Gold Rush

Back to Reality

"One last time in the boss' bed for the road", he laughed, looking down at Sophie who was now tucked under his arm.

"Jack!!", she playfully slapped at his slightly tacky chest, "you are vile!"

How did he get so lucky?

Little did he know the thinly veiled endorphin bubble was about to burst.

His phone lit up, vibrating wildly on the bedside table next to him.
Who the fuck was calling him at this time? Especially when he was on holiday. This had better be important.

Rob McGabe.
Rob was his agent.
He only ever heard from Rob when there was A) a deal to be negotiated, Or B) damage control.

Shit shit shit shit.
He stood up immediately and began pacing the room, silent panic shot throughout his body as he tried not to disturb the best thing that had ever happened to him in the bed across the room.

This was not happening.

His brain wildly flitted from one scenario to the next, what had he done?
He's not done a thing. Nothing recently anyway.
Had he?

"Who is it?", Sophie asked, her voice now hazy and full of sleep.

He couldn't tell her who it was. Not yet. He needed to speak to his agent first and get the facts straight. Maybe even his dad.

"Just our Kevan bab", he lied, "let me go speak to him"

She was happy with this and nestled her head back into the plush pillows where he had been previously laid with her.

'2 missed calls from Rob McGabe', a reminder flashed up on the screen. He was just about ready to crush the device with a single squeeze of his palm.

"Yeh yeh I fuckin' know", he grumbled at the phone in his hand and pulled on a pair of shorts, before making his way down to the kitchen. He flicked on the fancy industrial coffee machine, the spike in adrenaline already demanding a caffeine fix.

He took in a deep breath and hit the green button.
____________________________

30 minutes later he finally ended the call and he was fizzing with anger, devastation and upset. He launched his iPhone across the kitchen island until it hit the wall and smashed onto the floor.

There was a story about to hit the papers back home in the UK. A story fabricated from (mostly) lies courtesy of gobby blonde reality TV star, Eleanor Price (the term 'star' used very loosely).

He wished he'd not fuckin' gone near her.

He remembers the beginning of the night.. his pals from home took him out, in an attempt to cheer him up. Occasionally, he had the odd flashes of dancing with different women, but in his memory, they all had feature-less faces. As far as he knew, they went out, drank a shit load, which made him feel even worse, so they went back home. His head wasn't in it.

He needed the round the troops. Gather facts.

He could deny the story, but a picture spoke a thousand words. Rob emailed through the image whilst he was still on the phone. There it was, as clear as day.

Jack sat on a white leather couch, head leaning back, mouth hanging open. he's clearly heavily intoxicated as he has no recollection of this moment. But it was definitely him, he was wearing his trademark bracelets and rings, Gucci shorts and a thin shirt which was unbuttoned half way, showing off the chains which settled on his chest.
And then there's Eleanor. She's wearing the tightest purple dress he'd ever seen, her thin tanned legs straddling his lap and fake tits spilling from the low neckline inches from his face.

He scanned the article until he came across found the dates that Eleanor had provided. One night. He wasn't even with Sophie when it happened, it was during their 'blip'.
He thought it was well and truly over, she wanted nothing to do with him. There was no contact apart from in a professional setting at work, she'd well and truly cut him off at that time.

He doesn't even know if anything happened that night, but the picture combined with Eleanor's words was a recipe for disaster.
____________________________

It's 6am.

Sophie's reluctantly dragged her arse out of the oversized bed, Jack was nowhere to be seen. In her fantasy, he'd walk into the bedroom wearing next to nothing, carrying a huge mug of tea for her.
It was an ungodly time to be finishing packing away hers and Jack's cases, but they needed to fly back home to Manchester at 10am. She found that packing up the memories of a holiday was always the worst thing, it always made her feel strangely emotional.

Back to reality.

Except this was her reality, Jack was hers in real life and he really loved her. She smiled to herself as she rolled up shorts and t-shirts, cramming as much into the space as possible.

Her phone chimed with a WhatsApp message from Kate. Bar a few pictures sent back and forth from their respective vacations, they'd not really had chance to catch up in their summer break. Sophie genuinely couldn't wait to get home and have a proper chat with her friend.

'What now', she pondered aloud.

Kate - 'Babe... have you seen this?'
Kate - 'I'm so sorry...'
Kate - 'I didn't want you to see it anywhere else first'

It's a link to an article.
The source left something to be desired, the instantly recognisable red header and bold white writing gave her the creeps every single time. Nothing good ever came from that news outlet.

And there it was.
A picture of the man she loved with a woman draping herself all over him. Tanned. Thin. Blonde. Huge... assets.

She couldn't do this.

Her body had already began to respond to the trauma. Pulse thudding, picking up pace and starry spots flashed in her vision. Sophie slid herself down the sturdiness of the bedroom wall and allowed the world as she knew it begin to cave in around her.

All over again.