“Christopher,” he answers in surprise. “How are you?”
“Furious,” I growl. “There is a story run in today’s US Ferrara News about my girlfriend, and I want fucking blood,” I spit. “I want a retraction, an apology, and if they dare run one more fucking story in regards to her . . . I’m taking them to court,” I whisper angrily. “The images have been photoshopped and are complete and utter fucking bullshit.”
“Calm down.”
“I will not calm down,” I half yell. “You fix this. You fucking fix this right now!”
“I’m on it.”
I hang up in a rush. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. The sky is so red that I can hardly see. I pace back and forth as I try to calm myself down. I’ve never been so fucking angry.
Average . . . what the actual fuck?
How dare they!
How dare they disrespect any woman with that derogatory term. But my woman . . . no fucking way.
My phone rings.
Jameson
“What?” I answer.
“I just saw it,” he replies.
“You sort this fucking shit out,” I fume as I pace. “I will not have her treated like this.”
“We’re already on it. Calm down.”
“Calm down!” I cry. “Ferrara just drew a line in the sand. They’re going to target her.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes. We fucking do!” I yell. My heart is hammering in my chest. I’m so angry I can hardly even speak. “I’m about to get on a plane. Sort it out.” I hang up in a rush.
I go to the window and stare out at the planes on the runway as I imagine the shitstorm we’re about to fly into.
My god.
“Babe.” Hayden’s hand slides around my waist from behind. “Is everything all right?”
I turn and take her into my arms, and instantly I begin to relax. This woman is so calming and so beautiful, and fucking hell, whatever does she see in me?
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, “that . . .” I pause. “Please know that the story is an attack on me, not you. It’s not personal.”
Her eyes search mine. “Feels pretty personal.”
I hug her and hold her tight, and I have no idea what to say to make this any better. “I’m on it,” I reply.
“What does that mean?”
“I want a retraction.”
Her face falls as she steps back from me. “So what you’ve effectively done is to make sure that everybody will know about the story now?”
“Hayden, they can’t get away with writing a story like this. I won’t stand by and let some idiotic woman write about you in this manner.”
“How do you know it was a woman?”
“Because men don’t think about women this way. We just don’t.”
“That photo was tampered with,” she says as she looks up at me. “I don’t have cellulite in my ankles. Nobody on earth does, not even elephants.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. This is so appalling.” I stare at her. My heart is in my throat as I wait for the impending explosion.
“This isn’t appalling.” She frowns. “What it is . . . is pathetic journalism on their behalf. I mean, if they called me a racist or a homophobe, I would be outraged and heartbroken.” She shrugs. “But . . . I have nothing to be ashamed about. I’m not a size two, and I’m not a supermodel. I’m completely okay with that.”