby, but not right now.” He brushes me off … like a child. Like I’m something that can be handled.
I stress, “Kam, I want to look at his picture again and—”
He cuts me off, not even listening. “I just need a moment.”
We practically speak over one another as I plead for it back. “I won’t comment. I swear. It’s just they tagged me. They keep posting it and tagging me and I—”
“We’re going to fix it.” He tries to shush me.
“Kam! It’s my fucking phone.” My voice is raw and it hurts. It hurts from crying, from screaming.
“I’m trying to protect you, Ella,” he says, emphasizing each word, his face pained.
Gripping onto his hands, where he’s holding my phone hostage, I try to pry his fingers away. “Give it to me.”
“No!” Kam’s wide eyes look down at me as I fall to the floor, both palms hitting the wood with a loud thud. “Kamden,” I cry out, feeling so fucking alone.
“Jesus Christ,” Cynthia chides in the background. “Give her another Xanax and take her fucking phone away.”
I feel so fucking alone. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I don’t hear what Kam tells Cynthia, but whatever it is has her offering a snide rebuttal as the door closes, leaving me sobbing against the drywall.
James. James wouldn’t be okay with this.
I’ve never felt so alone.
