The Elite

Fix It

After the dinner, there was a tour of the museum that I had to go with them on. I was furious. Damn it, Polly! I would have thought she had the brains to tell her parents that we weren't dating! What about this chick named Tiffany?

When the last person was gone, Nathaniel and I cornered Polly.

"Fix it," we snapped in unison.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I'm really sorry. I didn't think they'd tell the press that!"

"I don't care," I said. "Fix it!"

"I-I'll try but I don't know if they'll listen to me," she said.

"They will because you'll make them," Nathaniel said. "Come on," he snapped at me and grabbed my  hand.

I didn't argue. I wanted to get out of here before more damage could be done. People were swarming around us as he pulled me to his car. I was shaking and held tightly to my purse.

"God this is a mess," I heard him say.

"Just get on the damn Interstate!" I yelled.

"No," he snapped. "We're taking the backroads."

"It's faster to get on the Interstate! I want to go home and never see your face ever again."

"Well that's too damn bad," he spat, speeding down the road and tossing dirt rocks into the air. "Now that everyone thinks we're dating, you'll have to!"

"Polly is going to fix it!" I argued.

Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks and pulled to the side of the dirt road.

"Are you fucking crazy!?" I yelled. "We could have crashed!"

He turned the car off and looked at me. "Polly can't do shit, Willow. She lost the right to say or do anything for the company when she got engaged to that gay musician. You're not the only one who loses out here, you know."

I laughed harshly, crossing my arms. "What do you lose out on? A few one night stands? Your most recent batch of girls?"

He glared. "Well, what do you have to lose? At least your dad won't think you're a lesbian anymore."

I clenched my fists. "This doesn't have anything to do with that."

"Then what?" he asked but I shook my head.

"You're so dense, Banker," I hissed. "Did it ever occur to you that I might have a boyfriend?"

Silence descended in the car. He stared at me like I was insane.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Willow!? What the hell!? Why in the world did you go tonight, then!?"

"I needed the money," I snapped. "But that doesn't matter now," I muttered, tears stinging my eyes.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"Banker, your parents told the press we're dating. I wouldn't be surprised if it's not on the news already. He'll see it and...."

"Who is he?"

"Why do you care?"

"Well, we'll talk to him. Tell him it's not true."

I shook my head, toying with my hands. "It won't make a difference. He'll believe it anyway. He always has."

"Who is he?" he repeated.

I shut my eyes wearily. "Brandon Charles."

"Oh shit," he groaned. "Willow, why did you get messed up with that guy?"