Page 113 of Creed

It seems to us that Miss Rossi has found herself a true American hero. A quiet billionaire that prefers to live his life with privacy in a small town Miss Rossi calls home. To everyone’s surprise, Morgan's heart isn’t with her longtime costar and best friend like so many suspected, Jake Meadows, but with Jakes very own cousin, Alistair Creed.

I smiled as I read that article. There wasn’t one cruel thing they wrote, and they respected Creed’s Lake by not naming it. I was in hair and makeup for the fifth time that day and couldn’t wait to get the late show over and get back to Malibu. Jake walked in and pulled a chair in front of me and crossed his arms as he sat and glared at me.

“What now?” I rolled my eyes.

“You’re cutting me out of your life.” He wasn’t happy at all.

“That’s not true, Jake. I just happen to be living with Creed. He built the private community to give his fellow veterans a quiet place to retire. It’s bad enough that I’m there and risking their privacy. He’s just trying to keep me safe, and he did agree to meet with you about visiting. I don’t want to put their privacy at risk.”

He rolled his eyes. “What kind of special ops shit is my cousin into? That’s the only answer that makes sense.”

I sighed. “Don’t let your imagination get away from you. Just have your meeting with Creed and we will go from there, okay?”

He groaned. “You know how much I hate going back to Indiana. Now if I want time with my best friend, I have to spend time there, and I don’t like it.”

I tilted my head. “Why do you hate Indiana so much?”

He shrugged. “I just don’t like it.” He was keeping something from me. Something must have happened there, and he refused to let me in about it. I asked that question more than once and got the same answer every single time.

“Did you hear anything about Nicole’s meeting with Creed? We haven’t had time to talk about it yet.” I asked.

He tilted his head. “You were with him last night.”

I gave him a guilty smile and he groaned. “Come on, Morgan. The last thing I need is to picture you fucking my cousin.”

I laughed. “Then don’t picture it, that’s sick.”

“Fine, I’ll meet with him, and no, I haven’t heard a word about his meeting with Nicole.” He paused and scratched hischeek then looked at me. “I want him to design a bike for me anyway.”

“Creed doesn’t actually design the bikes, he has artists and engineers that he pays to do that for him.”

The green light came on and we looked at each other. “Its show time.”

I stood on the side of the stage as the host introduced me.

“Lets welcome the exquisite, timeless, and talented Morgan Rossi to our show!” The music started and the audience clapped. I walked out on stage and shook Nick Maine's hand before waving at the audience as Nick guided me to my seat. I got comfortable in my seat then again waved and smiled at the audience who was still clapping.

“Thank you.” I gave them a nod.

The audience calmed down and Nick sighed. “First of all, I’d like to say how very grateful we all are that you survived such a horrible incident.”

I did my best to keep a smile on my face as the audience clapped again. “Thank you.”

“I would also like to express my condolences for the loss of your best friend. From what we heard the two of you were very close.”

“Yes, I met Callie in preschool, and we were lifelong friends. I was with her when she had her daughter and I’m also her daughter’s godmother. Callie was more like a sister to me than anything.” I said.

All his questions were pre-approved. I wanted to speak out against domestic violence.

“It was a very sad and scary situation. Let’s make sure we have the correct story. Your best friend was in a volatile marriage, you tried to help but unsuccessfully. You were lured to a motel to help her, and it was her husband that snapped and ended her life then tried to kill you as well?”

I nodded. “Yes, Nick. It was the worst day of my life, and I’d like to send a message out there to anyone stuck in these horrible situations. There is help available and I think there should be a number on the screen to call if you need help?” I asked.

“Yes, and I think it’s a good message. The number is on the screen and the operator will transfer you to the closest available domestic abuse center to you. Don’t hesitate to call, because as you see here with Morgan’s experience it won’t get better if you don’t reach out.”

“Thank you, Nick.”

He turned toward me. “How do you recover from such a terrible incident?”

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