RARE (THEROCKAFELLABOYSSERIES#1)

The Daily Mirror

Luke Holland

Beatrice is doing a tell all interview with the Daily Mail. It's a four-page spread and all the pictures of her are with no clothes on. I saw this coming a mile off, but the lies are just a step too far. 

"Luke, this isn't good," says Erica, scrubbing her face with her palm. "There're details in here that could be very detrimental."

"Lies, not details," I say, pushing the newspaper off the table. "I can't believe she would mention my parents. I never spoke to her about them!"

Erica reaches out to pat my arm. "I'm sorry, Luke. You don't deserve this and neither do they. I'm assuming she's read stuff online and put two and two together, but got the wrong idea."

I puff on my e-cigarette, then I stand up from my chair. "Can you make this go away?"

She shakes her head. "It's out there now, so we can't."

I'm bubbling with so much rage it's hard to breathe. Lying about my father's mental illness is a low blow, and if I already disliked her, I hate her now.

"My father was not a drug abuser!" I roar, smashing my fist down on the table, eyes stinging. "And, how dare she say so? I want to involve the police!"

Anger flares into her eyes as she bends to make a grab for the paper, folding it up to throw at the bin near her desk.

"I'm sorry, Luke. I really am. I spoke with Jeremy at PR and they say to just ignore it, but it's up to you. If you want to put a statement out there, then we'll do it," she says.

I'm already beating her to it when I pull my phone out to send my first tweet in almost a year. I retweet the article first, adding my words at the top of it.

I throw my phone down and start pacing the office floor, seeing our many awards sitting in the cabinets. Erica sits patiently at her desk, watching me struggle to contain my temper.

I'm going back over to her to pick up my phone, deciding to tweet out again.