The Game Changer

“I knew you would. And you’re welcome. So, are you going to tell me what’s going on? You didn’t fly out here at the last minute for no reason.”



My smile dropped as my bottom lip jutted out in a pout. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”



“No way!” She shook her head. “That’s what I’m good at. Plus, I like pointing out all your broken parts,” she added with a smile.



“So you can be thankful it’s not you?”



“Bitch! No. So I can help fix you.” She nudged against me. “What did Jack say about the article?”



“Not much, really. I think he’s just worried.”



“We’re all worried.” She placed her head on my shoulder, and I leaned against it.



There were two quick knocks on the door before it opened and Dean burst through. “You told him I was here?” I whispered to Melissa.



“No,” she whispered in response.



“Sis. What’s going on?” Dean practically sprinted to me. I loved it when he called me that, even though it wasn’t official.



“How’d you know I was here,” I asked, before he snatched me up from the couch into a bear hug. I missed Dean and seeing him forced me to realize just how much.



“Jack called me, out of his mind. Told me to go check on you and make sure you were OK. He said he thinks you broke up with him. Is that true?” Dean’s voice was filled with disbelief.



“What? You did what?” Melissa asked through her surprise.



“I don’t know what I did. I just left and told him I didn’t know if I could do this anymore.”



“Jesus, Cassie! Are you trying to fucking kill the guy?” Melissa shook her head. “After everything the two of you have been through?”



“Why is it always about Jack and how my decisions affect him? Why isn’t it ever about me and what all of this bullshit does to me?” I broke down, the tears spilling out as I leaned back onto the couch.



Dean dropped onto the other side of me, wrapping his arms around me, “I don’t want you guys to break up.”



“I’m a fucking wreck on the inside. Can’t you see that?” I looked at him before looking away. I hated disappointing Dean. “Chrystle’s stupid article pushed me over the edge. I can’t take another picture of me with ‘home wrecker’ or ‘man-stealing slut’ written across it.” I buried my head in my hands, pressing my palms against my eyes.



“What does any of that have to do with Jack, though? I mean, really?” Melissa’s forehead creased.



“It has everything to do with Jack!” I shouted, throwing my hands up in the air. “I’m only dealing with all of this because I’m dating him. This keeps happening to me because I’m his girlfriend.”



“So if you two weren’t together, then no one would post stuff about you?” she asked.



I breathed out a loud, annoyed breath. “Obviously! They wouldn’t care about me if I wasn’t with him.”



Melissa’s hand rested on my thigh. “Well, then. You should definitely let these strangers dictate your love life.”



“Don’t be a jerk.” I narrowed my eyes.



“I’m not. I honestly can’t believe I’m sitting here listening to this. You would walk away from Jack just to stop some stupid gossip?”



I shook my head. “You don’t know how it feels. I know it probably seems like I shouldn’t care, or I should let it roll off my back, but people read those things and they believe them without question. They shout mean things to me all the time at Jack’s games. New York might be a big city, but it feels really small sometimes. Everything that gets posted, I have to deal with. Not anyone else. Me.” I pointed at my chest. “And it sucks.”



Dean reached for my shoulder. “Cassie, leaving Jack isn’t the answer.”



I shrugged. “All the harassment would stop.”



“Do you honestly think you’d be OK not being with him?” Dean pleaded, his voice becoming more agitated.



“I don’t know, but I’m not OK right now and I’m with him.”



Melissa cleared her throat. “You know you’re not a real person to them.”



“A real person to whom?”



“The people that post on those websites, they don’t know you. They don’t know anything about you. It’s really easy for people to talk shit about someone they don’t know. Especially when it’s someone they think they’ll never see in real life.”



I’d never been one of those types to write nasty things online about people I didn’t know. Did I read gossip sites and watch shows about celebrities? Of course I did. But I always remembered there were two sides to every story, and I never trusted what was reported. Melissa’s mom instilled that in both of us from a young age. Occupational hazard, she called it.



I sniffed, wiping away a tear as Meli continued. “You know this. You’ve just never been at the receiving end of it like this before. Last year was bad, but it was nothing like this. It’s horrible and hurtful, but people do it because they can. They hide behind a computer screen where no one else can see them. They aren’t held accountable for their words. They can type them, press enter, and walk away.”



“But I read those words and they stay with me. When someone takes a picture of me at lunch eating a burger with a caption that says, ‘Maybe she should lay off the burgers’…” I looked down at my thighs before staring ahead at the wall.



“I know. We grew up out here, surrounded by celebrity rumors and paparazzi and all the craziness. You know that people enjoy tearing other people down. They get off on seeing you fall apart,” Melissa added with a snarl.



“I’ve never understood that. Why do people love seeing other people in pain?”



“I don’t know. Because people are petty, shallow, and jealous? Because they think they want what you have and when it’s not so glamorous, they’re happy it’s not all it’s cracked up to be?”



Dean sighed and I directed my glossy gaze at him. “It’s mostly girls, you know.”



“Mostly girls what?” Melissa shot back, her tone defensive.



“It’s mostly girls who read those magazines, watch those shows, and post on those websites. You girls love taking each other down a notch.”



I nodded in agreement. “It’s so true. You’re absolutely right.”



“Well, that’s never gonna change.” Melissa rolled her eyes and exhaled loudly. “Girls are competitive bitches.”



“But why? Why are we like that? I mean, if all those people who talked shit actually got to know me, I’m pretty sure they’d like me.” I looked between Melissa and Dean, longing for reassurance.



Melissa grabbed me by both of my shoulders. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you! They don’t know you. And they never will. You’re someone they see on TV, or in a magazine, online, or at a game even. You’re not someone who has dinner at their house on Sunday night!”



“So you’re saying I should start planning dinners with strangers?” I choked back a laugh.



“Bitch. I’m saying that these people suck. They suck. Not you. And you’re punishing Jack for what these people are doing to you.”



“She’s right, Sis,” Dean added with a smile. “People always posted things about Jack on Facebook and online and stuff. They were mostly lies, but Jack never read any of it. So it never affected him.”



“I tried to stop reading it all. Then this stupid Chrystle thing came out.” I turned to Melissa. “How can she say all these things, anyway? They’re outright lies.”



“It’s not like it’s a reputable magazine. It’s a trashy tabloid. They’re sort of known for printing half truths.” Melissa tilted her head.



“Can I sue her for defamation of character or slander? Something…” I pondered out loud, before propping my feet up on the coffee table.



“It wouldn’t be worth your time and effort. In those kinds of cases, you have to prove that you were affected by her story. You would have to prove that your character was defamed, by say, a loss of job or income due to the things she said.” She stopped to take a drink of water. “Same thing with slander. You have to prove that her statements were made maliciously to cause you harm. And you have to prove the harm it actually caused.”



I dropped my head back against the couch pillows. “I swear she knows all this before she does it. It’s the same shit she did to Jack with the annulment, knowing he would have to prove her claims were false.”



Dean made a quick sound of disgust. “I’m convinced that little bitch knows exactly what she’s doing before she does it.”



I yawned, covering my mouth with my hand before wiping at my tired eyes. “I’m so tired. Dean, can I come over and see Gran and Gramps tomorrow?”



“You’d better. They know you’re here.”



We all stood up at the same time, and I hugged Dean tight, thankful he stopped by, before walking into my old room. I looked around at the empty walls; the memories still existed within the confines of this space, even if the mementos didn’t. The front door closed and Melissa knocked softly before opening my door.



“Do you miss living here?”



I smiled. “I miss you.”



“Duh.” Her face crinkled with pleasure.



I moved to sit on the bed and patted the empty spot next to me. “So, tell me what the freaking deal is with you two.” I nodded my head in the direction of the door Dean just exited. Melissa shrugged her shoulders and I leaned into her. “I know you like him. Why are you torturing him?”



“Who said I like him?”



“I can tell you like him. What I can’t figure out is why you won’t tell him that.”



“I don’t know,” she admitted before changing the subject. “But I do know that you’re taking your frustrations out on the one person who would literally do anything for you. Breaking up with Jack won’t fix you or make you better. It will only break you more. And you know it. So stop pretending like you don’t.”



“Nice subject change.”



She hopped off the bed, leaving me with her words before blowing a kiss into the air and closing the door behind her. Brat. I hated how well she knew me.



I woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. I couldn’t remember ever sleeping so soundly. I rolled over and reached for my cell phone when I realized it wasn’t near me. I’d turned it off before I left New York and hadn’t turned it back on. No wonder I slept so well.



Normally I’d search frantically for my phone, but I decided it was nice to be disconnected and left it turned off in my purse. After brushing my teeth, I walked into the living room. Melissa was sitting on the couch, watching TV. “Morning.”



She clicked it off before turning to face me. “Morning. Hungry?”



“Starved,” I admitted. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate anything, and I hadn’t been hungry at all last night. But now my empty stomach growled and twisted.