“Why?”
He shrugged. “Some hairy feminist group contacted the boss man and claimed this would exploit the girls based on their looks alone. If we went ahead, they were going to protest outside. So, we fired them. We didn’t need ’em anyway. Bloody stupid idea in the first place.”
Owen shook his head, but let it go. “Can I get a shower before I head out?”
“Yeah sure...”
Owen thanked him and made his way to the men’s shower room of the gym, nodding to the guard outside his door. He stripped off and showered quickly. He stepped out and placed his hands on a towel not attached to a surface, but a hand. A female hand. Owen wiped the water out of his eyes and saw the receptionist at the gym standing in the shower block, taking off her jumper.
“Are you lost?” Owen asked.
“I think I know where I’m supposed to be,” she removed her top and bra, and wrapping her arms around Owen, kissed him tenderly. Owen stepped back. “Look, I’m sorry, but how did you get in here?”
"I walked in."
"Why didn't the guard stop you?"
"There wasn’t a guard."
"Yes there was. I walked past him.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a party. No one will come back here.”
“Except you... because you wanted to fuck an MMA athlete? Well it’s not going to happen. Can you please leave?”
The woman looked at him but stood her ground. “You’re serious?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“But you... I thought... is it me?”
Owen dried himself off and stepped into his underwear. “You think because I don’t want to have sex with you, there’s something wrong with you?”
“You hook up with so many girls. I just thought you liked having fun. Sorry, my mistake.”
Owen watched her leave with a slightly tense hitch in his jaw. He hooked up with so many girls? How did that even come up? Was that her opinion? Her assumption? That’s what gave her the right to think she could waltz in on him showering? Did others think this way? He shook his head. So many things wrong with this two-minute-long scenario. So sudden. So out of left field.
Owen got dressed in his casual gear and walked out, drying his hair. The crew was packing up, but something on the reception desk caught his eye. A magazine. A tabloid with the headline “Owen Gasnier’s Aussie Hook-Ups!”
Before he could open it, the security guard he had passed to enter the shower room was marching back over. “Oi!” Owen called. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry, Mr Gasnier. We had a bunch of people sneak in, trying to take pictures of the set with their phones. The boys needed some help tossing them for a minute. Everything OK?”
Owen picked up the tabloid. Eyeing the cover, he saw a picture of himself with a woman, posing for a photo. Several pictures of himself with women. He remembered his first night back in Sydney. He had been approached by dozens of fans as he ventured into the hotel. He must have taken over thirty photos that night. Some taken by hotel staff, others were selfies. So, this was where the assumption of so many girls came from. "You've got to be kidding me..."
He flicked through to the third page; the main story of the issue. He glazed over the bullshit until he came to a section that made his heart sink. Alongside more selfies he’d taken with fans were grainy photos. Three of them. One showed him outside the coffee house, his arms around a woman. Her face was hidden, but he knew it to be Tegan. Another photo at night in Circular Quay, on his date with Tegan. It showed them kissing under the tree. No matter how dark it was, they had brightened the picture. The last was of the two of them about to enter the apartment block.
He had been followed. Hounded from the shadows by those who wanted quick bucks for an exclusive picture. He ran his eyes over the article and several words stood out: “serial womaniser”, “many meaningless dalliances”, “hero to many... star has dimmed” and on and on it went.
“Mr Gasnier... everything OK?” the guard repeated.
Owen barely registered a question was asked of him. He fumed. The receptionist and his anger at the guard, for leaving his post, were forgotten. Thankfully, Tegan hadn’t been named, but those close to her would be able to tell it was her. The article was complete bullshit but with enough evidence to make it believable. He had expected media attention but not this. He knew he would come in for extra attention, but he never wanted to do this to Tegan. A twinge of guilt hit him. Had he been selfish? Had he not given their time together enough thought? Had he overlooked a chance to shield her from this?
“Owen!” The director’s voice thundered into Owen’s head. He had obviously been failing to get his attention for several seconds.
Owen tossed the magazine down. “Yeah... sorry.”
“I said we need you in tomorrow for a few hours, just to do some little re-shoots. We only have this set up for four hours, so we gotta be quick, yeah?”