“But, how do I…how do I handle this whole publicity thing? I…I just can’t do it. I can’t handle it. It’s not natural. I don’t do the paparazzi shots and the blogging and the instagram photo every day.” My chest was tightening again.
“Sweetie, you own it.” My mom encouraged me.
“Don’t give up on your dreams. Use your pain. Write again.”
“What would I write?”
“Whatever you like? What’s fun to write?”
I immediately thought about that book I couldn’t put down in the hospital. That hot, trashy, but incredibly satisfying read. Maybe I could write something like that. Maybe that would be something light and fun to do. Lost in my thoughts, my mom snapped me out of my euphoric moment. “Oh, and if anyone can turn things around, he can. Look at him. Look at what he’s done. Be by his side tomorrow night.”
She slid her cell phone over for me to read an article:
* * *
Bradley Rainshaw is a man of his word. Days after his press conference, after jetsetting in the Maldives with his former stepsister, a scandal indeed, Rainshaw Jr. has shut down the sweatshops in India and has not only purchased the building to resell and oversee to make sure it’s not made into another sweatshop, he has paid every worker’s education and created a new Rainshaw Foundation to ensure weekly food is delivered to the former workers and children.
“My grandfather’s vision of artisan craft was one of integrity and vision. But it fell in the hands of greedy men looking to expand wide and lower overhead costs to make Americans rich. In retrospect, it caused other lives around the world to be in great harm and created a bad example for other companies. It is not something I will stand for. And it is not something I believe, no, I know, my grandfather would not stand for.” Rainshaw shed a heartfelt tear when delivering his message to the poverty-stricken community where the sweatshops were located.
“Education is the key to developing a better tomorrow,” says Rainshaw. “I look forward to continuing to work with this community and personally invest my time in seeing these wrongs made right.”
My heart swelled with pride at his bravery.
“He reminds me so much of Grandpa,” Claire admitted, wiping at a tear. “I’m so proud of him.” She let out a long, nostalgic sigh and reached for my hand. “Listen, sweetie. No more hiding, okay? Actually, I’m officially banning you as my future sister-in-law from South Africa.”
“Sister-in-law?”
“You know it’s in the cards. I’ll send my assistant to pack everything up for you. Emily can come visit you at the manor if you two miss each other. Hell, she can live there if you want her to. Or if she wants to. She’s a model, right? I could use her for my line and help her get connected in the city if you are in that need of a bestie! But look, I’m right here now and I want us to have a closer friendship. I’m not letting you go this time, and I don’t think your mom is, and Bradley especially isn’t.”
She spoke with the speed of a busy hummingbird who had three espressos for breakfast; she had places to go, places to be, people to see!
Of course this tenacity and ferocious direction is what made her clothing line and boutique a huge success, but I was not one of “those people” that took orders.
Claire covered my hand in comfort and my mom covered Claire’s. The warmth gave me the safe feeling to confess my further feelings of doubt. The feeling felt awful at the pit of my stomach.
“Well…Bradley….I mean, I don’t think we are going to work out. He’s pretty hurt about it. I can tell. I retreated. Told him I wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle. I mean, I can’t…can’t…handle…the….” And then the tears poured down my face and all of my fears surfaced back.
“Of course it’s going to work out, darling. Love is a risk. Ask yourself, would you regret for the rest of your life if you didn’t try things out with him? And aside from that dear, I hate to sound like I’m throwing you in the deep end to swim in the sharks, but sweetie, you already are in that life style. A fair amount of people already knew who you were because of the show. We are family. You can’t divorce us. But now, well, from your recent trip….” she said delicately and with the kindest tone she could muster. “Well, there really is no turning back now. You are a household name!”
The lump coiled in my throat and I tried to swallow it down and away. But I couldn’t. As much as I hated hearing the facts, I knew this was the truth. Now what. Did I want to carry on again without him?
I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I ran away again.
From him.
“Bradley isn’t going to let you just get away like that. I know my brother.”
“That was great. That was perfect! We got the shot!” a voice behind me yelled out.
“Wh…what? What shot? Was this recorded?” Chills of nerves bundled at the base of my beck traveled down my spine.
“I’m not wearing a mic, I don’t think it is.” My mom looked confused.
“But I am! And you, my sweet sister, are going to join the cast with me next season!” Claire beamed.
“Wait. What?”
“Yes! This is a way to control the rumors, to control the media. You dive in head first.”
“I….” My head was swimming. But the look on my family’s faces said it all. They were glowing at the possibility.
“Honey, in a reality show or not, the world is still going to know your name. People will love you.”
This was all happening way too fast. I reached for my glass of Rose and drank it in big gulps. I couldn’t just be snapped into this reality show.
I reached for her hand with gentle care. “Claire, I love you. I want us to have a closer relationship more than anything. For so long I’ve neglected this.” I made a triangle in the air with my finger between the three of us. Mostly out of fear, and of unfair judgment on my part.”
Claire just stared at me with a glazed look on her face as if I were speaking a different language and not in English. She smiled and nodded, but the information completely passed over her. Bless her heart; she was one of a kind. I could have said I’m jumping off the Empire State building as an experiment to test gravity. In her mind, I was already doing the show, moving home, marry Bradley and having her a nephew or niece she could play dress up with a new line of clothing just for children.
I couldn’t help but to laugh. Oh rich people.
“You two both know the show has to have written consent and signed legal paper work signed by me for the scene to be aired on the show, right?”
“Of course we do, darling. There is no pressure.” Mom gentled cooed.
“Of course, that’s why we’d get you really drunk. Then you’ll sign it!” She winked. “Look, you lost a career, now gain a new one. Show the world how smart you are. Start a blog. Heck, do it this week. Like, now. Like, right now.”
“It’s a lot to think about.” I continued drinking my liquid courage. A server immediately came to our attention and refilled our glasses once he was oh-so-well-aware of the cameras around capturing the scene.
“Well, here’s to not thinking.” She toasted me as did my mom.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
“Sure it is. Bottom’s up.” Claire teased.
Feeling emotional and tipsy, I knew I had to say it. “Mom, I’m sorry for judging you. For running away. For not being there for you as a daughter.” I had to get it out. It was weighing on my chest so heavy.
“You’re here now. And that’s all that matters, sweetheart. Let’s just enjoy this lunch then do what we do ladies do best.”
“Shop. Then spa day.” Claire cried out.
I could use a spa day. I sure could. It was the only thing to calm these nerves and Lord knew I had enough of them to light the entire world up with electricity.
Later, all throughout my deep tissue massage, I thought of the perfect way to express my feelings to Bradley. I would write him a letter—that way everything I wanted to express, I could and
would.
Chapter 26
KATE
* * *
Dressed in the gold Givenchy gown Bradley promised he had for me days earlier, I felt like magic. It reminded me of Belle in The Beauty and the Beast, but a much sexier version. Even with my mother’s former position and access to such wealth, I had never been to Paris. Ever.
Now, standing in a grand building with high ceilings and historic stonewalls dressed with original artwork from the renaissance, I felt something stirring inside of me—a desire to join the art and bravery of men and women in the past.
Had they not been brave to dip their pant brush into the array of colors allowing inspiration to lead to creation, the beautifully framed art would not be hanging today.
I wonder if you knew millions of people who lived after you, generations later, would travel all over the world just to stare at your brilliance, I pondered, asking the artists silently.
The masses.
My chest tightened, the familiar feeling of anxiety traveling up my airway and to my throat. It was the panic of being seen by the world.
But he made me feel better. He made me feel brave.
He made me feel like I could do anything.
He made me feel safe, protected.
Seen.
I knew I could take baby steps and perhaps with a good therapist and support system, I could embrace this life and stay on the positive side of wealth and fame. I could make a difference, too. It was a lot to process and to think about, but the way our bodies gelled, the way he felt right, I had to pursue this. The years and years of pure lust I felt towards him; the floodgates had opened and there was no turning back. It was more than a childhood crush; it was love.
I lost my academia world.
I lost control of my reputation.