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CHAPTER 37
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2024-10-29 19:42:56Perhaps because it's because we're still on our break from engaging with the media like we were sent here to do. Either that, or I've been anxiously awaiting to go to therapy with Sebastian. What kills me is not being able to sit in the room and hear anything he does decide to disclose. Of course, I'm not going to become intrusive and ask him questions about his childhood or anything pertaining to that, as it's obviously a sensitive subject—the "bathroom incident" adds truth to that. But knowing that this is our third week here and we've already come to know each other at this level, from becoming lost in the forest together to handing a group of bikers inside a bar in the middle of nowhere, and finally to Sebastian being so vulnerable in my hold at 1 in the morning when no one else, not even his family, knew the extent of his pain
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** ** October 14th, 2000Los Angeles, CaliforniaSEBASTIAN "Okay, Sebastian. You can do this. You can do this." I'm looking at myself in the mirror in the bathroom of my new school. Great. Just what I need—people thinking I'm a freak during my first day for talking to myself. Of course I would be used to people thinking this since that's what the entire freshman class at my private school thought. An entire year of being thrown onto the ground, punched around exactly every Wednesday of each month (I started to count after the second month) and lonesome lunches and group projects until my Mom...or actuallyGloria
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Dr. Bakura stares at me with a look that indicates she's thinking quite hard about what I have said. However, my thoughts are occupied on how cold I suddenly feel. Shit, so this is what it's like to open up about your past? If so, I don't know how much longer I'll be able to do it without completely losing my shit. Then again, was I better off hiding it and allowing that dark cloud of closure to linger over me? "You know, your silence is kind of freaking me out," I point out, trying to lighten the tense air. "Is this something that therapists do?" It's obvious she doesn't get my joke. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sebastian. I'm just trying to put the pieces together from what you have told me." She takes her notepad and starts writing some
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 40
******************** February 18th, 2002 Los Angeles, CA SEBASTIAN I ran inside my front door with the widest smile on my face. I'm out of breath, sweaty, and so excited I can't seem to keep my head straight. My driver almost fell on our front lawn from how fast I ran inside the house, but after a quick apology I think he'll forgive me. "Gloria!" I scream, looking around our living room to see if she's anywhere in sight. The housekeepers are on ladders cleaning the windows, and jump when they hear my voice.
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 41
I hadn't realized how hard I was gripping the table until I could feel my fingernails indenting the wood. I was so invested in Loretta's story, so drawn to the smiles and the frowns that she carried, that it didn't seem like I was even in my guest house, but following Sebastian around in his teenage years. So when she suddenly stopped talking, I was pulled back into reality. And realized that my fingernails were indenting the wood. But why had she suddenly stopped? "What happened in Garrett's office?" I ask Loretta quietly after a moment's silence. She mimics my body language—taut, nervous, anxious and stiff. The only difference is, Loretta knows the next chapter in Sebastian's story. I do not.
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 42
I can't remember the last time I have been this nervous. But I can think of a few reasons why. Firstly, I am not keen on the idea of making a fool out of myself as Sebastian tries to "teach" me how to dance. I don't have the rhythm to ease this task upon myself, nor do I have the experience as I have stated before. Secondly, the eyes of the band watching us as they serenade Sebastian and I with their jazz measure makes my feet shake. There's only a modest number of them—about five people. But even if the number was five or five hundred, I would still be cowering in my heels And finally, the third reason as to why I am dreading the thought of allowing Sebastian Harrison to carry me off into a dance through this vacant ballroom floor, is a simple nine letter word:
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***** A part of me thinks that I must be hallucinating. What are the odds that Garrett Harrison would happen to be attending this function and I wouldn't know about it? And it isn't just some random drop-by; his tux says otherwise. "Mr. Harrison. What are you doing here?" He smiles, similar to the way he would smile at me months before. But now, it doesn't look too genuine in my eyes. "Why, I wanted to surprise everyone with my appearance. I came a little late, but it's the thought that counts, correct?" I manage a laugh. "Yes, yes, I suppose. I just...I'm just shocked to see you. I feel as if it's been so long."
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**I'm packing my things and going back to L.A. Or am I? No. I'm going to stay here, and tell Sebastian the truth instead of running away from everything. But is that the best choice? I'm in my hotel room, staring at my suitcase that lays on the ground. The room is quiet; my phone is on silent. I can't dare face the text messages from Sarah or even Sebastian asking why I immediately left the charity ball after I rushed out of the ball room Sebastian and I danced in. Unable to make a decision, I sit at the foot of my bed and sigh. Garrett's "threat" to me doesn't even seem like something that happened; it's hard to come to terms with finding out the man you practically looked up to was wearing a mask the entire time. After our encounter, I know have
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 45
SEBASTIAN"I told Remy Callaghan that you would love to go out for lunch on Monday. That's a good sign! Getting Remy Callaghan to ask you out for lunch? What you said to that reporter about capitalists must have definitely did it."Sarah's voice is going in one ear and going out the other. Usually I'm open to hear about whatever the hell she has to say; she is my manager after all, and whatever she says must be important. But I can't help but keep my mind on the same fucking thing—the same fucking person. All morning, all my mind has been chanting:Leslie, Leslie, Leslie, Leslie!Can my brain just shut the fuck up for once!?"Hello, hell
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** This scenario seems too familiar to me. You know—the scenario of me crying on my kitchen floor while trying to calm my nerves with a glass of wine. The familiarity of this is probably what's hardest. It seems like my life is a cycle of reoccurring events. Sebastian's gone, and I'm here surrounded by a broken wine glass. But I'm not the innocent one; I went after him shortly after he left me flustered and deceived against my kitchen sink. There was broken glass involved in that, too. Broken glass, screaming, pushing, hitting. Most of that done by me. I'll take the blame for that. I suppose it's best to explain the events that came after Sebastian left me in my kitchen. I c
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**I come into consciousness shortly after I pass out. Claude has me on the sidewalk when I finally open my eyes. I hope that when I open my eyes, the last hour or so would be just a dream. But sadly, that isn't the case. "Leslie," Claude tells me. "I need you to breathe." This time, I take deeper breaths and keep a rhythm. In and out, in and out. My hands are tightly gripping Claude's forearms as I sit on the curb; I might fall over without his support. "I'm sorry. It just...I just—" "Don't apologize." He says to me, his blue eyes wise and trusting. "You need to get out of here; you've had enough for today."
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 68
**I wake up the next morning and immediately get to work.I've been receiving calls about Sebastian's party since I opened my eyes—E! News, People, TMZ, POPSUGAR, you name it. Apparently, they all want to know the reason for Sebastian's erratic behavior at his house party and why he was so ballistic in the first place. Darcy and I have been commenting the same thing: "We don't have a comment on that at this time." The ironic this is, I'm the reason he was acting that way in the first place. Though, I'm the last person they'd expect to push Sebastian to that point.I sit at my dining room table, sipping coffee even though I'm not in the mood to consume much of anything, and sift through the rest of my emails on my laptop. I'm trying my best to keep 'him' out of my mind, bec
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 67
** "This is Sebastian. You know the fucking drill." I sigh irately—one, for calling Sebastian twenty times already only to be led to voicemail, and two, for the voicemail's existence in the first place. I make a mental note to tell him to change it whenever he feels comfortable with talking to me again. "Hey, Sebastian. It's me again. I know for a fact you're ignoring me." I play with a stray piece on my button up shirt and sigh. "I don't blame you. I don't know how many times I'll have to apologize for you to forgive me, but I think we should talk first before that happens. Call me back." I hang up and vow not to call him back. It's already 9:00PM, and I've been blowing up his phone since he left the conferen
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It's my fault for thinking this wouldn't happen. Usually I would admit to my own fault with a hint of uncertainty, using words such as "I guess" or "I suppose." I won't use them this time; this is my fault. Point. Blank. Period. I went this long, letting the lie accumulate into something that it never would have been if I were just honest in the first place. In my defense, I thought Sebastian wouldn't open up to me if he knew I was paid a very large sum to be with him. Is that a valid argument? I hope so; it's the only one I have. That, and the fact that my feelings have changed drastically during this month with his company. Garrett strides into the conference room with an ulterior motive set deep into his dark blue eyes. Everyone is puzzled; I'm not. I know exactly why he's he
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**I've never been at such odds with my wardrobe.My clothes gaze back at me, taunting me with the fact that no matter what outfit I pick, one will always be better than the other, and because of this, I will be prompted to start all over again and choose a new selection.It's currently a warm Monday afternoon, and I have two hours to get ready and make it over to Sebastian's house for dinner. Beverly Hills isn't too far of a drive from where I live, but I'm certain that indecisiveness will be the reason for my tardiness, not traffic.Pedro trots into my room with his chew toy between his teeth, only to jump on my bed to devour it."Pedro!" I yell at him. "Down!"
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 62
** SEBASTIAN "Bro, look over there." Trevor slaps my shoulder, bringing my attention—and the attention of Franklin and Chris—to a table behind us at the restaurant we're at—The Cabana on Melrose. The four women sitting there gives us smiles that say, "If you let me, I'll gladly blow you in the back." Don't get me wrong—they're hot. All four of them. But my mind is a little preoccupied on other things. "You eyeing the redhead?" Franklin asks me. I didn't even realize the girl was a redhead; that's how much I don't care. "Um...nah, not really. Not my type." My friends stare at me like I have five heads. Trevor downs his drink and narrows his eyes. "Hold up, hold up. Four hot chicks are staring our way—four that youknowyou can score all at once, and you're looking like your dog just died. What's up, man?" "Nothing's up." Lies. "I've just got a lot
