THE FAIRCHILD RIFT: A look into the infamous trio’s growing tensions
I flipped to the feature article and read as quickly as I could. The article relied heavily on photos of Axel and me together and then solo photos of Trace—most notably, some snapshots of him in Bali recently. The article was equal parts unnerving and pure fluff.
“Great.” My mouth went dry, and I dragged my gaze up to meet Axel’s. “How do you think it leaked?”
“There’s only one way,” Axel said, looking grimmer than I’d seen him since we’d the press conference we’d held to defend our name against the sex trafficking allegations over the summer. “We explained Trace’s absence at the fundraiser. He’s been on vacation, and nobody would think twice about that. We haven’t talked to anyone outside of our bubble about this. Someone in the office leaked it.”
I worked my jaw back and forth as I toyed with this idea. I didn’t want to accept it. Not by a long shot.
“Who on staff would talk to the press?” I asked him quietly.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“So you don’t even have anyone in mind?”
“No,” he said with a huff. “But the truth is that is could be anyone. Are you prepared to accept that?”
“I don’t think I have to,” I told him. “We vet everyone. They’ve all signed NDAs. This could simply be tabloid speculation.” I so desperately wanted that to be true. And as I rode the coattails of my night with Jessa, I planned on believing it until it became true. “They put two and two together all the time. What’s so different about now?”
Axel’s jaw flexed as he watched me. “You think so?”
“I don’t have any data to the contrary,” I told him. “And until I do, I’d rather trust the staff that we so painstakingly selected.”
Axel nodded, his gaze dropping to the desk. “I’m just skittish after the sex trafficking article. I don’t want to have to hold another press conference about anything. Especially not when they’re right, for once.”
“We’ll let this one go,” I told him, ignoring the wrench in my gut. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
But deep inside my body, coursing through my nervous system, hid the knowledge that itdidmean something. I’d just played the role of the mediator, the calm one, the problem-solver for too long to know how to let any of those anxieties surface.
If they surfaced, they’d kill me.
So they needed to stay where they could cycle and fester and kill me more slowly.
When Axel didn’t look convinced, I added, “They’re just obsessed with us because we’re newsworthy right now. So yeah, any little expose they can get their hands on, they’re going to run with.”
Axel nodded again. “You’re right.”
I wanted to be right. I fucking hoped I was right. So I needed to act like I was right. I tamped down the stress and the anxiety the only way I knew how—master-level compartmentalization and intense focus on my computer screen.
But just to be sure, I tasked Jessa with doing a little research. I asked her to comb through company call logs and highlight all instances of outgoing calls to all phone numbers associated withBig Apple Mag.It would probably lead to nothing, but it was part of the due diligence I needed to perform in order to relax even a fraction.
I disappeared into my office for the rest of the workday. I needed to be productive, to make progress on digging ourselves out of this hole we kept getting pushed into. And I couldn’t extricate the company from this quagmire if I didn’t focus and work.
The work week melted away in this fashion. By Friday, I could tell Jessa was getting worried. She checked in with me almost hourly, and I responded, but the gentle questions she asked and the prompts to eat, come out of my office, join her for lunch all betrayed her worry.
But this was the only way I knew to keep it together—focus on work at the expense of everything else. Even my health.
Friday after lunch, Jessa came into my office looking sheepish.
“Damian? Are you still alive in here?”
I waved her in, tugging off the headphones I used to blast my death metal as I sank into my own world. “Of course. What’s up?”
“Listen, I did a thing…” She started nibbling on her bottom lip and put her hands behind her back. “I hope you don’t get upset, but…I booked us a little getaway.”
I blinked, the words hardly making sense. “A getaway?”
She nodded. “Just tonight. Nothing crazy. But I had Axel help me set it up because I think it’s pretty obvious that you need to, well…get away.”