Page 40 of Boss Abroad
“Max, don’t look so upset.” He’s really taking this to heart. “This is not your fault.” There’s a knock on my door and in comes Melanie, looking embarrassed and wanting to be anywhere else. Yesterday’s hangover, I bet.
I rub Max’s back. “I’m sure the club can send a note correcting this or whatever. It can’t be that bad.”
I say it again, this time staring at Mad Melanie, waiting for her to chip in and ease Max’s worries. “It can’t be that bad, right?”
The way everybody looks back at me tells me I’m dead wrong.
Melanie hands over her tablet. I hold it as she swipes through different sites, giving me only enough time to read the headlines.
‘Dr. Love came to Max’s aid AND BED’
The other says ‘Unethical or illegal?’
Another accuses ‘Not a real doctor.’
It goes on and on. Dozens of newspapers and magazines with the most preposterous lines: ‘Playing Doctor!’ There's an actual photoshopped image of my head on the body of some model in a sexy doctor outfit for this one. I chuckle. I wish I had that waist.
‘American bends to England’, ‘Overnight visits from the doctor’, ‘Max’s Dirty American Souvenir’, ‘Bad doctor or bed doctor?’ and so many more. Hilarious. Who writes these things?
I smirk and wonder if the universe is sending me a sign that I should really consider changing careers. It’s all just too ridiculous. I slide through some more headlines, laughing out loud, but when I look up, the surrounding faces tighten with unease. This is ludicrous. Too absurd to be taken seriously.
“Why aren’t you all laughing too?”
Mad Melanie is the first to answer. “Oh, April.” Her tone and pause for a dramatic exhale are a bit too condescending for my liking, but I’ll hear her out. “This is just the beginning. They’ll latch onto you. And believe me, it’ll get worse. They’ll dig up your past and make up whatever story they can to get sales and clicks. We’ve seen this happen before.”
She stares at me, looking defeated. That’s it? She’s given in already? MM is not the best at her job, is she? MM, you know, short for Mad Melanie. “These tabloids are merciless. They ruin careers, lives. Nothing is off limits.”
Well, I’m still unbothered.
“I’ve nothing to hide, Melanie. They can dig all they want. I’ve done nothing wrong.” The only silver lining to this mix-up is how laughable it all is, but with everyone looking so mournful, they've sucked out what little fun I was having with it. “When is the next press conference? There’s a welcome one scheduled for me and Dom. I’ll make a statement and settle this.”
“N-n-no, no, no. I’m sorry, my dear, but you won’t be giving any interviews. That’s basic protocol.” She swipes the screen until she finds whatever she wants to show me. “Apparently the US hospital is putting you on administrative paid leave until an investigation takes place. They don’t want any bad press.”
I’m what now? The hospital sends me all the way here and they’re saying I’m an embarrassment?
“No one does,” she adds.
Ouch, Melanie.
That wasn't a hint, it was a direct hit. To my face.
Melanie, smarter than I gave her credit for, pulls the tablet back, hugging it into her chest and takes a long step backward.
Good choice, MM. You don’t want to be within arm’s length of me or give me the opportunity to weaponize that electronic.
She rants on. “Right now, there are hundreds of reporters and photographers scattered at every gate of this stadium, waiting to get another pic of you and Max. You’re their new Meghan. We’re checking your flat to see if it’s safe for you to go back there.” What? Slow down, Melanie. Be all condescending again. “Our policy is to not engage with these rabid animals. If you starve them long enough, they’ll get tired and search for another scandal.”
“‘Scandal?’” I’m trying my best to keep it cool, but it comes out as a yell. That was the final drop.
I rise from my couch and step in MM’s direction. She better back the fuck up with the accusations and pick her words better. “Please explain to me what I did that was scandalous?”
In my peripheral, I can see Max shifting in his seat and Dom at the edge of his, ready to intervene if needed. To help me? To rescue Melanie? Time will tell.
“I’m his doctor.” I point to Max. Not that she needs the visual aid, but I need to keep my hands busy or they might cling to her throat instead. “He gave me a ride because we’re neighbors. You,” I point at her. Yes, she’s answering for the entire club now, “put me in an apartment next to his. Max gave me a lift to the club that begged me to be here.” Not only do I point to the floor, but I stomp on it for good measure. “And now I’m going to be punished like I’ve done something wrong?” The volume, sassiness, and sarcasm reach new heights the clearer the picture becomes for me. “Oh! Oh! And on top of it, you want me to stay quiet?” I pause to gather some air. “HELL, NO!”
“Fuck, yes.” Liam’s thunderous voice makes its way into my office ahead of him. I turn to my open door and wait. I tell myself my heart is racing solely from yelling Melanie down.
Everyone goes quiet, listening to his footsteps getting louder, waiting for him to come in. He doesn’t. Liam gets to my open door and stays there, filling the frame, and trapping me in.