Chapter Three: Chloe

Chapter Three

Chloe

“I’m not going to lie,” Karina starts, sitting back in her leather chair. Her jet-black hair falls in perfect waves around her pretty face. “That was rough.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” I counter, internally wincing. We just got done watching my interview from this morning. I might have cringed more than once while watching. I looked aloof, and you could tell my heart just wasn’t in it. Because it wasn’t.

“I’ve seen worse,” my publicist agrees, brushing dog fur from her ivory-colored suit jacket. “Never from you, though. What’s going on?” Her brown eyes pierce mine, waiting for a response—an honest response. She’ll keep her gaze trained on me until I crack, and I love and hate her for it. She’s petite and girly but is ruthless when it comes to her clients. We started working together when Shadowfall got optioned for film and has gotten me an impressive number of sponsorships and exposure since then.

“I don’t know,” I say with a sigh. “I feel…off.”

“Does this have to do with the shitstorm that happened on Twitter a few weeks ago? We resolved that. Do not bring it back up.”

“No, I hadn’t really thought about that until now, so thanks.” Said shitshow was the result of too many mimosas that led me to respond to some asshole on Twitter saying how disappointed she was in me for including LGBTQ characters in my books. She was trying to get her conservative “mom friends” to share a petition to get my show taken off the air because it was a “bad influence” for kids. Not to mention I’m going straight to hell for writing about vampires and witches.

My show just got renewed for a new season, and I know the season after that is in the bag already too. I wasn’t worried about that but was just fed up with assholes like her. As if it’s not hard enough for the LGBTQ community already… My fans rallied with me, and the comments went from trying to nicely educate this woman to threats and digging up personal information about her and her family, which got publicly posted. While my own comments were a little over the edge, I didn’t cross any line, yet I was seen as the ringleader for the rapid responses that followed.

I’ve always had a good reputation in both publishing and producing, and the fact that I’m not a drama-llama has worked in my favor. It didn’t help that only two days after said Twitter shitstorm, I went on a date with the son of a movie producer who got a little handsy, repeatedly trying to slide his fingers under my dress while at the table of a crowded restaurant, and then called me a prude when I told him to knock it off. I threw my drink in his face and walked out, and yes—that part got caught on camera by the paparazzi, but not him touching me without consent. It was a big his-word-against-mine mess, and with the threat to get lawyers involved, he issued a public apology but then days later Tweeted a list of all my ex-boyfriends, saying I was obviously the issue and there must be “something wrong with me.” It’s so fun to have all your failed relationships scrutinized publicly on social media, and as much as I hated it, as much as I tried not to let it get to me…it did.

Because there I was again, lonely and doubting myself. Maybe there really is something wrong with me. Maybe I really am too weird, too dark, too lost in my own head for someone to handle.

“You’ve been going nonstop,” Karina goes on. “Normally, I’d keep pushing you because I know you can handle it. But maybe it’s time to take a break. Get out of the spotlight for a while and catch your breath. You haven’t gotten very far with the next book in this series, have you?”

I shake my head. “Not really,” I say, trying not to cringe. I have half of the first chapter written and keep fizzling out the second I sit down to write. I’ve been super busy the last month too, with book signings, interviews, and collaborating with the show runners for next season. “I haven’t had much time.”

“Exactly, and I just had a conference call with your agent and editor this morning. If you can get the first draft done a month ahead of schedule, we’ll be able to line up a three-week-long tour in Europe. For you and Charles. He’s in if you’re in, and we can schedule it perfectly with his break between filming.”

My face lights up. Charles Baldwin is the mega movie star who plays Marcus, the vampire lead in my book-turned-TV series. He’s one of Hollywood’s biggest heartthrobs, has a reputation of being a suave playboy, just crossed thirty million I*******m followers, and was named the Sexiest Man Alive last year.

He’s also my on-again, off-again boyfriend, but the whole thing was set up by Karina, who’s his publicist too. Our relationship sparked interest in the two of us—and Shadowfall—perfectly timed when the show was announced to the world. We “break up” often, needing to uphold Charles’s playboy reputation and keep his female fans pining over him. Being seen with him made me recognizable, something I wasn’t quite used to before. As an author, my name was my claim to fame, not my face. But now I’m photographed, pictures slapped all over TMZ and social media, tagged as “Charles’s ex” like the only way to identify me is by who I used to “belong to.”

It’s strange, faking a relationship with someone. And by faking, I mean literally faking every single romantic part of said relationship. Because Charles is gay. It breaks my heart that he’s been advised to keep his sexuality hushed out of fear it will hurt his career. I’ve encouraged him to come out, but he’s not ready, and I respect that. He’s one of my very best friends now, and our tight-knit bond of platonic friendship is what sells our fake relationship so well.

Touring Europe with Charles will be so fucking fun. I can probably convince Farisha to sneak away for a week too. She’s a sucker for anything European.

“Can we make it so we have at least two days at Disneyland Paris?” I ask, hiking my brows up.

Karina rolls her eyes. “Charles asked for the same thing.”

“Yes!” I pump my fist in the air. “I knew I could count on him.”

Karina laughs. “Fine. You can get a few days in Paris to yourselves. But only if you get this book done ahead of time.”

“I’ll get it,” I say as if it’s no big deal at all. Because, you know, there’s no pressure in not only writing the highly anticipated eighth book in a popular series but getting it done a month before I originally planned on finishing. “I’ll take a staycation somewhere quiet, lock myself in a room and write nonstop.”

“Where are you going to go?” Karina asks. “Bali again?”

I think about it for a few seconds but shake my head. I’ve been struggling a bit with getting this book started, and I know what I need to do: go back to the place that inspired this book, back to the real town my fictional one is based on. I’ll walk through the woods and will write by the lake. If any place is going to inspire me, it’s where it all started. “No, not Bali.” I look up at Karina. “I’m going back to Silver Ridge.”