Chapter 17: The Pity-Party
Allie
I hadn't been sure what to do after seeing those photos this morning. I had only known that I needed to get out of the hotel before I did something stupid - like going to Nico's suite and smacking the hell out of my best friend and the redheaded skank that was probably still in his bed.
What the hell was he thinking, treating me like one of his discarded hookups? How could he kiss me like that, make me think that he wanted me the same way I'd been dreaming of wanting him, then forget about me as soon as I left the party?
I should have known better. I should have fucking known better, and now the entire world knew how stupid I had been. I'd hastily packed my things, stuffing my beautiful dresses in the garment bags without giving a single shit if they were ruined.
I'd been given the direct number for the hotel manager, since I had worked closely with him to coordinate the accommodations for Storm Front as well as the other bands and musicians that Michael managed. Thank God, because I knew I was going to need his help to get out of there undetected.
Given the coverage this shit-show was getting, I had known there would be paparazzi and probably a couple of entertainment reporters hanging around the hotel trying to get the inside scoop. I had no desire to run into any of them. I'dgiven them enough photo ops, thank you very much. Luckily, he had answered my call, and understood what I needed without much explanation from me. This was not his first experience with celebrity scandals in his hotel.
"I'll send a porter up right away for your bags, Ms. Donovan. I'll arrange to have the valet bring your car around to the back employee entrance where the bags will be loaded into your trunk, and security will escort you out to your car via the employee elevator," he had told me decisively. Yep, definitely not his first rodeo.
"Thank you, Mr. Jeffers. I appreciate your assistance, and I am truly sorry for the inconvenience the media presence is causing to your staff and to the other guests." I had been embarrassed to have any part in this mess.
"Ms. Donovan, this is in no way your fault, so please don't give that another thought. I'm sorry that you are being exposed to this kind of media circus. Please remain alert in case any of those vultures should spot you leaving and try to follow your car. Drive safely, and take care, Ms. Donovan. I hope we'll speak again, under better circumstances."
"I'm sure we will, and thank you again," I'd said, before ending the call.
I'd just needed to figure out a place where I could lay low for a day or so, until some other scandal broke, and the tabloids lost interest in me. My parents adored Nico, so I knew if I went to them, they would be upset. Scott and Emma had taken the baby to visit her parents in Arizona, so they weren't an option. I'd finally decided I would call Aunt Ellen. She was Alex's aunt, technically, but we had remained close after he died. As I'dtapped the screen to pull up her contacts, I'd noticed that there were six missed calls, four voice mails and a dozen or so texts.
Ignoring those, I'd called Aunt Ellen, who had been up bright and early and had already seen the news and photos on social media. Apparently, she had been one of the callers who'd left a voice mail message. I'd explained that I probably shouldn't go home and asked if I could stay at her house tonight. She'd immediately said yes, God love her.
The porter had arrived then, along with two of the hotel's security guards. The four of us had made our way down to the employee entrance in awkward silence. It had been a relief to reach my car and be able to drive away undetected. On the way to Aunt Ellen's house, I'd made a quick call to Hannah, asking her to keep Gracie for another night. I was in no shape to deal with my little girl right now. Hannah didn't seem to know anything had happened, so I hadn't enlightened her. I had just said it had been a long night and had asked to speak with Gracie.
"Mommy, we sawed you on the TV last night. Aunt Hannah letted me stay up to watch Uncle Nico get his 'ward. There was lots of people at that place, Mommy. Were they mad cuz they didn't get 'wards? We had popcorn while we watched it, and Aunt Hannah made me chocolate milk. She makes good chocolate milk, Mommy. Don't get mad, but it tastes better than it does when you make it. Aunt Hannah says you need to put more chocolate in next time., and then you gots to stir and stir and stir until it's mixed up real good." I smiled she ran out of steam. Well, at least my girl had her priorities straight. Who cares that your loved ones are on TV when you have popcorn and chocolate milk to worry about?
Now, four hours later, I was lying in the bed in Aunt Ellen's guest bedroom, scouring through social media and tabloid siteson her borrowed laptop - I'd turned my phone off after the damned thing kept going off - and crying. The articles were awful, and the social media posts and comments from fans were even worse.
"Nico Peretti cheats on new girlfriend, hours after Grammy win!" was the headline on TMZ. The article that accompanied it included several photos of Nico and me, including the kiss. It also had the photo of him and his redheaded slutbag. The article detailed Nico's dating and hookup history, and implied that his cheating was bound to happen given his manwhoring ways.
An article on another tabloid site stated, "Nico Peretti caught red-handed with redhead!" Now there's a clever headline. It went on to quote "anonymous sources" who swore that I had caught them and smacked Nico across the face before the redhead and I got into a shoving match. Huh, that was funny, you would think I would remember getting into a physical altercation last night. Fucking liars would say anything to sell a story.
Ugh! The hell of it was, he didn't technically cheat. He and I were just friends. Even though we'd obviously kissed last night, we weren't actually a couple, so he hadn't really done anything wrong. I mean, sure, it hurt that he could go from kissing me like he would die without me, to fucking the redheaded slut a couple of hours later. It was a shitty thing to do, but it wasn't cheating. That knowledge still didn't stop me from being jealous though. It didn't stop it from hurting.
One particularly creative fan had uploaded a video montage to YouTube using pictures of all the notable women Nico has been linked with since becoming famous. Supermodels, starlets, an Olympic figure skater, other musicians...and me. The song accompanying the video was the song from Sesame Street. "Oneof these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong." The video had gone viral and was being shared on every other social media platform known to man. Fucking fantastic.
That was...that was pretty fucking painful actually. Humiliating might be a better description. Or maybe ego-shattering or soul-crushing might be more accurate?
There were many comments defending me and bashing the hell out of Nico. Things like #PlayersGonnaPlay, #NicoSucks and #TeamAllie were trending on Twitter.
Then there were the other comments. The self-appointed judges of all things beautiful who had determined that I was not worthy of a god like Nico Peretti. I was too fat, too short, too plain, too ordinary - and those were the nicer ones. Even worse, were the comments that said I was a gold-digger and a desperate single mom looking for a new baby daddy for Gracie. Those pissed me right the fuck off. #NicoDeservesBetter can just kiss my big fat ass.
Just as I decided to wrap up my pity-party and get over myself, I saw a statement had been released by Nico. I could tell Lana had written it. It was a carefully constructed, concise account of what happened, which contained absolutely no cursing. Definitely not Nico's style.
"Last night, after celebrating my Grammy win, I was accosted by an overzealous fan while on my way to the elevator to return to my hotel suite for the night. This woman, who has not yet been formally identified by authorities, lunged at me as I was leaving the ballroom where the party was held, ripping my shirt in the process. I was able to step away from her and walk to the elevator, only to have her grab my armagain. Hotel security was able to intervene at that point, and the woman was removed from the premises. It is believed that the woman was intoxicated, as she was slurring her words and both I and the two security guards noted the smell of alcohol. The authorities have been notified and are reviewing security footage from the hotel todetermine if charges will be filed against her."
I felt my stomach drop as I read the statement.He hadn't hooked up with the redhead? I took a deep breath, and then read the rest of his statement.
"Let me be very clear. My interaction with this woman was not consensual. I did not know this woman. I did not touch this woman, other than to try to repel her unwanted physical advances. While this incident was upsetting to me, I am even more disturbed at the way it has been portrayed by the tabloid media, online bloggers and in posts on social media. The media coverage today has been filled with gossip, innuendo, and complete fabrications. Unfortunately, my dear friend Allie, who graciously accompanied me last night, has been an innocent victim of these events. She is an incredible woman who does not deserve to have her privacy invaded by people with nothing better to do than spread malicious gossip and outright lies. I have had many wonderful fan interactions over the years, but sadly, this incident highlights the downside to fame. As I said in my acceptance speech last night, I am a lucky man. Despite last night's incident, I continue to believe that wholeheartedly. "
I read the statement through three times before it completely sank in. He hadn't turned from me to the redhead. He hadn't fucked her. He hadn't taken her up to his room. I felt relief, then I felt guilt. I should have known better. I should haveknown that Nico would not have disregarded my feelings like that. I should have had more faith in my best friend.
Then, the anger kicked in. Anger at the redheaded skank who thought she could touch Nico without his permission. Anger at those who thought Nico's fame meant he was fair game for any bitch with grabby hands. I'd seen it before. Women who stopped Nico on the street to ask for a photo, then copped a feel when he got close. Fans at backstage meet-and-greets who tried to play grab-ass. And I knew that photographs didn't always tell the whole story. I knew that a photo, taken at a certain moment or from a certain angle, could be misleading. But most of all, I was angry at myself, because I knew better. I knew better than to believe the tabloid gossip. I knew better than to believe that Nico would do that.
Of course, finding out that truth of what really happened only made me feel slightly better. It didn't change the hateful comments that were made about me. It didn't change the unflattering comparisons that were made between me and Nico's usual women. It didn't change the truth. One of these things is not like the others...and that one thing was me.
