Page 1 of Picture Perfect Love

Prologue

Joshua

Ahorrible throbbing pain started pumping through my brain, pounding against my skull, the moment I opened my eyes. At first I thought the noise I was hearing was a ringing in my ears, but then I realized it was my phone on the nightstand. I slapped and smacked blindly in its direction until the incessant shrill tune and buzzing finally stopped. I was sure I heard it thud on the carpet floor next to my bed, but I couldn’t be sure… nor did I care.

But as I swung my legs over the side of what I thought was my bed, I quickly realized I never made it to my room at all. I had barely made it to the couch, it seemed.

My first attempt at standing made me feel like I was going to puke, so I sank back down to the couch cushion, defeated. I cradled my aching head in my hands, realizing this was an extraordinarily bad hangover, even for my standards, numbed as they were.

I don’t know how long I sat there before I was finally able to move without my guts and head spinning, threatening to spill out on the floor in one way or another. But when I finally could, my feet located my phone, which I had tossed aside earlier. I picked it up and lit up the screen for the time. 1:22PM. Shit.

The fact that my siblings and all of our employees had showed up to the office over five hours ago, without me, was troubling, but also nothing new. Working for yourself, or your pushover big brother, required a level of drive and self-motivation that I didn’t seem to possess. I had never adhered to the eight to five schedule the rest of them did.

No, sleeping until noon or later was an all-too-frequent occurrence. What was really alarming, though, was the number of missed calls and messages in my notifications. Because said flaky behavior was expected from me, no one was putting out a search party when I was late to work or neglected to show up at all. That’s just one of the perks of your family owning its own business.

The slew of texts and calls meant something else had happened, but I didn’t have the stomach for whatever it might have been yet.

Instead, I opted to stumble into the bathroom for a shower to wake me up. I grabbed several bottles of cold water on the way to chug while I washed up, but what I really needed was a whole gallon or more to set me right again. I made a note to myself to buy another bottle of pedialyte, which worked wonders for hangovers.

With a towel wrapped around my waist, I emerged into the living room again while scrubbing my teeth down with the toothbrush. I flipped on the TV as a mindless habit and meandered into the kitchen to decide if I should order food or whip something up myself. But while I was surveying my fridge, a startling stream of words blared out from the announcer on the television.

“Heartstring executive, Joshua Meadows, is living up to his reputation as playboy party boy. He was in full force at the Veranda club opening yesterday evening, as you can see in this video and the photograph that is trending on social media networks this morning.”

I froze, my mouth still foaming with toothpaste, and cautiously approached the TV again. There on the screen was a clip of me standing on a bar, incredibly wasted and grinding between two scantily-clad blondes that I could no longer remember having ever seen in my life. The video cut off just as we all started to strip while the crowd cheered us on.

Spitting my toothpaste into the sink, and tossing my brush in after it, I rushed back to my phone and examined the notifications again. Now I understood all too well why it was lighting up with calls and texts.

The photo mentioned on TV was similar to the video, but in much better focus. It left no room for me or anyone to question my level of drunkenness or just how reckless of a mood I was in. My eyes had a hazy but mischievous and reckless glare to them, leading everyone to believe I’d do just about anything for the sake of fun.

As I stared down the photo on the screen, things only got worse when another call came through. My big brother Lucas’s name scrolled in front of my eyes over and over again, only to stop and immediately start all over again.

I wrinkled my face and reluctantly answered. He wasted no time in laying into me full force.

“What were you thinking!?” he barked. “It’s not bad enough that we’ve had to overcome my and Camille’s media scandals, now you’re just begging them to come after you next! We’re execs for a dating app for christ’s sake, Joshua… not Girls Gone Wild!”

“I know, I know,” I groaned. “Listen, I’m throwing on some clothes now and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh, how kind of you. It’s only,” he paused to confirm the time. “After two o’clock in the afternoon. Thank you for taking time out of your busy morning to come in and deal with this crisis in a prompt manner.”

The sarcasm dripping from his tone would have been offensive if I wasn’t so used to it.

“Don’t bother coming in,” he decided. “It’s too late. The damage is done.”

“Look, Lucas,” I sighed. “When Pops was still around and we were gearing up to go into his line of work, we were nowhere near this kind of media spotlight. It takes some getting used to, alright? I’m not accustomed to having photographers following me around, waiting for me to slip up.”

“We launched six years ago, Joshua. How much time do you expect to have? And anyway, a slip-up implies a mistake,” he argued, unmoved. “Those shots you were guzzling seemed pretty intentional.”

“What do you expect, Lucas? Maybe if you gave me some real responsibility in the company… something to challenge me and keep me occupied… I’d have a reason not to go out and drink myself silly all the time.”

“That’s not how it works,” he replied incredulously. “Can you imagine any other employee coming to me and saying Oh, I know I’ve missed enough days and been late enough to deserve being fired. On top of that, I’m well on my way to scandalizing the whole company. But if you’d just give me a promotion! I’d meet the bare minimum requirements of my job then!”

All I could do was sigh and listen. Nothing was going to talk him down when he got like this, and I also really couldn’t say that I didn’t deserve it.

“Just be ready for the Heartstring Gala next week,” he snapped. “Show up, sober. Act professional. Try to prove yourself useful for once. Until then, just stay home and out of the way.”

“No, I’ll come into the office on…”

“Stay. Home. And out of the way!” He repeated more sternly.

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