Chapter 11
“It’s old news,” Jo said icily.
“I was with him last week!” Jessica said, her tone full of exasperation. She remembered she was speaking to her boss, and was on thin ice at that, and reigned her tone in.
She sat up in her chair straighter and tried to sound professional as she spoke again.
“Jo, I returned from Denmark on Sunday. Two days ago! If we post the article online tomorrow, I’d hardly call it ‘old news’. No one’s even heard about it yet.”
“They heard about you when you went to the music awards. If we put up an article about you dating the Prince of Denmark, we’ll look behind the times. After all, we’re already seeing photos of him with another woman. No, the article would have to be about you breaking up with the Prince of Denmark.”
Jessica let out an exasperated sigh. “Jo, please don’t ask me to do that. This just happened to me. I just went through it. I don’t know if I can go there.”
“Oh, honey,” Jo said, her voice sounding anything but sweet. She picked up her phone and began scrolling through it.
Jess knew that her boss was checking her schedule to see what was next. It was a cue that Jess had long ago learned meant that her boss was about to abandon the conversation.
Jo continued to look at her phone as she spoke. “In this business, there’s no time for heartbreak. You have to keep moving. It’s a lesson we all have to learn while we’re young if we want to survive. Have the new post to me by the end of the day. And make it good. I want to know all of the dirty details.”
‘Dirty details’? Thought Jess, deflating as her boss strode away. It was nearing noon. No lunch for me, thought Jess, staring down at the proof that her boss had returned to her desk.
It was hard enough leaving Victor, thought Jess. Now I’m going to write about it? Tell the public? What have I gotten myself into? It seemed that her life had gone from a fairy tale to a chapter out of ‘The Devil Wears Prada’. She was back to doing the bidding of her heartless boss. Is this really what I chose? Thought Jess.
She leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. In her mind, she replayed the most painful moment of her life.
Victor had woken up in the hotel room as Jess began moving around to dress. She’d booked a plane ticket from her phone as Victor slept, and knew that she had to be out of the hotel room within the hour if she wanted to make her flight. She didn’t know how to wake him, but the sound of her movements around the room woke him naturally.
“Baby?” Victor mumbled, as he rustled under the covers, turning to face her. “You’re up early. Come back to bed.”
“I can’t,” said Jessica. She knew that she would have to explain why she couldn’t. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Victor,” she said softly. Her lip trembled at the first word of her confession.
“How am I going to make it through this?” she asked, more to herself than to Victor. She felt a tear escape her lower lid and wiped it carefully away. Victor sat up, his bare torso exposed. He looked concerned.
“What is it?” He asked. “Make it through what?”
“This...telling you what I have to tell you.”
“What is it, Baby? You can tell me.”
Jessica hesitated. She wanted to stretch that moment—not because it was a pleasant one, but because, inside of it, she was still Victor’s Baby.
“I—I’m not going back to your family's country house with you, Victor. I’m going home to LA.”
Victor’s face crumpled with shock and confusion. A deep furrow formed between his blond brows and he frowned as he spoke. “What are you saying?” he asked.
“I think there’s something to it—to what everyone is telling us. You’d be better off without me. And maybe—” this part was the hardest to say, but she managed to choke it out. “Maybe—maybe I’d be better off without you.”
Jessica swiveled in her chair. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she thought about the conversation. She wiped her fingers across her lower lids, rolling her eyes up at the same time so that she didn’t ruin her eye makeup.
It was true, wasn’t it? she thought, as she struggled to contain the tears. It was going to end eventually. The longer I was with him, the more painful it would be when things ended. And if I gave up on my career, I’d have nothing to fall back on. No way to support myself. I’d end up just like my mother.
Destitute.
Poor.
Living off
of handouts.
I made my way out of the ghetto, thought Jess. And I’m not going back. I can’t allow myself to believe in fairytales.
It was going to end.
Better that I ended it on my own terms.
I made my way out of the ghetto, and as long as I’m breathing, I won’t go back there.
Ever.
Jess inhaled, breathing in as deeply as she could and then exhaling all of the stale air out of her lungs. She looked down at the proof she’d turned in to her boss. It was a fluff piece, all about “What it’s like to date a prince.” She’d skimmed the surface, pulling out details that she thought the public would want to hear: the Porsches, country mansions, fancy dinners; the glitz, glamour, and shine.
But Jo had seen right through it, and Jess knew that her boss was right. The public was more savvy than that. They were hungry for truth—human truth. They wanted the content that they read to pull back the curtain, and let them magically see behind the scenes.
They want to see into that little Danish hotel room, thought Jess. They want to see Victor without his silk tie and jacket, without his prepared lines and out of a controlled situation. They want to feel the messiness of it all.
Can I give it to them?
Jessica opened up a blank document and stared at it. She placed her fingers on the keyboard, and let them rest there.
Though she was sitting at her desk, in a comfortable chair, the building’s third story floor securely under her feet, she felt for all the world that she was standing at a fork in the road.
In one direction, she saw a future that held a successful career. A life like Jo’s, she thought. I’ve admired her since she rescued me. But is that what I really want? She allowed herself to consider the other direction that she could walk.
In her mind, the path seemed barely visible, almost overgrown with weeds.
It hadn’t been traveled often.
What lies down that path? she wondered. What happens if I don’t give Jo what she wants?
She couldn't move for several minutes. Her fingers were still on the keyboard. Finally, the trance was broken, and she started to type.
*****
“What the hell is this?” Jo fumed as she held the papers Jessica had printed out.
“My article.” Jessica said.
“This is about Merika. The singer?”
“She’s very talented,” Jessica said. “And nice too. I met her at the music awards. She was with her husband, who—”
“I don’t care who the fuck she was with,” Jo said coldly. “And I don’t care what she was wearing, or what she said...”
Jessica watched her boss scan the article quickly. Then, Jo tossed it into the trash bin near her desk.
Jo stood and perched on the corner of her desk. Jessica forced herself not to step back, towards the door, though she wanted desperately to do so. She stood her ground, and looked squarely at her boss.
“I see what you’re doing, Jessica,” Jo said quietly.
The quiet, tightly controlled tone that Jo used scared Jessica more than if her boss had been yelling.
Jo continued.
“You’re trying to protect what you and Prince Victor had. As if it is a precious memory... Something to keep private. Oh, how mistaken you are. It is something to be used.”
Jo was silent, letting her statement sink in.
Jessica didn't speak either. Though she was frightened, she forced herself not to break eye contact with her boss.
After a moment, which seemed to stretch on and on Jo spoke again. “You think you were in love,” Jo said. “You think it was special. I have news for you. It wasn’t. Love doesn’t exist. Not the kind you want, Jessica. Not the kind that you’re protecting.”
Again, silence filled the office.
Jo didn’t move.
Jessica was speechless.
Finally, Jo stood up and walked away from the desk. She wore a pencil skirt and a white designer top that was nearly see-through. Jess could pick out the outline of the form fitting camisole that her boss wore underneath. As Jo turned, Jess stared at her boss’s yoga-sculpted shoulders and back. Jo spoke with her back turned to Jess.
“I have a three strike policy, Jessica. First, you fucked up in London. Secondly, you just blatantly refused to put together the article that I asked you to compose. I’ll give you one more chance.”
Jessica held her breath. This is bad, she thought. This is really bad.
“I’ll give you a shot at the upcoming high society wedding in Russia. If you blow it again, you’re out, Jessica. Fired. Done. For good. Do you understand?”
Jessica felt her knees grow weak. Fired? She felt herself nodding, and then was aware of her body turning, and walking towards the door. She felt as though she was dreaming. The situation felt surreal, and she was having difficulty comprehending the seriousness of the situation.
Fired, she thought, as she reached the door. What did I expect? I knew that it was coming, didn’t I?
When she looked around her next, she realized that she’d managed to walk down the hallway, away from her boss, towards the main area.
She couldn’t remember walking. She felt almost numb.
She managed to walk back to her desk. Though it was five, and her work day was officially over, she felt too paralyzed to gather her things and escape the office.
Fired.
I could be fired.
How would I afford my apartment? How would I get another job, with that on my record?
What would I do?
Is it worth it—this memory I’m protecting?
She thought of Victor. The way he looked at her. The kind words he spoke. The way his lips had felt against hers. We were in love, she thought. I know that we were. And I’ll always have the memory of what we shared.
He’ll go on to do great things. He’ll help people—working for the causes he believes in.
But I miss him. I didn’t think that it would hurt this badly. I thought that it would feel better to do what was right. I thought that I would be able to feel the truth in it. But I don’t.
I feel like shit.
With Victor on her mind, she fired up her computer.
In her dazed state, she found herself wondering if Victor felt as lost and confused as she did. Maybe he feels just as bad as I do, she thought. Maybe this is all a big mistake. I tried to do what I thought was right, and noble, and moral. I thought I was doing what was best for everyone. But maybe Victor was right. Maybe it doesn’t matter what everyone thinks—all we have to worry about is us. That’s all that matters.
Is he hurting, just like I am?
She typed in his name, to see what might pop up.
Immediately, she was bombarded with images of a smiling Victor.
He was boarding a plane. There was a woman next to him. Chelsea. Her arm was looped through his. Victor’s head was turned towards her, and he was speaking.
Jessica felt her heart sink into her stomach. If she hadn’t been sitting, she would have fallen to the floor.
“The Prince and Girlfriend Chelsea Novotny leave for Aid Efforts on the Island of Kilu” the caption read.
‘Girlfriend’? thought Jessica. Fuck. That was fast.
I mean, I left him so
that he could do this. This—this exact thing right here. She
stared at the picture. But I didn’t think he would do it so
fast. He’s already with her? And he seems happy.
Really
happy.
Sadness and regret welled up inside of her. Jo’s right, she thought. Love doesn’t exist. And now I have to perform perfectly in Russia so I don’t lose my job. I can’t fuck up again. Not this time.
*****
Jessica felt the familiar sense of stress and overwhelm as she and her team neared the crowded cathedral. It was the afternoon before the wedding, and her brain felt foggy with jet lag.
This time, however, she was prepared to deal with the challenges of the wedding.
She’d prepared by reading every single one of the emails that Jo had sent in the weeks leading up the the trip. It was more than difficult to find out that her boss had charged Jess with photographing the Prince and his date to the wedding—Chelsea—but Jess swallowed her pride.
It’s a low dig, she thought. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I deserve this. Jo had every right to assign this task to me.
She held a coffee in hand. Knowing that her boss would refuse to stop for coffees, Jess had thought ahead and packed cans of iced Starbucks in her carry one. She’d even brought extras for Trevor and Candice, who were delighted as she’d passed them out.
“Thanks Jessica, it was really smart of you to pack these,” Trevor had said with sincerity which, though it was a simple statement, was one of the nicest things he’d ever said to her.
“You’re a rockstar!” Candice had effused.
Jessica saw that Trevor, Candice, and Jo were pulling ahead of her as they all joined the swell of reporters and photographers heading towards the entrance of the cathedral. The rehearsal was scheduled to start in half an hour, and no one wanted to miss pictures of the high society couple as they entered.
Candice glanced back. “Ready, Jess?” she asked.
Jessica nodded. Though she’d been on a rollercoaster ride of emotions in the month since things had ended with Prince Victor, preparing for the trip to Russia had given her an unexpected sense of stability. She’d poured all of her attention into preparing for the trip, so that she could perform well. It had sufficiently taken her mind off of Victor, and she was grateful for that.
Because whenever she did dare to think about him, the result was not good.
Her depressed tears at what she’d lost became anger whenever she looked at pictures of Victor and Chelsea.
Of which there were plenty.
Victor and Chelsea smiling as they helped a construction team erect a wall in a school house they were building. Victor and Chelsea surrounded with happy school children. Victor and Chelsea with his family. Chelsea with Prince Oscar’s wife, having tea. Victor speaking in front of a crowd, with Chelsea by his side, looking adoringly up at him.
Her only consolation was how happy Victor looked.
No matter how angry Jessica began to feel about her jealousy of Chelsea, she couldn't deny the fact that Victor seemed happy. That’s all that matters, Jessica found herself constantly reminding herself. That’s why I did it. That’s why I left.
“I want you over there,” Jo said, pointing several yards away, where a cluster of photographers were already staged.
Jess nodded.
“You’re on close-ups, Jess. Try to get pictures that show the couple’s emotions. You know—concern, cold feet—that kind of angle.”
“Right,” said Jess. Of course Jo wouldn’t want pictures that showed the couple’s excitement about the upcoming nuptials, that wasn’t Jo’s style. Jess pushed away her annoyance. I don’t have time for that, she thought. Just do what she says. Get the photos she’s asking for.
Jess walked across the street, taking up the position that Jo had requested.
As she sipped her canned coffee, waiting for the couple to arrive, she overheard two photographers on her right speaking. Jess half-heartedly listened, until she heart the words ‘Prince Victor’. Then, she stopped drinking her coffee and began tuning in to the conversation.
“Prince Victor will probably be next,” one photographer said. He was a short, chubby man with a beard and a Yankees hat pulled low over his head. “At least for that wedding, we’ll get to travel to Denmark. Unless they get married on an island. The two seem to love to travel.”
“They’re going to Haiti soon, I heard,” the second photographer, an older man with a greying beard said.
“That’s right, I heard that too. Those would be great shots. The public loves shit like that. I guess we all need saints to look up to, especially in this day in age.”
“Modern saints,” said the man with the white beard. “You called it. It’s an ever-unfolding drama. The saints and the sinners. Anything to get our minds off of our own problems.”
“Yeah. I guess they were gonna go to Haiti sooner, but they had to make a detour for this wedding. Prince Victor and Vadim are tight.”
“That’s good to know. Let’s try to get shots of the two of them together.”
“Right.”
The conversation broke up abruptly as a limo pulled up and parked. Photographers swarmed forwards.
Vadim, the high-society Russian groom, stepped out of the back of the limo. He was a handsome man, in his early thirties.
In her research of him, prior to the trip, Jessica had read all about his checkered past. It seemed that the man, whose multi-billion dollar net worth earned him celebrity status, had once been involved with the Russian Mafia.
But he’d broken his connections and started living the straight and narrow path, which made him a beloved symbol of redemption in the eyes of the public.
Jessica had not, in all of her research, uncovered anything about a friendship between Vadim and Victor.
She didn’t have long to dwell on the new piece of information. Instead, she focused on her target. Rather than follow the swarm of photographers who were approaching the limo, Jessica took three steps back. She squatted low to the ground, and used her powerful zoom lens. She focused it a few steps away from the limo, just beyond the crowd.
Soon, her calculated move paid off, and she saw Vadim walk into her view. Jessica fired away quickly, taking photo after photo.
Seconds after Vadim stepped into view, his fiancé joined him. She was a beautiful woman who looked like a model who had just stepped off of a runway. She wore a flowing dress in a vibrant, African tribal pattern. It was deep orange, red, and white. Her neck was circled with row after row of beautiful beads that looked like they might be made out of wood.
Jessica felt awe as she snapped as many pictures as she could. When the moment passed, she stood up.
She lightly ran across the street. This time, she didn’t want to leave her team waiting, not once. To her satisfaction, she reached Jo’s side before Trevor and Candice did.
Jo hastily called a cab.
Jessica slid into the back seat, and smiled to herself as she watched Trevor hustle over to join them.
“Come on!” Jo said with annoyance. “I don’t want to miss the good spots. Someone pull up the address.”
“Where are you wanting to go?” The cab driver asked, his English heavily laden with a Russian accent.
Jessica acted quickly. She pulled up Jo’s latest email, which contained the address of the restaurant where the dinner was to be held. “134 Petrovka Street,” she said. “The Mari Vanna. Please.”
Jo pursed her lips and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, nodding at Jess with approval.
Trevor dove into the cab, still panting breathlessly. Candice followed, a minute later.
I wasn’t last, thought Jess, smiling to herself with satisfaction.
Several hours later, Jessica found herself standing among yet another cluster of reporters. This time, she felt less confident about the task at hand. If Vadim and Victor are so close, she’d realized as she waited for the dinner guests to begin arriving, he’ll probably be here.
When the guest list was leaked, she’d peered over it with more nervousness than she’d anticipated. The butterflies in her stomach were angrily beating their wings, stirring the coffee she’d just consumed.
Maybe he won’t, she thought, her eyes darting down the list. Maybe this will be family only. I thought I was ready to see him, but maybe I’m not.
Her hopes were crushed as she reached the end of the guest list.
‘Prince Victor and Chelsea Novotny’, she read.
“Looks like you’ll get a chance to photograph the happy new couple, before the wedding,” Jo said, pointing to the names that Jessica had just observed.
Jessica swallowed. “Yes,” she said. “You’re right… that’s… great.”
“I want pictures that show intimacy,” Jo instructed. “Deep care. Innocence…” Jo stared right at Jess as she spoke her final instructions. “I want pictures of them here, at the dinner. We’ll place them next to a follow up shot of them at the wedding. Two different outfits will give it some depth. Can you handle that, Jessica?”
Jessica felt as if she was going to be sick. I’m not ready for this, she thought. I’m not ready. I can’t do this.
But if I don’t, I’ll be fired.
“Yes,” she said. “I can.”