I don't open the journal again. I feel like I'm invading Sebastian's memories if I were to read it again; he's let go of the drama that's surrounded it. Now that it's back, all of its baggage comes with it. I should burn it. Bury it. Hide it somewhere. Part of me wants to
**I thought my victory over Claire Finch would last as long as the buzz around her scandal. Apparently, I was wrong.I'm unsure if it's because the heat has lasted longer in the press, at a constant peak, then expected—two weeks. It's all everyone is talking about. It's all everyonehasbeen talking about since Claire came out with the statement.In my office, I watch an interview that Claire did yesterday with Diane Sawyer about her infidelity scandal. I read the comments more than anything; they're less than sympathetic. I force myself to see the immense positivity in this, but with Sebastian not here to share this victory with me, it's almost useless in a selfish sense. A professional sense? It's an instant boost in my career. A publicist's ace in the
** **Now, where to start?Well, wine has been my only companion for the last three days. And Pedro, but unlike Pedro, wine doesn't judge me; my dog isn't used to seeing me barricade myself in my room deep in a depressive fog, so because of this, he has been judging me harder than he usually does.I'll be honest, I don't remember the last time I've showered. Wait—I do remember. The night Sebastian came over to my house and humiliated me against my sink. That's the last time I took a shower. Disgusting, I know. What's even more disgusting is that I'm not as ashamed as I should be.I'm a little drunk right now, which has been routine for me the last few days: cry, drink more wine, eat so I don't die, and drink again until I
*** SEBASTIAN In case you haven't noticed, my life is in fucking shambles. I've had bad days, bad weeks, and even bad months, but these past three days has been the hardest time I've been through in a while. Barricading myself in my house isn't exactly my initial response to my closet's skeletons being let loose to the world, but per Sarah's orders, I've been stuck indoors for three days. Three goddamn days. The week was going pretty well at first. I had dinner with Leslie on Monday night right before I fucked her brains out later that said evening, and from there I was actually starting to feel "whole" or something like that; as if a piece of me that I never knew was missing had fina
**"I am so pissed off at you, I can't even begin to explain!" Sarah's yelling at Sebastian in the office the producer provided to us. This was expected; we spent so much time going over the script and not only did Sebastian not follow it, but he deliberately went against everything we advised him to do. "Do you understand what you've done? Putting your father's name out there? Why would you do that?" It doesn't even seem like a necessary question to ask. We all know why Sebastian's doing this. But at the same time, part of his motive seems unknown to me. As expected, Sebastian doesn't answer. Sarah, angry and frustrated, stares at him for an elongated period as if he will start cooperating.
**SEBASTIAN I don't like him. Everything about this fucking guy—the way he talks, the way he walks, the way he looks at you when you speak. I don't like it. Alejandro Quintanilla. He's Salvador Quintanilla's nephew, so I'd be an idiot to try and fuck up this early in the game by giving him a rude welcome. "I just wanted to say congratulations on behalf of the Quintanilla family," Alejandro says to me. "We're looking forward to a prosperous future ahead for us and the Harrisons." Bullshit. His stare is full of malicious intent. His grip on my hand tightens, and I let go without giving him a sour look.
**By Friday, I attended my interview and was offered an office space at Rodham PR. I should be happy. Having my own office space to put my shit in and being somewhere 'official' is something to hoot and holler about. But lately, my spirits haven't been easily lifted. I watched the interview Sebastian did last week this afternoon. And after that broadcast, the media was ballistic about Garrett apparently giving the journal away. Garrett's representatives have been quiet, and that's what scares me. But to think, if I hadn't quit, I most likely would have been putting out a statement on Garrett's behalf. Funny how life works. Paul and Beth came over an hour after the airing of the interview. They claimed that it was just a surprise visit, but I know that they're worried about me be
**I had to stay behind to give some information to the police about the accident or potential hit and run. It was embarrassing to converse with the officer while I was drunk, but apparently they care less than I thought they would."Do you need an officer to take you home?" he asked me when he had acquired all the information he needed.I shook my head, shifting my weight from one heel to the other to distribute the pain in my feet evenly. "No, I called an uber."The officer nodded before entering his patrol car. The uber I called was waiting by the corner, and Beth was already on her way over there with Patty while Paul waited for me to finish."You alright?" he asked me when I met him on the sidewalk.
I stay for the promotional tour Sebastian is giving Han Sin. As if Han Sin's representatives have never visited Harrison Inc. before, but it's good publicity to show that Sebastian is somewhat invested in the company."Just got an email from GQ," Sarah whispers to me, eyes on Sebastian in front of the cameras and lights."Do they want Sebastian in an article?"She shakes her head. "No. Front cover.""Have them email me—""Already done."I can tell Sarah's still upset about the Alejandro thing that happened a couple of minutes ago, but in all honesty, there wasn't much I could have done to have prevented that situation. The Qui