Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
9
Tom
* * *
The flight to Miami is uneventful, to say the least. It should have taken longer but I have to admit that I pushed my plane a bit harder than advisable. I love flying, and the first thing I did out of high school was to join the Air Force. The first thing I did when I made enough money as an actor was to buy a plane.
After I land in a private airport in Miami, I make my way out of the doors to get a car called. As usual, immediately I’m bombarded by the paparazzi. I try to keep my head on straight, but it’s difficult. They always know what to say to push my buttons, and how to get me to react. They’re professionals, after all, and they actually get paid more if I cause a scene on video.
But then, the questions take on a new tone.
“Tom, Tom! Is it true you’re dating a photographer?”
“How long have you guys been together?”
“Do you have a comment about the fact that you’ve been secretly wooing Brynn Hale?”
What the fuck? How the hell did they figure it out?
“No comment,” I say, my face like stone. I escape into a black town car that pulls up to the curb.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asks, turning around. I fumble for a minute. I don’t actually know Brynn’s address.
“Just drive towards the beach for right now. Give me second and I’ll tell you in a minute.”
The man nods and pulls carefully into traffic, leaving behind the hoard of media. Fucking rabid dogs.
“Randy,” I say, after dialing his number.
“Tom,” he replies, sounding gleeful. “Make it to Miami alright?”
“How did you know…never mind, I guess it’s pretty obvious.”
“You think?” my agent chortles.
“Anyways, did you figure out where Brynn Hale lives?”
“Jesus, you sound like a stalker, but yes, of course I did. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
He says her address and I repeat it to the driver who nods and makes a turn onto the freeway.
“How did you figure that out so quickly?”
“I looked it up after you ran out. It’s so obvious what you’re up to, my man. It doesn’t take a detective.”
I chuckle, “I guess you’re right…”
I trail off, suddenly connecting the dots in my head. My heart skips a beat and I ask the question I already know the answer to.
“Randy?”
“Thomas?”
“You didn’t tell anybody about Brynn, did you?”
“Of course I did.”
“You did?” I yell, seeing red. “What the fuck?”
“No man. I think the correct response is “thank you,” and you’re welcome, by the way.”
I stutter for a few seconds, so angry that I can’t form words. The driver slows to a stop and I crane my neck. What the hell is going on? This day is going down the shitter so fast it’s incredible.
“Sorry sir, looks like an accident on one of the exit ramps,” the driver apologizes. “It’s just people rubber necking on our side, though. It shouldn’t take too long.”
I nod and say into the phone, “Randy, you son of a bitch, I told you this isn’t what she wants. It’s not what I want either.”
My agent sniffs.
“I don’t care. Tom, it’s my job to make sure my clients are seen in the very best possible way. You dating an artsy, pleasantly plump, photographer will really help tone down the playboy image. People are gonna love it.”
“She’s not plump! You know what?” I inhale sharply through my nose and exhale through my mouth before launching into a tirade. “I swear to God Randy, if the media has been hounding Brynn because of me…fix this. Now.”
“Fix what?” he pretends innocence.
“You know what. Shut this down. Tell them it was a lie.”
My agent laughs. He actually laughs.
“I can’t do that because it’s already all over social media. There’s actually a video of her running from the reporters. Can you believe it? It’s kind of sad.”
I swear violently, hanging up the phone before throwing it down on the seat next to me.
“Everything alright, sir?” the chauffeur asks.
“Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
I stare down at my phone and make a decision. I open up my social media pages and find a horror story unfolding. In the videos posted on social media, I see Brynn opening up her front door and staring dumbfounded at a gaggle of reporters as they bombard her with questions. I see her shove past them, clutching her bag and her stomach, and run down the stairs. I see her almost get hit by a car before tearing out of a parking garage and making for the nearest a highway. My stomach feels sick and I can’t feel my fingertips as I open the next video. It’s of a generically pretty female reporter standing outside a large hospital.
“I’m standing in front of St. Judith’s where, only a few minutes ago, Brynn Hale arrived by ambulance after a horrific car accident. She was accosted by reporters when the news broke that she is dating international celebrity Tom Masters. Poor Ms. Hale, who is two months pregnant with the star’s baby, was trying to get away when she was T-boned in an intersection. The paramedics who brought her declined to comment on the extent of her injuries but we can only assume they are grievous. Our thoughts and prayers go out to Tom and Miss Hale’s family.”