A Crazy Kind of Love by Mary Ann Marlowe (26)

Chapter 26

Adrianna handed me the wedding invitation when she buzzed up the next morning, wearing a brown uniform and holding a clipboard under one arm.

I stood back to let her in. “You didn’t have any trouble with the paps downstairs?”

“Oh, no. I go all over the place like this. You wouldn’t believe how few people take note of the UPS guy. I throw this on, and I could walk right up to a counter and order lunch.”

“Do you think that would work for me?” We’d all agreed I couldn’t be seen with Micah until this farce played out since Andy thought we’d broken up. A nice disguise might let us cheat.

She giggled. “I don’t think so. You’d look like you were wearing a costume. The beauty of my disguise is that it’s so different from what people expect to see. When I’m Adrianna, I’m so ridiculous that nobody notices me hiding in plain sight.”

I scratched my head. “When you’re Adrianna? Who are you now?”

She tapped the name tag on her chest. “I’m Andrew.”

“How do you manage to keep it all straight?”

She cocked her head. “Oh, honey. This is how I’ve lived for years.”

“Lord. It must be so hard.”

“Yeah. But sometimes I meet someone magical, like Zion, who sees through all this. And that makes it all a little easier.”

One day I’d get her to tell me her whole story. But it wouldn’t be today. I needed to get into the office.

Adrianna picked up the invitation. “There are more of these. If things don’t work out today, we’ll have to find another way.”

I took it from her and slid it into my pocketbook. “Thanks for your help on this.”

“My pleasure. I’d do anything for Adam, and I miss the fun we used to have messing with the tabloids.”

She gathered her things and put her cap on. I had no doubt she’d dissolve right back into the crowd. I didn’t envy her complicated existence, but I envied her ability to disappear at will.

But today, I needed to be conspicuous. I wanted to wear makeup to effect a hangover, but both Eden and Micah regretfully informed me that my complexion was sallow enough already. An evening in a near coma had taken care of my healthy glow.

Micah had asked me if I was even up for shenanigans, offering me an out. “You could just come home and hang out with Oscar and Felix and me.”

But I was up for it. I had my own reasons to exact revenge on Andy fucking Dickson. And it didn’t hurt to know that Eden would forever love me for going through with it. She deserved her own revenge.

I returned to the office before noon. Zion sat at his desk already and gave me the slightest chin raise in greeting. I slipped the invitation out of my pocketbook to lay it on his desk, but he shook his head. I ran my eyes over to Derek’s desk. He wasn’t there. Crap.

Zion said a little too loud, “Josie, why aren’t you at home? You look terrible.”

Andy flung open his door and stared at me. “You? Get in here, now.”

I dropped my head down, feigning shame and fear. “Yes, sir.”

He waited until I’d entered the office and then slammed the door. He rounded his desk and faced me. “First, you send a complaint about me to HR. And now, you’re back? Are you hoping to pick up your last paycheck? Or turn in your credentials? One of those might be an option.”

His face had turned the color of eggplant. All the times I’d fought back tears in this office, and I couldn’t cry at will. Instead, I scrunched my face up and sniffled. “You were right about everything.”

“What?” A piece of spittle stuck to his lower lip, but he wasn’t the least bit self-aware. “You finally figured out they don’t give a shit about you, right? That act Micah put on for the cameras was just for show, wasn’t it? What happened? Did he stop answering your calls? Or did he actually tell you he didn’t want to date some psycho stalker who showed up drunk at his sister’s house banging on the door after she gave up all his family’s secrets?”

I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t say, “You gave up all his family’s secrets.” I had a response better than words. “I understand you might want to fire me and—”

“Damn straight. Your behavior has been completely unacceptable, Jo.”

I added an extra waver to my voice. “About yesterday . . .”

His nostrils flared, and I watched the light go off in his head. “That video is undeniable proof that you’re completely unsuitable for this line of work. I’ll be adding it to my counter complaints to send to HR.”

I reached toward him. “Oh, please. Don’t.” I worried I might have veered into melodrama. “I swear I wasn’t drunk. I hadn’t eaten in hours, and I went into hypoglycemic shock.”

He hesitated. He’d already gone on public record accusing me of intoxication. He’d have to retract the story if he chose to believe me. His tongue ran across the front of his teeth. He stepped to the door. “Derek, get your ass in here.”

I craned my neck and saw Derek shoving back a Styrofoam box of street meat. He hopped up, wiping his lips with a napkin, and entered Andy’s office. “What’s up? Oh, hi, Josie.” Just like that, as if he hadn’t stood by and filmed me slipping into a coma.

Andy didn’t mince words. “Derek, you said Jo was drunk last night when you saw her. She claims she was in some kind of shock.”

“Hypoglycemic shock,” I offered helpfully.

Derek scoffed. “You saw the video. She was tanked, staggering all over the sidewalk. Classic drunk.”

“Thanks, Derek. You can go.”

Andy wiped the spittle off his lips with the back of his hand. “Look. You were upset. You mistook a media slut’s interest in you as something real. It could happen to anyone.” He chuckled. “Well, not really, but you’re about the most naïve journalist I’ve had the misfortune to hire.”

“You’re right. I—” I couldn’t deny that, not out loud anyway. Not if I wanted him to believe Micah had dumped me.

“So you got a little drunk and threw yourself at him. It’s embarrassing. I can understand why you’d want to play it off as some kind of illness.”

“Andy, I wasn’t drunk.”

His eyes lit up with glee. “I hope you felt humiliated seeing it all over the Internet. I sure did enjoy it.” His lips curled into a nasty sneer. “You never should have crossed me, Jo.”

I couldn’t stand to look at his face another second, so I pushed him to act. “What are you going to do, Andy?”

“I’m going to fire your ass.” He smiled, though on anyone else, one might call that expression a frown. “Now, get out of my office.”

I fought my own expression of joy as I walked out of that snake pit for good. I covered my mouth as though hiding my tears. It was the only way I could keep from laughing.

Zion asked, “Is everything okay, Jo?”

Derek looked up from his pile of lamb strips with pieces of rice adhering to his chin.

I sniffed. “Andy just fired me. This has been the worst goddamn twenty-four hours of my life.”

“Oh, man. Do you need me to do anything to help you?”

“No. I suppose I’ll be all right.” I started toward the door, but stopped. As if I had an afterthought, I produced the wedding invitation from my pocketbook and dropped it on Zion’s desk. “This came in the mail yesterday. I’ve been carrying it around, wishing Micah might take me back.” I wiped imaginary tears from my dry eyes. “But there’s no way I’m going to go—not after everything. Maybe you could take my place. If you can figure out where it is, take lots of pictures and publish them everywhere.”

“Is that what I think it is?” He hadn’t made use of his acting skills since we’d performed in an off-campus production of Jesus Christ Superstar, but this job didn’t require thespian chops. And he was killing it.

I dropped my face into my hands. “I can’t fucking believe this is happening.” I’d like to thank the Academy . . .

Zion jumped off his stool and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Let me at least walk you down and help you get a cab.”

We walked down to the elevator together and both climbed in. When the doors closed, I asked, “Do you think he’ll take the bait?”

Zion snickered. “We’ll know soon enough. I left my web cam running.”

I got out of the elevator on the second floor and hugged Zion. “Sorry to leave you here to deal with this shit. I’ll see you at home later.”

And then I walked away from that festering soul suck. I stretched my legs and stood a little taller. I’d done my part. Now I could only wait and see. And hope everyone else lived up to their end of the plan.

We couldn’t meet at Micah’s or Eden’s because they were so often under surveillance, and I still had a few reporters following me home. So we texted or talked on the phone. But we only did the latter when we were sure nobody could overhear us.

Zion sent us all a video showing Derek picking up the wedding invitation and reading it. Derek’s eyes bugged out of his head, and he looked over his shoulder at the entrance to the office. Then he disappeared. I wondered if he photocopied it or took it straight to Andy. Zion said that the invitation sat on his desk when he returned.

Would Andy print the wedding invitation and run a story leaking the date, or would he go for the bigger story? Would he try to get exclusive photographs of a private wedding?

We got our first hint later that night when Eden’s parents called to find out why a reporter was asking about a secret wedding. Confused by the question, they’d told the reporter they had no idea what he was talking about. Eden would have told them to say exactly that if she’d wanted to loop them in any sooner. She said they’d more likely screw it up if they had a script to follow.

For the next two weeks Eden worked behind the scenes to organize everything else while I waited for time to pass. She called to let me know she’d taken a walk to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens where she conspicuously spoke to directors at the all-glass Palm House. She’d already booked the hall after calling around and finding a venue that could accommodate her needs at short notice, but she wanted to make sure Andy’s sleuths would have something to work with.

Adam and Adrianna were busy writing music and filming on location. Micah had performances, and reporters hounded him for a comment about the breakup with the girl he’d recently been linked to—me—but he charmed his way around them. His picture still showed up in the gossip pages, but mostly “seen out and about.”

It killed me that I had to stay away from him all this time. He called every day and occasionally sent me text messages, like Would you rather go to Bali or Scotland? This is not a hypothetical question. But I missed seeing him. I second-guessed my involvement in this prank every time I had to resist an urge to show up on his doorstep.

Meanwhile, I saw Zion off to work in the morning, shuffled around the apartment, and went running. In the afternoon, I wandered the streets observing people. At night, I shot pictures of the Brooklyn Bridge. And every day, I watched my bank account dwindle.

Once my connection to Micah appeared to be severed, my phone quickly stopped ringing, and the reporters cleared off the sidewalk outside my apartment. Even when I saw paps I knew out on the street, they looked right past me. Without Micah beside me, my value to them dried up. Once again, I became a footnote to someone else’s celebrity. A historical anecdote. As it turned out, that didn’t bother me one bit.

After a week of near solitude and anonymity, my phone rang with an unknown incoming number. I almost ignored it, but curiosity got the best of me.

I hit Answer and hesitantly said, “Hello?”

“Josephine? Hi. This is Lars Cambridge of the Rock Paper.”

I sat up. “Lars?”

“Yeah, hey. I’m glad I caught you. Listen, Micah sent me a link to the article your paper posted about you.”

A top editor at a huge magazine was calling to talk to me, but he only wanted to talk about a tired personal scandal. I sighed. “I’m not commenting on that story, Lars.”

“No, of course not. I’m not interested in the story. But I really liked the photographs credited to you. The one of Micah is stunning. Like something that should hang in the Louvre, not on the gossip pages.”

“Thank you.” I said it as a vindication for what I’d thought and quickly added, “That was exactly what I was thinking when I shot it. It’s impossible to take a bad picture with a subject who already looks like a work of art.”

He laughed. “Yes. But I also saw your breathtaking photo of Victoria Sedgwick. I’ve seen her many times before, but I’d never noticed how poignant a figure she cuts. You are way too talented for a second-rate newspaper.”

“That means a lot, Lars. I didn’t mean for either of those pictures to post in the paper. It was—an unfortunate confluence of events.”

“I’m glad they did, or I might have missed seeing them. Look, I can’t promise you anything, but I’d like to take a look at your other work. I have an idea for you, but I need you to send me whatever you can.”

I slumped. “Most of my work is owned by the Daily Feed.” I combed through my mind and tried to think what I had on hand. “But I have been building a portfolio. I can send you all of that. It might not be much.”

“Great. I look forward to it.” He gave me his email address, and I promised to get it to him right away.

Before he hung up, he said, “I hope things are good with Micah.”

“You know the papers distorted what happened.” Even as I said it, I caught the poetic justice of the situation.

Lars kindly left the obvious lesson aside. “Micah told me.”

“What did he say about me?” I could hear Micah saying, “Positively shameless fishing, Wilder.” But I was desperate for any glimmer of Micah. I missed him so much.

“He said you were a talented photographer and far too ethical to be working for Andy Dickson. And he said you were too good for him.”

“I think we both know that’s not true. Micah’s a gem.”

“Like I said, I hope things work out for you both.”

I buried myself in the task of putting together a collection of photos that would show Lars my best work: the little girl with her face painted, the monks at Times Square, the chess players, the girl chasing her dog, paparazzi harassing Micah, Eden and Micah performing together, Micah floating like a god across the top of the crowd. Micah’s beautiful, beautiful face as the spotlight lit him from above and hands reached for him from below.

I couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed my phone. I texted, Where are you? I’m coming to find you.

He wrote back, One day at a time there, Micaholic. I’m sending you something to keep you occupied.

The next day, a nonpostmarked letter arrived containing a single ticket to a matinee showing of one of the worst plays Off Broadway. Box office sales had been so poor that the show would be pulled by the end of the week, but it would kill time. So I took a series of subways to Times Square and disappeared into the dark and empty theater. Despite the dearth of spectators, the usher directed me to my seat at the very back of the balcony, all the way at the end. Crappy seats at a crappy play all alone.

But as the show started, someone sat next to me and put his arm around me. I spun toward him so fast, I nearly fell out of my chair. Micah sat there looking extremely pleased with himself. I wiped the cocky smirk off his face with a kiss. We didn’t see any of the play, and yet I’ll never forget it.

After that, whenever Micah had a free day, I’d wake to find either an envelope or a text message with mysterious instructions that would inevitably lead me to him. And he took me on a personal tour of the city—Brooklyn anyway. We swapped stories about our pasts for hours in a private meeting room at the Brooklyn Public Library. We made plans for our future in a balcony pew at Plymouth Church. And, more than once, we toured the facilities of the local hotels—where we barely spoke at all. Sneaking about added a level of excitement and daring to an already thrilling romance. Every day I fell more in love with Micah. And the next two weeks flew by.

On the Friday before the big event, Adam and Eden quietly stole to the clerk’s office and registered for a marriage license.

On Saturday morning, I sat in my pajamas and watched Zion get dressed to head out. In Andy’s world, I no longer had any reason to be attending Adam and Eden’s wedding, so I’d be sitting this one out. Zion promised there would be video.

And if all went according to plan, there’d be plenty of it.

I tried to distract myself with Internet games. Then I went for a jog, fighting the temptation to head down toward Prospect Park. Zion texted me periodically.

I wrote him back, Don’t you dare talk in code. What’s happening?

Is he buying it? I chewed on my thumbnail, waiting to hear the answer. Everything hinged on Andy’s complete belief.

He sent me a snippet of video from his phone. Andy had found a place to perch right outside the building. It would have been a great place to get exclusive photos or video of a private wedding. Zion scanned the entire venue with his camera. The seats filled as classical music played. A “wedding photographer” moved around the room with his professional equipment. Adam stood at the front, waiting. Micah flanked him on one side, Adrianna on the other.

The wedding music began to play. Zion’s video cut off, and I imagined Andy snapping photos of Eden in her last-minute gown. And then I watched the clock for several hours.

Finally, Zion opened our apartment door and dropped onto the sofa. “That was incredible.”

“Everything went well?”

“Incredible. Adrianna said she’ll have everything ready by tomorrow. I’m just hoping Andy doesn’t post anything tonight. I don’t suppose we’d be so lucky that he’d wait until Monday.”

We weren’t. Sunday afternoon, it came out. He’d gone all out. The website had the photocopied image of the wedding invitation and an article about how clever Andy had found the venue and gotten the exclusive photographs of Adam Copeland and Eden Sinclair’s wedding. He posted video of Eden walking down the aisle and apparently exchanging vows with Adam. The only sound accompanying the video came from outside the venue—the wind rustling through the trees, people talking in the distance, Andy grunting with exertion.

Adrianna sent frantic texts, saying it would be another hour. Then another. Zion paced the floor. Finally, I got the text and saw Adrianna’s tweet.

Check out my new music video.

And there it was—the music video she and Adam had shot over the past three weeks. The final scenes had been taken from the staged wedding the previous morning.

The video told a story. At the beginning, Adrianna and Adam appeared together like a happy couple. They even kissed, chaste. Then Eden entered the scene, and Adam’s interest in Adrianna clearly waned as he spent time with Eden. Adrianna stood by helpless as she watched this developing. I recognized this as the narrative that Andy had tried to manufacture three years before when he’d revealed Eden’s relationship with Adam.

When the chorus came around, Adrianna held a wedding invitation. She dropped it, and the camera zoomed in on the prop to show the words. And as she sang the lyric “always a bridesmaid, never a bride,” the video switched to Adrianna standing beside Adam, as Eden walked down the aisle in a costume wedding dress.

It was a thing of beauty.

Within an hour, the video, along with Andy’s story, had gone viral. He’d get a ton of traffic from this embarrassment, but it would be a Pyrrhic victory for him. Adrianna would get even more publicity from it, and Andy would look like a total jackass.

If he got fired after that, it would just be icing. He’d never live this down.

Zion made me some popcorn, and as I settled in to read the competitors’ sites gluttonously, the intercom buzzer sounded. Zion got up and pressed the button. “Yo.”

Micah answered, “Yo,” and Zion let him in.

He scooted in next to me, and I slouched against him. “How’s Eden doing?”

“Never better. Thanks for all your help.”

I laughed. “All I did was get fired. Y’all were amazing.”

“Yeah, we were.”

Zion said, “Guys, you’ve got to look at The Watch Dog.”

The headline read “How Far Is Too Far?”

My eyes glazed over. “Too wonky.”

Zion tapped my foot with his. “Oh! Read this one!”

My Facebook dinged, and a message popped up from Zion with a link to an article at Inside Scoop.

Inside Scoop has followed up on earlier stories posted in the Daily Feed and has made a shocking discovery.

Weeks ago, Derek Peterman of the Daily Feed shot this video of tabloid journalist Josephine Wilder passed out in front of Micah Sinclair’s apartment. In the video, Mr. Peterman mocks Ms. Wilder for being drunk. Since this incident, Ms. Wilder, who was also a reporter for the Daily Feed, has been terminated for this unseemly behavior.

Coworker Zion Knight told Inside Scoop that Ms. Wilder had been under stress after her boss Andy Dickson released a story she’d negotiated to run at a later date. Mr. Knight gave no further details about this story.

I held my hand up for the high five. “Zion, way to turn the story in on itself.”

Zion beamed. “Hey, you use the weapons at your disposal.”

On Monday morning, reporters dug up Adam and Eden’s marriage license and began to raise questions about intent. Before a counter story could emerge to vindicate Andy’s misinterpretation of events, Eden stopped on the street to answer the questions lobbed at her. Nobody bothered to ask her why she’d started talking to the reporters—although Andy would have surely noticed this deviation in character. The hardworking reporters were just happy to have a quote to turn in to their editors—especially the long-sought-after announcement of Adam and Eden’s wedding date, set to coincide with the two-year anniversary of their engagement in October. “We’ve already booked the hall, and invitations were sent out ages ago.” This was true. But she’d also only invited trusted family and friends.

Other articles about Andy would follow. And they’d fade into the background. I didn’t think anything would change, except that Andy Dickson would know what it felt like to be on that side of the story.

But with his name now a part of the cultural debate, his life became fair game to the kind of reporting he’d perfected. Over the next several days, reporters followed him around with cameras, peppering him with questions and egging him on for a reaction. If Andy had learned anything over the years, he should have known not to engage. But whether due to his own vanity or blind ignorance of his situation, his responses were often ugly, and the public wasn’t on his side.

Celebrities he’d burned in the past joined in, and soon stories about his behavior came out. Accusations of blatant harassment or misleading claims piled up, and when the investigative reporters began to dig into Andy’s personal life, more than one embarrassing skeleton fell out of his closet. I guess he figured nobody would ever have any reason to wonder what he charged on his credit cards, but apparently America loves to point and mock a certifiable villain with an eHarmony subscription.

Honestly, I almost felt bad for the guy. Almost.