“Yes, that is some magnificent cleavage,” he pointed to the magazine, “but it’s not slutty, Sienna.” His voice became softer. “It’s beauty and pain meets raw and exposed.” He held out his arm toward the billboard. “It’s showing young women everywhere that a true Cinderella story does exist.”
“Cinderella got the guy, remember?” I muttered darkly.
“The problem with fairytales is that they don’t show you all the heartbreak that they’ve overcome.”
“That would be a long movie.” I sighed, trying to see his point.
“Screw Cinderella, be the one that uses this article,” he held up the magazine, “to get what you want.”
“So, play the villain?”
“Hedid, so why can’t you?”
I turned to look at him, shocked that he’d referenced Elio so boldly. Wyatt was the only person who knew my true back story, and never once had he painted Elio as a villain.
He raised his hands palms toward me when he saw my expression.
“I’m sorry. It just hurts me that you hurt so much for someone who left you.”
“Everyone I ever cared about has left me.”
“Not everyone.” He lowered his head.
“No.” I felt bad. “I guess not everyone.” I threaded my arm through his. “Come on, let’s go home. I have a quart of chocolate gelato with our name on it.”
The weekend came and went, then Monday came much too quickly, and as Wyatt and I walked toward work, I found myself staring at the billboard wondering if my mother had seen me yet. If she had, would she come looking for me? Was I not worth looking for?
“Stop,” I whispered to myself. That was the old me. The new me had a backbone and a new life I really loved.
“Here we go.” He held open the door for me, and we quickly zipped past the chatty secretary. She was nice but would talk your ear off about her pet bird. Did anyone really like birds? And who named their bird Chester? I thought that was a cat’s name. That just caused confusion for all.
Of course, on cue, my boss appeared at the door to the office with a file in his hand. I shook my head at Wyatt. He hated Georgio just as much as I did.
“First, nice photo.” He held up the magazine. “Second, just as I expected, we got a lot of press from your story.” He waved us in and closed the door, which was odd, and motioned for me to take a seat. “I received a call early this morning requesting to have you, Sienna, interview one of the owners of Ricco Oil.”
“Ricco Oil? They never let anyone interview them.” I glanced at Wyatt, beyond confused.
“Precisely why you will do this interview with Mr. DeSimone.”
“Why me?”
“Because of this.” He held up the magazine.
“I won’t sleep with him.”
“They made it very clear it was your article that made him want to meet you, Sienna. Apparently, they want you to write it because you struck a chord with him or something. They say, like you, he started from nothing, and so on and so on.”
“Wyatt has to come with me to meet him.” I wouldn’t do this alone.
“I wouldn’t send you to the wolves alone. I already got you cleared, Wyatt, but you will stay in the background unless you feel Sienna can’t handle something.”
“Okay.” My best friend nodded, and I felt mildly better.
“Instead of seeing the negative here, Sienna,” Georgio stood and buttoned his jacket, “see it as you’re touching people with your story.”
“I’m trying,” I muttered.
“Well, try faster. He arrives in two hours.”