I clear my throat. “X has hacked into your social media. He’s posted…” I grimace, “well, I suppose it’s a picture of his dick. It looks more like some kind of rare, diseased fungus.”
Underneath the layer of makeup, her face drains of colour. “What?” She whispers, grabbing at my phone. “How is that possible?”
“I really don’t think you want to look at that—”
She waves me off. “I get hundreds of dick pics every day,” she snaps. “I doubt it’s that impressive.” She snatches the phone off me and reads the message. Her jaw clenches. Red flushes up her neck, staining her cheeks.
“Briar,” I say softly, putting a hand on her back.
“He wants me tosuck his dick?!” She screeches. “I won’t fucking suck it! I’ll bite it off and spit in the hole! I’ll flatten it out with a rolling pin and tie it into a fuckingbowaround his nuts!”
A couple of reporters turn around and stare at her.
“Shh,” I mutter, looking around. “Princess, people can hear.”
“I will notshh!” She shouts back at me. “If he wants to publicly humiliate me, I’m not going to keep my mouth shut and bloodysmile!Get it off my page! Children follow me, for God’s sake!”
Julie puts a firm hand on her arm. “Calm down,” she orders, keeping her voice low. “Ignore it. It’s time for you to do the press line. We have thirty-five stations waiting for you.”
Briar squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. I can literally see her body trembling as she tries to swallow her emotions back down. The image of her crying on her sofa flashes in front of my eyes. I remember what she said that night.
No matter how much I wash my sheets, my bed feels dirty... I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. It’s like the walls are just closing in on me.
Shit.
Briar exhales slowly and opens her eyes. “Right,” she says softly. “Right. Okay.”
“Can you do it?” I murmur in her ear.
She shoots me an irritated look. “Of course I can do it,” she snaps. “You think somecreepis going to stop me doing my job?”
And with that, she marches off after Julie towards the press line.
Twenty-Six
Briar
?
I walk on shaky legs to the press pit, barely feeling Matt’s steady hand on my back. My head is swimming. I feel sick.
The first journalist, a man with fake teeth and fake hair and a fake tan, leans over the barrier, shoving his microphone in my face. I stare at the blank, shiny lens that his cameraman points my way.
“Miss Saint,” he purrs. “You lookravishingtonight.”
I nod slightly, waiting for him to move on. I don’t really want to hear any comments on how sexy I am, right now. The interviewer clears his throat.
“So, Briar. You’re about to turn twenty-nine, aren’t you?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Well, Happy Birthday in advance. You’ve had a busy year, haven’t you? What with filmingPlayers, the upcoming release of your new beauty line, and now a new boyfriend?” He glances back at Matt, who remains stony.
I nod, smiling through gritted teeth. “It’s been an interesting year.”
“Full of highs and lows, would you say?” The interviewer leans in further. “Of course, we’ve all been following you in the news. It looks like you’ve attracted a bit of unwanted attention, eh?”
“I didn’tattractanything,” I snap. “This wasn’t my fault, it had nothing to do with me, or the way I look, or the way I dress.” Matt’s hand slides to my arm. He grips me firmly.
