April’s laugh was loud in the room. “She ditched you?”
“Yes. That’s the kind of girl she is.”
“She sounds a real catch,” she scoffed. “Do we have a fucking deal or not?”
Gemma
I holed up tight in the apartment, relying on Tessa for packets of noodles and junk food. The reporters were still outside, but they were thinning out as the days went on. Soon they’d grow tired, just like everyone else. Or so I hoped.
The abuse raged on online. Jason’s Twitter and Facebook feeds were filled with the usual football news, but the comments underneath continued to spout venom. So many times I thought about sending a message, but figured it was almost certainly a publicity company behind his profiles. I just wanted to hear his voice, see how he was doing.
They weren’t all bad guys. The threads would be peppered with friendlier voices, kind souls offering a well-meaning balance to the venom. Sometimes they would make me cry, heartfelt pleas to see beyond the smoke and mirrors, beyond Photoshop and designer clothes and to judge a person for what’s inside.
Underneath my die hard realism, I harboured secret fantasies that Jason Redfern would charge into the virtual cesspit and leap to my defence. Those fantasies were ridiculous, of course. He maintained radio silence, and I didn’t blame him. I was doing the same.
The offers flooded in, of course, obscene sums for a no-holds-barred kiss and tell. I gave them short shrift. I’d be on the streets long before that ever happened, and I had a fair way to go before that point, even if chatline permanently terminated my contract.
I wasn’t prepared at all when the call came in. A number I didn’t recognise, ringing repeatedly over and over without leaving a voicemail. I answered gingerly, hoping against hope that it was one of the chatline bosses trying to get hold of me, but fully prepared to cancel the call in a heartbeat should it be one of the tabloid vultures. It was neither.
My heart was in my mouth as I heard his voice.
“Don’t hang up. Please.”
“Jason...”
“I wanted to call sooner, but I’ve had people all over me like a rash. How are you holding up? Please tell me you’re ok.”
I wasn’t ok, tears already welling up, but I wasn’t going to burden him with that shit. “I’m ok.”
He sighed in relief. “Good. I tried your chatline number. Disconnected.”
“I’ve been suspended. Breach of contract.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” His voice was so sad. “Do you need money?”
The offer smarted, although it was well meaning. “I’m fine. It’s temporary, I hope.”
“I’m so sorry about all this, Gemma. I didn’t mean any of this to happen.”
I couldn’t resist laughing, a horrible resigned laugh. “It’s not your fault I have a horrible, selfish bitch of a friend, Jason. I should be apologising to you.”
“Please don’t.” I could feel him smile. “I miss you. Please don’t let any of that shit in the papers get to you, it’s all bullshit.”
The lump in my throat made my words crackly. “You should go. You must be busy. I watched the game on Saturday, on the TV.”
“I wish you’d have watched a better one, I played like shit.”
“You looked amazing.”
“I don’t feel amazing.”
Neither do I. I kept quiet. “I see April’s putting on the face, I hope you manage to keep it together. You know, for the house and everything.”
“I don’t give a shit about the house, Gemma.” I heard him scrape his fingers through his hair. “I have to go, we’re training hard. Seems all the big games spring up at once.”
“Thanks for calling.”
“Thanks for answering.”
So much I wanted to say, but I said none of it. The call end tone hit like a sucker punch, twisting my stomach to shit.
Cara and Raven ventured out my end of town, calling in with a couple of bottles of wine and armfuls of sympathy.
“Motherfuckers, those journalists, all of them,” Raven spat. “I hate the sons of bitches. Never a good word to say about anyone, not until they’re dead or part of their backhanded political agenda.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “But they’re pretty nasty. They seem to love April Redfern, at least.”
“Only because she’s their victim,” Cara said. “They love a good sob story.”
“Maybe.” The wine went down a treat. “He called me.”
Two pairs of eyebrows shot up. “He did?”
“Just to see how I was.”
Cara practically pounced on me. “Did you tell him you missed him? Please tell me you did.”