Public Sphere | H.S. | #Wattys2016

Chapter XII

Author's note: Just a warning, chapter 12 is SUPER short. But I will update relatively soon for the lack of length of this chapter. Thank you for reading, x! Also the picture is "rugged" Harry.

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I shook my head vigorously as Briar handed me the familiar contract that I had given to Harry multiple times during the course of his career.

"It's the only way to keep you and Harry both afloat," Cooper said as he gently rubbed my arm.

"I am not groomed for the media, I groom others for it," I said. "I'm not going to be a pawn in this media game. I know the media and I can beat them in their own game."

"Except you can't beat them right now. You're the ultimate pawn and they're going to do whatever it takes to crack you down. Jess, this is the only way," Hattie looked at me with pleading eyes.

The contract was in my hand. I glanced at it multiple times to see that Harry's signature was already on the line. All I had to do was sign my life away and then apparently all of this mess would go away. But I knew that it wouldn't. I knew this because this is what I would tell Harry time after time.

"Trust me, I can fix it."

"This will all go away with this contract."

"All you need is to sign this."

"I've got this, I'm the fixer."

"It's my job."

But time after time, it was a lie. The contracts weren't drawn up to make his life any easier. They were there so the media could profit off of him; they were the leeches that sucked his soul for money; however, I wasn't any better. I played the media better than anyone else in this game; however, somehow the game turned on me, I was being hunted this time.

The contract was still in my hand. My team didn't say anything. They sat and stared at me, wondering what I would do. They never saw me like this. I never saw me like this. This was all new for all of us. So I did something that I knew Jess Hansen was capable of, I ripped up the contract, went into my room for my always pre-packed weekender bag and left my apartment.

After contemplating where I would settle myself for an indefinite amount of time, I found myself flying into LAX.

Money got you everywhere. I didn't have to deal with TSA. I didn't have to deal with the public exits either. The celebrities that get pictured in airports? They're there to be pictured. Any big name star could afford to pull a few strings to exit an airport privately; it's all for the media, of course.

I stood in front of his door deciding if I should ring the doorbell. I contemplated whether I should ring it because I wasn't sure what the media would say if I were to be pictured here. But trusting my initial instinct, I finally rang the doorbell.

After a few seconds, the door opened to a surprised British-accented voice, "Jess?"