Chapter 53

I spoke to the secretary and explained my history with Julia. She immediately understood my need and arranged for a security guard to escort me out the back to my car while another guard escorted Julia off the property. Apparently, Julia had been banned from the premises after her last visit went sour.

After I was safely at the Aston Martin, I thanked the security guard. Before he was even out of the parking lot, I had climbed into the car, buckled up, and taken off. Even with them getting rid of Julia, I didn’t want to be anywhere near her any longer than I needed to be.

It wasn’t until after my other appointments that I saw the headline:

MODEL JULIA COGSWORTH AND BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND BARNETT BACK TOGETHER

Below it is a picture of the two of them outside the gates to one of Barnett’s several estates, Julia’s arms wrapped around his neck. Barnett seemed tense and uncomfortable, with his arms planted firmly at his sides and him staring straight ahead. It looked as though she had ambushed him with the contact.

I wasn’t buying it, not even for a minute.

The picture looked far too staged, as though Julia had paid the reporter to catch them in that exact moment. Not only that, but everything pointed to Barnett hating Julia now. Well, maybe “hate” was too strong a word, but he surely didn’t seem like he was willing to take her back.

Yet with the way he avoided me this afternoon and after seeing Julia there, waiting for somebody, I couldn’t help but let this article get under my skin. I knew I had rejected Barnett and, therefore, had no real right to be jealous, but I was. By the time I got home, I wasn’t sure who I was more furious with: Barnett, Julia, or myself.

As I walked inside, I realized that the only way I could work this anger and jealousy out of my system was if I just got my mind off of it entirely. So, I shifted to the other problem area immediately pressing on me that day: the “mystery man” scandal and losing my Freyja sponsorship. Unfortunately, thinking about that just made me madder.

How could they fire me over something like this? I checked the contract, and there was no “morality clause,” as Arthur put it. He was right, it was entirely illegal.

Yet the thought of going through lawyers and, in this case, a court just for some money and to teach Frejya’s Board of Directors not to do this again made me queasy. I’d been dealing with far too many lawyers lately, and with the case against my stalker still on the horizon, I did not want to deal with any more.

His second idea, however, intrigued me. I have plenty of fans who seem willing to do just about anything for me (again, my stalker came to mind). Perhaps they would be willing to rally around me for this cause.

At the very least, I wanted to get my side of the story out there before Freyja’s lawyers and human resources got the chance to mangle it and turn me into the bad guy. I already had enough bad—and misinterpreted ambiguous—publicity; I didn’t need any more.

Sighing, I grabbed my phone and went into my home gym, to give my viewers a background with which they were familiar. I decided against using the tripod or any other fancy equipment, just holding the cellphone far enough away that viewers would be able to see my face and shoulders. Something intimate and like when I first started making videos, but not too cheap and unprofessional.

I sat sideways on my exercise bike, held out my phone, and pressed “record”.

“Hi everyone,” I began. “I’m sure that you’ve heard by now that I’ve been caught up in another scandal with some ‘mystery man’. I can assure you, it’s not as big of a deal as they’re making it out to be.”

I took a breath.

“The truth is, I was at a friend’s party and got very drunk. What you see in that photo is that friend, a staff member, and another friend helping me into a limo to get me home. That is all.”

Not the entire truth, but not completely a lie, either.

“But I didn’t make this video to talk about what I was or was not doing with some ‘mystery man’—who will remain anonymous. That does not matter now. What does matter is what the company Freyja has decided to do following the release of this fact-light story.”

I took another deep breath to steady myself.

“Due to this being yet another scandal involving me and a seemingly influential male, Freyja has decided to drop me as their spokesperson.”

I paused to let that fact sink in.

“So, despite the fact that Freyja says it is pro-female and hires so many strong females, its Board of Directors has decided that it can dictate how these females lead their private lives by cutting them off if they do something in, say, their dating lives that they don’t like—even if their sources don’t have all the facts straight. Someone like me can’t even be seen in public with someone of the opposite sex without being taken the wrong way. Even if I were dating, I wouldn’t be able to do so freely because the watchdogs at places like Freyja are breathing down my neck and deciding what is and is not ‘acceptable’ behavior for a woman.”

I stopped, surprised at myself for letting this all out.

“Anyway, like I was saying, I received an e-mail from Freyja’s lawyers this morning telling me that they will be cancelling my contract because the Board of Directors doesn’t think that I, in my scandals with multiple influential males, am creating an image that they want for Freyja. However, these ‘scandals’ have not only been unfounded and fact-less, but they are none of Freyja’s concern. I can date whomever I want, and I can sleep with whomever I want.”

I clenched my fist and pounded my thigh for emphasis.

“I am a free, independent, single woman, and I can do what I want. There was no ‘morality clause’ in that contract, I checked. They can’t do this to me.”

Then I grew somber very quickly.

“But, of course, they can. Unless I fight them, probably through the legal system, they will. It would just be nice to know that I still have the support of all of you, my fans, during this time.”

I steeled myself for the next part.

“So, if you could please let your voices be heard and tell Freyja what you think of what they’ve done, I would greatly appreciate it. Even if you could just like and share this video, it would mean the world to me. Thank you, and goodnight, everyone.”

I was trembling by the time I uploaded the video. I could only hope that it wouldn’t backfire me.

By the time I walked into Arthur’s office the next morning, I wasn’t sure which surprised me more: the number of notifications from fans supporting my cause, the applause I received from my coworkers as I walked through the door, or the e-mail from Freyja’s lawyers saying that they wished to reinstate my contract (with a huge cash bonus).

Arthur was grinning ear to ear as I approached the makeup chair.

“You did it, my little fan. You caused quite the uproar,” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, well, there were a few people who told me I should get over myself, along with a few other nasty comments,” I countered as I put my bags on the table.

He waved the remark away as though it were nothing.

“Trolls. Nothing but trolls. You have to learn to live with them.”

He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into a side-hug. I allowed it since he was my friend as well as my boss and this was a joyous occasion.

“So, did anything come of it?” he asked as he released me.

“Yes, actually. Freyja reinstated my contract and even offered me a huge bonus along with it, as though that will make things better.”

“Won’t it?”

We laughed, but there was a tinge of bitterness to it for both of us. I didn’t think that either of us would fully forgive the brand—especially its Board of Directors—for what it did for a long time.

“Seriously, though, I am proud of you, my little fan. What you did took guts,” Arthur continued. “The Anna that I first met…well, I’m not so sure she would have done that.”

“It’s all thanks to you, Arthur. You gave me the idea and the confidence that it would really work. Honestly, I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”

Arthur suddenly fell quiet. Curious about this uncharacteristic silence, I turned to face him. That’s when I saw him leaning in close, as though he were about to kiss me.