Fuck it.
“Interview’s over, let’s go, Miss Fox,” I say, gently grabbing her by the arm and helping her stand.
“You…you can’t do that,” Margo says.
“Just did,” I reply and Miss Fox looks up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.
We walk out of the studio. Garth is trying to save his ass with the production company as he follows us. “Cami, baby, go back in there. She said she won’t ask any more questions about the photos.”
“You said she wouldn’t ask any to begin with. So who was lying? You or her?” she says to her agent.
Garth stumbles back and acts shocked. I can tell this man is a fucking rat and user. “Cami, go home and sleep on it, okay? We fly to Portland tomorrow, we can talk more then.” Garth gives me a death glare and heads back to the studio as Miss Fox and I get inside the limo.
Chapter 2
IknewIshouldn’thave come to this stupid fucking interview. Margo Waters is a snake, and I knew she was going to try and twist what happened to me as being a character defect. The worst thing that has ever happened to me is completely out there for the general population to consume, and it’s disgusting.
I was used and hurt in a way that I didn’t know was possible. The worst part is the entire world has seen my most embarrassing moment. I thought I could trust Damien and Zach during my heat. We had been friends for years. They promised me that they would take care of me, and it’s not like I haven’t had other friends help me during my heats before. They were supposed to protect me and instead what they did is the deepest betrayal I’ve ever felt.
The images they sold of me are nearly ingrained in my head. The different positions I was in, the hazy, non-lucid state of my eyes. I loathe myself every time I think about it. For Margo to weaponize it against me when I was the victim makes me feel helpless.
The amount of nasty comments and letters I’ve gotten in the last month have made me sick to my stomach. I can hardly sleep and eat some days because I’m just so overwhelmed by the negativity following me from something I didn’t even do. Some days I let it consume me, I go online and read the horrible things that people say about me. I would think I was a masochist if reading it didn’t put me in a depressive spiral. I wanted to postpone the tour, but everyone on my team said that would be an even worse look. So I stuck it out for my fans and now I can feel myself disappearing into a hole of self-loathing and disappointment.
Margo just wanted to dig the knife deeper and make me look like I’m some nymphomaniac who is trying to corrupt children everywhere. The only person who stood up for me is someone I just met. Garth promised me these questions wouldn’t be asked, and he just stood by and watched as I was going through the inquisition. I’m doubting that I can really truly trust anyone. If someone isn’t using me for my celebrity status, they’re using me for my designation. I just need someone, a friend, someone who has my back. The only person I know who puts my needs first is my mom, and she’s all the way on the other side of the country.
“You all right?” Smith’s deep voice brings me out of my thoughts. He seems like he’ll be competent in his job. I’ve never lived with my security personnel before, but I hope I’ll sleep better knowing that I’m not alone. He’s an enormous man. Easily over six and a half feet tall. He’s wearing a ball cap, but I can see some brown tendrils of hair on his sides. I’m sure it’s the same color as his short beard. His chest is broad and his arms look like they’re made of tree trunks.
“I will be,” I reply as we both get into the back of the limo. Franklin, my driver, already knows that we’re headed to my apartment for the night. I own an apartment in LA, but I’ve been considering getting a place in New York as well. People in New York just seem to not give a fuck if you’re famous. Meanwhile, in LA, I nearly have to disguise myself just to get frozen yogurt. Speaking of, that sounds quite nice right now.
I push the buzzer to the driver. “Franklin, can you stop at Sweet Frog?”
“Of course, Cami.”
Smith furrows his brow but nods his head. Not much of a talker this one. I will get him out of his shell, eventually. Sitting in silence is not my usual forte. But right now, I’m just so in my head about everything that happened.
I don’t have anyone except my therapist to truly confide in. I’m genuinely scared when I give people personal information about me—will they somehow find a way to use it against me? After this tour is over, I need a change. Time away from Garth and the demands of being an artist, time to just breathe and be me.
It’s not that I don’t love what I do or love my fans. I think it’s that I love them so much, I’m willing to shatter myself into a million pieces to please everyone. If everyone is happy and pleased with me, I should be happy, right? It’s becoming clear to me that I don’t know how to stop fracturing myself. How do I stop giving these pieces of me to other people? It won’t be long until I have no remnants of myself to hold on to.
How do I tell my fans that I need a hiatus? How do I step away from social media completely for a little bit? I would kill for a moment of just being myself. Of being Cami Jenson with no responsibility. The idea of going to a store and not being inundated. I know these are problems I signed up for when I became famous, but I just wish I could have some time to just live—just be me—for me.
“Cami, we’re here. Looks crowded,” Franklin says on the intercom. I look out the window and sure enough, the place is packed. Ugh, I can’t be around this many people right now. I shift in my seat and I’m about to tell Franklin to just head home.
“What do you want?” Smith asks.
“What?”
“What do you want?”
His face is relaxed. He’s hard to read as I look over his expression. “You’re my security. You don’t have to do things like that.”
“Part of my job as your security is to assess the safest way for you to live your life, Miss Fox. Looking at that store and how little time we’ve spent together, I’m not comfortable with you going in there. If you stay in the car, I can go in and get you what you need.” His tone doesn’t deviate at all as he speaks. My last security guard, Kenny, would never have gotten me froyo. Kenny really was quite the jerkoff. Anytime he was dating someone, we just so happened to run into them while we were out. Just another user, someone looking to use me to get something that would benefit them.
“Strawberry vanilla twist, with M&M’s, gummy worms, and those little pink popping bubble things, please.”
He looks confused by the bubble request, but nods his head and steps out of the limo, shutting the door quickly. People watch him—I’m sure he is used to it by now—he just has an aura of confidence about him. It also doesn’t help that he’s taller than most people by at least half a foot.
It only takes him about ten minutes until he is back in the car. He loaded the bowl up with everything I asked. He hands it to me but doesn’t smile. I wish he would have gotten himself something, but he doesn’t really look like the frozen yogurt type.
