"But still, I thought that wouldn't be enough for you, Tara, because let's face it, you are the most psychotic bitch I've ever met. So then I set up this meeting today so that I could record you confessing to telling the media lies all in the name of becoming a star."
She scoffed. "As if, Kinsley. You think you've outmatched me, but you have no clue who you're dealing with."
"No one likes a bully, Tara, and now I have proof. So if you spew one more thing about me in the press, I'll release the tape and we'll see what America decides to do about it."
"They'll assume its fake," she protested, still clinging onto her confident air.
"Maybe they will, but your voice is pretty recognizable. And you know the funny thing about the media? They want the most interesting story. So what's better than an accurate story that's also interesting? So why don't you consider which would sell the most magazines? A headline that reads Kinsley Bryant Goes to Soccer Practice Yet Again... or Crazed ex-ULA Soccer Player Stalking and Harassing America's Sweetheart?"
I was not America’s sweetheart, not even close, but she didn’t need to know that.
A pregnant pause passed between us and I knew I'd finally broken through to her. While slightly off her rocker, Tara was still fairly intelligent and she knew I had her.
"I could just come back at you with something twice as big. I'll reveal more details about you and Liam," she said, grasping at her last hope.
"You could, or we could stop this entire show right now. You can walk away with a little bit of your dignity left and I could forget that I even have this recording," I said, pulling my phone off the table and dropping it back into my purse.
"You're just as conniving as I am," she spat, pushing to stand. Her metal chair scraped against the concrete.
"Maybe I am. Or maybe my claws just come out when someone backs me into a corner," I suggested with an even tone. I had no clue which path she would choose, but I had a good feeling that my talk got through to her.
She stood to leave, casting one last evil glare in my direction before heading away. The paparazzi's shutters went wild and I sat there for a moment, collecting the last few minutes in my mind, before retrieving my phone to call Becca.
"Kinsley! How'd it go? Are you alive or are you calling me from the other side?" Becca asked as soon as she answered.
I tossed my head back and laughed, feeling instantly lighter now that I was done with that showdown.
"I really think she'll back off now, Bec. I won't know for sure until enough time has passed, but she'd be an idiot to not move on and forget about this."
"I hope so.”
I glanced down at the time. "Hey, I'll call you back when I get to Liam's place. He's out of practice soon and I want to beat him home."
"Why?"
"You don't want to know," I laughed.
"Oh my god, ew. Are you going to like wait for him naked on the bed or something?"
"Becca! Stop! We have to have boundaries," I laughed, standing up and grabbing my purse.
She couldn't stop giggling on the other end of the phone. "Let me know how that works out for you." Then she thought better of it. "On second thought, don't tell me anything about it."
"Ha-ha. I'll see you at practice tomorrow."
"Bye, Kins."
I hung up the phone just as a camera flash blinded my eyes. I blinked, trying to ease the dark spots in my vision, and then glanced up to find a man standing directly in front of my table. Usually the paparazzi kept their distance so as to appear respectful, but this guy apparently didn't abide by those rules. His beard was long and unkempt and his eyes were wild. I could see sweat dripping down his forehead as he leaned closer.
I almost opened my mouth to say something to him, but I was already standing, so I decided to just leave it and head for my car. I spun on my flats and turned toward the exit, but the guy beat me to it. He walked alongside me, continuously flashing his camera so that I had to hold up my hand to block his shots.
"Please back up. You're too close... this is ridiculous."
"Just doing my job," he shrugged, and kept walking in front of me, his flashes momentarily blinding me one after another.
I hated the fact that my car was parked a few streets away still. I crossed my arms and kept my head down, but that didn't deter him. As soon as we were away from the coffee shop, he started asking me question after question.
"Are you dating Liam Wilder?—Have you slept with him?”
“I’m not answering any of your questions,” I answered, trying to sidestep around him, but he was relentless.
“Did you like that he was your coach when you first met him?—Did he take your virginity?"