My insides are churning as the cab approaches my apartment building. I fear that there may be media waiting at the bottom of the building. When we arrive, my driver notices a small group of people with cameras and booms outside, “What have they got going on here?” He turns to me, his jaw hanging.

“Yeah, I’d like to ignore that.”

“You’re Lexi Driver!” he says excited. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, I love your interviews.”

“Uh, thanks.”

I wonder if he heard about the video. I realize that since he’s spent most his day in the taxi he most likely has no clue. “You wouldn’t mind doing me a favor?”

“Anything for you.”

“There’s an underground garage here. Could you take me into it?”

He looks a little unsure, “Won’t I need a password?”

“Yes. I’ll, uh, tell you. You can press it in.”

I’ll have to change my password later, but seeing the paparazzi outside my door makes it worth it. “Five-six-eight-three.”

He drives down the ramp leading to the garage. I watch as the group of paps standing by the entrance stampede toward us. Oh, please God, get us in before they start snapping pictures. I duck down, as I do lights start flashing. The driver stops and thankfully presses in the password without any problems. The door opens but some reporters and camera men begin to filter in.

“Don’t worry, Miss Driver. We will lose them,” he says sympathetically. I know he intends to speed to the doors and I begin to rummage through my bag to find some money to pay him with.

He watches me through his rearview mirror, “Don’t you worry about that. You hop out and run in.”

“Thank you!” I say emphatically. He continues to speed through the cement garage.

I look out the rear window to see reporters running toward the cab. I see Jade Stolt amongst them. Of course, she’s here. She must be loving this.

The car comes to a screeching halt and I throw open the door. I know a couple video cams are on me, but I focus on the password, pressing each number deliberately. I can’t make any mistakes.

“Miss Driver! Lexi Driver!” I hear my name yelled repeatedly. I know they are trying to get me to look. This way they confirm my identity. I hear a clicking sound as the door unlocks. As soon as it does, I pull open the big steel door and scramble inside. I turn and force the door closed. When it finally slams shut I feel the knob turn; someone on the other side trying to get it open.

“Truth about you is out for the world to see, Lexi!” I hear Jade scream.

I’ve never felt so attacked in my life. I run up the cement stairs and make it into the lobby. Taking one of the maintenance elevators, I reach my floor, trembling in fear. What if someone found a way in and is waiting by my door?

The elevator door opens, and I step carefully to the edge and peek into the hallway. Dear God. Someone is at my apartment door! From afar, I can see two women standing next to my door, knocking on it. My tense muscles release and my fear melts away, it’s Clarissa and Anne.

“Where do you think she went after?” asks Anne. “I’ve tried texting her. She hasn’t responded to anything.”

I step out from the elevator and approach them.

“Lexi!” says Clarissa in a hoarse whisper.

I run over to them, pulling out my keys. Right now, I don’t want to have a run-in with my neighbors. I finagle the key in the lock and let the girls inside. They remain quiet all the while. I shut the door behind us.

“Are you okay, Lexi?” Anne asks with a worried expression. “Did you know Brett was recording all of that?”

“Yeah,” I say, feebly.

“Whoa. That’s beneath the belt, Brett Brock,” Clarissa says in disgust.

I pause as the tears begin to pool in my eyes again. My bottom lip trembles, “You know, I’ve been dragged through the dirt before, but never like this. I thought I could trust him!”

The girls look at one another then they both wrap their arms around me and give me a hug. I take a deep breath, stopping my tears from gushing down my face.

“I brought some weed,” says Clarissa consolingly, pulling it out of her bag.

Anne’s brow raises at Clarissa, “How about I make you some tea?”

“Wine,” I say sternly. “I need wine.”

Anne says nothing but scurries to the kitchen and looks through my wine rack. She brings out some of my favorite cabernet. Clarissa holds my arm and walks me over to the couch. I drop onto the pillows, throwing my head back, “How could I have been so stupid?” My eyes well up. I want to cry.

“Well,” Clarissa begins, “he went all-out to dupe you, Lexi. Bringing you home to his family for Christmas, I think any woman would be fooled.” She rolls a joint on the coffee table.

I regain my composure. “This is bullshit. I can’t imagine checking my email now. I’m sure Steve has told me that I won’t be doing Super Bowl or any other upcoming games.”

Anne groans, as she approaches Clarissa and I with three wine glasses. “Strangely, Brett will probably make the Super Bowl and by that point, everyone will have forgotten his bit in all this.”

I take the glass Anne offers me. “The media won’t mention it more like.”

Anne sighs, “I hate saying this, but you need to open your media and all your emails, Lexi. We need to do damage control here.”

I give her a disgruntled look.

“Might have to turn on the television, too,” Anne says.

“You know what? I’m not watching the video online or seeing what all the haters are saying on television. I’m going straight to Brett. I have a few things I want to say to him.”

Clarissa lights her blunt and takes a puff. “Lexi, what’s the point in that? It’s one in the morning. He may not even be there.”

“Perhaps not. But I’d rather give him a piece of my mind than sit here and watch my pussy go viral online along with the rest of the world. I’m not reading all the hate that goes along with it, either.” I get my purse, pull out a pad and pen, and scribble down my WeTweet password and email password. “Here, Anne. Do all the damage control you can manage.” I tear the paper from the pad and pass it to her.

Anne looks up at me wide-eyed, “Lexi, you’re too emotional right now. You’re being rash. This apartment is your safe haven. You can’t leave. You don’t know what you might face out there.”

“Whatever is out there is waiting for me tomorrow anyway,” I say exasperated. “Wish I had a wig.”

“Lexi, I think it would be better if you stayed here,” Anne says in concern. “We can design a damage control plan right now. I’m sure it’d make you feel better.”

“And plan what, Anne? Do you want me to do that spot for Sports Fanatics? I think being a pinup girl will only add fuel to this fire. That’s off the table for me.” I grab my coat and scarf and turn and leave the apartment.

I’m trembling in the elevator as I wrap my scarf around my head. I rummage through my bag, looking for a pair of sunglasses. I know it looks ridiculous to wear sunglasses in the dead of winter at night, but I don’t care. I can’t bear people looking at me. The elevator reaches the lobby and the doors slide open. I brace myself. There’s a young couple giggling and smiling. As I walk out into the lobby with my head down, the pair step in to the elevator, kissing each other as the door closes.

I look to the large windows to my left. If there are too many photographers, and journalists, I figure I’ll run into another elevator across from me. But, as I suspected, there is no one outside; everyone is inside the parking garage. Thankfully, several security guards are pushing most of them out the front entrance. “You have no business in here,” a guard calls. “Leave, we are calling the police.”

“Do you know which apartment is hers?” I hear a man say to a woman standing next to him.

OH, GOD.

“We could ask the doorman,” a familiar voice mutters back.

“Jade, seriously. We snuck in here. Security is pushing most of these people out. If they had seen my camera, I’m sure we’d get the boot, too. The last thing the doorman is going to do is give us her personal information.”

Jade stomps her foot. “There’s got to be a way to get a picture of her humiliation now.”

I begin to edge to the parking garage door, but my ankle boots make clacking sounds against the tile floors. Shit! I sprint to the door, throwing it open as they run behind me.

“THAT’S HER!” I hear Jade yell behind me as the door closes. I scramble down the staircase and open the large steel door leading to the garage. I spot my car, thirty feet away. There’s no way I can make it there without Jade getting a shot of my getaway. I head toward the cars in front of me and hide behind them.

I hear Jade and her friend, Ted enter the parking garage. “Where did that bitch go?” Jade sneers, looking about. I peek from behind the cars as her friend shrugs. “She couldn’t have gone far. Or maybe she’s already in her car?”

“Mmm.” Jade taps her finger to her cheek. “With all the cars in here, you think she has one of the best parking spaces, Ted?”

“It’s possible.”

I look down at my ankle boots, knowing they are going to make sounds as I walk on the concrete, and give my hiding spot away. I begin to slowly unzip and pull them off. I hear Jade again.

“Let’s go searching.”

A car enters the garage, distracting Jade and Ted. As the car drives past them, I hustle through the maze of cars, trying my best not to make a sound. Luckily, another car follows. Between the sounds of the engines, I hear Jade call to Ted, “She may be in her car by now. If she’s going to where I think she is, I need to make a call.”

I reach my car and slowly open the door. The interior light goes on. This sends me into a panic. I jump inside and slam the car door shut.

SHIT! I’ve alerted both Ted and Jade. They both look about the parking garage. I pray for the interior light to go out faster. But it doesn’t, and the pair spot me. I slam the keys into the ignition and start the car as Ted jogs toward me with his camera. He fiddles with the buttons, trying to capture my getaway. I put my foot on the gas and screech toward the exit. Jade runs over and tries to throw herself into my path. I swerve past her. I repeatedly press the garage button in a frenzy. Glancing back, I see them still chasing me. As soon as the garage door is high enough, I press my foot to the floor, swerving onto the road and head for Brett’s apartment.

When I arrive at Brett’s, I park across the street. His place is bombarded with paparazzi, too. I did not think this through. They were at my apartment why the hell wouldn’t they be at his? I question how the hell I’m going to get inside. I stare out my window at the building. I don’t know anyone that would let me into the building. I could walk into the building after someone else, but there are security guards in the entrance. There isn’t a simple way to get in. I glance over at the garage. I could wait for someone to open the garage door and sneak in.

Or you could text him, Lexi! Texting him is the most logical thing to do. He could buzz me in. But the paparazzi surrounding the doors makes me nervous. I could wear my scarf and sunglasses. But they might recognize me. Then another dark cloud overwhelms my thoughts, what if Brett refuses to see me?

I give my head a shake. Why should I care if he rejects me? He’s an asshole. I pull down my sun visor and look in the mirror. I adjust my scarf and throw on my shades again. I take a deep breath, mustering up my courage. I open my car door and step out into the busy street. There’s still crowds of New Yorkers celebrating New Year’s, some of them drunk. I blend into the pedestrian crowd and cross the street with them and head toward Brett’s building. I note that the parking garage drive is a little steep, surrounded with bushes and trees that climb up to the street. It would be easy to hide in the brush and sneak inside when a car entered or left. But there is a problem—there’s a security guard there. Geez, how do I get in?

I duck into the brush and hear some whispers around me.

“If he tries to enter or leave, we’ll get a picture then,” instructs a voice not far from me.

Ugh. This place is full of these bloodsuckers. I pull out my phone to make it look as though I’m one of them. I watch a car enter. They stop at a small box across from the security guard and key in a password. I wish I had paid attention to Brett’s password or asked him for it. Knowing it would be helpful right now. I edge closer to the garage. The car that is keying in their password isn’t moving; the driver is talking to the security guard.

“Hey Pete,” the driver asks, “what in God’s name is going on? Are they all after Brett, again?”

Pete rolls his eyes, “Yeah, Mr. Armand. It reminds me of earlier this season. That Lexi Driver’s involved again, too.”

“Yeah. Saw some of that video. Wow. Brett’s a lucky guy, huh? She looks like a lot of fun.”

“Seems like a daring girl,” Pete says.

I seize my opportunity. As the two continue talking, I get down to my hands and knees and crawl in. I hide behind a parked car. Pete nor the driver notice. They finish their conversation and the driver heads inside. After the door has shut, I run between the cars, making my way to the apartment doors. I stop, realizing I need to wait for Mr. Armand or someone else to come along and press in their code. I wait by a car next to the entrance. Thankfully, a man steps out, tipsy, stumbling about. He unlocks the door and throws it open as he sings auld lang syne off-tune. I slip in and bolt up the stairs. I enter the lobby and discreetly head over to the elevators. Outside the large windows I can see the swarm of paparazzi with their cameras and booms. I turn my back to them. Wearing my scarf and sunglasses will look suspicious. I hit the button to summon an elevator. When it finally arrives, I’m relieved to see it empty. I step on and hit the button to close the doors. I don’t want anyone else on here with me.

Several minutes later, I find myself at Brett’s door. My hand clenched into a fist, I’m ready to slam the steel as hard as I can. But I stop. What am I going to say to him? He knows what he did. Anxiety creeps over me, taking a hold of my body; I can hardly breathe. I’m scared. This will hurt more than what happened between me and Tristan; I had always felt guilty for not telling Katie what a piece of shit Tristan is. But this pain is different. There’s a good chance Brett will tell me that he intended to hurt me. No matter what I say, he won’t feel any guilt or shame over what he has done. But I still needed to say my piece.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“Ouch, damn!” I grasp my fist. Hit a little too hard. “BRETT BROCK! YOU’D BETTER BE IN THERE! I WANT TO HAVE A FEW WORDS WITH YOU!”

The door slowly opens. I can’t believe my eyes. It’s Izzy Avery wearing a teddy. There’s a malicious expression on her face, “Hello, Miss Driver.” She lifts a phone in front of her face and snaps a picture of me, then gazes at her phone. “Oh, I’m sure Brett will like this one. You got the wide-eyed what-the-fuck expression going on.” She laughs. “I’m sure this photo will break the Internet along with your videos.”

I’m taken aback. Izzy was in on this? “You know, Izzy, I heard you were some piece of work.”

“Yeah,” she says haughtily. “I know Brett thinks so. Can’t stay away from me. Turns out spending Christmas together is what did you in. He told me inviting you home to meet his mother made him realize how wonderful he and I had it. He says he can’t stand your awkward orphan issues. Told me you were totally weird about celebrating Christmas.”

My stomach does flip-flops. Izzy couldn’t possibly know that I was an orphan. Few people in New York do. “I’d like a few words with him, Izzy,” I say, trying to brush past her. “So, if you don’t mind.”

Izzy pushes me back into the hallway. “I don’t think so, Lexi. Brett doesn’t want to speak with you. You two were never a thing. He told me that he was only using you to help his career and get more interviews. That, and revenge for putting his cock on television.”

My heart sinks. “I don’t care,” I say insistently. “I still want to talk to him. I want him to explain to me why he thinks he had to go to such lengths to destroy my career … to destroy me.” My eyes begin to fill. You are not an emotional person. Fight the tears, Lexi!

“Are you that dumb?” she asks coldly. I quickly regain my composure, inhaling a deep breath, I don’t shed a tear. Izzy continues, “Brett and I are together, Lexi. Why the hell do you think I’m here? To console him after losing you?” She slams the door in my face with a cackle. Moments later I hear her voice muffled, “You were right, Brett. It was Lexi. I told her to fuck off. You should see the pic I took!”

I wonder if Izzy is only playing a game. But then I hear a lower, deeper voice respond. Though I can’t make out the words, my worst fear is confirmed. I stand dumbfounded, unable to think, my breath caught in my throat. It’s as though my lungs have forgotten how to work. I fall back onto the wall next to me, gasping. Did that seriously just happen?

I pull out my phone. I see there are a couple texts from Brett since I ran off from Times Square.

Anger seethes inside me. You are one sick bastard, Brett Brock. I tap his contact information on my phone. A list of options come up, ‘delete contact’, ‘share contact’. I tap the option ‘add to blacklist’.