CHAPTER 1

** **

Now, where to start?

Well, wine has been my only companion for the last three days. And Pedro, but unlike Pedro, wine doesn't judge me; my dog isn't used to seeing me barricade myself in my room deep in a depressive fog, so because of this, he has been judging me harder than he usually does.

I'll be honest, I don't remember the last time I've showered. Wait—I do remember. The night Sebastian came over to my house and humiliated me against my sink. That's the last time I took a shower. Disgusting, I know. What's even more disgusting is that I'm not as ashamed as I should be.

I'm a little drunk right now, which has been routine for me the last few days: cry, drink more wine, eat so I don't die, and drink again until I fall asleep. I refuse to watch TV because I know I'll be tempted to turn the TV to E! News or a program of that sort, and I also know who they'll be talking about if I do.

Claude has been texting me, insisting that I shouldn't be so hard on myself. And part of me wants to believe him. But the other part? The part that knows I'm the reason that Ingrid leaked the journal? The one who spat to Sebastian that Gloria wasn't his real mother? The part that lied? That part sees Claude's testament as pure bullshit.

I finish off my glass of wine before getting out of bed to go into my kitchen. The house is pitch black even though it's 1 in the afternoon...or maybe it's 2 in the afternoon? I know for a fact it's Sunday. At least I know what day it is. Anyway, the curtains are pulled tight all around my apartment; I feel like a vampire.

As I pour more wine into my glass, I hear two to three knocks on my door that scare the shit out of me.

"Leslie!" I hear from the other side; it's Beth's voice. "Open up. It's me."

Great. I should have known my friends would be worried about me after two days of no contact to the outside world (excluding Claude). I contemplate even opening the door; she has a key, right? She can make her way in if she wants.

I roll my eyes and sip my drink against the sink, but then move to another counter when leaning against the sink jogs unfavorable memories.

"Leslie, it's Sarah. Open the door or I'll have Beth here welcome her way in."

Sarah? What the hell is she doing here? But more importantly, why is she with Beth?

When keys start sounding off against the lock, I walk over and open the door. As per the voices, it is Sarah and Beth standing next to each other, Beth looking worried, Sarah's expression unreadable. Beth's gasp when she sees the state of myself and my apartment is enough to make me regret opening the door.

"Jesus," Sarah welcomes herself inside, widening her eyes at my apartment. "What is this, Nosferatu?"

"Why, of course you can come in, Sarah." I reply sarcastically. Sarah is unamused.

"I've called you almost a million times. Why haven't you answered your phone?"

"As you can tell, Beth, I'm in no condition to interact. And why are you with Sarah?"

"She was my way inside. I knew you wouldn't let me in unless I was with your friend."

I'm too drained to even argue it.

Pedro, of course, starts barking when he sees Sarah in the living room. I tell him to shut up a little too rudely and feel bad when he scurries off back into my room at the octave of my voice.

"Leslie, what is wrong with you?"

I finish off my glass and decide whether I want to try for another one. "You know what's wrong, Sarah. If anything, I'm waiting for you to yell at me again and tell me how horrible I am for betraying Sebastian's trust."

"I didn't come here to yell at you. I came here to apologize."

"For?"

"Claude told me that Ingrid leaked the journal. He also told me about the reckless threesome Sebastian had with Felicity and some red head—"

"Claire?' I finish for her. Sarah nods slowly, but Beth is still in confusion.

"Yes, Claire. Either way, I apologize for my outburst. There was just a lot going on that day."

"Don't apologize. I deserve it." I decide against more wine and put my glass in the sink. "I'm a liar. A manipulator. I've said the meanest things to Sebastian so it's no surprise that everyone would hate me. Look what I did?"

I'm slurring my words in my state of slight drunkenness. Beth looks pale and worried. Sarah, on the other hand, looks fed up with my bullshit.

"You're a mess, Leslie," Sarah says, but her words go in one ear and out the other.

"I thought Sebastian and I sleeping together would maybe make my lie go away but no, it just made it worse. And what he did to me in my kitchen..."

I'm crying again; I'm a train wreck when I drink. And I half expect Sarah to roll her eyes at me, but she doesn't. Instead, her and Beth look at me in complete shock.

"Wait, wait, wait. You and Sebastian slept together?" Sarah asks me. "When?"

I look down at my nails. "Monday."

I should have expected the whole "Sebastian-and-I-had-sex" thing to come out into light to everyone else. But not this soon.

"Wow." Is the only thing Sarah manages to reply.

"What did he do to you in the kitchen?" the tone in Beth's voice is both intrigued and concerned.

I try to explain, but all I do is whine while giving gestures to describe what happened; my Italian is coming out in full force with all the hand movements I'm doing.

Sarah ends my blabbering with a soft grip on my arm.

"This is what you're going to do," she says, her dark eyes serious and authoritative. "You're going to go get in your shower and stand in it for a very long time. Long enough for the steam to open up your senses. Your friend here—"

"It's Beth. My name is Beth."

Sarah ignores her interruption. "Your friend here is going to stay with you while you shower, dress, and coke yourself up on aspirin and lemon water. Then she is going to drive you to my office, and there we are going to work on a script for Sebastian that he'll be reading off tomorrow."

"T-tomorrow? Script?"

"This is why it's important to answer your phone. I finalized that interview we were talking about last week on FTC. It'll air next Friday but they want it filmed tomorrow evening. We have to make a script addressing the leak for Sebastian."

My head feels as if it's going to implode.

"Just...take a shower and get to my office please."

Sarah's collectedness about everything is startling and almost unsettling. I know she's overwhelmed with what the week has brought us, but the fact that she can keep her composure and only exude professionalism makes me ashamed that I can't do the same.

Without another word, Sarah leaves my apartment. I thought of Sarah's first time in my apartment differently, but it's clear that time and everything else is out of our hands.

Beth and I stand still, basking in each other's company. I'm embarrassed to be like this in front of her; this is how her and Paul found me when I found out Hudson was cheating on me around a month ago.

I walk to my bathroom and sit on top of the toilet seat. Beth sits at the edge of the bathtub and sighs.

"Well, she's friendly," Beth says sarcastically, referring to Sarah.

"She has a right to be in a bitchy mood."

"I'm assuming this 'bitchy mood' has to do with Sebastian Harrison's diary that got leaked."

"You heard about that?"

Beth nods, tucking a piece of golden hair behind her ear. "Who hasn't?"

When I receive her reply with a quivering lip, she apologizes. And instead of asking if I'm alright or talking about the depressing situation further, she asks me how the sex with Sebastian was. I can't help but laugh at least a little.

"Amazing," I answer. "And the sheets were comfortable, too."

Both of us laugh a bit more until it's quiet again. Beth places a hand on my knee and smiles at me, like she's sure everything will be alright. Even though she has a small clue of everything I'm going through—Sebastian's journal leak, Axel, my mother, Garrett and all that pertains to him—she makes me feel better than I did before.

Which is saying something.

**

After I shower for what feels like hours, I get dressed in a pencil skirt and button-up blouse. As usual.

No amount of makeup can hide the lethargy in my eyes. And at this rate, I don't know how I'll be able to work on the script Sarah is talking about; I can barely stand upright.

I check my phone and sift through emails that I can't answer just yet. I can imagine the media now: "Sebastian's reps have not made a comment at this time."

Yes, because his rep has been sulking in her bed for three days like a pathetic worm.

I put on my heels, rub Pedro's head, and leave my room with my laptop and purse. I expect Beth to be by the door waiting for me, but she's sitting on the arm of my couch, engaged in the TV. What's on the TV prevents me from scolding Beth for sitting on the arm of my freaking couch:

"Serious hot topic," Wendy Williams, the loud, expressive talk show host says on my television. A picture of Sebastian appears behind her on the screen in the studio, and the audience responds with sad, empathetic sounds. The caption is "revealed childhood." My heart drops in my chest.

"Apparently, a journal that belonged to Sebastian was leaked on Thursday, I believe. I'm sure you've all heard of this?"

Everyone nods.

"The entire journal was leaked. Every single page. From what I've read of it o****e, the first entry is him at around 17 years old to him at about twenty-two or twenty-three years old. Again, no one is sure who leaked the journal or if it's even true."

Ingrid. Ingrid Jefferson leaked the journal. But I'm the one who gave it to her.

After giving more background on the journal and what's inside it, Wendy then proceeds to read a passage from the journal, warning the audience of its content. She puts her glasses on and reads off the notecard in front of her:

"May 7th, 2003. Currently I can't get out of bed. I feel sick whenever I move and my limbs feel heavy. Loretta came into my room a few minutes ago asking me a bunch of questions—do you remember what happened last night? Do you remember who you were with? I told her that I didn't remember, but I do remember. I'm just too embarrassed to admit it. I never thought something like 'that' happened to boys. I always thought it happened to girls. I guess I was wrong—"

Beth jumps when I turn the TV off.

"Shit. I-I didn't know you were out here and...it was on 'demand'—"

"It's fine, Beth. Let's just go."

I wish I could sue Wendy Williams, but it wouldn't make sense to sue her for doing her job. I just need someone to blame, it's obvious.

The drive to Sarah's office building is tense and awkward between Beth and I. The guilt and regret I feel won't let me spark a conversation reminiscent to the ones Beth and I usually have when we're together. The only words we exchange are the ones wedged into the agreement that we make—she will pick me up when I text her that I'm ready.

In Sarah's office, her and I sit at a small table big enough for six. The building isn't a cubicle-workspace. She has one office for herself, just as other people do everywhere else on the floor, from bloggers to agents, then back to authors and assistants whose employers love them enough to provide them with their own personal office space.

Sarah and I begin working on the script. We've decided on a piece of denial; Sebastian will deny every accusation made in that journal.

"We don't want him to appear weak and vulnerable right before he's supposed to meet with the Board," Sarah explains. "That's the last thing we want."

I agree with her. It's a lie, but a logical one. Is there such thing as a logical lie? I hope so.

I type up the messy brainstorm her and I have created on my computer into a neat document. It's vital to insert footnotes on how Sebastian is to say things. For example, "laugh," "grimace but not too harshly" and "make sure to keep eye contact during this sentence."

"Have you heard from Lucas?" I ask Sarah, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"He is currently with Sebastian." I slow down my typing when I hear his name. "God knows what he's having him do."

If I were dumb, I wouldn't suspect Sarah's efforts to try and pretend as if nothing is wrong. Her language, her posture, even her amount of eye contact makes me feel like she has something to say. There's a lot to say, but we both know it's best not to say it right now.

"Do you want anything to eat? They deliver from the café here."

"Sure."

We both order a salad, and after fifteen minutes of waiting, there's a knock on the office door. Sarah gets up and pays for the delivery, but the stretch of silence makes me turn around and almost pass out from who's in front of me.

"Come in," Sarah tells Sebastian, almost demanding him since he doesn't move when he sees me. Claude whispers something to Sebastian that prompts him to walk into the office. Lucas follows inside after them.

No delivery. No salad. Of course, I should have expected something like this from Sarah.

"I think it's best I go," I tell them, grabbing my bag and aiming my sights for the front door.

"Sit down, Leslie. We're here to talk about the script," Sarah says. Everyone stares at me the same, but Sebastian's eyes are so intense, burning, even, that I lose the ability to move for a second. After thinking it over, I sit back down in my seat. Claude, who sits in the seat between Sebastian and I, purposefully doesn't look at me; he's here for Sebastian and Sebastian only. It's astonishing to see how quickly his loyalties shift.

Everyone sits down, Sarah the last one to after she closes the door. It's painfully quiet.

"Now." Her eyes look at us and land on Lucas who is awkwardly sinking in his seat. "Let's talk about the script." And finally, her gaze is directed between Sebastian and I. "Like mature adults."

**