SLEAZE: A Hollywood Comeback Story (Book #1)

Chapter 30

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Chameleon13. Thank you for all of your support and help! <3

-------------------

Shortly after Sophie and Richard walked the red carpet together for the first time, the internet came to life with an excited buzz. Were they talking again? Were they dating? Since when? Everyone seemed to want to know. Reporters asked, of course, but the two actors just smiled coyly and looked at each other with what could’ve passed for love in their eyes.

At the next event that the golden couple was spotted at, Richard took it upon himself to plant a kiss on Sophie’s forehead, right in front of the gaggle of photographers that had been watching and waiting for them to arrive. To his credit, the stunt caused three social media sites to crash as frantic fans shared the photos with their friends. The whole charade made me want to scream but what could I do? In a fit of frustration, I thought about leaking the truth to someone but I knew there was only one person I’d really hurt by doing that - maybe two, if Michael couldn’t talk his way out of it. 

To add salt to the wound, in the weeks that followed the infamous forehead kiss, Sophie’s face seemed to show up on every celebrity news segment, blog, billboard, and tabloid cover in America; Michael's plan had worked perfectly. Between the paparazzi that camped out in front of her spin class and the fans that uploaded pictures of her jogging around Beverly Hills, I couldn’t turn on my computer without coming face-to-face with the same girl that I couldn’t stop thinking about. The frenzy for Sophie reached such a feverish pitch that it became harder and harder to believe that she was the same person who’d spent Christmas with my family.

Truthfully, it wasn’t until she’d started ignoring my text messages that I'd even realized just how much I really liked her. Now, every time Sophie’s smile flashed across my television screen, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that, had I figured it out sooner, maybe the conversation at my apartment would have gone differently--not maybe, definitely. It definitely would've gone differently.

As far as I could tell, the only good thing about the situation was that I could deal with my unhappiness in private but Sophie… Sophie didn't seem to be handling her regained fame, or the stress that came with it, very well. She’d always been slim, there was no doubt about that, but it seemed like she grew thinner with each passing day. In photos, her face looked drawn, eyes rimmed with shadowy bags, and her shoulder blades looked like they were sharp enough to cut through diamonds. Michael’s phone rang every time Sophie went to a photo shoot and there was always an annoyed photographer on the other end of the line complaining that Sophie was drowning in the sample size clothing that had been brought for her to wear. Between her haggard appearance and frequent late nights out at clubs, it didn’t take long before the gossip rags began speculating that she was using drugs again.  

Unfortunately for Sophie, the support that came along with being linked to Richard brought just as many critics. Soon after the rumors began, the same reporters who’d cutely nicknamed the pair “Richie” began wondering what kind of influence Sophie really was on the seemingly cleancut actor. Paparazzi began hounding her on walks, in parking lots, and on the red carpet. The questions they shouted at her became increasingly cruel but, somehow, she kept holding Richard’s hand in public and smiling.

I wondered how long she could last before she cracked.

“What's going on with her?” Michael demanded, storming into my office late one afternoon.

I’d been bouncing a rubber band ball along the length of my desk when he slapped yet another tabloid article about Sophie down in front of me. He stood with his hands on his hips and I could almost see smoke curling out from his ears. I glanced at the picture. According to the bolded caption, Sophie had fallen asleep barefoot inside a VIP club in Palm Beach before being carried out by two bouncers. I turned the magazine over. The image had brought a wave of stinging bile to the back of my throat.