‘The thing is they don’t know that, or they do and they’re still painting it that you’ve had two different men in less than twenty-four hours.’ She looks at me. Hard. ‘And it doesn’t look great, Sienna, I’ll be honest, not after Benji.’
‘I am well within my rights to do what I want.’ A lump forms in the base of my throat, sharp razor blades cutting into my skin when I try to swallow. I thought I’d finally recovered.
‘Society, Sienna. You have to think about how itlooks.’ Jess’s voice is firm, frustrated. ‘You have to think about the consequences for once.’
Her words are hailstones, reminding me of the comment left on my Instagram photo after Benji which has lived under my skin like a worm since.Once again, Sienna Martin takes whatever she wants and doesn’t care what the consequences are for others.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that,’ Jess sighs, but her voice is still tense.
‘What are you going to say to them?’ I ask, hating the rasp in my voice.
‘I am going to reprimand them for not coming to me for comment.’ She taps aggressively on her keyboard. ‘For how inaccurate their article is. I’ll demand they take it down and issue an apology.’
‘There was a time not that long ago when being connected with a movie star would have bolstered my career,’ I whisper.
I went on a few dates with Soren MacGowen – an BAFTA-winning actor who was in a series of popular fanfics-turned-romcoms – when I was twenty-seven and everyone was cheering us on. ‘Shipping’ us, they called it. It didn’t work when I was constantly in the studio and then had to go back on tour while he moved back to the States for his next movie.
‘And now they want to hang you at the stake for it, I know.’ Jess puts her laptop on the sofa next to us but doesn’t shut it. ‘I know it’s not fair but it’s how the world works.’
When I first decided to hire her, everyone thought it was a terrible idea. They thought it would destroy our friendship forever, that we would lose that side of ourselves while fighting tabloids and magazines against what they’re trying to write about me. But we never have. Hiring Jess is truly one of the best things I’ve ever done. Before I hired her, she was working in a public relations agency, working with frankly awful low-level celebrities. Her boss had a nasty streak, dictating when Jess could and couldn’t take annual leave, making her sign on late at night to look after one of his clients. Not even one of hers, which she would have done in a heartbeat. He was working her into the ground. Every time I saw her, she looked sullener and more exhausted, always rushing off to open her laptop or to answer a call. There was no letting up. She was gradually climbing the ranks, taking on more higher-ranking names. But it wasn’t worth it. There was too much, and she couldn’t keep up.
Her breaking point came when the job destroyed her ten-year relationship with her high-school sweetheart, Henry. They were engaged, had bought a house together. But he didn’t think she prioritised him enough, didn’t like that he never saw her. She quit her job and begged for him to give her another chance, a clean slate with a new job. But there was no job for her to go to, and he wouldn’t take her back. She was utterly forlorn, had nowhere to live, only her savings to get her through. I was just about to release my fifth album, andthen there would be everything that came after that. When I brought up hiring an in-house publicist to Mimi, she was thrilled. One less thing for her to do. She was less thrilled when I offered the job to Jess.She came around quickly though.
Jess fires off another email from her laptop while I twiddle my thumbs, trying to make myself as small as possible.
I am a destructive fire that everyone rushes to put out to save me from myself.
I wish they’d stop trying. They’re throwing water and I’m electric.
I’m standing behind Jess when she opens the door to Mimi. She storms in, dropping her bag on the floor and fanning her face with her hands. I cringe when she throws her light jacket on the end of the banister.
‘That weather isdeceptivelywarm,’ she breathes out.
‘Hi Mimi,’ I say. She takes off her shoes and lines them up neatly next to Jess’s.
‘Hi, Sie.’
My nickname sends a shiver over my body – this can’t be too negative.
‘Have you got any coffee?’ Mimi asks, taking her laptop, notebook and a pen out of her bag. She walks towards the kitchen.
‘I’ll put a cafetière on,’ Jess offers, following her.
I walk behind both of them as if this isn’t my house, while Jess sorts a pot and Mimi takes one of the four seats at the island.
‘Is this about the tour?’ I ask, a weak attempt at humour to detract from what she’s actually here for. But Mimi and Jess did start mentioning the tour again last week in a planning capacity.
‘Later,’ Mimi grumbles.
I look at Jess, but she avoids my eye contact, squeezing the coffee down into the bottom of the French press. Only after she pours the coffee does she look at me, giving me a wry smile. These are the moments when I regret hiring her as my publicist. When she can’t tell me what’s going on, when that relationship blurs into professional.
Mimi clicks her pen. ‘Now, Sienna.’
My full name. Yikes.
‘You’ve been in the tabloids again,’ Mimi continues.
‘That’s not really a surprise. The new album is out.’
