The Game Changer(68)

Stupid head.

Jack being on the road didn’t mean that the online posts about us stopped. They didn’t. And no matter how hard I tried to convince myself not to read them, I usually couldn’t resist. My own curiosity killed me. I’d read the things written about me or Jack and I’d swear I’d never read them again because they caused me so much anguish. It became a vicious self-deprecating cycle, and I needed to work on my willpower.

And Melissa, bless her heart, didn’t always help matters. She kept tabs on every site that posted about me or Jack, and even though she claimed to not share them all with me, it seemed like she alerted me to a new post every day. I was exhausted simply hearing about it all.

Determined to stay focused on work and not the press, I scanned the Internet at my desk, searching through old photographs and news clippings for another photographer’s research. An e-mail alert from Matteo popped up on my screen.

Want to grab lunch today? I have no clients and Jack’s still out of town.

I almost typed back “Yes,” but stopped myself. I enjoyed Matteo’s company, and we’d become really good friends, but I knew what would happen. Someone would see us together and take our picture. That picture would be plastered all over the Internet within minutes and most likely printed in the paper the next day with some false headline and trumped-up story from an “anonymous source.”

I hated feeling like I couldn’t go anywhere with anyone when Jack was out of town, but all it took was one headline that screamed “While Jack’s Away, Cassie Will Play” to stop me. The headline was printed above a picture of me and Matteo laughing over dinner and resulted in a number of Internet accusations, not to mention my needing to reassure Jack that absolutely nothing fishy was going on between Matteo and me.

That was a nightmare I had no intention of repeating. I quickly typed a response back to Matteo’s e-mail:

Working on a project. Sorry. See you when Jack gets home.

Hopefully my last line made it clear that I wouldn’t make plans with him until Jack was back in town.

I worked straight through lunch and by the time I left the office, I was famished. After sweating through the humidity on the non-air-conditioned train ride home, I decided to stop at a café.

“Good evening, Cassie. You want to order something to go?” the short round man asked. I’d only been here a handful of times, but Roman always remembered me and greeted me by name.

“Actually, Roman, I think I’ll eat here tonight.” I smiled as he pressed his hands together with delight.

“You go ahead and sit anywhere you’d like.”

“Thanks.” I looked around at the empty tables before choosing one in the far corner near the window. Roman appeared at my table, an iced tea in hand.

“You need to see the menu?” he asked.

“I think I’ll just get your famous East Side sandwich and fries.”

“You got it, pretty lady!” He grinned and it stretched across his whole face, forcing me to smile back in return.

I rested my back against the wooden chair and watched the people dash by. New York was such a busy city all the time. Day or night, snow or sun, people always rushed around.

My phone vibrated against my hip pocket. Pulling it out, I read the text message from Melissa.

Cute top.

What the hell?

I looked around anxiously with the sudden wish that she were here for a visit and simply hiding from me. I typed out a response:

What are you talking about?

You’re on that Spotted website again. Spotted: Jack Carter’s girlfriend dining alone near her apartment in Sutton Place.

Immediately, I was lightheaded.

You’re joking.

Before I typed anything else, my phone beeped again. Melissa sent a screenshot of the website to my phone, complete with a picture of me staring out of the window I was actually looking out of.

Damn it.

I grabbed my purse, dropping more than enough cash on the table to cover the bill, and looked around for Roman. “Roman, can I get it to go? I need to get home. Something came up. Sorry.”

“Sure, Cassie. No problem. Tell Jack I said hello.” He transferred my food from the plate he carried into a box before handing it to me.

“I will. I left the money on the table. Thank you.” I smiled before rushing out the door.

I looked over my shoulder the entire walk back to my apartment. I couldn’t get there fast enough. Every step reminded me how exposed my life had become. From behind my sunglasses, I glanced at the passersby, wondering if the cell phones they held were actually being used to help splash my life across computer screens all over the country. Every tourist with a camera now seemed a potential accomplice in my media hazing.