“So, Harlow May,” he says, keeping his eyes on me and then swallowing.
“Just spit it out, Mark,” I tell him as I sit back casually, ignoring how my heart’s rhythm is fucked and every muscle in me wants to move. I stay perfectly still, expressionless. Giving him nothing and waiting for him to show his cards.
He can’t know the truth. No one else knows.
Unless she told someone and that’s why she’s gone. I choke on the thought, unable to breathe or move as my blood runs cold. She wouldn’t do that. I know my Hally; she wouldn’t. She can’t. It would ruin us both.
“So, you’re seeing her now?” he asks me and I hold his gaze, willing my body to do something. Letting myself entertain the idea that this line of questioning must mean she hasn’t told a soul.
I scratch a nonexistent itch at my jaw, stalling for time and debating on an answer. “We’re potentially rekindling an old relationship.” I keep it vague. I trust Mark, I do. But only so much.
“This relationship is causing a lot of questions,” Mark says and then visibly swallows. He’s antsy, fidgety.
“Like what?” I ask him without bothering to hide the irritation in my tone.
“Like why is she scared to talk about it?” he says low, his eyes darting between the floor beneath his feet and then back up to me.
I don’t answer him for a long moment and the tense air becomes suffocating. “It was one interview,” I tell him, like it’s annoying. Like there’s no truth to the perception that she’s afraid.
“I didn’t do anything to her,” I add and then look away, toward the door wanting to escape. It’s a lie. I didn’t help her; I left her, I ruined the beautiful spirit she had.
I knew better than to be with her back then, but it’s different now. Isn’t it?
“I wasn’t implying anything, Nate,” Mark says, raising both of his hands and with a look in his eyes that begs me to believe him. “It just looks bad.”
“What about now?” I raise my voice in frustration, shifting in my seat. “It’s obvious that things are good between us. We’re fine,” I tell him.
“It’s uncomfortable because you’re under scrutiny now, which is never a good thing unless you have a plan.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask, hating how he’s pussyfooting around. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
Every second that passes makes my body hotter, my muscles wind tighter. It feels like they’re trying to take her away from me. I won’t let it happen. Not again.
“It may seem like the relationship is forced in some ways. Like you have something on her and you’re using that to your advantage.”
“Shut your fucking mouth,” I spit at him, quickly standing from my seat and sending the chair backward, slamming into the vanity. And for the first time since I’ve met Mark, he’s quiet as he stares back at me.
“That’s what people are saying?” I practically yell at him, pacing in a small area of the room. “I would never use her.”
I start to defend us. I want to tell him that I love her and that she loves me. That she’s with me because she loves me, which is more than any other person has ever shown me in my entire life. She’s the only one.
“It’s just the worst possible scenario. That you got her the part for …” Mark doesn’t finish.
“It’s not true.”
“No one’s saying it is, and it’s important for you to believe me when I say that I believe you.” He holds my gaze, waiting for something from me, but my head is spinning, my hands are clenched and I feel like a caged animal.
I know better than to let my anger get the best of me, but I need her and I don’t have a damn clue where she is.
“Why? Why would anyone even think that?” I ask him although I didn’t mean to say the words out loud.
“The interview-”
“It was only one-” I interrupt but he’s quick to interrupt me right back, not letting me stop him from telling me the truth.
“And moments on the set. When the scenes are done and she looks less than comfortable.” He clears his throat and doesn’t ask me for an explanation.
I don’t have one that I can give him either.
It’s hard hiding a secret that’s damning. It’s even harder having a reminder. I know she thinks about it. I do too.
“What can we do?” I finally ask him. This mess needs to be cleaned up, fast and preferably via a new story in the papers.
“No one’s running with that idea yet, they’re all waiting for ammunition,” he tells me and I nod my head.
“She won’t give them any,” I tell him as if it’s a promise I can make.
“We have a meeting.”
“With who?” I ask defensively, ready to turn down whatever reporter has questions. I’ll tell them what Mark says they need to hear, but I won’t allow questions. They need to stay out of our business. And Hally needs coaching before she puts herself in that line of gunfire again.