Chapter Nineteen

Kristen

Another bouquet of red roses is waiting when I reach my cubicle. I pluck the white envelope from the middle of the blossoms and open it.

I watch you all the time. I think of you all the time. Do you think of me, Kristen?

I hate seeing people use you and hurt you. You’re too special to be treated that way. I want to keep you safe in all ways. Not just your body but your heart too. Let me.

–Your Number One Admirer

I frown, then notice another stiff sheet stuck to the note card. I pull it away. My blood turns to ice.

It’s a photo of me in the lobby, taken from inside the building. I know exactly when it was taken, too. Yesterday after work. I was going to Mrs. Lim’s cafeteria to use the back door again.

Who could’ve taken it? Who’s sending me these flowers? The picture was taken from inside, so it has to be one of my coworkers…or someone with access to the building. Security hasn’t let any paparazzi in.

My hands shake as I grab the flowers and the notes. I’m not letting them stay on my desk and remind me that someone close by is violating my privacy and threatening me out of some sick enjoyment. I consider dumping them in the waste basket next to my cubicle, then change my mind. I don’t want them anywhere near me.

I walk rapidly toward the break room. It has a huge gray plastic trash bin with a lid. I almost run into Preston in my rush.

“Whoa! Are you okay?” he says. “Nice flowers, by the way.”

“Yeah, fine. Sorry.” I give him a small, pat smile, then continue my march.

“Where you going?” he asks, following a step behind.

“To the break room.” Which is three feet away.

“Need some help?” he asks.

“With what?”

“Carrying coffee back to your office. I’d hate to see you drop those flowers.”

“Thanks for the offer, but it won’t be necessary,” I say firmly as I dump the flowers and notes into the trash bin.

He gawks. “What are you doing?”

“Tossing ’em out.”

“But why?”

“I don’t like the way they smell.”

“You didn’t throw away the ones from yesterday.”

“Because I forgot.” And they seemed harmless back then. But now?

Preston gapes like I’m nuts, but whatever. I make myself a coffee and leave. A few of my coworkers walk past, staring, but I can’t muster a response, not even an empty, polite “good morning.”

Which of them sent the flowers? And took my picture? Maybe I wasn’t totally paranoid yesterday when I thought somebody was snapping photos of me in the meeting.

I resent it so much that I can’t even find solace in work, which I’m normally able to do. And the only “silver lining” in this whole debacle is anything but. Well. At least I know the truth about where Antoine and I stand. Instead of humiliation, all I feel is bitterness. I’m such a fool.

I sit at my cubicle and turn on my laptop. There’s nothing I can do at the moment except work. So I’m going to focus on that. I’m not giving up control of my life over some crazy stalker or some dumb photo or some stupid man who’d prefer to lose his balls rather than be with me.

Karen struts over in a deep blue low-cut dress and short, strappy silver heels. Her hair’s pulled smooth and high in a ponytail, and the effect is striking, bringing out her high cheekbones. “Good morning, Kristen. Can we talk for a moment?”

I give her a small smile for treating me like a human being rather than the subject of a lurid scandal. “Sure.” I pull back from my desk and swivel my chair around.

“Not here.”

Karen gestures for me to follow. She leads me along a wide corridor, its walls covered with photos of our past collections. We end up in a private conference room with a frosted glass wall for privacy at the end of the hall. It’s one of the smaller ones we have for two- or three-person meetings, with three wheeled chairs and a contemporary carbon fiber table.

“Please sit down,” Karen says, gesturing at one of the chairs. She waits until I’m seated, then leans her hip against the edge of the table. “I’m sure you’re aware more than anyone else about what’s happening.”

“Can you be more specific?” I ask in case it’s about something other than the Hollywood Blaze “article.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about #PedHo.”

“Ugh. Yes.”

“We’ve been getting a lot of complaints about you working here.”

“Complaints about my work? Or is it something else?”

“A lot of people are expressing hostility toward our brand because of your employment at Lola, Inc.”

Great. “You know a lot of those people are probably just keyboard warriors who never bought any of our stuff anyway.” Lola only does high-end fashion items, priced at hundreds of dollars, if not thousands. Most people can’t afford them.

“Perhaps, but we still have to consider our public image.”

This can’t be going where I think it’s going… “Karen, we’ve been working together a long time now. I was with you in Europe.”

She looks away for a second before turning back, her arms crossed. “And your point is…?”

“You know me. You know I’d never do the things I’m being accused of.”

“Yes, of course I do. But do they?” She gestures impatiently. “What have you done to fix the situation, Kristen? You’ve been hiding, and haven’t bothered to issue a single statement to defend yourself.”

Because Liza’s going to help me figure this out, and she’s having her brother’s team to handle it. But I don’t bring that up. I hate looking like I’m name-dropping. And I don’t want Karen to consider keeping me just to please a Hollywood megastar. She needs to believe in my innocence and character. “The tabloid article isn’t worth addressing. The kid is actually a teenage punk who yanked down my bikini top. If anyone was harassed, it was me.”

“Then you should’ve said that. Because now, it sounds like you’re just making an excuse to save your job.”

“You’re really going to fire me over this? When you know I did nothing wrong?”

“It’s not about what I know. Lola agrees with me.” Karen sighs. “Kristen, I like you a lot. You’re incredibly talented, and you work very hard. But business is business. No matter how progressive L.A. is, people aren’t that open-minded. If you wanted to keep your job, you should’ve done some damage control.”

My fingers shake. I’ve worked so hard to earn my place here. This isn’t just any company, but my dream company, in my dream industry. I can’t believe that all of it is going away. I put my hands under the table so Karen won’t notice.

“I’m really sorry, Kristen. But circumstances have spiraled out of control here. Lola, Inc. doesn’t have much choice.”

I stand slowly, taking my time. “You’re making a mistake.”

She gives me a look. “Don’t make this uglier than it has to be. A lawsuit would only make things unpleasant for everyone.”

That was a low blow. It’s like she doesn’t know me at all. “I wasn’t thinking of a lawsuit,” I say, numb and feeling like I’m an outside observer in all this. “I’m talking about you losing one of your best employees over something that’s going to blow past in a few weeks. A year from now, how many people do you think are going to remember this?”

She blinks.

“That’s right,” I say. “None.”

I return to my cubicle, my steps measured. The skin around my eyes stings with unshed tears, and I blink them away. Curious, morbid stares from my coworkers hit like lances. It truly hurts that not one of them is looking at me with anything resembling sympathy. Maybe they share Karen’s opinion. They think I’m guilty because I’m not out there in the spotlight, making dramatic statements and trying to fight everyone on Twitter and Facebook.

As I pack my things in a box, grief and anger spark in my heart. These people should know me better than this. I deserve better. I can’t believe I gave four years of my life to this company, only to be treated like garbage.

Purse slung over one shoulder and the box in my arms, I step into the elevator, my eyes dry. I tell myself I’m done with the company. Just done. I’m not going to waste the teeniest bit of mental energy on something that never deserved it in the first place.

But when the elevator doors open in the lobby, tears fall anyway.