Public Relations

Chapter 27: Brett

The sound of the door slamming drops me back into the present like falling through ice.

"Are you going to move or should I run over your foot?" she asks me. "It wouldn't be worse than what's in the news already."

We round the front of her car once more, me still pathetically following her. "Please, Mia bella."

She spins on her heels, the tips of her chocolate hair stinging my skin as they whip past. We're inches from each other. "Do not call me that," she seethes, speaking between clenched teeth. "Do you want to know what the worst part about this is, Brett? That I knew this would happen. There is a reason why we don't get entangled with clients, and it's because it can never be clean. These things are not normal. I'm a woman, a young woman, who goes with you everywhere. As if we needed to do anything to feed into the rumors - they'd bubble up all on their own. But that's just part of the job."

I watch tears well up in her eyes, silently begging my own to stay down.

"I knew better but I let my guard down. That's just what you do to people, I guess. Maybe you do it to everyone, I don't know." She wipes at her face with the back of her hand. Despite herself, her voice has found its strength, clear and sharp. "I should have never let all of this transpire in the first place. I had no business getting close to you, or letting you get close to me. This is my fault as a professional and now I have to fucking fix it." Her lip trembles. "And it's going to cost me my job when it's all said and done."

I shake my head. "No," I tell her firmly, "That can't happen. I won't let that happen."

She laughs disdainfully. "Oh yeah?" she asks me sarcastically. "And what the fuck are you going to do about it? Tell my boss no? Talk to my father about it?"

It's a painful truth; there really isn't anything I can do. I could ask Tony to put in a good word about how phenomenal her work is, but he wouldn't, and it wouldn't make a difference. I've ruined her career.

"Now I'm going to the airport to catch a flight home so I can do damage control for not only your image, but mine."

I feel the breath leave my lungs. I'm lightheaded, barely understanding what I'm looking at as she climbs into the car.

"No, no, you shouldn't leave in this state," I urge. "Let me drive you, at least."

Mia leaves the door open but settles into the seat. She spares me a glance upward, her expression stony. "Make this easy on us both, Brett. Let me leave."

I'm torn between fighting for this woman, who has quickly become everything to me, and acknowledging her wishes despite my own. My limbs are heavy, my head swimming, and I can't tell if I'm on the verge of laughing or crying. Or actually, it might be vomit.

"At least tell me what I can do," I beg, my shaky hands resting on the top of her car door.

She sighs, her head falling against the headrest behind her. "Nothing, for the love of god. Let me handle this. Check your emails often and answer nobody." She starts the car. "And don't fuck any other women while you're here. Or do, I guess. It's not like it matters now anyway."

She reaches over and grabs the handle, then slams the door right in front of me. I stand there helpless, dumb and rattled, watching as she backs out of the driveway and takes off. It's the wrong direction, headed towards the dead-end. A minute later the car passes by going in the opposite way, and then she's gone.

I am empty, trembling. I stay in that spot for a long time, possibly half an hour after she's driven away, because doing anything else doesn't sit right with me. It's a distinct kind of grief, like a breakup, but worse - I'm pretty sure I just lost the girl and ruined her life simultaneously. I know in my soul that there's nothing I can do to make things right, so I resign to doing nothing.