Page 71 of Paparazzi

When the screen turns black at the end of the video, tears flow down my cheeks, and I can’t even think. What she did is absurd. She committed professional suicide to silence the rumors.

It’s Evan who speaks first: “I got to the bottom of this, and she didn’t sell that story,” he explains. “The guy she inadvertently gave the information to did it himself. I went with the lawyers to talk to him. He explained how he got her drunk to hound her with questions...she was not lucid that evening. Iris doesn’t even remember that night. He also said he tried to sift through her computer files, hoping to find something juicier, but he didn’t find anything about you or the Jailbirds. He used some contacts in the justice and police departments to fill in the blanks of what he managed to snatch from Iris that night. For God’s sake, he made his living verifying sources for journalists. His job was digging up information... He’s already been fired, and he’s probably never going to find work as a journalist. He’s lost his career, but she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“She confided to others what I told her. None of this would have happened if she hadn’t done that.” Words come out of my mouth before I can think. I’ve wondered if she tried to find out more about my past, and I never got an explanation. And the reason is that she didn’t. She even told me, but I didn’t believe her.

“Are you serious? She was drunk!” Michael points out. “Just a few days ago you told me what happened to your parents—after more than ten years of knowing each other. You’re not exactly someone who trusts others. You never talk about yourself. Never. You never told her anything about your real past. You never let her know it was important for her to keep quiet. If you had told her everything, she would never have blurted it out, even under the influence of alcohol.” He’s telling the truth. I haven’t always been like that. Life has made me closed off and wary of people. It’s not a justification, but it’s still difficult to change.

“Why the hell would she make that video? It’s professional suicide,” I ask my friends.

“Are you serious?” Lilly’s voice is incredulous. “She’s in love with you, you idiot. Do you want me to spell it out for you? And besides, it’s not just professional suicide. It’s also personal. The comments below the post are slaughtering her. Literally, some fan of yours has threatened her with death several times. I’ve never seen such hatred against a person.”

I look down at my screen and start scrolling through the comments. They’re chilling, to say the least. Someone calling her a whore is the kindest. Others say her mother should have aborted that abomination. The anger bubbling in my veins feels like corrosive acid.

“We have to have this video taken off the site before it goes viral. It will ruin her life,” I say as soon as I realize it, but the expression on the others’ faces stops my breath. They look like they’re going to a funeral, Iris’s, to be exact.

“The record company pushed it out and made it go viral. There’s no way to stop the spread at this point,” Evan says, and from the disgust on the faces of others, I know they’re on my side, too.

“What the hell are we going to do?” I whisper, defeated.

“I think I have a solution, but I don’t know if you’re going to like it,” Simon proposes with his hands tucked into his pockets and a sheepish look on his face.

Simon does not speak much, tends to stand aside, and keep to himself. He gardens to relax, and he certainly doesn’t look like the bassist of the most famous band in the world. When he has something to say, it’s usually profoundly life-changing. From the expression on his face right now, I’m imagining it will pull the earth out from under us. Considering my world is already completely turned upside down, I’d say I’m ready to hear what he has to tell us. Almost.

“Do we need alcohol for what you’re about to say?” I ask with a sigh as I put the laptop on the bed.

“Yes, I think a whisky, maybe a double, is in order,” he admits, glancing furtively at Evan.

“I’ll need an antacid if I don’t want to be hospitalized with an ulcer,” our manager whispers as he exits the room.

I admire Evan and his ability to handle the thorniest situations with an enviable calm. We leave my room and I notice Lilly clasp Damian’s hand, and he reciprocates by gently massaging the back of it with his thumb. My mind goes to Iris. I wonder how she’s coping with the disaster that has come with her video, and I wish I could hold her hand to give her the strength she needs in this moment. Since meeting her for the first time, I finally understand why she never accepted my help. She never wanted me to solve her problems because she knows how to solve them very well on her own. She doesn’t need anyone. She has the strength to navigate her own life. Her shoulders are strong enough to sustain the weight of the consequences.

I wish I was there with her—to tell her she’ll get through this, too, that we’re going to get out of this. I wish I was there to hold her hand and telling her everything’s going to be okay, to reassure her that she’s not alone in this battle like she’s been her whole life. I wish I could make the journalists who stormed her building disappear, along with the fans stationed under her windows like vultures ready to pick on her carcass. Because when she exposed herself publicly for me, she opened herself up to the morbid hatred and curiosity of everyone. All of a sudden, the miles that separate us weigh like a boulder. I have to go to her, but I don’t know how to do it without being assaulted by the press.

People:

The Thomas Simons case has developed some new twists and turns. Apparently, a stalker of the band created fake documents to get the attention of the drummer who had previously turned down her sexual advances. Just how dangerous this person is and whether she has tried to approach Thomas Simons on other occasions is unknown, but we are waiting for a press conference to shed more light on the matter. It is unclear whether the band has issued restraining orders against either the woman or the newspaper that published the news without verifying its sources.

Gossip Now!

What would you do to get the attention of your idol? Surely, Iris has created an unprecedented media sensation, attracting the attention not only of Thomas Simons—the object of her obsession—but also of the rest of the world. This blogger with a modest following managed to catalyze the collective hatred of the band’s fans and gain thousands of followers of her own in a matter of just a few hours. Was it just a bad publicity stunt to position herself as a new social media star?

@jailfreakingbirds You must die, ugly bitch! #IrisYouHaveToDie

@jailbirds_groupie You’re the most disgusting person I’ve ever met. I hope you die, ugly bitch. #IrisYouHaveToDie

@wannabe_rockstar She wrote a review of their new music without even listening to it. She wasn’t even in the room with us! This one’s completely crazy.

Dexter snuggles by my side. Since uploading the video two days ago, my life has become hell, and even my cat has realized there’s no need to beat this dead horse. Maybe he sees me walking around like a zombie—I haven’t changed or showered for more than forty-eight hours—and feels sorry for me.

A soft knock on the door is the only sound in my apartment, and I can’t even handle that. “Go away, Emily. Pretend I disappeared from the face of the earth, okay? I don’t need to eat, drink, do anything. I just want to stay under my blanket, okay?” I shout without moving.

I’m tired of seeing the concern on her face. She’s stuck by me through this whole situation, and I really appreciate it, but I need to be alone, figure out what I want to do with my life now that I’ve destroyed everything. I’m not usually one to give up hope. I’ll fight to the end with the knife between my teeth. But this is too much even for me, I need a few days to gather my strength to get back on my feet, and I don’t know what I’m going to do then.

The exact moment Thomas’s past was revealed, I realized I would lose him forever, and it broke me. Because the worst of it is that I really cared about him. I wanted to find out where this relationship could go. I told him about my mother. I showed him my most vulnerable side, and he treated it with a kindness I didn’t think was possible. He didn’t run away, didn’t look for excuses to leave like all the others I dated. He even stuck with me when he found out my work was something that could ultimately damage him. He’s the only person Dexter loves unconditionally. That alone has to be worth something.

“It’s Thomas. Can I come in?”

For a moment, I think I hear wrong. The voice on the other side of the door can’t be his. He’s furious with me, and he has every right to be. I ruined his life and career. It can’t be him.

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