Poles Apart

I gasped. Carson had insisted someone drive me home? No doubt he’d arranged for some sort of payment for this to happen, too. “Carson paid to let me finish my shift early, right?” I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

Jason’s smirk told me I’d hit the nail on the head. “I’ll go speak to Jerry, get him to pull the car up out front and check to make sure they’re definitely gone from outside.” He disappeared for a few minutes, sorting everything out, and I smiled sadly.

Hopefully with Carson doing this exclusive interview for them, then this would be the end of it. I prayed it was anyway because this was extremely stressful.

I WOKE THE NEXT MORNING to the sound of urgent knocking on the front door. Groaning, I pushed myself out of bed, glancing at the clock. It was barely seven. The knocking continued – and woke Sasha, too. She looked at me a little grumpily as I headed out of the bedroom, making my way to the door, rubbing my tired eyes.

After checking the chain was on the door, I pulled it open, wondering who on Earth would be knocking on my front door at stupid o’clock in the morning. As soon as the door opened a few inches, I could hear the clicking of cameras. Someone shoved their hand in through the gap, thrusting a tape recorder in my face.

I gasped and immediately tried to shut the door, but the group of people standing there were holding it open. “Emma, is it true what The Peoples’ Post are claiming this morning? Does Carson really have no idea? Why has it all been kept secret?”

I gasped and barged the door again, trying to shut it. “Just go away! What are you all doing here?” I cried angrily. How on Earth would they know where I lived? How could they just turn up at my door like this unannounced – wasn’t this harassment?

Their relentless questions and clicking of cameras continued as I pushed the guy’s hand back out of my door, finally managing to get it slammed shut. Slumping against the door, I burst into tears. A feeling of violation washed over me because of the group of people just turning up outside my flat, banging on the door at this time of the morning.

My mind flicked to Rory. How was I even going to begin to explain this to him? Something had to have been printed in the paper today, because the reporters were asking if it was true.

They were still pounding on the door and shouting questions when suddenly, the phone started to ring. Rory walked out of his bedroom, his eyes still half-closed. He stopped short when he saw me sitting on the floor, my back against the door, crying while people banged outside and shouted for my attention.

“Emma, what the hell?” he cried, running to my side and wrapping his arm around me. “What’s going on? Who’s at the door?”

I gulped and wiped my face. “Reporters. Don’t open the door, okay? I’ll get the phone.” I pushed myself up weakly and headed to the phone. Sasha was crying in my bedroom, obviously not liking the fact I’d left her in her cot.

As soon as I answered the phone, I wished I hadn’t. “Emma, do you have any comments on the article in The Peoples’ Post today?”

They knew my number, too? “No! Just leave me alone. Please?” I begged. I really couldn’t cope with any more stress in my life. My life was hard enough without people branding me a stripper in the papers. I hung up the phone and it immediately started ringing again.

“What’s going on, Emma?” Rory demanded.

I closed my eyes as I spoke. “There have been a few reporters asking some things about me and Carson. They took some photos last week of him and me together for my birthday, then last night they were at the club, too. Apparently, they’ve printed something about me in The Peoples’ Post this morning, and they’re all asking for comments about it.”

He frowned and snatched the ringing phone from my hand, an angry expression on his face. “Who is this?” he demanded down the line. I didn’t hear the answer, but Rory looked even more pissed off. “No, she doesn’t have any comment! Stop calling here!”

As soon as he disconnected the call, the phone started ringing again. Oh, God, surely the fact that Carson is friends with a stripper isn’t this big a story! If they were hoping I was going to sell him out or do some sort of kiss-and-tell story on him then they were very much mistaken!

I walked over to the phone socket and ripped the lead from the wall, instantly silencing the phone. Everything was deathly silent for a few seconds – until Sasha cried louder, the banging resumed on the door and, thirty seconds later, my mobile started to ring.

I felt trapped; I couldn’t even leave the flat because there were reporters outside waiting. It was actually kind of scary; the feeling of being penned in made me feel a little queasy. I debated calling Carson; after all, he did give me his number the night before. I quickly decided against it, though, because if I called him he would probably race over here and then it would just add more fuel to whatever story had been printed about us. Instead, I decided to call Mason; technically this was his job.

I ran to my bedroom, picking Sasha up from her cot and giving her a quick cuddle as I rejected the call from the unknown number coming into my mobile. “Can you just keep her quiet in the lounge for a couple of minutes while I call someone to try and get them away from the front door?” I asked, passing Sasha to Rory.

He nodded and immediately headed out of the room. I didn’t have any credit on my mobile, so I quickly plugged the landline back in and dialled Mason’s number. He answered almost immediately, yawning and sounding like I’d woken him. “Mason, it’s Emma Bancroft. I’m sorry to call you so early,” I started.