Page 145 of Lovestruck at Sundown
“And why isn’t everyone using these?” I asked, baffled. This seemed like the greatest invention ever to exist. Many celebrities were harassed every day and everywhere they went. Some were provoked to the point of giving in to their anger, resulting in physical altercations or smashing of the photographer’s cameras. Or both.
“Because let’s be real,” Becca started. “Many celebrities love having their picture taken and benefit from the attention. Some even tip the paparazzi themselves on their whereabouts. But I know you value your privacy and that the tabloids haven’t been kind lately. Not that it’s a tendency for them to be nice, anyway.”
Becca made a solid point. Many celebrities, especially those who wanted to reach a higher level of stardom and fame, benefited from having their photos taken everywhere they went. It’s much rarer to find celebrities who like living private lives than those who don’t. William and his family were constantly in the spotlight, and even if I knew they weren’t thrilled about being photographed during day-to-day activities, I was more than sure they didn’t mind it when they attended certain events. It came with the territory to keep themselves relevant and available to their loyal fans.
“The article will also touch on how using these items can raise ethical and legal questions,” Becca added.
“What do you mean?”
“Some think that limiting the ability of photographers to capture images, even in public spaces, may be seen as a restriction on journalistic freedom. Others fear this technology could make it easier for individuals engaged in illicit activities to avoid being ID’d or captured.”
“Damn, I hadn’t thought about that.” I was now second-guessing myself about whether using this scarf was a good ideaor not. The last thing I needed was to get involved in any legal or ethical conflict because of this.
I removed the scarf and settled it on my desk.
“There’s no harm in trying it out to piss them off a bit.” Becca lifted an eyebrow. “Let’s call it a work assignment. And it’s due next Monday.” She winked at me and walked away.
Me and my friends were at a bar in Greenwich Village, a few blocks away from Parsons. We were seated in a booth tucked in a cozy corner at the back, right next to the small dais, where three musicians played live music. The place was packed with college students, and I was thankful to feel invisible. Here I wasn’t William Sjöberg’s girlfriend, who had recently “had a miscarriage due to unforeseen circumstances.” I was justme—an ordinary student hanging out with her ordinary friends.
Aaron remained outside, keeping watch. He warned me before I stepped in that Agent Hawthorne was already inside somewhere but that he would fly under the radar as he usually did. The place was dimly lit, so I didn’t doubt he would go unnoticed when he already managed to do so even in broad daylight.
Nolan ordered us a round of margaritas, and after a few sips, I could feel myself relaxing. I had been physically and mentally exhausted between juggling school, juggling work, dealing with the media and paparazzi, and missing William like crazy. The three-hour time difference and him producing this film aside from starring in it didn’t make things easier for us when we tried to communicate. We texted every day, but our calls were becoming more spaced out and were briefer than we wanted.
“I can’t believe you’re graduating next month, Bee,” Nolansaid, flashing only the edge of a smile, pulling me out of my thoughts. His eyes looked slightly hollow. I’d noticed this a week ago but failed to ask how he was doing because we hadn’t had the time to sit down and talk. But we were finally having some well-deserved quality time.
Nolan hadn’t enrolled in summer school with me, opting to work full-time during the summer to save some money instead, so graduating with me in December wasn’t a viable option. He would be doing so in the spring.
“I know, right?” I brought my margarita to my lips and took a sip, my taste buds savoring the balanced taste between sweet and sour. I clicked my tongue. “Let me know once you get some sleep so you can finally sit for that portrait. I can’t photograph you with those baggy eyes,” I teased, and he laughed, dragging a hand up his tired face.
I still needed to photograph six more people to have my final project ready to present before graduation. I’d chosen “Raw Portraits” as the title and concept for my final presentation. We would then exhibit our work to our friends, family, classmates, and faculty members on graduation week. A small caption would accompany each black and white photo with two or three sentences offering a glimpse into the person’s essence.
“I know I look like shit.” Nolan toyed around with his lime, sliding it around the rim of his glass. Nolan looked at our friends to ensure they weren’t listening in to our conversation. They were too busy laughing about something and singing along to the song the performers were playing. “I broke up with Emily ten days ago.”
“Oh, Nolan. I’m so sorry,” I said, shaking my head and repressing the need to squeeze his hand for a few seconds to show my support. I didn’t need anyone to see or photograph me holding Nolan’s hand. My paranoia was real and rising astime went by. I couldn’t be too careful when being out in public, especially when candid photos of me taken at school had appeared on numerous online gossip sites in the past. It was clear students had taken those photos with their phones. “What happened?”
Nolan looked away and picked up his margarita to take a sip. After he set it on the table again, he said, “We’d been having issues for a while. She’s a very jealous and insecure person. And there was nothing I could do or say to placate it. I never gave her a reason to feel that way. I was nothing but open and honest with her throughout our relationship. And I did my best to cater to her wishes.” He licked his lips and brushed one of his unruly waves away from his forehead. “A simple message from a female friend or co-worker to ask me something about homework or schedules oranythingwould end up in an ugly fight.”
Feeling jealous is normal, but when it becomes an issue that leads to constant mistrust, it takes a toll on the relationship. I didn’t have to get into the specifics of my past relationship with Thomas and how it ended in tragedy because Nolan knew all about it. Even if Emily wasn’t Thomas, it becomes unhealthy and tiring to be involved in that type of dynamic.
“You were the only girl friend I was allowed to have,” Nolan added. “And maybe if she weren’t a fan of William’s, she wouldn’t have felt comfortable with us being as close as we are. She would die if she saw me having drinks at a bar with three other girls who aren’t you.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “That sucks. Emily is such a sweet girl. I know how much you love her, but what is love without trust?”
Those had been William’s words.What is love without trust?The impact they had on me in midsummer last year changed my brain chemistry.
If Nolan and Emily had been struggling with this jealousy issue for a while, that meant he had exhausted all his options totry and make things better until he felt like the only route left was to end the relationship. I felt so bad for him. For Emily, too. It must be hard feeling that way and not knowing how not to.
“Fuck, I know.” Nolan rested an elbow on the table, supporting his chin with his hand. “And not just that. I caught her going through my phone a few—” A bright camera flashed beside us, cutting Nolan off.
It was a young woman who seemed to have had one too many. She was standing next to our booth and struggling to put her phone away. The soft belt around her grey knee-length dress was undone and hanging by the thread loops, making her look like she was wearing a sack of potatoes. She stepped forward and dropped her hands on the table between our margaritas.
Nolan stood and took a protective stance. “I suggest you turn around and leave.”
The woman surveyed him with a drunken gaze. “I have something to say to …her.” She pointed a finger my way. Nolan grabbed her arm and tried to make her leave, but she shook away from Nolan’s grasp in a dramatic way and yelled, “Don’t touch me!” That attracted the attention of people sitting at nearby tables, but they quickly dismissed it and went about their business.
But the woman’s theatrics caught the rest of my friends’ attention.
Riley, who I’d known for a few semesters and who was also close to Nolan, scowled at the drunk woman and told her to fuck off, and threatened to call security and have her kicked out.
