CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chelsea
The headlines were worse than I thought. I stared at the people walking on the sidewalk below me. Their lives were uncomplicated and simple. I bet none of them were plastered on websites, bare and exposed where other people could judge. Where they could leave hateful comments and taunt. Yeah, those people on the sidewalk were living normal lives.
Quinn whistled as she walked through the door. “So, you sure know how to make an entrance in the music biz. Mark Weston?”
“Not funny. It was just coffee.”
“Coffee shmoffee. Looks like you were totally smitten with him.” She laughed and plopped down on the writing couch.
“Oh, God, it’s terrible, isn’t it?” I buried my face in my hands. “But I’m not smitten. Maybe a little bit of a crush, but only because I love his music and…I shouldn’t be saying any of this. I completely screwed up.”
“What did Ben say? I’m sure he was fine after you talked. He knows the deal with the press.”
The panic flooded my face. “I didn’t tell him about last night when we talked. Mark told me it would just blow things out of proportion, so I didn’t mention it. He said it was better that way.”
Quinn stared at me. “Mark told you to say that?”
I nodded.
“Girl, I think he totally played you.”
“What do you mean? He was trying to help.” I worried I might get sick right there. My stomach was churning.
“Ok, so clearly your experience with guys is limited.” She pulled her guitar from its case. “Coffee? Come on. He’s into you.”
Her words were true, but that’s not why I went with him. But it didn’t make any sense why I accepted his offer. Nothing good could come of hanging out with another mega celebrity. And not one who looked like Mark did.
“I told him in the lobby I had a boyfriend. I was honest.” I twisted my bottom lip under my teeth. “I never led him on. Never.”
Quinn strummed a chord. “You are so naïve. If there isn’t a ring on your finger, then you are fair game.”
“I’m not a prize or an animal.”
“You know what I mean. Without a ring, you’re available.”
“That’s stupid. I’m with-with Ben. I’m staying at the ranch. We couldn’t be more together.”
“I’m just telling you what I know guys think.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather not think they all just want to get in my pants.” I huffed.
Quinn laughed. “Well, they do.”
“Awesome.”
“Sometimes it is.” She laughed. “You up for finishing this song?”
“I need to talk to Ben, but yeah, let’s finish it. I’ll call him after our break. He texted this morning and said he had an intense scene and wouldn’t be able to talk until later today. This sucks.”
“I think I feel a song coming on.” She smiled.
“It’s something.” I picked up my journal and turned to a blank page. The only thing that might be able to take my mind off the biggest mistake of my life was music. I scribbled out the notes and played with the words.
It took all morning, but we finally finished the last bars of the song.
I looked up at the clock. “Wow, we wrote through lunch.”
“I knew I heard my stomach growling. Want to grab some lunch?”
“Sure. I could eat.”
Quinn packed up her guitar, and we walked down the long corridor toward the elevators.
Some of the dread I had been feeling earlier had subsided. It was a relief that food actually sounded appealing.
Quinn tapped the elevator button and was almost plowed over by a man rushing through the doors.
“Hey, excuse me?” Quinn looked like she was ready to storm him.
“Oh, sorry, hey. You’re Quinn Jansen.”
“Yes, and you are?” She waited with her hands on her hips.
“Looking for Chelsea.”
“I’m Chelsea.” I hesitated.
“I’m Scott, Ben’s agent. Can we talk for a minute?”
I looked at Quinn, who shrugged. “I’ll make a few calls and wait for you out here.” She pointed to the reception area.
“Umm, ok.” I felt all the nervousness and nausea from earlier return with sudden force. “We can talk back here.” I led Scott to the writing studio where we worked.
He closed the door behind us.
“Ok, you need to tell me the whole story.”
“Excuse me?” I was expecting pleasantries or a get-to-know you segment of the conversation.
“I told Ben I would talk to you, and then we’ll come up with a game plan, but in order to do that, you need to tell me the truth.”
“The truth? What is it exactly that we’re talking about?” I might be inexperienced and naïve, as Quinn liked to remind me, but I didn’t have to tolerate rudeness.
“You and Mark Weston. Come on, I’m here to help.”
“Help, hmm.” I studied his face. Ben spoke highly of Scott. He liked him and trusted him since they knew some of the same people in East Texas. That seemed to mean a lot to him.
“Yes, help. But I can’t get a full handle on this for our publicist if I don’t know the whole story. You have to understand my point of view here. Are there more pictures? Did anyone see you leave his place?”
“Leave his place? What are you talking about?”
“It’s Mark Weston. Girls don’t just have coffee with him.” Scott folded his arms and sat on the couch.
“Well, I did.”
“Really?” he asked it as if he didn’t believe a single thing I said.
“Really. It was coffee with a new friend. That’s all.” Suddenly, I didn’t feel like explaining myself any longer.
“And then what? Drinks? Dinner? Did you go anywhere else?”
“You know, Scott, I know you probably had to go out of your way to come see me, but Quinn’s waiting for me. So, I’m going to go to lunch.” I opened the door behind him.
“But wait. We have some things to go over. I need to talk to Ben about—”
“I don’t know what you and Ben are going to discuss, but I’m going to talk to him about the pictures. I don’t need you running interference between us. This is a private matter.” I stormed out of the room before he could hit me with another question.
I didn’t know whether to be more annoyed with Scott for making such offensive suggestions, or Ben for sending him to me.
Quinn hung up her phone and dropped it in her bag. “That was quick.”
“Let’s go.” I looked over my shoulder. “I said all I had to say.”
“You can tell me all about it over lunch.” She smiled. “But just be prepared, the paps might catch me feeding you or whispering sweet nothings in your ear.”
“Stop.” I let a giggle escape. That’s all I needed, one more headline how I was double cheating on Ben and Mark with Quinn. I laughed louder. I had to admit—it was pretty damn funny.
***
By the time I pulled into the ranch, darkness had settled on the land. I hadn’t heard from Ben. Surely, Scott had gotten in touch with him. The need to explain my decision to have coffee with Mark didn’t seem nearly as urgent after meeting Ben’s agent. Something about the exchange had put me on the defensive and in an unforgiving mood.
I marched through the kitchen.
“Hey, Chelsea. I’m working on a risotto and some steamed vegetables.” Lenny hovered over the stove.
“Sounds good. Whatever you want to make, Lenny. I’m going to change. I’ll be down for dinner later.” I knew he had probably been working on the dish all day, but I didn’t have the energy to stroke his ego at the moment.
I climbed the stairs and met Nan at the top landing.
“Oh, well I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” She stood with an armful of towels.
I was puzzled. “I didn’t have other plans.”
“Oh, I thought I had read something that you might not be staying at the ranch.” She made a move toward the linen closet.
“Nan, you’re not serious, are you?”
“I must have misread it.” She focused on layering the towels on top of each other so that the ends were lined up.
I huffed, searching for shreds of restraint. “I’m not leaving the ranch. Those pictures, or whatever you read, were just nasty gossip.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Nan didn’t turn from her task.
“Fine.” I spun toward the bedroom and slammed the door behind me. I knew the exit was melodramatic, but I didn’t care what Nan thought. The house manager had already formed an opinion of me and it wasn’t a favorable one. What difference did it make if I tossed some of the bad manners back in her face?
I set the shower on high and waited for the steam to billow over the glass walls. I was tired of everyone treating me like a liar. Tired of having to defend myself. Tired of feeling like I did something criminal, when it was only a latte. A freakin’ latte.
I stepped into the streams of water, hoping some of this mood would wash down the drain like the soapy bubbles sliding over my body.
I toweled off my hair, feeling slightly more relaxed. Lenny’s dinner and a glass of wine might be the only way to right this day. I got dressed and headed downstairs to see if the chef had finished his masterpiece.
“Smells delicious, Lenny.” I walked into the kitchen, inhaling the aroma of all the spices. My mother would die over his herb garden. It was like something out of Southern Living magazine.
“Lenny?” I stopped in the center of the kitchen. He wasn’t chopping up vegetables for a salad or prepping a dessert. He was gone.
“Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I live here, Chelsea.” Ben stood next to the counter. He wasn’t wearing his usual smile and he didn’t make a move toward me.
“I didn’t know you were flying in. Did you wrap?” I stepped closer, but it didn’t feel right. I paused a few feet from him.
“No, but I’m off tomorrow. Have to get back to L.A. by tomorrow night. Seems like there are things back home I need to take care of.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know why I felt like a child being scolded, but that was exactly the feeling invading my limbs. He had a parental look.
Ben walked to the beer fridge, grabbed a beer, and twisted off the top. He chugged half of it before settling on one of the bar stools. “I think we need to talk.”
I pulled out the stool in front of me. No matter what was going on between us, I didn’t want to create more distance. There was nothing good about distance.
“Ok, talk.” I focused on his eyes. I wasn’t sure I had ever seen them so intense. They were hard and relentless, boring holes into me when I was trying to protect myself from more accusations. I didn’t like feeling as if my back were against the wall.
“I want to know about the pictures.” He pushed the beer away from him.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious, Chelsea.”
“Didn’t your little minion fill you in on everything?”
“Minion? Are you talking about Scott?”
“I don’t know how many people you have on your staff who would show up at my job and interrogate me like I’m a criminal, but yeah, Scott.” The words were biting, but the day had piled up on me.
“Criminal? What are you talking about?” he asked.
“He didn’t tell you he accused me of staying over at Mark Weston’s place?” I folded my arms, welcoming the tension as if it were a way to add strength to my body.
“Ok, ok. This is getting crazy.” He moved off the stool and paced around the island. “I did not ask him to interrogate you. He said he was going to talk to you about whatever happened, and we’d take care of it from there.”
“You sent him to run damage control on me?”
“God, no. Not like that.” He ran his hands through his hair. I noticed it was dabbed with hair gel, something he never wore.
“Then what? Because all I’ve felt all day is that I’ve done some horrible, terrible thing to you when all it was was coffee. Do you know what I’ve had to deal with? Pictures of you and Rebecca having drinks. You and Rebecca at dinner. Rebecca draped all over you. And I’ve dealt with it. I never accused you of sleeping with her.” Ben opened his mouth to speak, but I slammed my hands on the island. “So, if some stupid photographers take a picture of me having one freakin’ coffee with a new artist at my label, then I would think you would ask me first before sending your clean up squad.” I jumped off the stool, almost knocking it over.
“Chelsea, hold on a second.” He reached for me, but I stepped to the side. “I never—”
“No, I’m pissed. Actually, I’m beyond pissed. How could you think so little of me? Think I’d cheat on you? I was with you last night.” I walked out of the kitchen.
“Chelsea, wait!” He chased me.
“I’m sorry you flew all the way out here for this.” I shook his grip from my arm. “But, I’m done with people treating me like this today. And that means you too.”
“What people?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know everyone around here has been whispering. Nan hates me. I’m sure she was thrilled with the headline. She’s dying for me to get out of her precious ranch house.” I didn’t care if the house manager heard every word I said.
Ben followed me down the hall. “No one here hates you. Don’t say that.”
I was at the top of the staircase, fueled by more pent up hostility than I realized I had. He was on my heels.
“Darlin’, we have to talk about this.”
I whipped around in front of the bedroom. “No, we don’t.” I slammed the door shut.
“Chelsea, you can’t lock me out of my own room.” He pounded on the door.
I slid against the frame until I was sitting on the floor.
“Chelsea, let me in.”
I didn’t care if he had just flown in from Australia. And it didn’t matter that I had taken up residence in his room. Nothing would get me to open that door. Nothing.