Lost in You

I’m not so sure I can trust him to keep Ryan a secret. Besides, he’s already told Cole so it’s just a matter of time.”
    “He told Cole?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Freaking shady.”
    “Tell me about it,” I sigh heavily into the phone. I don’t understand why things can’t be simple.
    “Here’s the thing. Your image, it’s fine. So what if one magazine thinks you went to rehab. You were gone for a weekend. It’s not like you disappeared for a month and you were spotted in Jackson. It’s not like there’s a clinic there. There’s only one image of you and Ryan and you can barely see Ryan. Someone would have to do a lot of digging to find dirt on you and him together. Ryan could totally play off the superstar crush that all the other guys out there have. I think Ian is up to something, Hadley. He’s dirty and sneaky. And why bring Coleman in? Unless he’s planning a bunch of staged publicity shoots and telling the media you guys are together, what’s the point?”
    I hadn’t thought of it like that. I’d like to think my uncle wouldn’t stoop so low, but maybe he would. Maybe there’s more at stake than I realize. But Ryan's at stake for me. He knows this is my job and he accepts that, but I promised him time off and a special birthday and I’m not interested in breaking that promise to him.
    “Do you really think Ian would do something like that?”
    “In a heartbeat. Listen girl, something’s fishy. I’m not there and all of a sudden you have this tour with Coleman. Remember when you guys broke up and Ian made sure you were moved out as soon as possible. There were pictures of Coleman coming home with flowers, only to find a moving truck there. Staged, totally.”
    “I don’t know. Ian says there have been a lot of rumors about me that he makes sure never end up in the paper. He’s making it sound like every time I take a misstep the media is making me out to be some type of drug user or something.”
    “That’s such bullshit. You’ve never done anything stronger than aspirin.”
    “I know that and so do you, but what about everyone else? Is that what people think of me?”
    “Let me ask you something. Why are you doing this tour? Is it for your image or to keep your secret about Ryan?”
    I think about her question for a minute. “A little of both, I guess. I want his mom to like me and I felt like I was walking on eggshells when we met, but also for Ryan. He doesn’t need people digging into his life.”
    “Have you told Ryan about what Ian said?”
    “No.”
    “Why the hell not?”
    “I’m afraid.”
    “Girl, I’m going to kick your ass. Tell him! He’ll understand.”
    I sigh. “You’re right. I’ll tell him.”
    “Of course I’m right. Be honest with Ryan, he deserves it. He didn’t grow up in this messed-up industry and if you have to, fly out to see him.”
    “I will.”
    “Okay, mama’s yelling. I love you, Hadley, and so does Ryan. Let him prove it.”
    Alex and I hang up, leaving me with a lot to think about. I know Ian isn’t perfect, but he’s a good manager and I know the decisions he makes are for my benefit. My parents picked him because he has a good sense of business, dabbled in the music scene when he was younger and because he’s family.
    I look around and notice that the nannies are all gone and the sun is going down. I really need to call a cab. Walking back to Ian’s is out of the question. Hell, at this point I just need someone to drop me off at the airport because I don’t want to be here anymore. That would really send a message to Ian. His checkbook is missing again. The thought makes me laugh. I’d love to disappear and make him suffer for what he’s doing to me. What is he thinking?
    I stand and immediately wish I had done this more slowly. My feet are asleep. The annoying prickly feeling coursing through them makes me want to sit down right away. I don’t. I take tiny steps around, not far enough away from the tree just in case I need the support. Each step is less painful, more annoying than anything.
    I pick up my shoes. Still refusing to put them on, the cool grass sends a slight chill through me. I don’t have an option but to walk through the grass without my shoes. I’d sink with each step I take in these stupid heels. I should stop wearing them. I’m sick of having to put on a show for everyone all the time. What about what I want? Comfort would be nice. I wouldn’t mind not having to wear form-fitting clothes all the