Nothing to Hide

SIXTEEN

SIXTEEN

At a loose end while the documentary guys did a bunch of coordinating with Zairn’s staff, Roxie spent time on the terrace texting her girls.

Once they were ready, Greg called her in, declaring it time to do her interview.

The backdrop, which came from goodness knew where, was set up in the corner of a bedroom. Zairn’s? Maybe. She didn’t dwell too much on that likelihood, he had invited her there after all. To his suite, not his bedroom.

For what felt like ever, she answered questions. Perched on the edge of a high stool, with nothing to lean on, the position wasn’t at all comfortable. She’d joked a few times that they intended the discomfort to distract her from her answers.

Most of the questions were standard biography stuff, of the same hue as those she’d received online from Crimson website users. Greg wanted her reaction to winning and quizzed her on what she knew about Zairn. Not much was the answer to the latter. Yes, she’d met him, but couldn’t say anything other than that.

“We’re almost done, Roxie,” Greg said.

The camera was aimed at her and the furry microphone thing was on a stand that kept it stable off to the side, out of shot.

“Good. I’m losing feeling in my feet.”

Greg laughed. “We’d like to know more about the people in your life.”

They’d covered her parents and siblings, none of whom knew about her win yet. Yeah, she’d have to make that call soon.

“Who else is there?” she asked. Who else was there? “I told you I live with two of my best friends and they’re the reason I was at Talk at Sunset.”

“What about love?”

Suspicious, Roxie raised her chin. “What about it?”

“Do you have a romantic interest in your life?”

“Not currently.”

“No one, old or new, been in touch about—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she said, hopping off the stool.

“Okay,” Greg said, jumping up from his seat. “I’m sorry, I thought I’d—”

“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m not angry. I just won’t talk about that. He didn’t ** for this, so… no.”

“Okay.”

Movement by the door attracted everyone’s attention.

Zairn stood there, targeting Greg with his glare. “Everything okay in here?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Greg said. “Just wrapping up.

“Good,” Roxie said, sidestepping around the microphone.

Noticing that her trajectory would take her to the door, Zairn stepped into the room, freeing up the exit.

“There’s one thing I want to talk to both of you about together,” Greg said. “Just a really quick logistical thing.”

“Okay,” Roxie said, sensing tension reverberating from Zairn only three feet away. “What is it?”

Greg took his time about inhaling after his mouth opened. “Fans aren’t in the best frame of mind about this experience. There’s a sort of impression that it’s false.”

Because of her comments online. Sweet of him not to be direct. Obviously, Greg didn’t know Zairn that well if he thought the CEO wasn’t thinking of exactly that.

Roxie owned her mistakes. “I’ll go online and—”

“Make it worse?” Zairn asked. “No. You don’t get to talk to people.”

“Excuse me,” she said, raising her hands to her hips. “I can talk to anyone I like. You don’t own my voice.”

“I own the website,” he said. “So no more talking to people for you.”

“Hey!” Roxie exclaimed. “Those people liked me. I told the truth. That’s the whole damn point.”

“Truth is a fluid concept.”

“No, actually, truth is truth. You’re the one fuzzy on its definition,” Roxie said, setting her annoyance on Greg. “I’m sorry, as you can see, he’s not the easiest person to get along with.”

“I get along with everyone else on the planet,” Zairn said. “And don’t do that, don’t apologize to him for me. I’m not sorry. You hear me? I’m not sorry!”

His volume grew in those last words, changing the aura of the room. They weren’t talking about the website or the public anymore.

“It’s okay,” Greg said. “Nothing to argue about. We decided it would be better if you two shared a suite.”

Standing there, the world slowed down as those words filtered in. Roxie could see the same incredulity creep through Zairn. They’d just promised to keep their distance and there was this guy…

In unison, they both laid their disbelief on Greg. Paling under the scrutiny, the director only shrank for a few seconds. In his expression, Roxie witnessed the exact moment curiosity crept in.

In that same second, she smiled. “That’s a great idea!” Shrieking in delight, she jumped forward to grab Zairn’s upper arm, keeping her focus on Greg. “Why don’t you get setup for Zairn’s interview and I’ll go downstairs to pack… again!” She laughed. “Something I’ll have to get used to.” Patting Zairn’s arm, Roxie got his attention. “You can’t wear that tie. I’ll find a better one for you.”

Marching into the closet at the other side of the room, Roxie glanced back to check the documentary guys were distracted. She gestured at Zairn to follow and, without waiting, went to the furthest corner of the closet.

The sight of Zairn’s ties hanging on the rack in perfect alignment took her aback. She was still ogling it when Zairn approached.

“What are you doing?” he hissed.

“Look at this,” Roxie said, stepping back to open her arms at the ties. “How do you do this? I was so tired last night that I couldn’t even eat dinner. Yet, somehow, you had the wherewithal to arrange your ties in like color gradient order, how do you do that?”

“I don’t,” he said. “The staff do it.”

“Oh, the staff do it,” she mocked, snatching the darkest blue tie to toss it over her shoulder.

“We can’t share a suite,” he said, dutifully raising his chin when she loosened his tie and turned up his shirt collar.

Roxie discarded one tie to replace it with another. “Yes, we can. No mixed signals,” she said, focusing on the Windsor knot at hand. “You can’t argue with me in front of people. Not like we argue.”

“Who was arguing, Lola?”

“And no Lola either, not in front of people.”

“You gave me the ‘I’m sorry you got hurt’ speech,” he grumbled. “I walked in there to show you I had the reins… I never had the reins, did I?”

“No,” she said, fixing his collar then smoothing his lapels while she checked out her handiwork. Happy with it, Roxie turned him to face the mirror. “That’s why you were in a snit? You take life too seriously.”

“No one ever accused me of that before.” He admired the knot on the tie. “Good job.”

“I have many talents…” Roxie stepped between him and the mirror to talk to his reflection. “Hatfield is not benign. You said just because he was CollCom you couldn’t buy his loyalty. Don’t forget that when you’re talking to him.”

“What was he trying to push you on?”

“Forget that. You won’t get into my pants by making a fool of yourself out there. Answer the man’s questions. Be suave. Charming. Like you’re good at.”

“I have your permission?”

Roxie heard the mocking smile in his voice. It was an odd relief to see him relaxed again. “Stop thinking about sleeping with me.”

“I’m not thinking about sleeping with you,” he said, crouching lower to murmur in her hair. “I’m thinking about bending you over the tie rack and looking for those reins.”

“You have a one-track mind,” she said, pushing him. “How is it you’re responsible for so many thousands of social lives?”

“I’m responsible for yours tonight,” he said, running his palms down her bare arms. “Any requests?”

“I request that you stop touching me,” she said, leaving her post to peek past him at the door, checking no one was spying on them. “They want us to share a room and that’s no big deal, you can’t make a big deal of it. Your fans want someone looking over your shoulder. That’s what you signed up for. He said it earlier, he wants the documentary to be entertaining. How entertaining is it to film you or me alone in a room? They’ll want as many people together as possible… They want to see your playboy lifestyle.”

Yeah. Exactly. Where were the n***d women bathing in booze, taking turns to mount the loaded party guy anyway?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked.

“No.”

Taking hold of his lapels, she bent a knee and leaned back groaning. “You’re supposed to say yes! Tell me you have a woman in every port.”

“I don’t need to string them along, Lola. I pick ‘em up and put ‘em down as I want.”

Good. Better. “Thank you,” she exhaled in relief.

“It would make you happy if I was a promiscuous womanizer?”

When he said it that way, it sounded bad. “Why did you and Kesley Walsh break up?”

“She wanted something I couldn’t give her.”

“Fidelity?”

“No, attention,” he said, pretty deadpan. “Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”

“Oh…” Roxie pondered. “Hmm… that doesn’t sound like fun. Was it fun?”

“If it was fun, I wouldn’t have broken up with her.”

Pleased, the pursuit of fun was something that fitted with her original assumptions about him.

Flattening her hands under his lapels, Roxie stroked him gently. “She called you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to see her?”

“She’ll be at the club,” he said. “I can’t bar her… Do you want me to bar her? It’ll make headlines.”

On blogs and in gossip rags, but it never took the mainstream media long to catch up with the drama.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re jealous,” he said, relaxing into his arrogance. “It’s okay, Lola, it’s a natural reaction.”

She swiped at his chest. “I am not jealous.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his swagger in full bloom. “I forgive you. You just have to breathe through it. The pain will get easier in time.”

“Do you want me to show you pain?”

“Mr. Lomond?” Astrid called from the doorway.

From the sheepish look on her face, the assistant wouldn’t have chosen to intrude, but the reason for it became apparent when Greg popped in behind her.

“Can we split your interview in two, Mr. Lomond? Do some now and the rest later?” Greg asked. “Astrid plans to take Roxie shopping. We’d love to follow.”

“Shopping where?” Zairn asked.

“Ah! My Pretty Woman moment,” Roxie exclaimed, bouncing around Zairn to pat his chest. “We need a credit card.”

“What?” he asked, looking at each of the three faces in the room like he didn’t have a clue what was going on. His hands went to his chest and pants pockets. “My wallet’s on the bar.”

“Astrid!” Roxie called spinning around, but she didn’t get far. Zairn caught her wrist to pull her back. She tried to twist it free. “Let me go, I want to go spend your money… Maybe I’ll buy you a tie.”

Greg laughed. “That’s something I’d definitely like to film.”

“Only if it’s an R-rated documentary,” she said, still trying to free her wrist from the confused Zairn who didn’t get the reference. Astrid hadn’t gone anywhere yet. How frustrating! “Girl, go get his wallet so he can tell us which card to use… unless we’re going to use them all.”

Astrid giggled, but quickly covered her mouth to hide it. “I have a company card.”

Roxie perked up. “That’s right, we’re bankrupting Rouge.”

“Shopping’s better in New York,” Zairn said.

“We’re not in New York, Skippy,” Roxie said. Fixating on Zairn’s grip, she gave up the struggle. “It’s probably better in Milan too. Maybe in London or Paris as well.”

“The plane’s just sitting there.”

Was he suggesting that they take the plane to go shopping? “You know humanity is trashing this planet, right?” she asked. “It’s dying because of people like you, with your private planes and casual attitude to the detriment caused by flight. Have you ever worked out your carbon footprint? Bet it’s worse than a small, industrialized nation… maybe even a big one… They should’ve demanded your signature on Kyoto and the Paris Agreement, the planet’s doomed otherwise.”

“A simple ‘no, thank you’ would’ve been enough,” Zairn said, releasing his hold.

Her head dropped to the side. “When have you ever heard me use one word when I can use fifteen instead?” She patted his chest and raised an arm as she headed for the door. “I have to go shopping now!”