Every Pearl Has Its Oyster (18 page)

“Why were you sleeping on the floor?” Gemma asked, laughing despite how bad she felt. “You could’ve slept on the chaise.”

“I wanted to stay close to you,” Damian shrugged, trying to wake himself up as the knocking continued. “But I didn’t want to be inappropriate.” He jumped to his feet and went to check the door but just as he did, it swung open. An imposing figure filled the doorframe.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Andro asked, shooting an accusing glare at Damian.

“Andro, you’re not on my payroll anymore in case you’ve forgotten,” Gemma said, coming up behind Damian.

“You’re right, but I’m now on Tyler’s,” Andro replied. Gemma blinked with surprise. “And since you live with him, you’re my responsibility too. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she snapped. “How the hell did you even find me? And at the very least, answer me this – why are you here?” She could feel her heart pounding her chest. With all the upsetting things that were happening recently, she thought at the very least she could find solace in her regained freedom from her overbearing security. Seeing Andro made her blood boil.

“You didn’t exactly get here quietly, Bee,” Andro explained. “Tyler and the rest of the world heard about your scuffle with the public last night.”

“This is a total violation, Andro! You just walked into my room!” Gemma exclaimed. “What if I were just getting out of the shower or something?”

“I knocked first but no one answered.”

“How did you even get a key?” Damian asked.

“Stay out of this,” Andro said, narrowing his eyes at him. “Better yet, get the hell out of here.”

“No, answer him, Andro. How did you get the key?” Gemma crossed her arms, glaring at him.

“In case you don’t recall, you used your joint credit card with Tyler to book this room. He had me trace it and find where you were staying so I could get you home safely. I got the key because Tyler gave me all the information of the card you were using as well as all my old credentials as your bodyguard. We didn’t know what kind of danger you might be in,” Andro explained. “You ran off without an explanation. You weren’t answering your phone. I thought, like Tyler thought, that you were in trouble so I wasn’t expecting to walk in on something like this.” Damian’s jaw tightened. It was clear he was angry but chose to stay quiet. Gemma closed her eyes. Though nothing happened, she somehow felt too tired to contest what Andro had said. It was an exhaustion that sleep wouldn’t help. Gemma was beginning to wonder if anything could fix it.

TYLER CHASE CAUGHT CHEATING?

Popstar spends secretive evening at Madison Lennox’s apartment

Celeb-o-Matic

October 27th

Yup – he literally went there.

Tyler Chase is in hot water after being photographed leaving co-star Madison Lennox’s West Hollywood apartment last night at around midnight. Since then, the Internet has been ablaze with scathing insults aimed at Chase, who is also trending worldwide on Twitter under the hashtag, #ScrewYouTyler.

Neighbors allege that Chase had been spotted entering Lennox’s residential building around 8PM, and that neither party left for the duration of the whopping four-hour visit. Though we’d like to believe that Chase isn’t actually cheating with the seductive Lennox, it’s hard to find any other explanation for their lengthy late night hangout. In the photos, Chase is pictured wearing a dark hoody, ducking his head and looking around as he heads for the black Acura that he likely borrowed for the trip (Chase does not own any Acura vehicles).

Looks like someone was trying to sneak around undetected. Coming off a particularly stressful year of harassment and most recently, a shocking release from her label, we can only imagine what Queen Bee thinks about all this.

TIME TO OVERTHROW THE KING

Celebstan

October 30th

I’m serious. I have been betrayed, and so have you. For when our Queen is betrayed, we all are. I know there’s no cold, hard evidence of an affair, but let’s just cut the bullshit here. Tyler was at Madison Lennox’s house for four hours until midnight last night. Madison Lennox, who bullied our flawless Queen when she was in high school. That Madison Lennox. Alone. In her house. Till midnight.

And he actually tried to insult our intelligence by going incognito in an oversized hoody! As if we couldn’t totally recognize his face under it because UGHhaslkfjsldk, he is still incomparably good-looking despite now being a huge, philandering disappointment to my life. But anyway, back to the point – this incident combined with the reports of “electrifying” on-set chemistry while filming Carbine obviously = Tyler and Evil Witch boning. I know. He’s literally sleeping with the enemy. The thought makes me want to vom everywhere, which might actually be a good idea considering I’ve been grief-bingeing on Chipwiches and Monterey Jack taquitos from 7-Eleven since this story broke. The disappointment honestly feels like Tyler ripping my heart out and then doing a sexy dance routine all over it.

So in conclusion, this is very much the end of my stanning for him. It hurts, but it’ll prob feel better if we all join hands and say it together: #ScrewYouTyler. Screw you.

Flecks of pancake batter splashed the pages of Gemma’s Vogue as she slouched over Zoe’s white kitchen counter, her eyes staring blankly into space. Across from her, Zoe used both hands to grip a heavy electric egg beater, trying to keep it within the confines of the too-small mixing bowl of buttermilk and flour. With Gemma in a surly mood since yesterday, she was determined to cook a beautiful breakfast to start their morning on, despite the fact that she’d used her kitchen perhaps twice since moving in.

“Do you want me to turn the TV on for you?” Zoe asked, bending her head down to try and meet Gemma’s blank stare. “There’s like a billion remotes so I have to do it for you. You can watch while you wait for pancakes.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have – ”

Before Gemma could finish, Zoe had already darted to the living room, leaving a trail of flour behind her as she grabbed a remote in each hand, pressing a combination of buttons to turn on the television. It took a few seconds, but finally, the picture on the screen flickered on and the sound promptly blasted at full volume, forcing them both to shrink and cover their ears.

“… and now back to the big story rocking Hollywood. Is Tyler Chase cheating on Queen Bee with his co –”

“Shit!” Zoe yelped, pointing the remotes back at the television, trying in a panic to turn it off.

“Chase appears shifty in photos as he leaves Madison Lennox’s West Hollywood home –”

Gemma’s fingers drummed along the counter as she kept her back to the television. She’d seen the pictures days before when they’d first come out – she didn’t need to see them again, especially not emblazoned across a fifty-inch LCD screen. It was revenge for seeing Damian, she figured emptily. It had to be. Though if not, there was still no doubt in her mind that Tyler had been completely shady about visiting Madison – he’d gone in Mike’s car and a ratty old Lakers hoodie that he never ever wore, not even around the house. The pictures had made Gemma fall numb. It was the only emotion left for her to feel. Her anger had peaked out upon being caught in San Francisco and delivered home by Andro like a misplaced package. Like a zombie, she had stuffed her largest tote bag with clothes and headed straight for Zoe’s house. Seeing her mood, Andro had agreed not to follow, though she knew that his car probably tailed hers the entire way over to Studio City.

“Yes! Shut up!” Zoe yelled at the television, finally successful in shutting it off. She pumped her fist triumphantly before covering her mouth and spinning around to face Gemma. “Bee, you okay? Ugh. Fuck. I’m sorry about that.”

“I’m fine,” Gemma answered, swallowing the knot in her throat. She was unconvincing. Zoe pursed her lips.

“Hey,” she said gently, returning to the kitchen and pouring Gemma a mimosa. “You never answered my question from before.”

“What question?”

Zoe brightened. “About which method of ass-beating I should lay down on Tyler when I see him. We can do old school punching with our fists or get creative. Battery-filled sock attack, maybe?”

Gemma’s laugh was short. “You’re so weird.”

“I watch too many shows about prison,” Zoe admitted, ladling batter onto the griddle while her free hand silenced her vibrating cell phone. She glanced up at Gemma to see if she’d noticed it.

“Tyler again?” Gemma asked knowingly. She had been ignoring his texts and calls for more than two days now. They had come in droves so she eventually turned off her phone altogether, no doubt driving him wild. It was only a matter of time before he began contacting Zoe. Gemma sighed. “He probably got it out of Andro that I’m staying here. He’s going to be at your gate any second now.”

Zoe flipped a pancake. “Are you gonna hear him out or should I go ahead and put some batteries in my socks?”

“We’ll see how I feel when he gets here,” Gemma snorted, trying to sound casual despite her uneasiness. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see Tyler yet. She was still so angry, and she was still unable to come up with a scenario in which his night with Madison could be deemed in any way appropriate. All she’d done for days was sit on the kitchen counter, carrying the same issue of Vogue opened to the same page that she hadn’t read a single word of, trying desperately to give him an excuse. But there was none, and she had no idea what she’d possibly have to say to him, though she’d have to think of it soon.

Within two episodes of Prison Wives, the buzzer at the gate sounded. Zoe flew from her seat on the couch to the foyer, checking the camera before calling a confirmation. “It’s Tyler.”

They decided to both wait at the open door, arms crossed as they watched Tyler’s gleaming black sports car roll up the driveway. Through the windshield, Gemma could see his immediate relief when he spotted her, keeping his eyes glued to her as he shifted his car into park and stepped out. His black t-shirt was rumpled as if it’d been slept in and his hair was actually messy – not messy chic like how he was styled for Carbine. Just plain, unkempt messy.

“Shit. Someone looks rough,” Zoe said as he approached the front steps. Reluctantly, Tyler pried his eyes from Gemma.

“Hey, Zo.” His jaw was tight. “Uh. Do you think I could have a moment alone with Gemma?”

Zoe glanced at Gemma, staying planted until she nodded for her to go. “You really better have a good explanation, Ty,” she said, gravely serious for once before disappearing up the stairs and into her room. When she was out of sight, Tyler let out a big sigh at the ground.

“Gemma,” he started, shaking his head a little. “What – what were you doing in San Francisco?”

Her eyes fluttered wide open. “That’s the first thing you have to say?” She put her hand to her forehead, laughing so she wouldn’t spew expletives. “Time out. Okay, before we even address you sneaking over to Madison’s house, maybe we should talk about the fact that you were going to her for like, intel on me. Can you honestly tell me you don’t get why I was upset at you for bonding with Madison over my issues in high school? She fucking caused most of them, you know that right?”

Tyler lowered his eyes, his jaw tightening again. “We can talk about that. I was going to. I just needed to know first that you weren’t in San Francisco to…” he trailed off, grimacing. Gemma had no idea her eyes could grow even wider.

“I was there because I needed to get away. And I had Damian met me to talk to him, not… sleep with him!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe you even thought that, Tyler. Don’t you know me better?”

He gave her a hard look. “No.” The answer made her reach for the door and ready to slam it, but he slapped his palm against it, easily holding it open. “I’m sorry. That was… I didn’t mean that. But if I was supposed to know for sure that you weren’t rolling around with Damian, shouldn’t you have known that I wasn’t doing the same with Madison?”

Gemma shifted her weight to her heels and crossed her arms. “You weren’t, then?”

“Gemma. Jesus Christ. No.” He rubbed his eyes, sliding his hands up his face and through his hair. He let them drop to his sides like weights, looking at her tiredly. “I can tell you everything that went on in my mind for the past seventy-two hours. You just need to tell me what was going on in yours.”

“Fine.” Gemma relented. She looked down at the floor and then up the stairs. “I’ll get my bags and we’ll talk at home.”

“Get your bags,” Tyler said, nodding up the stairs. “But we’re not going home.”

She cocked her head at him.

“We’ll talk on the plane.”

~

Gemma stared at her toes as she sat on the ivory leather recliner next to the open window, the view of dark blue sky in her peripheral vision. Her toenails were painted lavender, a color that she hadn’t worn much lately. It had once been the signature shade of Queen Bee – seen most notably in her eyes, though it made frequent appearances in her wigs, couture and makeup. But since coming out with her identity and abandoning the tinted contacts, she felt like she should stray away from the hue altogether.

Showing off her naturally green eyes made her happy anyway, like she was letting the world in on a secret about herself. That was what Tyler had made it feel like when she had first met him at Staples Center years ago. He’d been so thrilled to know something about her that no one else in the world did – it was the glimpse into her that he’d settle for after sneaking into her first L.A. concert, hoping to discreetly meet Queen Bee but ultimately causing a riot when fans identified him under his cap. Gemma wiggled her toes, laughing quietly at the memory, at the utter chaos he’d caused just for the slim chance of figuring out who she was. Apparently, grand gestures were always a part of his repertoire – whether it was for the purpose of meeting her or now, for keeping her. Sitting in the newest Gulfstream jet, Gemma was still letting it sink in that they’d soon be in Belize. “So when I’m done explaining things, we can relax together like we should’ve been doing since getting rid of Elizabeth,” Tyler had said. They had a tendency as a couple to find clarity on remote getaways, when no one and nothing was around to distract them.