Wild Distortion, page 23
This is what I have to look forward to?
Red horse nuzzles the top of my head again, messing up my hair. I step forward, out of his reach, and pat my hair down.
“Are you ready to go back up? I mean, I’m all for staying here talking, the two of us, but the guys were pissed I ran you off.”
“Sure.”
As we head back up toward the house, she asks, “Speaking of being in the public, have you seen what they’re saying about you?”
My steps slow. People took tons of pictures of us, but why would they be talking about me? He’s the famous one.
Her grin grows. “Don’t worry, none of it’s bad. But for the last couple weeks you were a hot topic.”
“Really?”
She nods and rattles off a few things they were saying.
Who’s the new supermodel Ryker Dallas is with?
Where did the gorgeous woman come from?
Did Ryker Dallas find himself a lover while suspended?
“And the list goes on… but you get the picture.”
My cheeks burn from embarrassment.
“Why do they care so much?” I ask, appalled that this is some people’s career, to talk about other people’s lives. And now his rejection is out there too.
“You were with New York’s number one bachelor.” No wonder his ego was so big.
“Were is the key word,” I mutter.
She wrinkles her nose with a mischievous grin. “Well, I can tell you that those same people think he downgraded.”
I shouldn’t be happy. Nope, not at all.
But it feels somewhat satisfying.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ryker
I drown the rest of my beer before answering my phone, caller ID show's it's the front desk security. Flipping my wrist, I glance at the time, I’m not expecting anyone. Especially at ten o’clock at night. And if it’s Donnie asking me to go out, I’ll flip my lid. There’s a reason I’m not answering my phone. I want to be left alone.
“Mr. Dallas, Ms. Bree Kensington is here to see you.”
I haven’t drank enough for this.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, debating if I should send her away. We haven’t talked since I fired her a week ago, so I can’t imagine what she wants now. “I’m not leaving,” I hear her say in the background.
“Ma’am, please be quiet.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Send her up.”
I grab another beer from the fridge, having a feeling it’ll be needed. Maybe she’s here to apologize for making it seem like we were a couple at the gala. It was intentional how she was posing. She of all people knows how to stage a picture.
I’m sure Aspen has seen them already. It’s probably why she hasn’t called me. I blow out a harsh exhale. Getting wound up before she gets here isn’t the best idea.
A few minutes later, the knock comes. When I swing the door open, she stomps into my place like she owns it. I do a double-take, staring at her like she’s lost her mind. She spins and stares back.
“Shut the door, Ryker.”
I push it shut and the click echoes around us. “What the hell are you doing here, Bree?” And demanding me to do stuff.
She squares her shoulders and puffs out air through her nose. She’s still dressed from work. I can’t figure out if she came from happy hour or if she was working late. “First, I’m sorry. I overstepped.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You think?”
“I don’t need your sarcasm. I was wrong.” Her voice loses its initial steam. “It was my job to maintain your positive public image.”
“I don’t need the fucking definition of a PR manager, Bree. But tell me, what image were you shooting for when you posed with me in those pictures at the gala? Because we both know you made it appear we were together.”
The paparazzi wanted to know if I fired her so we could date. Every single time it came up, it took major self-control to not drag her through the mud for doing what she did.
I throw my hands up when she doesn’t answer. Her silence is her answer. “Whether or not you believe me, I thought I was helping. I wasn’t aware how much you cared for her,” she finally admits. She whips around, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors as she walks over to the bar and spins the chair around to sit in it. I stay put, watching her from across the room.
Does she think she’s staying?
“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. You can leave now.” I jerk my gaze toward the door.
“Ryker, sit down.”
What is up with this woman and her trying to control me? “You seriously didn’t just command me to sit down? I am not your goddamn dog.” If Bree hadn’t been part of my life for the past eight years, I’d pick her ass up and throw her out myself.
She huffs. “Please?”
“I’m fine right here. What exactly do you want, Bree?”
Her spine straightens. “I want you to hire me back.” Happy hour. Because she’s delusional.
Yep, more beer. Laughing and shaking my head, I walk to the table I placed my beer on and take a long gulp.
“Ryker, the news about Aspen is out.”
I pull the bottle away from my lips as my heart slams into my chest. I knew it would happen any day.
“When?”
“There was a press release just over an hour ago.”
I fist my hand, the overwhelming desire to protect her growing, despite her not talking to me. I can’t imagine meeting my parents for the first time and it being broadcasted for the world to see. The world who will ask so much of her until there’s nothing left.
“People haven’t connected the two of you. Yet. But it won’t be long.”
“I don’t fucking care about me,” I growl, pinning my heated stare on her. Are we back to this? “Why do you care? You’re not my PR manager anymore.” She slides off her seat and steps over to stand in front of me.
“You’re right, I’m not. But you still don’t have one and right now is the worst time to be without one. I can help.”
“How?” I stand taller, pinning her with my stare. “By telling people we had a quick fling, and I had no idea who she was. Is that how you’d spin this?”
“I’d tell people whatever you want me to tell them.” She reaches out and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Ryker, I was a bitch and I’m sorry. But we’ve been through a lot the last eight years and I’ve always had your back. You’ve never questioned what I’ve done in the past and I let that control get the best of me. But I can help you. Even if she’s by your side.”
I narrow my eyes at her. Bree always has a game plan. She’s meticulous in everything she does and that’s why I’ve always trusted her. Until now.
She yanks her hand off me and drops her gaze to the floor for a moment. “I did one thing wrong. One thing, Ryker. And now you don’t trust me?”
One thing that was a dick move and might have cost me the woman I love.
“Trust is the most important thing in my world of shady people. Once it’s broken, it’s hard to fix.”
“Okay.” She nods and her body deflates. I watch her stomp to the bar to grab her purse. She takes a second to gather her wits before she turns around. “I get it. But you need someone. And fast. I’ll text you a few recommendations that would be a good fit.”
I run my fingers through my hair, groaning. Reverse psychology at its finest and it’s definitely grabbed hold of me. I’m being an asshole. She’s right, we have been together long enough that I should see she’s trying to make this better and I will need someone to help derail the train wreck coming.
I blow out a breath, hoping I don’t regret this. “You win. You can come back.” Her shoulders perk up and her smile pulls at the corners of her mouth.
“Are you sure?”
No. “Yes. But no more tricks.”
She holds a hand up in the air. “Promise. Now, why in the hell didn’t you tell me about Aspen,” she barks, getting right to business.
“I was going to. The night of the gala. But then you—”
“Gotcha,” she stops me, holding up her hand. “Okay, so this is huge, Ryker. The President’s daughter?”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
She steps over to the couch and plops down, crossing her legs. “Have you talked with her since the press release? How is she holding up?”
Following her into the living area, I sit down in the chair and stare up at the ceiling, my hands on my head. “I haven’t talked with her in days.”
She shifts in her seat and I don’t have to look at her face to know her eyes are popping out. “What? So, are you guys not together?”
I tell her everything, which is pretty much nothing since we haven’t talked. Replaying our last visit, I still don’t know what I did wrong. Other than her seeing the pictures, but that didn’t happen until a few days after I left her room.
My gut twists in knots thinking I’ve lost her. And it’s not like I can go see her. They’ll lock the place down like Ft. Knox.
Bree listens to me ramble about how screwed up this whole situation is.
She rolls her neck and then checks her calendar. “Okay. You’re out of town all next week, so I’ll get in touch with Aspen’s PR person. Find out what she’s saying about you because you’ll be a topic of discussion on her end too.”
The last place I want to be is flying around the US doing keynote speaking and guest appearances. But I can’t back out now. “Make sure all the talk shows I’m doing, Aspen is off-limits.”
“Already noted,” she says, holding up her phone and shaking it. “I’ll update you as soon as I hear something from them. For now, stay on the down-low.”
Laughter bubbles up inside me. “You know what happened the last time you told me that.”
“You never listen,” she says in a teasing tone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Aspen
One week of intense crazy.
My world has turned upside down, inside out, and any normalcy I was holding on to is no longer anywhere close to normal. The news broke about me five days ago, and every second since has been stolen from me. I can’t catch my breath most days.
I long for the island, the wall of water keeping me hidden. At least my prison there didn’t suffocate me. Publishing houses have contacted me to write a book. And movie deals are coming in.
The world has gone crazy.
I’m afraid to leave the ranch. Reporters camp outside the gates. In. Freaking. Tents. David and Beatrice tell me it will eventually die down. The only positive to being held hostage here is I’ve had some quality time with everyone.
Today, though, I’m stepping in front of all the crazy. They have advised me they’ll never go away if I don’t give them something. So, reluctantly, I agreed to hold a press conference. In an hour, I’ll spill my guts to a world of strangers. My stomach sours and I swallow back the nausea.
I can’t get sick. I can’t get sick.
Merde! My mouth waters and my body’s heat spikes. I dash to the bathroom and empty my stomach. Mila comes running in and holds my hair out of my face. Well, at least I won’t be spilling my guts in front of the nation, literally.
“Nothing says sisterly love like holding my hair so I don’t get vomit on it,” I joke, wiping my mouth with the washcloth she hands me.
She flashes a sympathetic smile as I fall against the cool tiled wall, taking a breath. “This sucks, there’s no other way to describe it. I hate this for you. But we will all be there with you, standing behind you if you need us.”
* * *
“You can finish anytime you wish,” Halli says, standing by my side, right inside the gates. “Just give me the look.”
“Well…” April, my PR rep, interrupts and Halli sends her a warning glare. “Try to get out everything we went over before you duck out.” She seeks Halli’s approval, and she does a curt nod in return. “Remember to find the reporters we discussed. We’ve already approved their questions.”
I bite my lip, repeating in my head what I’m supposed to look for.
Lady in a red scarf. Man with a red tie. Woman in a purple dress.
The black solid-metal gates open. I draw a deep breath, taking step after step toward my new life outside these gates. One that I have to expose to the public. I have to let them in the dark space in my head that makes my limbs shake when I enter it. I’ve never felt so vulnerable or flayed open. This feels like salt being poured on an open wound.
But I can do it. I’ve come this far.
Beatrice and Mila each slip their hand in both of mine and squeeze. And the guys stand behind us. A line of security people flank our sides and walk out first.
“Thank you,” I whisper to both, keeping my head held high as we walk toward a small podium. I pause when I take in the scene.
Holy smokes.
There are rows of chairs, filled to the max with reporters, but that’s not it. Police, with machine guns, stand at attention behind the rows of chairs. Their focus is on the crowd of at least a hundred people, cheering and waving signs behind the roped off area.
Nobody warned me about this. I squint to read some signs. Most say Welcome Home. When David goes up to speak, it reminds me that I’m next. My eyes jump from person to person looking for my marks.
Red tie.
Purple dress.
Where is the red scarf? A woman waving her hands up and down catches my attention in the back field, but I quickly return to searching for the damn red scarf. My eyes freeze on a man with black hair in the front of the crowd, standing right by a police officer. His lips tug to a smirk when our eyes meet for a moment. A familiar face, even though the rest of him looks different. I force my eyes to keep moving, not wanting to stay focused on the one man the entire country is searching for.
My dad.
The crowd silences when David steps aside, the only sounds around are flashes and clicks of cameras. I drop my chin, steadying my breaths. Why is he here? Why would he risk his life? For you. My inner voice answers. He’s here to make sure you’re okay. I give myself a minute before looking back up. By the time I step up to the podium, he’s gone.
But it’s okay. His presence gave me a renewed sense of strength that I can do this. He didn’t raise a weak woman and I won’t start being one now.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Aspen Foley,” I say, leaning toward the mic. My voice travels and it reminds me of when we would use a bullhorn to get the foreigners back to the boat. “You know me as Gabriella Malone. I was kidnapped when I was one and taken to live in Tahiti. The man who kidnapped me was good to me and he raised me like his own daughter.”
I blink the tears away and swallow. I was afraid that would be a slap in the face to David, but April and David both agreed if I didn’t address it, there would be rumors that horrible things happened to me. As I continue talking, my voice shakes with emotion, but I stay on track so I can get this over with as quick as possible. As I speak my last words, I focus on the crowd further out and smile. “Thank you for your love and support. This is all so overwhelming…” I hold my hand over my heart, the beat slams against my palm. The crowd’s cheers fill the clear open air. I turn my gaze to the reporters, “… and please bear with me while I find myself in this unfamiliar world.”
As soon as they realize I’m done talking, they throw a melee of questions at me. My eyes can’t focus enough on one question to hear what in the world they’re asking. I frantically glance over at April. David, who is standing beside her, sends me a warm smile and steps up to my side, wrapping his arm around me.
“Listen guys, you’re not helping,” he says into the mic. “If you want her to stay up here and answer questions, you need to chill.”
This makes the reporters chuckle. They still throw the questions at me, but in a slightly calmer manner. When I see the guy in the red tie, I point at him. He walks up to the front and someone hands him a mic.
“Hi, I’m Fred Garza with the LA Times. My question is, do you wish to be called Aspen or Gabriella?”
My shoulders relax that he’s keeping to script. “Aspen.”
“Aspen it is. My second question, you never mentioned the name of the man who kidnapped you and raised you.”
I swallow. “Rudy Foley.”
“But that’s not his actual name,” he adds. “Is it?”
David must feel my body freeze, so he leans over to the mic. “Fred, you had your two questions.” Fred nods, still grinning, like he knows he did something wrong but doesn’t care. Although, he retreats to his seat.
But if it wasn’t him, it’ll be the next question. Before picking the next person, I clear my throat to shut everyone up. “He was only Rudy Foley to me, other than dad. I don’t know him as any other man, so I can’t answer that question.”
The questions come like a brick wall again, except this time, it’s slightly less jarring. I find the lady in the purple dress. Her question gets a little deeper. She wants to know how I’m doing with my new family.
“To say I feel like I’m the black sheep, is an understatement,” I joke. “I might look like them, but I definitely don’t sound like them.” The crowd laughs and my humor helps me relax a little. “Truthfully, it’s going better than expected.” I glance over to Beatrice and the love radiating in her eyes blankets me. She smiles through her tears and I return the sentiment. Every moment I’m with her brings us closer.
After more questions, I’m getting the hang of it. Several questions are the same, just asked differently. Until they ask the question, that has nothing to do with the family or being kidnapped.
“Are you with Ryker Dallas?”
My mouth gapes open for a quick second before I snap it shut, because I have no idea how to answer that. You seem to know more about us than I do is at the tip of my tongue. At least, he wouldn’t be able to ignore me if they plastered it over every news channel and magazine article. A wicked grin creeps up my face and I lean forward to answer, but April lightly shoves me aside.
“We’re done here. Thank you.”
Red horse nuzzles the top of my head again, messing up my hair. I step forward, out of his reach, and pat my hair down.
“Are you ready to go back up? I mean, I’m all for staying here talking, the two of us, but the guys were pissed I ran you off.”
“Sure.”
As we head back up toward the house, she asks, “Speaking of being in the public, have you seen what they’re saying about you?”
My steps slow. People took tons of pictures of us, but why would they be talking about me? He’s the famous one.
Her grin grows. “Don’t worry, none of it’s bad. But for the last couple weeks you were a hot topic.”
“Really?”
She nods and rattles off a few things they were saying.
Who’s the new supermodel Ryker Dallas is with?
Where did the gorgeous woman come from?
Did Ryker Dallas find himself a lover while suspended?
“And the list goes on… but you get the picture.”
My cheeks burn from embarrassment.
“Why do they care so much?” I ask, appalled that this is some people’s career, to talk about other people’s lives. And now his rejection is out there too.
“You were with New York’s number one bachelor.” No wonder his ego was so big.
“Were is the key word,” I mutter.
She wrinkles her nose with a mischievous grin. “Well, I can tell you that those same people think he downgraded.”
I shouldn’t be happy. Nope, not at all.
But it feels somewhat satisfying.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ryker
I drown the rest of my beer before answering my phone, caller ID show's it's the front desk security. Flipping my wrist, I glance at the time, I’m not expecting anyone. Especially at ten o’clock at night. And if it’s Donnie asking me to go out, I’ll flip my lid. There’s a reason I’m not answering my phone. I want to be left alone.
“Mr. Dallas, Ms. Bree Kensington is here to see you.”
I haven’t drank enough for this.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, debating if I should send her away. We haven’t talked since I fired her a week ago, so I can’t imagine what she wants now. “I’m not leaving,” I hear her say in the background.
“Ma’am, please be quiet.”
Shaking my head, I say, “Send her up.”
I grab another beer from the fridge, having a feeling it’ll be needed. Maybe she’s here to apologize for making it seem like we were a couple at the gala. It was intentional how she was posing. She of all people knows how to stage a picture.
I’m sure Aspen has seen them already. It’s probably why she hasn’t called me. I blow out a harsh exhale. Getting wound up before she gets here isn’t the best idea.
A few minutes later, the knock comes. When I swing the door open, she stomps into my place like she owns it. I do a double-take, staring at her like she’s lost her mind. She spins and stares back.
“Shut the door, Ryker.”
I push it shut and the click echoes around us. “What the hell are you doing here, Bree?” And demanding me to do stuff.
She squares her shoulders and puffs out air through her nose. She’s still dressed from work. I can’t figure out if she came from happy hour or if she was working late. “First, I’m sorry. I overstepped.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You think?”
“I don’t need your sarcasm. I was wrong.” Her voice loses its initial steam. “It was my job to maintain your positive public image.”
“I don’t need the fucking definition of a PR manager, Bree. But tell me, what image were you shooting for when you posed with me in those pictures at the gala? Because we both know you made it appear we were together.”
The paparazzi wanted to know if I fired her so we could date. Every single time it came up, it took major self-control to not drag her through the mud for doing what she did.
I throw my hands up when she doesn’t answer. Her silence is her answer. “Whether or not you believe me, I thought I was helping. I wasn’t aware how much you cared for her,” she finally admits. She whips around, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors as she walks over to the bar and spins the chair around to sit in it. I stay put, watching her from across the room.
Does she think she’s staying?
“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up. You can leave now.” I jerk my gaze toward the door.
“Ryker, sit down.”
What is up with this woman and her trying to control me? “You seriously didn’t just command me to sit down? I am not your goddamn dog.” If Bree hadn’t been part of my life for the past eight years, I’d pick her ass up and throw her out myself.
She huffs. “Please?”
“I’m fine right here. What exactly do you want, Bree?”
Her spine straightens. “I want you to hire me back.” Happy hour. Because she’s delusional.
Yep, more beer. Laughing and shaking my head, I walk to the table I placed my beer on and take a long gulp.
“Ryker, the news about Aspen is out.”
I pull the bottle away from my lips as my heart slams into my chest. I knew it would happen any day.
“When?”
“There was a press release just over an hour ago.”
I fist my hand, the overwhelming desire to protect her growing, despite her not talking to me. I can’t imagine meeting my parents for the first time and it being broadcasted for the world to see. The world who will ask so much of her until there’s nothing left.
“People haven’t connected the two of you. Yet. But it won’t be long.”
“I don’t fucking care about me,” I growl, pinning my heated stare on her. Are we back to this? “Why do you care? You’re not my PR manager anymore.” She slides off her seat and steps over to stand in front of me.
“You’re right, I’m not. But you still don’t have one and right now is the worst time to be without one. I can help.”
“How?” I stand taller, pinning her with my stare. “By telling people we had a quick fling, and I had no idea who she was. Is that how you’d spin this?”
“I’d tell people whatever you want me to tell them.” She reaches out and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Ryker, I was a bitch and I’m sorry. But we’ve been through a lot the last eight years and I’ve always had your back. You’ve never questioned what I’ve done in the past and I let that control get the best of me. But I can help you. Even if she’s by your side.”
I narrow my eyes at her. Bree always has a game plan. She’s meticulous in everything she does and that’s why I’ve always trusted her. Until now.
She yanks her hand off me and drops her gaze to the floor for a moment. “I did one thing wrong. One thing, Ryker. And now you don’t trust me?”
One thing that was a dick move and might have cost me the woman I love.
“Trust is the most important thing in my world of shady people. Once it’s broken, it’s hard to fix.”
“Okay.” She nods and her body deflates. I watch her stomp to the bar to grab her purse. She takes a second to gather her wits before she turns around. “I get it. But you need someone. And fast. I’ll text you a few recommendations that would be a good fit.”
I run my fingers through my hair, groaning. Reverse psychology at its finest and it’s definitely grabbed hold of me. I’m being an asshole. She’s right, we have been together long enough that I should see she’s trying to make this better and I will need someone to help derail the train wreck coming.
I blow out a breath, hoping I don’t regret this. “You win. You can come back.” Her shoulders perk up and her smile pulls at the corners of her mouth.
“Are you sure?”
No. “Yes. But no more tricks.”
She holds a hand up in the air. “Promise. Now, why in the hell didn’t you tell me about Aspen,” she barks, getting right to business.
“I was going to. The night of the gala. But then you—”
“Gotcha,” she stops me, holding up her hand. “Okay, so this is huge, Ryker. The President’s daughter?”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
She steps over to the couch and plops down, crossing her legs. “Have you talked with her since the press release? How is she holding up?”
Following her into the living area, I sit down in the chair and stare up at the ceiling, my hands on my head. “I haven’t talked with her in days.”
She shifts in her seat and I don’t have to look at her face to know her eyes are popping out. “What? So, are you guys not together?”
I tell her everything, which is pretty much nothing since we haven’t talked. Replaying our last visit, I still don’t know what I did wrong. Other than her seeing the pictures, but that didn’t happen until a few days after I left her room.
My gut twists in knots thinking I’ve lost her. And it’s not like I can go see her. They’ll lock the place down like Ft. Knox.
Bree listens to me ramble about how screwed up this whole situation is.
She rolls her neck and then checks her calendar. “Okay. You’re out of town all next week, so I’ll get in touch with Aspen’s PR person. Find out what she’s saying about you because you’ll be a topic of discussion on her end too.”
The last place I want to be is flying around the US doing keynote speaking and guest appearances. But I can’t back out now. “Make sure all the talk shows I’m doing, Aspen is off-limits.”
“Already noted,” she says, holding up her phone and shaking it. “I’ll update you as soon as I hear something from them. For now, stay on the down-low.”
Laughter bubbles up inside me. “You know what happened the last time you told me that.”
“You never listen,” she says in a teasing tone.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Aspen
One week of intense crazy.
My world has turned upside down, inside out, and any normalcy I was holding on to is no longer anywhere close to normal. The news broke about me five days ago, and every second since has been stolen from me. I can’t catch my breath most days.
I long for the island, the wall of water keeping me hidden. At least my prison there didn’t suffocate me. Publishing houses have contacted me to write a book. And movie deals are coming in.
The world has gone crazy.
I’m afraid to leave the ranch. Reporters camp outside the gates. In. Freaking. Tents. David and Beatrice tell me it will eventually die down. The only positive to being held hostage here is I’ve had some quality time with everyone.
Today, though, I’m stepping in front of all the crazy. They have advised me they’ll never go away if I don’t give them something. So, reluctantly, I agreed to hold a press conference. In an hour, I’ll spill my guts to a world of strangers. My stomach sours and I swallow back the nausea.
I can’t get sick. I can’t get sick.
Merde! My mouth waters and my body’s heat spikes. I dash to the bathroom and empty my stomach. Mila comes running in and holds my hair out of my face. Well, at least I won’t be spilling my guts in front of the nation, literally.
“Nothing says sisterly love like holding my hair so I don’t get vomit on it,” I joke, wiping my mouth with the washcloth she hands me.
She flashes a sympathetic smile as I fall against the cool tiled wall, taking a breath. “This sucks, there’s no other way to describe it. I hate this for you. But we will all be there with you, standing behind you if you need us.”
* * *
“You can finish anytime you wish,” Halli says, standing by my side, right inside the gates. “Just give me the look.”
“Well…” April, my PR rep, interrupts and Halli sends her a warning glare. “Try to get out everything we went over before you duck out.” She seeks Halli’s approval, and she does a curt nod in return. “Remember to find the reporters we discussed. We’ve already approved their questions.”
I bite my lip, repeating in my head what I’m supposed to look for.
Lady in a red scarf. Man with a red tie. Woman in a purple dress.
The black solid-metal gates open. I draw a deep breath, taking step after step toward my new life outside these gates. One that I have to expose to the public. I have to let them in the dark space in my head that makes my limbs shake when I enter it. I’ve never felt so vulnerable or flayed open. This feels like salt being poured on an open wound.
But I can do it. I’ve come this far.
Beatrice and Mila each slip their hand in both of mine and squeeze. And the guys stand behind us. A line of security people flank our sides and walk out first.
“Thank you,” I whisper to both, keeping my head held high as we walk toward a small podium. I pause when I take in the scene.
Holy smokes.
There are rows of chairs, filled to the max with reporters, but that’s not it. Police, with machine guns, stand at attention behind the rows of chairs. Their focus is on the crowd of at least a hundred people, cheering and waving signs behind the roped off area.
Nobody warned me about this. I squint to read some signs. Most say Welcome Home. When David goes up to speak, it reminds me that I’m next. My eyes jump from person to person looking for my marks.
Red tie.
Purple dress.
Where is the red scarf? A woman waving her hands up and down catches my attention in the back field, but I quickly return to searching for the damn red scarf. My eyes freeze on a man with black hair in the front of the crowd, standing right by a police officer. His lips tug to a smirk when our eyes meet for a moment. A familiar face, even though the rest of him looks different. I force my eyes to keep moving, not wanting to stay focused on the one man the entire country is searching for.
My dad.
The crowd silences when David steps aside, the only sounds around are flashes and clicks of cameras. I drop my chin, steadying my breaths. Why is he here? Why would he risk his life? For you. My inner voice answers. He’s here to make sure you’re okay. I give myself a minute before looking back up. By the time I step up to the podium, he’s gone.
But it’s okay. His presence gave me a renewed sense of strength that I can do this. He didn’t raise a weak woman and I won’t start being one now.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Aspen Foley,” I say, leaning toward the mic. My voice travels and it reminds me of when we would use a bullhorn to get the foreigners back to the boat. “You know me as Gabriella Malone. I was kidnapped when I was one and taken to live in Tahiti. The man who kidnapped me was good to me and he raised me like his own daughter.”
I blink the tears away and swallow. I was afraid that would be a slap in the face to David, but April and David both agreed if I didn’t address it, there would be rumors that horrible things happened to me. As I continue talking, my voice shakes with emotion, but I stay on track so I can get this over with as quick as possible. As I speak my last words, I focus on the crowd further out and smile. “Thank you for your love and support. This is all so overwhelming…” I hold my hand over my heart, the beat slams against my palm. The crowd’s cheers fill the clear open air. I turn my gaze to the reporters, “… and please bear with me while I find myself in this unfamiliar world.”
As soon as they realize I’m done talking, they throw a melee of questions at me. My eyes can’t focus enough on one question to hear what in the world they’re asking. I frantically glance over at April. David, who is standing beside her, sends me a warm smile and steps up to my side, wrapping his arm around me.
“Listen guys, you’re not helping,” he says into the mic. “If you want her to stay up here and answer questions, you need to chill.”
This makes the reporters chuckle. They still throw the questions at me, but in a slightly calmer manner. When I see the guy in the red tie, I point at him. He walks up to the front and someone hands him a mic.
“Hi, I’m Fred Garza with the LA Times. My question is, do you wish to be called Aspen or Gabriella?”
My shoulders relax that he’s keeping to script. “Aspen.”
“Aspen it is. My second question, you never mentioned the name of the man who kidnapped you and raised you.”
I swallow. “Rudy Foley.”
“But that’s not his actual name,” he adds. “Is it?”
David must feel my body freeze, so he leans over to the mic. “Fred, you had your two questions.” Fred nods, still grinning, like he knows he did something wrong but doesn’t care. Although, he retreats to his seat.
But if it wasn’t him, it’ll be the next question. Before picking the next person, I clear my throat to shut everyone up. “He was only Rudy Foley to me, other than dad. I don’t know him as any other man, so I can’t answer that question.”
The questions come like a brick wall again, except this time, it’s slightly less jarring. I find the lady in the purple dress. Her question gets a little deeper. She wants to know how I’m doing with my new family.
“To say I feel like I’m the black sheep, is an understatement,” I joke. “I might look like them, but I definitely don’t sound like them.” The crowd laughs and my humor helps me relax a little. “Truthfully, it’s going better than expected.” I glance over to Beatrice and the love radiating in her eyes blankets me. She smiles through her tears and I return the sentiment. Every moment I’m with her brings us closer.
After more questions, I’m getting the hang of it. Several questions are the same, just asked differently. Until they ask the question, that has nothing to do with the family or being kidnapped.
“Are you with Ryker Dallas?”
My mouth gapes open for a quick second before I snap it shut, because I have no idea how to answer that. You seem to know more about us than I do is at the tip of my tongue. At least, he wouldn’t be able to ignore me if they plastered it over every news channel and magazine article. A wicked grin creeps up my face and I lean forward to answer, but April lightly shoves me aside.
“We’re done here. Thank you.”
