Tales Written When Poetic

Met at the Gala {pt. 1}

The reporter spoke again, "As suspicion grows wild given the pair's history have been a series of theories. Two years ago, both were rumored to star alongside each other but Violet has stepped down the role in an official statement. Fans all over the world have made their share of thoughts about their interaction. The question of the hour is: Are Violet Harlow and Logan Lloyd actually dating?"

That's when I closed the TV with the remote, oh so calmly, then threw it on the screen.

I grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed my lungs out in it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, gag, gag, gag, gag. I would rather piss myself while receiving an award than being accused of dating that scumbag. My phone rang from next to me as the name 'Andrew' lighted my screen, perfect timing.

The universe fucking hates me.

I swiped right to accept the call, "Hey," but that came out so raspy that a cat's screeching would look down and rethink its reason of existing. After clearing my throat, "Hey," I repeated.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—," Andrew so professionally yelled over the phone and I removed my phone from my ears and stretched my arms to not hear his breakdown. I know, Drew, I know, I chanted in my mind but someone had to stay calm here.

"You done?" I said coldly to Andrew on the line. Andrew Hope is my agent and only friend. Even though I'm so close to firing him and losing his friendship right now. I heard heavy breathes on the other line that confirmed my words. "How are you not losing your shit right now?" He asked.

"Drew, trust me, I lost my shit way too long ago but someone has to stay focused till I know who the fuck I'm going to sue." I stated while sitting in a fetal position and the now speaker open phone is next to me. I fiddled with my fingers and mentally counted to ten to keep my cool.

"He said you were a shallow spoiled brat," Drew said clearly out of breath, god help me I will choke him in a way that will break his windpipe.

"I know," I answered clearly not amused by this 'new' piece of information.

"He said you have no talent and only got into this career because of your parents."

"I know,"

"He said that you're an overrated diva with a nice ass and zero class,"

"I fucking know, Andrew. I was there when he said that to the damn director." I whisper-yelled through gritted teeth at the phone that was now going to break in my palm. I could feel the hotness spreading on my face as I let out a breath that I didn't notice I was holding.

"Vie, I'm talking here as your friend and not your manager. Are you fine, babe?" He asked and I really love his concern but I don't care about the whole dating rumor. Maybe I do care a little, but not enough to make a fuss about it.

"I'm good, but I'm a bit, ok not a bit, a whole lot pissed about this. His fucking audacity. I just want to know why and how and when and who. I don't want to throw blame but I just need a break, somewhere alone. And I want ice cream. And an explanation, an explanation would be nice." I reply to his question and vent as I began to calm down.

"Goodness, Vie. I know you looked forward to last night's met, I'm here if you need anything, Honey. And I don't think Lloyd did anything personally, he seemed too damn shocked to fake anything." Andrew reasoned, I'm not jumping into conclusions. I just put suspects and Loser Double L seems to make the top 3. But, "Well, there are highs of being an actor. You normalize being a dang good deceiver. He could be faking this whole charade just to victimize himself. He could fake at being fake for all I fuckin' know. Dear lord, I really hate Logan Lloyd."