Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76470 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Burke?” I whisper again. Maybe I should let him sleep, but he can’t have been out for that long because his phone screen is still lit with a selfie of Audrina and himself in happier times. His arm is around her. They’re both grinning, their teeth blindingly white and their skin bronzed by the sun. There’s some white villa with a blue roof behind them and the ocean in the distance.
If only Audrina were here to see the state he’s in . . .
Then again, maybe he isn’t heartbroken.
Maybe he’s simply feeling sorry for himself.
It sucks being sick and rejected.
I place the breakfast tray on his nightstand and remove the phone from his loose grasp to keep it from getting lost in the covers, only as soon as I do, his fingers curl around nothingness, and he stirs awake.
“I put it back on the charger for you,” I say, knowing exactly what he’s feeling around for. “Brought you something to eat. How’s your stomach?”
Clearing his throat, Burke sits up and rakes his hand through his messy hair.
“I know you wanted sausage and eggs, but the chef thought you should stick to toast, bananas, applesauce, Jell-O . . . you know, bland food,” I say. “He assured, though, that this bread was made at four o’clock this morning, so it’s fresh and tasty, even without butter. And the banana’s perfect—not too green, not too ripe.”
I situate his pillows behind his back as he sits up; then I place the food tray over his lap.
“What the hell did I eat last night?” he asks.
“We all ate the same thing, and you’re the only one who got sick. Must be a bug. Hopefully, you’ll be as good as new this time tomorrow.”
I take a seat on my side of the bed as he picks around at his food. I’ll admit, it’s not half as appetizing as the feast the rest of us enjoyed, but it looks a hell of a lot better than most hospital food.
“What was she like?” I ask before tacking on, “Audrina, I mean. Couldn’t help but notice you had a photo pulled up on your phone.”
He chews a bite of dry toast, staring straight ahead.
Hard to tell if he’s ignoring me or contemplating his answer. “I’ve only ever seen pictures of her on social media,” I add. “And you know how that is . . . curated and everything . . .”
There’s another pause or hesitation, or maybe he’s still ignoring me. The silence only makes me want to word vomit even more, but I bite my tongue to keep from getting ahead of myself.
“She’s not what people think she is,” he finally answers after washing his bite down with a sip of plain hot tea. “It’s an act. The clothes, the voice, the whole aesthetic. It’s like an alter ego. It’s all fun and games to her. The real Audrina is deeper than that. Smart as hell. Funny too. Doesn’t take herself too seriously. Adventurous.”
This is the most I’ve ever heard Burke talk about anything or anyone, and I’m at a profound loss for words.
“A lot of people don’t know this—and they wouldn’t because she doesn’t advertise it—but she’s extremely philanthropic.” He pushes his sliced bananas around with a fork. “Probably dedicates more time to charities than social media. That should tell you everything you need to know about her.”
“Why doesn’t she share that with the world?” I ask. “In a world where everyone wants to cancel everyone for every little thing, why not share the good stuff?”
“It doesn’t work that way. Not in her world,” he says. “The thing is . . . upper echelons of society . . . most people use charitable foundations as tax shelters. It’s sort of complicated, but most of the time when you see some public figure doing PR for some charity, it’s because they’re getting something out of it, like a salary or publicity for themselves, for instance. When I see someone like her—someone from a well-known, well-to-do family—championing some random cause, I know the real reason. They’re not donating their time and face to any old clean-water foundation because the issue keeps them up at night.”
He’s speaking a language I’ve never spoken before, and yet, it all makes perfect sense.
“Anyway, Audrina didn’t want to seem like another one of those people,” he continues, “so she kept her charity work private, off of her social media. And she didn’t rely on donations to fund her causes. She funded everything herself, with her own money.”
“It’s too bad the rest of the world doesn’t know that side of her,” I say. I’ve seen online parodies and memes of Audrina in the past, and most people tend to put her alongside people like Paris Hilton, Anna Delvey, or whatever socialite or socialite wannabe is trending at the moment.