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CHAPTER 16
It truly amazes me, the power of a woman—the mere ability for a woman to open her mouth and twists the reigns of the universe with just a few words, whether or not they are true or false. Not only does the power of a woman's words amaze me, but Felicity Felix, more specifically, amazes me.
Because I cannot think of anyone who would pull off a stunt such as this with the utmost confidence and contentedness. Honestly, I think this woman is insane.
"Are you serious! That grimy bitch!" Sarah yells at me when I explain the entire situation, from beginning to end, when we arrive back at the manor. She paces the library just as she did when she was on the phone earlier, except she is angry, and I am angry, too, but more reserved about my anger. Why? Because if I show the extent of my anger with Felicity, the paparazzi, and
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The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 17
April 4th, 1999, Beverly Hills, California "Leslie, sit up straight, your posture is making my head hurt." My mother stares at me with the utmost rigor in her eyes. When I do lengthen my back and sit up straight, that hardness never leaves her black irises as she continues to stare at me as if I'm subhuman. It isn't my fault, I try to tell her—my developing breasts not only give me back pain, but make me reluctant to stand up straight in fear of being mistaken of "showing them off." "We need to take you to a chiropractor. That did little to assist you," she tells me, taking a sip of her wine. My little sister, Samantha, doesn't say anything at my mother's words at the restaurant table. How could she, really—she's
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 18
Fiona is sitting next to me on the couch in the guest house. Loretta is next to me as well, offering me a glass of warm tea that awakes my congested nostrils that occurred due to my crying fest.I sniffle and take the steaming cup from her hands, "Thank you.""No problem, honey." The unease doesn't leave her features. "What happened?""Yes, what happened?" Fiona asks as she rubs my shoulder. The contact is something I'm not used to, especially from a motherly figure such as Fiona. She sees how tense I am and stops, but I can't help myself: I broke down, crying in the kitchen in front of Fiona Vaun, which resulted in her having to help me to the guest house as the tears kept flowing like a river. Usually I'm very well-composed in situations that are water-work inducing, but for so
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 19
"Ommmm....ommmm...."My hands at heart center, I take deep breaths and try to find my inner Yoga warrior. Emphasis on the word "try", since my stress level is so up the roof I can feel the gray hairs pushing out of my scalp.The early morning summer breeze rushes through the front porch of the guest house as I channel all of my negative energy into the wood beneath me. But it isn't working. Because no matter how hard I try to get rid of the dark, clouded aurora that last night in North Carolina left behind, it still lingers in my mind about the chaos and disaster we left behind at Oliver Epps's birthday party."Sun salutation," I instruct to myself. I stretch my arms above my head and behind my shoulders into "waterfall" pose before bringing them in front of me, touching my toes, then
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 20
The next morning, I turn off my alarm clock and its loud, annoying ringing and get out of bed. Stretching my aching muscles, I force myself to set my focus on today's party at Abraham Collingwood's house. Which reminds me that I need to wear something red.I open the closet and look through my clothes until I pick out everything that is a red hue; a silk maroon button-up blouse, a cardinal long sleeve top and finally a burgundy dress lay across my bed. After careful consideration, I decide to wear the silk blouse.After showering and spending a good hour combing my hair under the water, I slick it back into a bun and begin to get dressed. Buttoning up my blouse, I look at myself in the mirror and wear a sour look at the reason for wearing such attire. Although I told Sebastian to remove any sort of Liberal thinking from his brain
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 21
** "Why does he always have to make everything so hard!?" I mumble to myself, pushing branches away from my face as I walk further into the woods. Upon entering the forest, it's like an entirely different atmosphere; the giant oak trees and enveloping leaves they hold block most of the sunlight, minus a few soft spots that illuminate the area dimly. I'll be honest, I'm a little...scared. If there was a word to describe "scared" with less prominence, then that would be my current emotion. "Sebastian, where are you?" I call out with no answer. The only response I get is from a few birds above and another noise that I cannot label. Oh God. After treading down a descending surface, I am fin
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 22
A myriad of thoughts rush through my mind at Sebastian's two simple words.He looks at me and waits for a definitive answer. What do I say? Or better yet, what will my mouth allow me to say that isn't remotely idiotic sounding?I nod slowly, "Oh...s-sure."I hesitantly roll up my skirt until the hem of my stocking is completely visible. His hand then slides my stocking down with apprehensiveness in his fingers. His hands are rough when they touch my skin; goosebumps rise on my arms.He lifts my foot to remove my stocking and looks at the cut on my foot. His right hand is holding my leg up at my calf while his left hand holds my foot gently."It's actually not that bad," h
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 23
Three hours. Three hours of walking, falling, tripping, whining, mentally dying and coming back to life again in the woods. "Sebastian, I don't think I can go much longer," I pant, holding onto a tree for support. My legs are sore from the calf all the way up to the thigh, and every step I take creates the most intense feeling of ache I have ever felt. "We're almost there," he says. He does a better job at hiding his tiredness and pain than I do, but it's still evident all over his body, especially in his worn-out eyes. I let go of the tree and drag myself to keep up, "Well how do you know that? How do you know how far we have to go? We could...we could be wandering here all night, fordays, even. What if we don't make it? What if we don't make it to the ro—"
The Publicist's Plight (Rewritten Version of Harrison inc.) CHAPTER 24
I would be lying if I didn't admit that I secretly await Sebastian's arrival. About how I secretly think he's going to walk up to me, apologize, and hopefully say more honeyed words that will sequentially stir my judgment and make me forgive him. And how I secretly think that this will all be over then; by the time he apologizes, someone will rescue us and take us home, where we can finally rest and forget this ever happened. But that isn't the case. Because when I turn my head to the right of the road, pass the blinding rays of the sun, I see Sebastian walking. Away from me. His legs move at a slower pace on the gravel. His hands are in his front pockets, and his head is facing the sun in the sky. But he's walking, and he isn
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