Page 16 of Pieces of Us

‘What, your precious Amity hasn’t told you what she’s been up to in LA?’ she sneers, practically spitting the words out.

She knows I’ve had no contact with her, but I bite anyway, curious to see what she knows.

‘No. She hasn’t. But you seem to think so, so tell me what it is I haven’t told you?’ I try to keep my tone as neutral as possible.

Rolling her eyes, she chucks her pink, polka-dotted phone at me. ‘See for yourself,’ she scoffs.

It takes a minute for me to process what I’m seeing.

My mouth falls open at the YouTube screen. I’m confused, but then I remember Dad’s conversation about lingerie, interviews and some sort of big break.

Amity is in a black silk robe that’s open at the front, and is wearing a delicate, silver threaded see-through bra and panty set with diamond-encrusted heels. Her face is dolled up, no doubt thanks to her mum, and her hair is in sensual waves down her back. In one hand, she’s holding a make-up brush as a makeshift microphone, while her other rests powerfully on her hip. I don’t know who the other Amazon model is next to her, but I’ve definitely seen her face before. She is married to an NFL player, I think.

I’m in a trance as I stare at Amity’s mini waist, flared hips, plump breasts, and much to my utter envy and dismay, her bare pussy behind the sheer fabric. She has a sultry look on her face as she captivates her interviewee, who is giggling in glee at her questions. I don’t even hear the interview, too transfixed on Amity’s aura and how natural she is, like she’s been doing this her whole life. She’s always wanted to be a journalist. I just never imagined it would be like this. At the end of the interview, she blows the camera a kiss, her mouth sparkling with whatever gloss she has on. It’s a mouth that I’ve kissed a thousand times.

Somewhere between us breaking up, me breaking her heart and her breaking through her body issues, she became indestructible. Infallible. Even more incredible.

As I continue to stare in shock at the clip automatically replaying, my windpipe feels like it has just been crushed. If this is what it feels like to see her scantily clad and moved on, I can’t even imagine what it would have felt like for her to see me practically fucking a nearly naked Billie in the flesh.

‘Jesus,’ I whisper. The clip has eighty-five million views and counting, with countless comments from pricks underneath, shooting their shots.

‘Have you even seen her Instagram?’ Billie spits. Wordlessly, I shake my head. I made it a habit not to check, after she blocked me on everything. ‘She’s such a whore! See for yourself!’

There’s a blue tick next to her name, and she has over ten million followers. My thumbs automatically click the first square. A still image of her between all these supermodels pops up, each one of them in fuck-me lingerie that begs to be torn off. Amity’s face is that of an angel. The only thing that sets her apart is her height; she is significantly shorter than the rest.

Just as I’m about to toss the phone back to Billie, I see comments from rockstars, actors, famous sports stars and celebrities, all singing her praises. The one that irritates me the most is from well-known playboy actor, Lewis, who’s more than twice her age. Even so, somehow young girls flock to him.

@AmityHartBrasAndStars Can’t wait for my interview with you, gorgeous <3 Lewis

@Lewis Pinch me that I get to interview you. See you on the yacht soon! <3 AH

Okay, so the fucker is an Oscar winner, has been in no less than five of my all-time favourite movies and is basically a fucking idol of mine. Whatever love I’ve had for him is swiftly replaced with hatred.

I stare sullenly at her caption and am gutted. She thanks her parents, along with her bestie, Lily, for helping her through the toughest year of her life.

It’s only now that I realise that our future will no longer be together.

Today, the end of high school marks the end of an era.

The end of us.

Chapter 9

Shine On

Amity, 24—Now

Relaxed, my limbs and mind are slacken as I enjoy the tranquillity of my oceanside condo. I could have chosen anywhere to live in Los Angeles, but Malibu is where I feel the most at peace. As I sit comfortably on my plush, oversized lounge, I’m as breathless as the first time I saw the vast coastline of the Pacific Ocean from here.

It has been months since I’ve had the pleasure of just sitting and enjoying the view, where the only worry on my mind is whether or not I should have sashimi or tacos for dinner.

Taking a deep breath, I’m reminded how bone-tired I am after a long summer of interviews around the world.

Hollywood thrives pretty much from January to September, with award season taking up the first half of the year before summer hits in the middle. I have a slight reprieve in September until it all starts back up again in October for Halloween. Then, Thanksgiving is in November, closely followed by Christmas and New Year. While seventy-five percent of my interviews stem from celebrities and musicians, I also gained millions of followers the past couple of years after I began interviewing athletes.

I adore my career. Although I barely get a minute to myself, I enjoy meetings, my interviews on my entertainment show, Bras and Stars, the travel, my segments on some of the world’s largest entertainment and social media platforms. And I love wearing gorgeous lingerie and bikinis that aren’t even out on the market yet. The industry parties and mingling with celebrities are fun, too.

A lot of people dismiss my profession because I barely wear clothes, and according to some of my old classmates, ‘anyone could do an interview’, but nothing could be further from the truth.

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