Chapter 74
It’s late. I’m tired. Yet the crowd outside Emily’s house continues to buzz with energy. The closer I get to the window, the more I can pick up on the undercurrent of anticipation, so I stay far away from the window.
The crowd rotates through a series of chants. Each other be more annoying than the last. They’re supposed to encourage me to come outside, to make some gran appearance just like how fans cheer on their favorite team to perform some miracle play and have them win the game.
I can’t sleep now even if I wanted to. Not with the obnoxious singing, my phone also continues to light up and buzz and I can’t turn that off because I need that for my alarm tomorrow.
I groan at the thought of work tomorrow. What if everyone is still here? Somehow I thought that everything would be blown over with a fresh start to a new day, but as time ticks on and the crowd doesn’t lessen, I’m beginning to let go of that hope.
“No way,” I hear Emily say.
“What now?” I grab one of her blue square pillows off the couch and bring it to my face as I fall back on the couch.
“The local news is here,” she replies.
I shoot up. “What?”
“The local news-”
“I heard you,” I cut her off, not wanting her to repeat herself and not wanting it to be true but of course it is.
“Ugh, how rude!” Emily presses her finger against the window glass. “They drove their stupid van right up on my yard. They’re going to kill the soil!”
The people on the yard clear a spot for the van to back up onto and park. The white double side doors swing open and out jumps a camera man followed by a woman in a pink pencil skirt.
She’s the only one out on the front yard who’s hair and make up are completely done. I watch her as she tugs at her skirt and smooths out her blouse. The whole time her hair remains in a
perfect blow out. There’s probably so much hairspray keeping her hair so stiff in place that if I were to strike a match near her she’d go up in flames.
For a brief moment, everyone’s attention isn’t locked into me. Instead it’s on the Barbie-looking anchor woman.
The camera man crouches down, his black jeans probably getting wet from the dewy grass, he uses his fingers to count backwards from three and then points at the woman.
I can only see the back of her head as she talks to the camera so Emily’s house is in the shot. A few people on the lawn try to pop into the frame, throwing up peace signs and other gestures.
I realize Emily isn’t standing next to me anymore. I look around the room and spot her standing in front of the t.v flipping through channels. Then I see the anchor woman’s face materialize on the screen.
I was right. She looks like Barbie with a turned up nose, big blue eyes, and defined cheekbones.
She’s small framed with impossibly narrow hind and small perky breasts. She almost reminds me of Mia.
The anchor woman rattles off the basic facts of what’s going on and where she is.
“It’s a live-action love story between the Aloha and his runaway Luna. He wants her back but she wants nothing to do with him,” she says and my blood boils.
“So, I’m the bad guy? Just like that?” I say to the t.v suddenly understanding why men yell at the t.v during a sports game.
The woman walks over to Eric and I find myself studying him, waiting to see his eyes linger over her hourglass figure.
“Tell us, what is it about this woman that has you camping outside her friends house?” The woman asks batting her dark eyelashes at Eric.
Eric looks into the camera. “Renee,” he directs at me. I stiffen. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you I just never admitted it to myself,” as the words escape his mouth I realize I’ve been waiting for him to say these words for so long. “It’s your laugh, your ambition, your creativity. You inspire me,”
The anchor woman brings perfectly manicured hand to her heart. “Well, you certainly inspire all of us to love a little harder in our lives,” she says and I gag.
My phone continues to slight up. In need of a distraction I pick it up. The first message I notice is from Jasper telling me to check my companies ratings.since he’s my one and only big donors he has access to these logs so he can check if his money is being well spent and I get a sick feeling that I’m about to learn it’s not.
I toss my phone aside and go for my laptop tucked inside my work bag.
“You’re working?” Emily asks.
I don’t answer her, I can’t. I’m too focused. I sign into my works database and pull up our network that tracks our global ratings. “No,” I gasp.
“Well, if you’re not working, why are you on your work laptop?” Emily asks and I shake my head.
“No, I mean I can’t believe this,” I spin my laptop around to show Emily.
“What am I looking at?” She says and continues to look puzzled. “It’s just a bunch of red numbers,”
I nearly cry. “Exactly. Those red numbers show us how much our customer satisfaction has dropped,” Emily’s face falls.
“Oh,” she says, not knowing what else to say. I grab my phone again and dare to open social media and my works website.
Big mistake.
The whole situation has gone viral and not in my favor. People are saying I’m selfish, too feminist, heartless. The internet is tearing me apart. I’m being tagged in posts where women are
threading to take my spot if I don’t want it.
This is not good. I break out into a cold sweat, my breathing quickens. Something touches my shoulder and I jump back, only then realizing it was Emily.
“Okay, let’s clam down,” she says trying to sound soothing and gently closes my laptop.
“My whole brand is about women being independent, my clients know this,” I say not understanding how all of a sudden that is now to my detriment.
“I know,” Emily says reassuringly but I’m not sure she does know. I think she’s just saying that to calm me down.
“It’s not fair,” I say and burry my face in my hands and cry. “My business is going to burn,” I say in between sobs.
Emily makes small circles on my back. “It is not. People are just reacting right now because there’s nothing else going on tonight. It will all blow over,”
The anchor woman’s voice fills the living room. “Will the lovely Luna ever come out of hiding?”
If I do it’ll be by force, and not of my own free accord. It’ll be because everything else around me has come crashing down and there’s no where else left for me to hide.
“I have to talk to her,” I say to Emily.
Emily looks at the t.v and then at me. “Are you sure?” She asks and I nod though I don’t know if it’ll do more damage or not. I swipe the pad of my thumb under my eyes, not that it’ll do any
good in freshening up my appearance.
I rise to my feet and go to the front door.
Emily watches me from afar. I take a deep breath and swing the door open.
It’s colder outside than I thought. The rush of cool air hits me as does the sound of an eager audience.
“She’s here!” Someone shouts. Lights are flashing and voices all blend together. Before I know it a black microphone is being shoved in my face and I’m standing next to the anchor woman.
She’s even prettier up close.
I self-consciously toy at my bun. “Renee,” the anchor woman greets as though we’re old friends.
“Have you come to take back Eric?” She jumps right into the burning question it throws me off.
“Um, no,” I say and realize my mistake as the crowd murmurs in anger. I look for Eric, but I’m so over stimulated by all the lights and eyes on me that I can’t find him. I give up and turn back
to the anchor woman who looks at me with wide, pleading eyes as though to beg me to give her something news worthy.
“I just want to say that my brand is built on woman standing up for themselves and I’m sticking to the int gritty of my company,” I say gaining confidence with each word. The anchor woman
cocks her head in confusion at me.
“So, this is about your business?” She asks like she’s lost as to why I would be discussing work when clearly a very personal matter is taking place.
“Yes,” I say losing my confidence.
“But what do you say to Eric,” she shoves the microphone to my mouth.
I clam up. This was a mistake. I said my piece about my job and that was it. I turn around and quickly shut the door behind me.
Emily gives me a look like I’m crazy but then shoots me a thumbs-up.
I’m so screwed.
