I was too hard on Tad, but consideringmy dick is being tweeted and copied and pasted and emailed all across the worldright now leaves me filled with rage. I grab a vase off a side table beside thecouch and toss it across the room so that it shatters against the wall.
I scream out and drop to my knees,bashing my fists against the ground.
Feels like there’s a fire startingin my chest.
I remember this sensation. Iremember feeling so powerless. So defeated. And all I wanted was for it to end.
I cross my arms and grip them as Ifall onto my side.
Can’t I just lie like thisforever?
Feels like the room is gettingsmaller. Sweat collects on my forehead.
I can’t deal with this right now.It’s too much.
How did it come to this? How didanother job find a way of wrecking my life so perfectly?
Forty-One
Tad
Bryce must think I’m the biggest piece of shit ever.
I’ve tried to make out like hisphoto leaking isn’t the biggest deal in the world, but I know better. It’s notfunny, and I don’t expect him to be okay with this today…or tomorrow for thatmatter.
As we sit in the transport car tothe Kira Wilde interview, Bryce is silent. I’ve called my lawyers, and they’rehandling the fallout of this catastrophe. I’ve even hired some tech guys toscour the net and remove the images that desecrate any privacy Bryce thought hewas entitled to.
Despite my efforts, I can tellBryce doesn’t think I understand what he’s going through. He seems to think Iwould be thrilled if a similar image of me had leaked. I may flaunt a lot ofthings, but my dick isn’t one of them. As much as I may allow the public topeer into my life, it’s always troubling when they examine my world beyond thescope of what I feel like I signed up for. Like when they attacked me about myso-called indiscretions against Jordan. It was such a painful time, yet in someways I felt like I deserved the scrutiny considering I had allowed the media tomake such a big fucking deal of our relationship. It felt like the attack wassome sort of karma for having perpetuated this image of us as the perfectcouple.
Last night was the first time Bryceand I haven’t spent the night together in a while. It reminded me of just howlonely sleeping by myself can be. I don’t like it. I prefer to be with him.
I can’t obsess about that rightnow. I need a clear head for this Kira Wilde interview. She’s going to beassaulting me with questions about why we didn’t make it to the Super Bowl thisyear. Like the other interviewers, she’ll question my slack-ass performance atthe beginning of the season and recap the situation about my letter from thekiller that Bryce is here to protect me from.
I wish Debra were here. Iunderstand why she had to help her mother get set up in Toronto, but these pastfew interviews have made me uneasy, and as helpful as Steph has been, I don’ttrust her with something as serious as a Kira Wilde interview, which is thesort that will have clips going viral as soon as it airs.
As I gaze at Bryce’s sadexpression, his eyes hidden behind his shades, I feel like shit for dragginghim into my world. If only I hadn’t bullied him into doing that stupid photoshoot.It was funny at the time. He had a good time. But now, those memories of usplayfully posing have been tainted by whatever dickhead decided it would be funto victimize him like that.
Even worse, as much as I’vefantasized about our relationship extending beyond the protection he’s offeredme, this incident has assured me that it just cannot be. He doesn’t want thislife. And it’ll only get worse. The invasion of privacy. The public’s desire topeer into his world and get to know more about him than they ever deserve toknow. Maybe it’s for the best that it went down like this. Not that I’m excitedabout his pain, but perhaps we needed a wake-up call. Something to assure usthat the dream we had just isn’t reasonable. We allowed ourselves to get tooclose. To lose ourselves in the illusion that we could make this work. But thisisn’t what Bryce signed up for. I guess it’s not what I signed up for either,but I certainly chose this life more than he did. I deserve that sort ofexposure. I deserve to feel the violation that Bryce is experiencing. Whycouldn’t it have been my cock? I was just as exposed in the shoot. I’m the onewho should be having to cope with this right now. But nothing ever seems towork out the way it should.
***
“Hi, Tad. Good seeing you again,” Kira says as we shakehands. I politely introduce her to Bryce and Darren. Since Kiernan’s strugglingwith a cold and I don’t want him within ten yards of me, he’s stayed back atthe hotel. Probably for the best for a lot of reasons.
Kira—her wig so well-groomed thatonly a few strands stray from the mass of auburn that clusters at hershoulders—offers her signature serious look as she poses while the cameramenset up their shots around us.
I try to keep my cool, but I keepglancing Bryce’s way.
He stands by the door, staringoff. I wish I could make his pain go away, but I know it isn’t that easy. Anincident like this requires time to heal. But when life gets hard andoverwhelming, I can always count on being able to do what I do best: smile forthe cameras and do my thing. I can do that even in the worst of times.
Forty-Two
Bryce
Bright lights on stands beam across Kira’s and Tad’s facesas they sit in the corner of the room, where Kira’s PAs set up two cushionedchairs for the interview. Makeup and hair keep busy with Tad right up untilKira calls action.
In her late forties with wide eyesand a smile seeming as authentic as the flawless auburn locks she sports, sheexudes confidence and charisma. Unsurprising for a woman who is the go-to girlfor major political figures and celebrities.
As the interview begins, Kira asksthe usual questions—the ones I’ve become accustomed to in my time with Tad.
