“If I thought it would help, I would. But it’s all the damn customers, too! I guess I could threaten to boot them out if they take pictures of you.”
“No, don’t do that.” The last thing I want is for this to negatively impact Diamonds. I sigh. “I guess I’ll head home now.” Another day without work. And I need to put in twenty hours a week if I want to keep collecting my subsidies. How long before they cut me off?
“Here, dolly. It’s your favorite, and looks like you could use a good meal.” Leroy sinks two Styrofoam take-out containers into Keith’s hands, weighed down with what I’m sure are his famous blueberry pancakes.
I doubt I can stomach a single one.
Lou gives my forearm a pat. “Remember, you did a good thing for that man. I just wish things were easier for you because of it.”
“I guess it could always be worse,” I mutter, heading for the back door.
Five reporters and as many cameramen are waiting for me right outside, shoving their microphones in my face, shouting at me. The clicks and flashes of cameras make me wince and flinch, capturing every unflattering impression of me that they can.
“Are you currently collecting welfare?”
“Are you still in contact with your former art teacher and lover?”
“Reports suggest Scott Philips has been romantically involved with a seventeen-year-old student in Memphis. What do you have to say about that?”
“Who’s the father of your child?”
“Did you save Brett Madden knowing how much he was worth?”
“Was Seth Grabner swerving to avoid your car when he drove into the tree?”
“Is it true that you’re suing Brett Madden?”
“What?” I explode, spinning around to try to find the ones who asked those last questions. “No! No! And no! Stop making things up!”
Keith’s arm ropes around my shoulder protectively as he pushes past them to his truck, ushering me into the passenger side and shutting the door. They trail him, firing off questions his way, too—specifically, who he is and who he is to me—but he smoothly ignores them, rounding the truck and climbing in, inches from slamming his door on a microphone.
“Did I know how much he was worth? Did I cause the accident? Am I going to sue him?” I shriek, a fresh wave of tears welling in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks. “What kind of disgusting people are they?”
“They’re idiots, Cath.”
“I know that. But do people believe them?”
The truck jerks to a stop several times as Keith struggles to back out around the reporters without running them over. “Other idiots probably do.”
I’m so frazzled, it takes me a moment to focus. “Did I hear one of them say that Scott is with a student?”
Keith’s lips press together.
“Seriously?” Is he that stupid to try it again?
“I don’t know if it’s true or not. One of the guys told me about it last night. I guess some hockey fans following the story recognized their art teacher. He’s been working down at that private school for five years without anyone knowing about what happened up here.”
“Is he going to get away with it again, if it’s true?”
Keith shrugs. “I’ll let you know when I hear more.”
I sink down in my seat as we speed out of Diamonds’ parking lot. “You know what? I don’t even want to know. I have enough problems.” My stomach is churning. “I can’t have them making up all this shit. What if it gets back to Brenna?”
“Until they hear your side, they’re going to latch on to any bullshit shred of a story they can and run with it.” He gives me a look as he turns onto the main road. He doesn’t have to say it.
Give them the goddamn interview.
It takes me thirty minutes of staring at Brett’s number on my phone to collect my nerve and hit Call. I hold the phone to my ear, clearing my throat several times.
He picks up between the third and fourth rings, and answers with a groggy “Yup?”
My eyes shoot to my alarm clock and widen with panic when I see the bright numbers. It’s only seven thirty in the morning Shit. I completely forgot. I’m a second away from hitting End, when I hear, “Catherine?”
I wince. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I went to work today and it was a total circus so I came home, thinking I could call you. I forgot how early it is.” I’m rambling. “I’ll call back later.”
“No! It’s okay. Seriously. Just give me a minute.”
“Okay.” I hold my breath and listen to Brett on the other end, to his groan and quiet curse. A pill bottle rattles. He must be in a lot of pain first thing in the morning, with his meds having worn off in the night. I try my best not to picture him lying in bed, but I fail miserably and end up playing a silent guessing game of “What does Brett sleep in?” while he, I assume, takes his medication.
That game has my cheeks heating up. I’ve seen the pictures Misty sent me and I have a pretty active imagination, deprived of the real thing for too long.
His muffled sigh fills my ear, like he’s settling back into his pillow, and it sends a warm shiver down my spine. “How many monkeys were there and did they dance?”
“What?” I frown, replaying his words. Is he delusional? What kind of meds do they have him on?
“You said you’re at a circus.”
“No . . . I mean I went to work. And it was . . . I—”
His throaty chuckle cuts off my words. “Sorry, bad joke.”
“Oh!” I finally clue in. I’m usually quick to the draw on comebacks. Why does he make me so flustered?
“I’m sorry I never responded to your last text. I ended up passing out. I’ve been in a bit of a fog these last few days. These painkillers are strong.”
I swallow a sigh of relief. “So you weren’t ignoring me. You were just high.”
“Basically.” He sighs. “Makes it easier to watch my team lose.”
“I’m sorry.” They lost again last night. I’ve learned enough about hockey to know that one more loss and the Flyers are out of the playoffs.
“So, I take it there were a bunch of reporters ordering the diner’s breakfast special this morning?”
I guess he doesn’t want to talk about his team. “And every local who didn’t have somewhere else to be.”
“Heroes draw big crowds. Especially pretty ones.”
“I’m not . . .” I roll my eyes, but I’m also fighting a smile. Brett Madden thinks I’m pretty. “Please don’t call me that.”
“What? Pretty?”
“No. A hero.”
“So I can call you pretty?”
“Yes. I mean no! I mean . . .”
“All right. It’s early. I shouldn’t be teasing you yet.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Is he always such a flirt? Or is he just trying to make me comfortable?
There’s no time for either right now. “Can we do that interview you were talking about? Something really simple and quick and small to get them off my back. ”
“When?”