Page 35 of Chance of Romance
“I just might take you up on that.” He looked to the audience. “Would you guys like to see me do that? Maybe we’ll see how reading romance novels helps or hurts my chances with women.”
The audience cheered and whistled. God, Sabrina hoped he didn’t make those stories a point of ridicule. If he did, she’d have to start a campaign against him. She couldn’t stand to have her advice twisted for a mean-spirited joke.
James laughed. “When we come back, we’ll find out the qualities Sabrina looks for in a winning relationship.”
Winning. Relationships weren’t win or lose. They were give and take. She kept her mouth shut. She’d save that for the camera.
James turned and spoke to the director.
She sipped some water from the mug that seemed to be a staple for talk shows. This was going better than she’d expected considering his initial boorishness.
The show started again, and James fired off an unexpected question. “Sabrina, what qualifies you to be a relationship expert?”
She froze, all of her feelings of fraud coming to the surface before she ruthlessly pushed them down. “I’m a relationship counselor with a master’s degree in psychology from NYU and a thriving practice of happy committed couples.” She smiled. “At least they are when I get through with them.”
The audience laughed. Not a huge laugh but still.
James rolled with it. “So what do you do to them? Make them give each other a bunch of lovey-dovey greeting cards?” He turned to the audience and stuck out his tongue. “Ugh, aren’t they the worst?” His voice rose to a falsetto. “I love you forever and ever. I love you to the stars and back. Sickeningly sweet. What guy wants that?”
She jumped in as if he’d directed the question to her and spoke about the importance of good communication, starting with good listening on both partners’ parts.
And he actually listened intently.
She sailed through the rest of the interview, feeling like she put some good stuff out there, and then she was done.
She left the studio, flying high. Some paparazzi and reporters waited outside, snapping pictures and calling out questions, but this time she was prepared. She didn’t halt in her tracks, instead walking quickly to her car. The driver was already there, holding the door open for her. She was just about to get in when a harsh masculine voice asked, “Why is the Hollywood Love Guru single?”
She whirled to find that same photographer from New York with the long ponytail. “Who are you?”
“Logan Campbell was never your boyfriend. Why did you lie, Sabrina?”
A shiver went through her at his hostile tone. “No comment.” This time she felt within her rights to shut down the question.
She got into the car and tried desperately for a deep breath. She couldn’t get one, her chest muscles seizing tight with the effort. She breathed shallowly, dangerously close to losing it. It was hard to ignore the commotion of paparazzi outside as the car pulled away.
She wasn’t sure if she was going to scream or cry, but the pressure inside her couldn’t be contained. Not only did she hate being in the press for the wrong reasons, she hated Logan’s name being dragged along with hers. She wiped away an errant tear. It was only a matter of time before her paparazzi dad showed up. He’d have no qualms about selling her out for a big payday. That was the sad and awful truth of her dad. He’d never cared about her and hadn’t wanted to be a part of her life. She’d only met him for the first time at thirteen when he’d showed up to get some pictures of her mom with her art at the peak of her career. Hell, her mom would probably start reaching out to the press too, hoping to draw attention to her erotic paintings.Fuck my life.Could she not have just one good thing without all the complications?
She managed not to break down on the drive to the hotel. By the time she got back to the safety of her hotel room, she was thinking more clearly. She pulled out her phone, thinking of calling Claire again to see if she’d made any progress with building a case against Tara Brinkman, the woman Sabrina was beginning to think of as her nemesis. Her heart kicked hard at Logan’s name on her phone screen. He’d texted her. They hadn’t been in touch since Claire’s party three days ago.
Logan:I set up a Google alert on your name to see how you were doing out there. My name came up too. Call me.
She stared at the text, the implications slowly sinking in. First, he’d cared enough to keep up with how she was doing, even after she’d told him goodbye. She warmed at the thought. Their bond was tighter than she’d realized. But if he saw his name linked with hers, he probably wasn’t happy. He was trying to work things out with Olivia, and continued mention of Sabrina and Logan together wouldn’t help that.
Before she called him, she set up a Google alert on her name. Everything in her seized, the pressure on her chest returning with a vengeance, and she broke out in a cold sweat. It was worse than she’d thought. The good articles describing her talk-show appearances and her article on commitment-phobes were completely eclipsed by the gossip. The picture of her and Logan fighting was everywhere. Numerous articles speculated on what the real story was between the two of them and questioned her qualifications. Even more articles speculated on which famous movie-star couples were on her client list.
Speculation on Hollywood couples didn’t concern her, most of them pointed out happily married couples, but damage to her reputation from the other articles was a huge problem. All the articles questioning her qualifications quoted an anonymous source. If only she could find a way to prove it was that psycho Tara. She debated calling Tara and confronting her directly. Sabrina could assure her there were plenty of clients for both of them, no need for things to escalate. But what if their conversation made things worse? What if Tara used the conversation against her?
She called Logan.
“Hi,” he said somberly. Despite the circumstances, the pressure on her chest eased just hearing his familiar deep voice.
“Hi. I’m sorry your name keeps getting linked to mine. It’s awful. I don’t know what to do. I can’t prove who’s behind it. Maybe it’s just curiosity about me, but it feels malicious.”
“Itismalicious.” He paused. “Look, I’m not sure what can be done, but this is screwing things up for me in more ways than one. It looks really bad for me to be getting all this press as some kind of, I don’t even know, like a guy who doesn’t have his head on straight, fighting in public, lying that we were together when we weren’t. I let it go when you first mentioned us as a couple so you could save face, but I don’t want to walk into those investor meetings and the first thing they think when they see me is that I’m a complete flake.”
Shit. She hadn’t even thought about that. First impressions mattered, and if they saw him through the salacious filter of gossip, it would be harder for him to be taken seriously. “I don’t even know what to say. I feel terrible.”
“Olivia’s irate every time my name comes up on some crap website, even though it’s the same story recycled over and over.”
