“Shit. Have you seen this?”
She handed the phone to me. Her browser was open to an article on some trashy entertainment news website, “news” being a loose term.
There were two images side-by-side at the top of the page, one of Elle and I at the show last night, and one of Katie and I, also from last night. The headline above the images readBizarre Love Triangle. A larger photo below the first two showed Katie and—
I looked up at her and her eyes went huge. “It’snotwhat it looks like.”
What it looked like was Katie and her ex-fiancé tongue battling. They were pressed together and he was gripping her by her arms. Their mouths were locked together, eyes closed, but I recognized the red lace dress she’d worn to the VIP party in Vancouver and I knew the image was from that night. It was taken from a high angle in the corner of the otherwise empty hallway where I found them, obviously from a security cam. Which meant that either the douche himself or one of his staff had given the image to the media.
“I know it’s not,” I told her.
“Hekissedme,” she insisted. “I pulled away like a millisecond after that was taken.”
I scrolled down through the brief, insubstantial article, which was more images than actual reporting, never mind that most of it was total bullshit. I didn’t even bother reading all of it. The piece pitted Katie and Elle against one another in some non-existent tug-of-war over me, and included more photos of each of them at the club last night, including one of Katie in Zane’s arms, his hand planted on her ass. I knew I had Zane to thank for that shitty move, and I would, but it didn’t make Katie look like a saint. Especially when juxtaposed with the other images.
While I was shown outside the restaurant with my sister, Katie was shown at various clubs the last few nights, partying with my band and even Jack, her brother-in-law. In every picture she was in the arms of another guy. I happened to know all the guys and know the hugs were innocent, but the article made Katie look like some trashy party girl.
The only image that didn’t paint Katie as the town slut was one of her with her brother-in-law and her niece and nephew out walking in the city during their visit. But her sister was conveniently cropped out of the photo, which was right next to another one of Katie and Jack looking cozy as they did shots together in a bar.
When I looked up again, tears were shining in Katie’s eyes. I understood why it would upset her, because this was all new to her. There had been plenty of tabloid stories about Elle and I during our relationship; there still were, even though we weren’t together and I’d barely seen her since the last tour ended. We were together, we weren’t, we were cheating, we were fighting, we were making up. It was all bullshit meant to sell magazines or web clicks for advertisers. But Katie was new at this, and this was probably the first time she’d seen a nasty article putting a vindictive spin on her actions.
“Don’t sweat it, babe.” I handed the phone back to her. “They’ll be onto something else tomorrow. Don’t let it get to you. You know it’s all bullshit.”
She scrolled through the article again. “What the fuck,” she whispered. She turned the phone to me, flashing the image of herself with her family. “My niece and nephew? They’re just little kids. And some creeper put their picture on the internet? With pictures of their auntie looking like the slutbag from hell?”
“That’s what they do.”
She went scrolling through the article, pausing to shake her head at each image. “Fuck. What thefuck. I can’t believe I did all this shit.”
“Come on, Katie. You didn’t do anything—”
“Yeah, obviously I did.” She flashed me the image of her doing shots with her brother-in-law, her hand on his back.
“Well, when you’re not expecting anyone to take your picture—”
“But I should have, right? I should’ve known better by now. Alotbetter.” She tossed the phone down on the table. “Jack is like my brother. I’ve known him since I was seven.” She put her face in her hands.
“Babe, it’s cool. You’re just taking it hard because it’s been an emotional twenty-four hours.”
She peered up at me, her eyes pink-rimmed, but at least no tears were falling. “Try five weeks,” she whispered.
Ouch. That fucking hurt, but I didn’t know what to say. I was so emotionally tapped out from dealing with Jessa. And the tour. And whatever the fuck was happening with Katie that had my guts in a vice when she looked at me that way.
“This is totally my fault,” she said. “Owen and Sadie are in the press and it’s my fault. This pretty much says I’m fucking their dad. Owen isfour. Sadie’s six.” She stood. “Which is fucking worse, because she might see this and ask questions.” She started pacing. “Oh my God. I have to call them. What if my sister’s seen this? Of course she has. Devi sent it to me. She probably copied my sister.” She grabbed up the phone and started tapping around. “Fuck.”
Okay. She was freaking out.
I went over to her. “Katie. Look at me. This isn’t as big a deal as you think. Really. This shit happens all the time. You need to grow a thicker skin is all. You’ll get used to it.” She didn’t seem to be listening, still fussing with her phone, but I kept going. “It hurts at first, right? But you’ll see, you get used to it. It’ll just roll off. Don’t let it bring you down.”
She looked up at me, blinking, like she’d just realized I was still here. “I don’t want to get used to this, Jesse.”
“I know. I get that. But… what are you doing?”
She was tapping furiously on her phone. “I’m sending Devi on a diplomatic mission to my sister’s place to tell her, in person, that I didn’t fuck her husband.”
“You really think your sister is going to think that? From a stupid tabloid article?”
“No,” she said. “But it couldn’t hurt to—oh, for fuck’s sake.”
