Breaking Free (4 page)

Tennyson cursed and scratched his jaw, following another couple links. Despite that the whole idea was for him and Sophie to show themselves in public, he was glad when he deduced the media barely covered cities that weren't on Hollywood's radar. Only fifty-something visitors had shown up when the charity event had reached Berlin last week, and Tennyson could handle fifty.

Standing up, he called Tyler again as he picked out a new shirt.

"Yes, sir?"
Tyler answered.

Tennyson pretended he didn’t hear the "sir" and said, "This sounds big." He placed his phone between his shoulder and cheek and drew one of his ties between his fingers. Too fancy? He preferred casual, but when it came to art, he could never be sure. "What the hell are the publicists thinking? It's not some damn art piece we're donating. It's fraud. We're not really together, for chrissakes."

"I'm afraid I'm only the messenger,"
Tyler said apologetically.

Tennyson grunted and ignored the tie. "Did Sophie really confirm?" He pulled on a pair of gray pants and went with a black button-down. It was as fancy as he would go unless it was a blasted red-carpet event.

"She did, yes."

Glorious. Tennyson was already wishing the day could be over.

Chapter 6

"What about this?" Sophie bit her lip and faced Daniel, who was sitting on the floor surrounded by fashion magazines he had no interest in.

He was probably incredibly bored, but he was being a good sport. "Not slutty."

"Oh, okay. Good." Sophie spun around to face the mirror again. Another good purchase. The simple, dark purple wraparound dress with three-quarter sleeves would go into the "keep" pile.

"You could wear it tonight, you know." Daniel tapped his watch. "The car will be here in twenty."

Sophie tilted her head at her reflection and figured Daniel knew best. She used to consider herself knowledgeable when it came to fashion, but that was before she learned what the world thought of her.

Tacky cunt. Spoiled bitch. Slut. Ungrateful. Naïve. Stupid. Worthless.

It hurt. Even after Daniel had spent two hours comforting her, giving her advice, and assuring her she could fix her reputation, it hurt. But she put a smile on her face instead because that was more beautiful than sadness. It wasn’t like she had any shoulder to cry on, anyway.

It was dawning on her that her friends back home weren't what one might call true friends. Perhaps she'd always known on some level, but it left her fucking lost now. Lost and questioning everything.

She'd never been a stranger to "modest," either. Hell, she'd made sure to dress down rather than up when she went to dinner with Tennyson that first time. Yet, it didn’t stop her from starting from scratch. Every single piece of old clothing she'd owned was now gone.

"Do you remember where I put my new makeup?" She eyed the floor, which wasn’t remotely visible for all the magazines and new clothes she'd bought.

"Brooklyn couldn’t stand the mess, so she organized it and placed it in your bathroom while you were on set earlier."

Oh. That was nice of her. She would have to thank Brooklyn later.

Heading into her bathroom, she went with simple—her motto now. Mascara, lip balm, some shimmer for her cheekbones, and she was done. It was weird. It usually took her at least an hour to get ready.

She felt a little naked, but Daniel assured her she was on the right track.

"Did you come up with any terms I could Google?" she asked, slipping into a pair of matching ballet flats. "For when I need to find outfits, I mean."

She'd bought some twenty fashion magazines at the airport in Denver because she wanted all the help she could find.

"Yeah. And for the record, Sophie? Just 'cause I'm gay doesn’t mean this fashion shit is my thing." He leaned against the doorframe and winked at her. "I leave that to my man."

"Oh my God, like I don’t know that." She chuckled and waved a hand. "The search words?"

"Understated and chic. Can I be excused now, Ms. Former Diva?"

She found a lip gloss and tossed it at him.

"Ha!" He laughed and moved toward the door. "Maybe I added 'Former' way too fast. Have fun at that art thing, darling. I'll check the interwebz for pictures later."

Sophie grinned nervously to herself and rummaged through her trailer in search of her new phone. She wouldn’t lie; she'd been tempted to give her new number to the people in LA, but she'd put her damn foot down.

She couldn’t ignore everyone at home forever, but she was happy to begin something new here in Vancouver. A new Facebook account, a locked Twitter handle she wouldn’t apply to get verified—or give out to random people—and an Instagram that she would keep free of drunken selfies.

On her regular Twitter, she had approximately four hundred thousand followers, yet the meager three followers she had on her new handle mattered more. Daniel, Noah, and Brooklyn were genuine.

After tucking her phone, the key to her trailer, and her wallet into a small clutch, she left her temporary home and walked over to the parking lot behind the row of trailers.

It was a little chilly but not enough to need a jacket or cardigan.

A driver exited an SUV and held the door open for her. "Evenin', Ms. Pierce."

"Hi." She smiled and slid into the backseat, just then noticing Tennyson was already there. "Oh, hey." He looked very handsome, she had to admit. She liked that he kept his beard neatly trimmed now, and the man could definitely fill out a pair of dress pants and oxford shirt
well
. "You've got your shades tonight, huh?" They sat on top of his head.

"I need them," he said with a faint smile. "I see you're making use of your new wardrobe."

She nodded and gathered her hair to fall down the left side of her front. "I wanted a change."

The car drove out of the gates, and Tennyson hummed. "You've been all about changes lately."

Sophie had no desire to discuss the whore-slut-bitch comments that had become the tip of the iceberg, so she kept it casual. "Nothing wrong with a little reinvention."

That "little" reinvention had cost her a lot of money, but every receipt had been saved so she could reimburse her father with her next paycheck. After that, she'd be out of his life.

"Are we going straight to the art café, or…?" Sophie recalled Tyler had mentioned they could eat there or at another place before, and she didn’t care which.

"There's a great burger place on the way," Tennyson replied. "Is that all right with you?"

No. Not even close. God, a fucking
burger
? Her stomach twisted with hunger, but there was no goddamn way she'd go that far. She'd already eaten five hundred calories of her daily intake of eight hundred. A burger would ruin everything.

"I actually ate in my trailer, but I'll get something small." She hoped the place had salads.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at a small corner grill. Through the large windows, Sophie could see just how small it was. There weren't any tables, only the black-painted, L-shaped counter. Walls and floor were tiled. Easy to hose down after serving late-night drunks?

"I know it's not much to look at." Tennyson held the door open for her and flashed a ghost of a smirk. "But they make up for it with the best bacon cheeseburger in Canada. American bacon, not Canadian."

Was there any difference? Sophie hid her confusion and entered the…interesting…establishment. The smell of grease hit her like a wall, and she didn’t know which was worse. That her mouth watered or that the air was difficult to breathe.

Only two of the ten stools were occupied, so Sophie chose a spot in the corner farthest away from the two grills.

"No menus?" she asked quietly.

Tennyson pointed up. Ah, there. The menu was written on chalkboards that were dotted with grease stains.

A heavyset man walked over to take their orders, and Tennyson went for a bacon cheeseburger and a large strawberry shake. Sophie swallowed her hunger and ordered a side salad and a bottle of water.

"No fancy brand this time?" Tennyson was fucking teasing her.

"Because they'd have it here." She couldn’t help but laugh. "But no. A man once told me I wouldn’t be able to taste the difference."

It was mostly true. There were many brands of water that didn’t taste the same, but she'd be a liar if she said she'd followed the latest water trend because of how it tasted.

Don’t go over the top when it comes to brands
, Daniel had advised.

It was a fine line to walk because, in LA, you had to both stick out and blend in. There were certain trends that one was expected to follow, and then there were a few times where you were supposed to be a leader and not a follower.

She'd told Daniel as much, to which he'd given more advice.
Don’t give in to pressure from the media.

"Sounds like a smart man." Tennyson was looking at her strangely, and the close proximity made Sophie nervous. At a real restaurant, they'd have a table between them. Here, there was nothing. They sat next to each other, a mere five or six inches between their shoulders.

She realized she'd never been this close to Tennyson before, and when she chanced a quick glance at him, she was struck by how handsome he really was. Without the ball cap he loved to wear, he looked…distinguished. His eyes were a rich brown color, and the man had two dimples hiding beneath his beard. The dark brown of his hair and beard mingled with hints of silver, and Sophie didn’t find it off-putting like she'd thought she would.

Hunh
.

Having no clue what to do with this new information, she faced forward and fidgeted with the rubber band around her wrist. She knew Tennyson was thirty-eight, and doing the math was like being doused in ice water. He was almost twice her age.

Tennyson probably remembered what it was like before the internet.

Their food arrived, saving Sophie from delving deeper into her new thoughts about Tennyson Wright. Now she was only focusing on not eye-fucking his food. Or rather, the huge milk shake. Served in a plastic glass, Sophie saw the bits of strawberries and how vanilla white swirled with the pink.

She could stay away from burgers without a problem, but sometimes she secretly indulged in shakes and fries.
God
, it looked delicious.

Letting out a soft breath, she peered down at her sad salad and picked out the croutons. The lettuce was anything but crisp, and the cherry tomatoes were a little soft.

"Would you like to try some?"

Sophie snapped her head up to be met with a knowing little smirk on Tennyson's face.

He pushed the shake closer to her.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head quickly. "I shouldn’t—"

How many calories would one sip be?

"Please." He placed a hand on top of hers, causing her to freeze and stare down at his large hand covering her smaller one. "We can pretend it's only for my peace of mind. Have some, Sophie."

"What do you mean?" She dragged her gaze away from their hands and looked him in the eye. "Your peace of mind?"

Tennyson withdrew his hand and picked up his burger again. "It's none of my business, and I don’t want to offend you."

But Sophie wanted to know now. "We can pretend it's your business." She threw his words back at him. "Tell me, Tennyson."

He leveled her with a stare, maybe wondering if it was worth speaking up.

"Your health," he murmured eventually. "I'm concerned you don’t eat enough."

Sophie blinked then drew a blank mask over her face, wanting to hide her real reaction. In truth, she didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. No one had ever said anything like that to her—ever. It was crazy.

"I gotta stay healthy," she said.

"If you say so." Tennyson was making it clear that he didn’t want to argue with her.

It annoyed Sophie. "No one's ever complained before."

"Okay." He bit into his burger and focused on his food.

Sophie gnashed her teeth together because she couldn’t let this go now. "Are you saying I'm too skinny?"

She recalled reading that in some of the comments online.

Skinny skank.

Anorexic twatwaffle.

"Let's go back to when this wasn’t my business, Sophie. I apologize for saying anything."

"No, you can't do that," she told him. "I wanna know. I just…" A sudden onslaught of emotions surged forward, and Sophie was so frustrated and fed up. "Can someone for once in their lifetime just give me the fucking truth?"

Or could she only trust Daniel?

Her comment seemed to catch Tennyson's attention, and he turned his head to stare at her intently. Sophie resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze, but it wasn’t easy. The man unnerved her.

"All right." He set down his burger and shifted in his seat to face her more fully. "Let me make this clear first: this isn't necessarily your truth, but it's my opinion." Sophie nodded in understanding. "Good. All I have to say is stop listening to the industry. I've been around actors and actresses since you were in kindergarten, Sophie. I know what I'm talking about, and there's a difference between healthy and thin. There's nothing healthy about an actress fainting on the red carpet because she's ignored her body's needs." He turned his body forward again. "I'm not telling you what to do. I don’t even know you well enough to know what's best for you, but I doubt this is it. If you're hungry, eat."

Sophie felt like she was becoming unglued. She didn’t know what to think; her experiences and everything she knew pulled her in one direction, and her gut instinct in another. No pain, no gain. Beauty didn’t come without hard work. But it wasn’t beautiful to see a friend throw up her dinner, and Sophie had certainly witnessed that. Ugh.

What's beautiful, anyway?

She didn’t know she'd voiced that question out loud until Tennyson tilted his head at her and asked, "In general, or…?" He smiled, confused.

Sophie went with it. "In women."

Tennyson averted his eyes, pensive. "Hmm. Are you old enough to get the unfiltered version?" He was taking to teasing again.

Sophie sorta liked it. "Don’t be a douche," she laughed.

"Fair enough." He let out a chuckle and thought about his answer some more. "In my opinion, beauty is passion. I'm addicted to my work, so I find it sexy when I see there's someone else who is completely consumed by what she's doing. And she's not doing it to please others. She's doing it because it's her passion."