Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
June
I’m at work looking through final production files for this month's issue when I spot a familiar picture. I hate when my own magazine publishes photos of us but this time the picture in question is mine. As in I took it with my own camera. Actually Ben did. It's from when he and I went to LA to see Asher about a week before he officially moved here and the three of us went to the beach.
The question is how did they get these?
I'm seeing red.
I march into Amelia's office and throw the mockup on her desk without realizing our editor in chief was in here too. "Where did you get these?"
"Our publisher purchased them exclusively. They're being distributed throughout our magazines."
“What? How?" Blood rings in my ears.
Then it dawns on me. I had these blown up a few days ago to go on our gallery wall in the den. I took them to the photo store down the street from here. Someone made copies and sold them!
“Elle,” Amelia’s soothingly fake voice attempts to calm me. “It’s done. We already bought them and they're going in the issue. I’m sorry.”
I look down. The words on the paper jumping out at me.
The New Relationship Ten! Is it a sign of happiness or do the added pounds hint that there's trouble in paradise?
I look up.
This has to be a joke. Some gotchya moment that has a hysterical punchline I don't understand.
Only there's nothing. They're serious.
“You’re calling me fat?” Neither answer, knowing they betrayed me. "Since when are we a gossip magazine?" I tear the mockup in half, throw it at them, and storm out in what's sure to be the type of spectacle that ends up online based on the amount of people who have since come to watch. Those standing in the doorway part as I pass.
"Elle!" Sam is suddenly trailing behind me.
I snap around. “Did you know?”
“No,” she takes a step back, shaking her head. Then she grabs my arm and moves us into an empty room. “I overheard. I didn’t know they were your personal pictures. I’m sorry.”
I take a few deep breaths.
"That really sucks," she sighs. Then hesitates. "Maybe it's time you re-evaluate all this."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's face it, you don't really even like it here. You never have. And now it's sort of like a major conflict of interest."
She has a point. But now all I can think about is not losing this job, my only source of income.
"Look, I'll go get your stuff. Go home. Cool off. We'll talk later, okay?"
"Yeah," I nod. I should probably warn Asher about all this anyway.
As I solemnly walk into the apartment Asher looks up from his spot in the den, surprised to see me home so early. He pauses the video game he’s playing with Tiny and Brad.
"What's up, babe?" Brad waves from the couch.
"Arse," Asher smacks his shoulder and stands, jogging towards me. "Hey."
"Hi." I look over at Brad and Tiny, feeling stupid. I don't want to admit my mistake in front of them, or tune them in to how embarrassing it is to have my own magazine do something like this.
I mean maybe I have gained a little weight recently.
But if I'm this nervous about it being pointed out to only two people, whom I actually like, then what's going to happen when the whole world knows?
I look from Asher to the couch.
When I first learned this place had seven bedrooms I never thought they'd all be put to use. It seems like we always have a full house, which normally is fine.
But today it's not.
Today I feel stupid.
I pull Asher into the foyer, only briefly hesitating before telling him I messed up - that I took our photos somewhere without thinking, and I was betrayed by my own magazine. I tell him all this in one big sentence, without pausing, and when I'm done I collapse into the nearest chair.
Asher doesn't say anything. Not at first.
Then Tiny starts laughing. I guess we didn't move far enough out of earshot. Asher quickly quiets him. I think for sure he's going to say something along the lines of I told you so. He's always warned me about how harsh the media can be, how people easily betray us, and how I have to be careful.
"It'll be okay," he puts his arms around me. Then he takes out his phone.
I don't know who he calls - his lawyer, agent, manager, PR firm, or a mixture of them all, but I sit with my head in my hands and listen.
"Elle got her first bit of bad press. Yeah, she accidentally took our photos to a public place."
I hear the many unhappy voices.
"How do you accidentally take photos to a public place?"
"Of course someone will sell them!"
"Did we not say-"