Xander

In the continued attempt to avoid seeing anything the media is currently saying about me, I haven’t turned on the news or looked at my phone all morning. Luna is supposed to phone when she holds up her end of the bargain and retracts the story, but I haven’t heard from her yet. What the fuck is she waiting for? Christmas?

And what was with the woman at the door?

“Seriously, what was that crazy woman talking about?” I say, looking down at Elsie.

Her head is buried in my chest and I slide my hand underneath her chin and tilt it up to make eye contact. I hold her gaze for a second, but she shifts hers away and fixes her eyes on the carpet.

A tremble runs through her and she says, “I have to show you.”

“Show me what?” I say, a sense of dread closing down on me.

Elsie extracts herself from me and flicks on the TV. She puts it on one of the news channels, but they are showing a story about a celebration in a town somewhere unimportant and uninteresting.

“My phone is downstairs, you’ll have to look it up on yours,” she says.

Taking two steps across the room, I retrieve my phone from the bedside table and turn on the screen.

“It would help if I knew what I was looking for,” I say.

“You’re looking for the latest development in the Xander Whitman story on TMZ,” Elsie says, her voice strained.

I navigate to the TMZ website and am met with an image from Elsie’s photo shoot yesterday, with me in the background enjoying the view of her ass. I can’t stop looking at the photo. She looks amazing, her breasts hang from her frame, and I want to run my tongue down her cleavage. Without thinking, I put my fingers to my mouth and taste her. I was really fucking enjoying myself before that idiot woman interrupted us. My mind wanders over all the things I’d intended to do to her, including fucking her from behind so I could watch her juicy ass jiggle as I pounded into her.

“I’m sorry,” Elsie says, snapping me out of my fantasy.

Why is she apologizing? Did she give them this picture? My chest heaves with betrayal.

“You sent them this?” I say in disbelief.

“No! I would never do that. It must’ve been the photographer,” Elsie says, her green eyes huge and pleading. “Why on earth would I want that photo to be out in public? It’s on the internet now, my grandkids are going to see it. Not to mention it’s already got me suspended from my job and probably ruined my career.”

“Enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“Well, I don’t want it. They can take this fame and shove it up their asses.”

Where was she this morning, anyway? What was this appointment that took so long? Negotiating the highest price for the photo?

“Why were you late for work today?” I ask casually. I don’t think she did it, but I have to confirm it for certain.

Elsie narrows her mouth and eyes at me. After several breaths she says, “I was at a doctor’s appointment. You have no right to accuse me of these things. The story hurts me a lot more than you.”

I sit down on the bed and run my hands through my hair. She’s right, the story doesn’t make much difference to my life, not after the last twenty-four hours of Luna’s shit but it did just get Elsie in trouble at work and thrust her into notoriety. There’s no way she did it.

“Of course you didn’t do it. You think it was the photographer?”

“It’s the only option. I’m furious with her.”

“We can’t do anything about this now, so put it out of your mind and try not to let it bother you. The big issue is they now know I’m in a hotel in New Jersey, so I’ll have to move on.”

“They don’t know it’s this particular hotel, although they can tell from the room decor that it’s a Good Rest Inn.”

She so sweet and innocent. “They have a picture of your face. Trust me, they’ve already found you online through Facebook or some other social media. And that means they’ll know you work here and that means they know I’m here. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already on their way. In fact, I’d be surprised if they weren’t here already.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“It means I have to get out of here. And you should too. They’ll hound you for an interview and sit outside your home until they get something.”

“My apartment? Like stalkers?”

“Exactly like stalkers. Why do you think I fled New York?”

The room phone rings and I pick it up, “Yes?”

“This is Nathan at the front desk, Mr. Newman. Two people with cameras have just shown up,” he says in a whispered hiss. I roll my eyes and press my fingers against my temple.

Now what? After Elsie left last night I tried the piece-of-shit car I am using, but it wouldn’t even turn over. I wasn’t too concerned. I figured I’d have someone bring me one of my cars today or tomorrow but there’s no time for that. And there’s no time to rent one and I sure as fuck am not taking the bus.

“Can you stall them?” I ask the person on the other end of the line. Elsie steps closer and puts her head near the receiver.

“I think it’s better if you get out of here.”

Elsie grabs the phone from my hand and says, “Nathan, stall them and meet me at the back exit in three minutes. Grab my bag for me.” Putting down the receiver she says to me, “You have one minute to pack if you want me to help you leave.”

“Three minutes was awfully precise,” I say, leaping up from the bed and grabbing my suitcase. I’m glad I initially hadn’t planned to stay long here so everything is still packed.

“My car’s parked where it was last night, right outside the back exit. We can take the service elevator down and no one will see us,” she says.

“I could kiss you,” I say, flashing her a grin.

“That’s for later, right now we have to run,” she says and laughs through the strain in her voice.

“I’ve got everything, let’s get out of here.” I open the door a crack and listen but it’s quiet. Peering my head out, I check both ways but the hallway is empty. “Let’s go.”

Elsie pushes past me and I follow the sway of her ass all the way to the far reaches of the hallway. She uses a key card to call the service elevator and we step onboard. She didn’t even think twice about helping me get out of here, something I can’t say the same for about any of my so-called friends yesterday.

The elevator is slow and I can’t resist putting my arm around Elsie and kissing her cheek. She’s trembling and I give her a reassuring squeeze.

We arrive on the ground floor and step into the stark white employees-only hallway that we were in last night.

The door at the far end flings open and the guy who was working with Elsie last night bursts through it.

“You have to get out of here right this second. I’m trying to hold them back but more and more keep coming. I think there are six of them now. This is mega cray-cray.” He winds up his arm and bowls Elsie’s backpack down the hall. “I gotta get back before they get any wise ideas.”

As quickly as he’d arrived, he disappears back to the door. Elsie runs and picks up her bag and we both rush to the exit door. She finds her car keys and has them ready in her hand.

She puts her hand on the push bar and is visibly shaking. I put my hand over hers and we push open the door together. Even if there are photographers waiting in the parking lot we’re going to have to hustle our asses into Elsie’s car and get the hell out of here. It’s our only choice.

The door opens into the back of the hotel and the coast is clear. I fling my suitcase into the back seat of her black Mazda and we pile into the front.

“You really need a hoodie or a baseball cap or some kind of disguise, don’t you think?” Elsie says as she reverses the car out of the spot.

“I left in a hurry yesterday, what can I say?”

“Maybe you should duck down or something while we drive past the front of the hotel.”

“It’ll be fine. Just drive normally — don’t draw any attention.”

Elsie cruises to the front of the hotel. News vans and paparazzi dickheads fill the space in front of the entrance. Thankfully they are all looking into the hotel and not at us. Elsie takes a left onto the road and we both breathe a sigh of relief.

“Now what?” she asks.

“How do you feel about coming to my friend Owen’s house with me?”