Try hard, p.28
Try Hard, page 28
“Dark. You doing well?”
“I’m good.” She hesitated, picking at the hem of her skirt. “The person I’ve been seeing has a kind of… shitty family.”
“Ah. I’m sorry. Are they okay?”
She nodded slowly. “Now, yes.”
“Well, now you’re talking about them, you could bring them around, you know? Initiate them into this family. It’s wild, but it’s loving and solid.”
“And give up tormenting you by flirting with Fia?”
I scowled. “I thought they were okay with that whole thing?”
She shrugged in a way that suggested that might be something the two of them were still figuring out. “Seems rude to do it in front of them.”
“Good point. I mean, Fia wouldn’t have to be there if you wanted to bring them around.”
“Oh? Do you two spend time apart these days?”
I spread my arms wide to gesture around the room. “She’s not here now.”
Soph winced in a way I didn’t fully understand. “Yeah. How’s she doing?”
“What? Why? She’s fine?”
“Is she?” Soph looked so confused and wary that it set my heart pounding unpleasantly. Something wasn’t right. “She’s not fond of attention, so I kind of assumed…”
“Attention?”
“Oh.” Soph blew out the word and that was worse than anything else she could have done.
Soph was loud and bold. She unapologetically and sarcastically expressed herself, shot snarky comments at you as a way of showing that she loved you. When she got quiet, things were bad. It had always been that way.
The room seemed to blur as I watched her pull her phone out and tap away until she handed it to me.
Social media. Of course.
Leaked pictures from the hen and stag party.
Me, all over Ophelia.
And the commentary… Shit.
I wasn’t a big enough celebrity for this to still be a thing. Sure, there’d been interest in my personal life, especially at the peak of my fame and career, and, yes, I kept up something of a public persona, still had fans and such, but it hadn’t occurred to me that I needed to worry about keeping Ophelia safe at a private party. I hadn’t once thought pictures would be taken—or sold. Why did they even have value?
Of course, I knew the answer to that—years of media training covered it—but my blood felt like it was boiling. It was a private party. I was with a private citizen.
And I’d failed to keep Ophelia safe. Failed to even consider the need to in that situation.
For a moment, my mind threw up Sammy. She’d been angry with me—angrier at Ophelia. But the angles were wrong on most of them. She could have taken a couple of them, but most of them were from somewhere else.
“I don’t think you’re going to like the comments,” Soph said, reaching towards the phone.
I shook my head. “I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
She sighed heavily but nodded. Not our first time navigating something like this. It was just the first time someone I loved was being put through it too.
I hadn’t thought Soph was wrong in her assessment, but the more comments I read, the more they felt like bile burning my stomach. There were the objectifying ones, the disgusting comments about wanting to take both of us. There were the ones attacking Ophelia for having the audacity to be with me. How could she steal me from them? How couldn’t I realise she wasn’t good enough for me—hot enough for me?
Disgusting.
There were those fighting our corner too, pointing out that I was never going to date the people behind the keyboards, that they didn’t know me so what difference did it make who I was with? The ones who pointed out how happy we looked together, how well we seemed to suit each other. But I hated that it was necessary. I appreciated the sentiment, but they didn’t know me either. Strangers were having to defend my relationship from people trying to tear it down. All because someone at a party couldn’t help invading our privacy.
And it had to be someone who’d known us back at school. Too much information about Ophelia had gotten out too quickly.
“Tell me what you need,” Soph said, her hand on my back as I gripped her phone too hard.
What did I need? To go back and prevent this from ever happening? Impossible.
I sucked in a breath. This was happening. Damage control needed to happen too.
“My phone,” I said, handing Soph’s back and lunging into action.
Three messages from my agent, Andra, already. I’d been so wrapped up in thinking about Ophelia—in being with her—that I’d been off the grid since yesterday.
I hit dial, putting it on speaker as I texted Ophelia. I could handle the rest of it, I just needed to know she was okay.
Andra answered quickly. “Eve, good to hear from you, even if the conditions are less than ideal.” Her New York accent was strong and steady, comforting. She was who I called in a crisis. She was reliable.
“So, no chance this is just my sister playing pranks on me then?” I asked lightly, watching the scowl Soph shot my way.
“I’m afraid not. It’s out. News has hit socials. We’re probably just going to have to ride the cycle out. It shouldn’t linger too long, hopefully. It’s not like—”
“I’m in the public eye in the same way, yeah, I know.” Still no reply from Ophelia. I didn’t like it. “I have no interest in sharing this part of my life, but I can’t let this go without making a statement, Andra.”
She paused. “We don’t usually dignify these things with a response.”
“I’m aware. This is different.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re attacking Ophelia, and I won’t stand for that. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She didn’t ask for this.”
“I’m not trying to suggest what happened is okay, but being with you does come with risks like this. Surely, she was aware?”
“Being aware doesn’t make comments like she’s receiving acceptable, and I’m not going to stay quiet on that.”
Andra hummed. “You realise any statement will be taken as confirmation of your relationship?”
I gritted my teeth. It wasn’t Andra I was annoyed with. This type of thing was what I paid her for. “I’m aware. I’ll be checking with Ophelia first for what she’s comfortable with, but whether I’m putting out a statement that confirms our relationship or denies it, I’m putting one out.”
“Understood. I’ll draft a press release to send out to—”
“No. This was an invasion of my private life. I’ll be putting it out myself. On my socials. It can hit the news cycles or not. The pictures were sold to an online gossip column, they’re doing the rounds online. That’s where I’m going to address it.”
“You’re sure that’s how you want to do it?”
“Yes.”
Andra was quiet for a moment before she replied, a smile audible in her words. “I know this isn’t the way you’d been planning to do this, but she’s good for you. I’m happy for you both.”
I froze in the middle of checking again for a reply from Ophelia still that wasn’t coming. “What?”
“You’ve had people say all kinds of things about you in the past. You put out a press release if you have to. Otherwise, you address things indirectly. This is the first time you’re just telling me what we’re doing—and calling out the betrayal directly.”
I laughed in surprise. “Shouldn’t you be telling me to do what’s best for my career?”
“We’ve done that. And, if you weren’t at the point you are now, maybe I would have taken you through some other options, but you’re not a kid anymore, Eve. You’ve found something you care about more than rugby and you’re doing what you have to in order to protect that. It’s your decision at the end of the day. Doesn’t really matter what I think.”
We both knew that wasn’t strictly true, but she was right. I never charged in already decided on these things. But I wasn’t changing my mind when it was Ophelia getting targeted and hurt. I’d gotten used to what people said about me, but she hadn’t chosen this life.
I sighed. “I should conference Row in. Most of the people we work with probably aren’t following gossip about my love life, but I should at least warn her about the statement.”
“Go ahead.”
I dialed Row, adding her to the call.
She sounded breathless when she answered.
“Row,” I said seriously, “you’re on with me and Andra.”
“Ah,” she replied. “The crisis management team.”
“Indeed.”
Row laughed. “You finally getting with Fia doesn’t feel much like a crisis, mind.”
It was only as I hummed in agreement that I realised I’d called her Ophelia in front of others. Whatever. That was who she was to me. My Ophelia. And I was going to protect her. “That bit isn’t. Some party guest selling pictures and information about her is.”
“Ooh, you’re so protective. I like this version of you.”
“Agreed,” Andra replied smugly, right as Row barely stifled a squeal.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Row, amused despite the situation, “are we interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” she said while trying to shush someone with her.
I barked a laugh. “Yeah, right. I like this version of you, too, for the record.”
“Nothing to like,” she replied far too quickly. She cleared her throat. “So, what do you need from me?”
“Nothing. It’s just a warning that I’m putting out a statement on my socials—wording to be determined—calling out the situation and the commentary Ophelia is getting.”
“Both of you are getting it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, I’m calling out everyone who thinks they have any right dictating who I love or commenting negatively on her because they think I should be with them instead. It’s weird and it’s time to call it out.”
“Hell, yes! I’ve been telling you that for years.”
That was true. It hit me like a sledgehammer. Every time there’d been a run of discourse about my body, debating if I was too manly, too fat, too ugly, Row had wanted me to call it out. I hadn’t. Not the way she wanted. I did campaigns about the comments without addressing them directly. They were important. I wanted to demonstrate to every other person out there that their body was strong and capable as it was, that we didn’t have to fit these narrow, judgemental boxes to be beautiful and worthy. And calling it out directly had always felt a little risky. The world we lived in made it so. The ability to ruin my career, to make me a target, to ruin everything I’d built… all because I wanted to call out rude, unnecessary comments? It felt weird now.
But, as Andra said, I wasn’t a kid anymore, and I had something worth protecting no matter the cost.
“There is the possibility,” Andra told Row, giving me a minute to think, “that your business might receive some comments or a drop in customers, depending on what Eve says, how it’s taken, and how much it blows up. I’d suggest the risk is fairly minimal, but you never know.”
“The business will be fine,” Row said quickly. “Protect your girlfriend, Eve. We’ll weather what comes just fine.”
I couldn’t help the slight smile that crept onto my face. Row would have supported my choice either way, but whoever it was making her squeal and breathless on the other side of the phone was making her particularly sentimental. I was happy for her.
“Thank you,” I told them both earnestly. “I’ll stay in touch and run the proposed statement by you both before I publish it. But, for now, I have to go see Ophelia.”
Row laughed. “It’s cute how you can’t help but call her Ophelia when you’re in protective mode.”
Soph shot me a shit-eating grin like she wholeheartedly agreed.
I shook my head. “It’s what I usually call her. And I’m going now. Bye.”
I hung up after their hurried goodbyes and Row’s next squeal being cut off by the call ending. When things were less stressful, I looked forward to asking her all about that.
Soph stood with me. “You going over to Ophelia’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Good luck. I hope she’s okay.”
I smiled gratefully. A part of me worried this was going to be the thing that ruined what I had with Ophelia. When I’d been planning, it had been easier to ignore those thoughts, but now that all I had left was going to see her when she still hadn’t replied, the fear was almost suffocating. She didn’t want attention, had reasons it was painful for her. I wasn’t going to force her to stay with the person who’d brought this all to her doorstep.
The thought of having to say goodbye to her again was physically painful, but I’d give her anything she wanted. And, regardless of the outcome, I was finally ready to clearly and directly tell those who crossed boundaries to piss off. Incredible people like Ophelia really did come into your life and give you a strength you’d never dreamt possible.
“Thank you,” I told Soph, giving her a quick hug.
“Do you want me to make macaroni cheese for dinner?”
I laughed. I really must look like shit if she was offering that. “Sounds good. Thanks, Soph.”
“Any time,” she said, and despite all the teasing in our relationship, I knew she meant it. No matter what the world threw at me, I was safe with her, with my family. I hoped I could be that safety for Ophelia.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Fia
My boss, Simon, had been talking in my ear for an hour already by the time there was a knock at the door. Fuad had managed to wrangle himself an invite to the meeting somehow, and I wasn’t sure if that was making things better or worse. In the moments where Simon stopped speaking, Fuad was quick to chime in, leaving me to simmer in silence, but maybe that was just drawing the whole thing out and delaying the inevitable.
I pulled the door open, certain it was going to be some parcel delivery. The sight of Eve was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. In a tornado of discomfort and powerlessness, she was home. She was grounding and real, and her mere presence saturated me with a confidence I hadn’t been feeling since Simon had sent me an urgent meeting request.
She stepped through the door looking concerned. That wasn’t difficult to comprehend. Eve understood my desire for privacy. She’d worried about the attention her presence in my life would bring. Despite it all, I wasn’t sorry. I’d do it all again to be around her.
I just had to figure out how to get through this next part.
“So,” Simon said, sounding like all his Christmases had come at once, “you can tell we’re eager to get started. We need to ride this wave. It’ll be great for business.”
“I’m on annual leave,” I said sharply, leaning into Eve’s chest and grateful for her arms that wrapped protectively around me. Plenty of people had been scared away by the spikier side of my character, but not Eve. She was the same warm, sweet woman as always.
“Oh, of course. But, when you’re back, we’ll need to start recording immediately. People want news and, right now, you’re the news!”
I was going to be sick. It was a shame Simon wasn’t in the room with me for it. “If you recall my earlier statement, I haven’t actually agreed.”
Simon laughed in that way I was realising he did when he was about to steamroll you. “Of course, of course. We’ll get the new terms and contract out to you by the end of day tomorrow.”
“It’s going to be great!” Fuad enthused. “But we probably should let Fia have time to think about it. This is a new and unexpected turn of events and it’s likely to be overwhelming.”
Okay, I was glad Fuad was in the meeting. There was no telling Simon right now. He wouldn’t listen. But buying time was good.
Simon laughed again and I clenched my free arm around Eve. It had always been a grating sound. Now, it felt mocking and painful.
“If she’d wanted to live under a rock with no attention, she wouldn’t be dating one of the most famous women’s rugby players the country has ever produced,” he said, as if who I dated was any of his or anyone else’s business.
Also, Eve was one of the most famous rugby players. Her gender wasn’t required in that statement.
“The pictures you’ve seen,” I said, hard and measured, “were taken at a private event where we’d had a reasonable expectation of privacy.”
“At a party?” Simon scoffed. “Everything makes it to the internet these days, Fia. We’re just monopolising on that.”
“Monopolising on my private life and an invasion of my privacy?”
“That might not be the best look,” Fuad said, making me eternally grateful for him.
Simon wasn’t having any of it, though. “Nothing quite so… dirty. We’re simply moving up a timeline that was already in action and using our assets to the best effect.”
I wasn’t naive enough to think my office cared about me as a person. That wasn’t how these things worked. But, there really was something about being explicitly named an asset—not a person, not someone with feelings or choices. Just an asset, a means to a monetary end. It felt like the final nail in a coffin that had been closing ever since Fuad’s first call about them wanting us to switch to video content.
“Well,” I said, “as illuminating as this has been, I’m still on leave and I need to go.”
“Great talk, great talk,” Simon replied, sounding ridiculously smug. “We’ll get that contract written up and sent out to you ASAP. Keep an eye on your inbox.”
“I’m on leave.”
He laughed again and bid us both farewell, ending the call.
I shoved my phone into my back pocket and held Eve tightly, pushing her backwards until she was leaning against the wall, just like she had been at Kim’s hen party. At least nobody had seen that moment.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her usually happy voice broken. “I had no idea anyone was taking pictures or that they were selling them. The site that published them didn’t reach out to Andra with any warning so we couldn’t even try to stop them. I—I’m so, so sorry.”
