Page 70 of The Final Rose
It’s probably stressful for everyone involved, but to me it’s fantastic. It means I won’t need to wait months and months holding the finale’s secret. The contract only stated I needed to hold my social media for the first week of release.
Soon, I’ll be free.
Just one more week of dates. One finale. We just need to hold as the show is edited and then it’s done.
When I arrive at the mansion, I open the door to come face-to-face with one of the assistants. He has a clipboard and a closed expression. Something tells me even though it’s still dark outside, this man was up hours ago.
“Anya is calling for you.” He delivers robotically.
I fix my cufflinks, so I have a way to deal with my nervousness. I want to be done with this already. Talking to Callie’s boss is the last thing I need.
I give the assistant a stiff nod, and he turns on his heels. I understand I am to follow.
The first floor is exactly the way I remember. Lights, cameras, and so many people. They bring flowers and fix things I would never know needed fixing. Something I learned after all this time with a filming crew is that chaos is never chaos. They have a wayto move, a procedure to their madness. It’s magical to see. The mansion now is bubbling with life, but it will turn into a dream when the cameras are on.
We climb the stairs to the most remote part of the mansion, away from where the girls sleep and other parts that are used to film. I’ve never been here. It’s only used by the crew.
The assistant knocks at the door and I hear Anya barking acceptance from the other side. He swings the door open but makes no move to enter with me. It’s a bad sign how reluctant he is. I look at him for just a second, but his eyes are cast down.
He’s throwing me with the lions.
A very pissed off lioness.
I can tell she’s angry from the moment my eyes land on Anya. Her mouth is closed in a line. She looks at me so furiously, I almost miss that in front of her is… Callie.
My blood turns to ice at the same time as the door clicks close behind me. I try to remember everything that it is to be a Riggs.
Never show weakness.
Never look rattled.
Always be pleasant.
Never kneel.
I dip my chin toward the woman. “You asked for me?”
She doesn’t reply. Her eyes dissect me, pin me in place. With a tired sigh, I adjust my cuffs again, trying my best to look unconcerned.
“Any problems with the schedule?”
Anya snorts, so sarcastically my eyes jump to Callie, who I was trying to ignore until now. But she’s not looking at me. She’s looking ahead, her eyes huge pools of warm brown.
“I’m not someone to keep the mystery, I guess.” With that, she puts a tablet on the table directly in front of Callie.
It’s my voice I hear first.
“I’m sorry you’re so stressed, love.”
All my blood leaves my body. My fingers flex and the image comes into focus. I can barely make out our features, but it’s us. The video was taken from behind. At times, part of my nose or Callie’s cheeks are visible from the gap between the seats.
But our voices are clear, and while we say nothing specific, it’s clear something is going on. I can hear my desperation, my love in every word I say to her.
Finally, I put the last nail in my coffin.
In our coffins.
“You know I’m going to take care of you, right? I won’t let anything happen. I won’t destroy your career.”