Worlds Apart

Chapter 7

"It's already an atomic bomb."

~~~~~~

It was barely ten in the morning and I already needed a drink. I needed something strong to get me through the meeting I called for. My career could be fucked and so could Alessia's. Maybe not her career, but her reputation. My career would be down the drain.

Rachel had the fucking audacity to tell the media I cheated on her. But of course, with no intention of telling them about her scandal with another model. I sat at the conference table and read through some of the article again.

Singer/Songwriter, Brooklyn Morgan, cheating scandal!

It was no secret to the world that the singer and model had broken up. Both had deleted photos off their social medias, but what we didn't know was Brooklyn Morgan was caught cheating on model, Rachel Mounts, with soccer player, Alessia Russo.
    But who is Alessia Russo? Russo is a 22 year-old, English professional footballer. She plays as a forward for the senior England national team and for Manchester United. She spent time at the University of North Carolina as well. She was there at the same time Brooklyn Morgan was attending the university.
    During her concert, Morgan sung an unreleased song called "Waiting Room" and "Say Don't Go" where she talked about falling in and out of love with a girl in college. Could this mystery girl be Alessia Russo?

Fuck.

Just fuck me and my life and my privacy. The article had blown up and now there were hundreds of thousands similar to it.

"What the hell were you thinking!" My manager stormed into the conference room. "Do you know what this can do to your career? An accusation like this can—"

"I did cheat on Rachel. I slept with Russel—Russo. We did go to the same college, at the same time. We hung out a lot and I had feelings for her then and I do now. It's not just an accusation, it's the truth."

"You've fucked your career. You can't deny this. We need to cancel the rest of the tour and get you on a flight back to Los Angeles."

"No. I'm staying here with Alessia. I need—"

"You need to do nothing! Nothing!" Mark was furious. I sighed. I was furious too. He put his hands on the back of a chair. "I'll get in contact with Alessia's agent and tell—advise them on what they should do. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You need to get back to L.A.. Get back into the studio, get your music out. We've got to get this to die out before it blows up more than it's already blown."

"It's already an atomic bomb, Mark. I'm fucked. Money won't save me. Music won't save me. I'm fucked."

"Yeah, you are. You messed up. Why couldn't you have just dumped her instead of sleeping with someone else?"

"I—I don't know."

"Write out your statement to your fans. Tour's done. We'll refund everybody. I'll attempt to get in contact with her agent. Tell her not to check the news."

"Mark, her face is going to be on newspapers. In the fucking streets! She's about to compete in a tournament...on home soil! I've fucked her career the second it really began."

"What do you want to do! You can't take it back! You can't delete millions of news articles. You can't rip up thousands of newspapers! You need to shut your goddamn mouth and go back to California! You are done with this athlete!"