Chapter 23

It's been three days. I've left voicemails. Texts. Emails. Tristan hasn't gotten back to me. He did manage to send a driver, although the freaking guy won't tell me a single thing about Tristan. I can't get anything out of him... And Tristan was also right about another thing. It's been three days and the paparazzi and reporters haven't stopped hounding me. I'm eating a tomato soup in my office because of this bullshit. Bullshit I'm going through because I'm crazy about a man that's fallen off of the face of the earth. My assistant, Michelle is sitting in front of me, reading off the information from meetings I've missed. I'm not even listening to her. How could he just never call me? I mean, I've done nothing wrong! "Earth to Genevieve." I lift my hand off of my palm and straighten, nodding. "Yeah?" "What's wrong?" "Nothing." "... Is it the gossip? I told Trevor to shut the hell up. He's just got a big mouth, don't let it get to you." "Great, my own department is gossiping about me now," I mutter, shaking my head. "No, it's not that." "Then what?" "I'm fine. I just dozed off for a moment. Keep going." She toys with a pencil, pursing her lips. "Has- has he gotten back to you yet?" I stare at her, hand on my spoon. "... No." "He will." I pull on my sleeves, feeling a chill in the room as I force a nod and smile. She looks back down, reciting her notes and I feel myself tune her out again. This isn't like him. I know it isn't. ... "Your brother is on the line," Michelle murmurs. I hold the speaker button down, dropping my head. He's called three times already. "Alright. Send him through, please." "Okay." I sit back, waiting. My phone rings immediately and I answer, lifting the phone to my ear. "Genevieve." "Hi, Andre. Sorry, I've been seriously swamped." "And you're sure you're not avoiding me?" "No, of course not. I already told you what happened... I didn't know Tristan before Thailand- not that it's any of your business." "Well, you know what? It is my business. My little sister is on every magazine in America right now, hated by everyone because they think she's torn apart some bullshit Hollywood couple! That she's some gold-digger!" "... Well I haven't." "You need to address this." "No." "Why not?" "I can't." "Why?" "Because I'm dating him." At least I think I am... "What?" "I'm dating him. It would just look tacky to make a fucking twitter just to write about this. I don't need to defend myself to anyone." "Well, maybe your boyfriend should do it for you." "Don't do that, Andre. Don't." "If the guy really cared for you, he'd know that you're not used to this." "I'm not asking him to go out and make a statement about us. I don't even think we're that official yet." "You shouldn't have to ask him, Genny... That's what I'm trying to tell you." I stare at the desk, grinding my teeth together. Partly because I hate that he's insulting Tristan but also partly because I know he's right. "I have to go." "Please, think about this, Gen. Is this worth it?" "I have to go." I hang up with a gasp, shaking my head. My hand doesn't leave the phone- I just stare at it. Lifting it back up, I dial Tristan's cell number again. It rings twice before going to voicemail. He's denied the call. I bite my lip, hanging up, unsure what to believe anymore. ... "Sorry, Trish. I'm on my way out now," I utter, holding my phone to my ear with my shoulder as I pack up hurriedly. "Gen, I don't think it's a good idea to come to the shower." I stop packing. "Why not?" "Uh..." "Jesus, not Cynthia too," I mutter, dropping into my chair. "She doesn't want any drama at the party and-" "No, I get it." I chuckle darkly, looking down at my feet. "I get it." "I'm sorry. I can try to talk to her again. I told her-" "Don't say a thing... Hey, have fun and- and tell her congratulations for me." "I will. Hey, I love you, Gen. I'll come over tonight, if you want." "No, no, don't. I'm going to go to bed when I get home anyway... I have to go." "Alright... bye." "Bye." I hang up, feeling as if the world as I know it is crumbling around me. I press the button for my assistant. "Michelle?" "Yes?" "Go home. It's Friday night. You're already here late." "You sure? We still haven't decided on the Davis piece." "I'm sure. I'll figure it out. Goodnight." "Goodnight." My door opens in a few moments. It's Michelle. "Yeah?" "Can I get you anything? Dinner? Something?" "No, I'm okay." I smile, feeling my lip tremble. "I'm fine." "This will blow over soon, Genevieve." I nod, huffing. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure it will." ... I throw my purse onto the couch, immediately heading for the liquor cabinet. I need to get drunk and fast. I take out my tequila bottle and set it on the counter, staring at the fine print. As I stare, I realize I don't even have the energy to get smashed. I chuckle to myself in dismay and turn, heading for the bedroom. ... I'm chewing my apple, reading the paper silently the next morning when my house phone rings loudly, drawing my attention from the double homicide on the front page. I pick it up, running a hand through my damp hair. "Hello?" "I think you'll want to see something... Channel 5." I stand up immediately, a sick feeling in my gut. "What is it, Trisha?" I change the channel to 5 and gape slightly, seeing Tristan on the TV... He's on a talk show. I look at the header. Tristan Maddox clears gossip rumors last night regarding curator Tristan leans back in the chair as the man probes him with questions. "So, Mr. Maddox, you've been pretty big on the news lately. Thank you for coming on my show... I understand you've never done a late night show before." "No, I haven't." I'm frozen, stuck staring at the man who's turned my world upside down, only feeling relief. Relief at seeing him in front of me, even if just on a screen. He looks stunning, in a three-piece navy blue suit, his hair tousled and shining under the lights. He looks completely at ease. "Well, we're grateful to have you here and grateful that you want to shed light on the publicity around you this past week." "Of course," he murmurs, nodding. I breathe deeply, already able to see he hates this. He doesn't want to be there. I smile, sitting down, my phone still to my ear and listen. "So, there has been a lot of speculation about your relationship... About the alleged affair with a young woman- uh, Genevieve Harding." Tristan doesn't answer- he just waits. The interviewer looks around awkwardly and rephrases. "Can you shed some light on that? I know a lot of the world has been pretty brutal with the backlash... not only to you, but also to the museum curator." Tristan opens his mouth then shuts it, nodding. "Yeah, it has been pretty brutal but that is the way of the world, I guess. No one wants to focus on the tsunami that's taken thousands of lives and cumulated over a billion dollars in damage... They want to talk about my personal life." I nod, proud of him- really proud. Not even being pissed off at him can make me deny that. The host nods along with me, hand on his mouth in curiosity. "You sound upset." "I am, to be honest but I will be happy to shed some light... Miss Harding is a good friend of mine and that is all she is." I stop breathing, eyes stuck to the screen. "A friend? That's it?" "Yes." "But, you were reportedly seen by a private investigator in Thailand with this woman while your fiancée was shooting in Oklahoma..." "Yes, we were there discussing business." I close my eyes, disgusted by his lies. "So, you knew her previously?" "Yes." "But not in romantic relations?" "No." "And Casey Mathews?" "She is my fiancée... as she has always been. We are fine. The media has spun this situation out of control." "Wow, goes to show you how powerful the Internet is." The host smiles, shrugging. Tristan nods. The news anchor begins speaking again, about something else. I can't hear it. I hear Trisha's voice in my ear, but I can't make out the words. This isn't happening. I did not just hear him say those things. "Genevieve!" I resurface from my daze and stutter. "I- I'm here." "That goddamn asshole!" "It's alright." "No! It's not! You need to speak out about this!" "No." "Genevieve-" "No!" I slam the phone down on the table, hard enough to make my hand hurt. Jesus Christ, this isn't happening. How- How could he do this? He told me he wouldn't hurt me. He told me- I grimace, feeling rapid tears come to my eyes. I walk to the kitchen, holding my breath to keep from crying. I reach for my teakettle, lip trembling. The sobs come from my chest without me even knowing it. I turn and slide down the cabinet door onto the ground, dropping my head into my hands. I just let go, wailing as I realize I've been played for a fool... Played by an ultimate player. The drops fall onto the floor below me, splattering onto the ground like raindrops. I shake my head, wishing I could will this to go away. I raise my head, body trembling. Trembling with heartbreak- with rage. I dial Tristan's number, unable to stop. It goes straight to voicemail. I decide to leave one and by god, it's not going to be nice. "I fucking trusted you... I trusted you, you asshole! Your goddamn friend? How easily you forget our time together... How easily you forget what we've been through! What? Did you pretend to still like me because you felt you had to after Thailand? ...  I don't understand how a man can spew sweet nothings, make love to someone and completely disappear afterwards with no regards to the other person... And you know what? I've known a lot of fucked up men in my life and you, Tristan Maddox, come out on fucking top. Do not ever contact me again." I hit end and stare at the buttons, unable to comprehend what I just did. I raise myself up, grimacing and set the phone down onto the counter, reaching for the tequila I didn't cherish last night.