BABY DADDY (31 page)

“Hey…”

He tips my chin up with his fingers. I meet his eyes and I no longer mind if he sees my tears. “You’re so good to me.”

“I’m not only good to you. I try to be good to everyone. But you…I especially want to take care of you. Because I’m in love with you.”

I kiss him, my tears bathing our lips.

TWENTY

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25 CONTROVERSIAL QUOTES FROM THE STYLE EMPRESS

On vanity:

It’s the most profitable human emotion capitalized on by the most insecure.

Yes, I’m very insecure. But I can afford my insecurities.

Stella Rhodes

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IT HAPPENED AGAIN.

I made it to Page Six, but the article about me there is not incendiary enough. It’s nothing compared to what’s in Out, a similar gossip-oriented magazine that’s challenging the boundaries of libel and defamation.

This is the last thing I need a few days before my show.

I received a call from a colleague in the industry.

I shrieked in horror when I saw myself and Raiden caught in a series of stolen shots that night we went out to the supermarket.

I’ve prayed that they won’t even give my personal life the time of day now. Why would they even care? I’m not even hot!

Your BF is,
snickers the bitch inside me

I sigh deeply. This was bound to happen anyway.

I want to ignore it. But I can’t ignore it.

With shaking fingers, I read the lines my personal shit ate up today in this blasted tabloid consumed by the highbrows of New York every fucking day.

“Stella Rhodes is kicking quite a media storm with her….gasp!…love life! That’s certainly something new from the fashion guru. The perpetually defiant plus-size retail mogul is debuting on our pages as a…(gasp again!) cougar! Yeap, the Style Empress of Sixth Avenue was seen at a supermarket with a gorgeous young man, which according to our sources is…(choke!)… 12 years her junior! Hmm, from these pictures, they look quite loved up and domesticated as they buy groceries together. This news is definitely more stellar (pun intended) for her millions of fans than Ms. Rhodes’ highly anticipated StellaR spring/summer collection this coming Fashion Week.

So, who is this young man? A model? His face doesn’t ring a bell. But wait, we have a match! He’s Raiden Azzaro, a world champion Barefoot Skier from…(we need to find out more about him), but be content to ogle his delish pics inside this month’s Sports Illustrated issue. Wow, check out that body! Has Stella finally given up dating those balding, paunch-bellied sixtyish divorced billionaires and setting her happy-ever-after sights on the much younger cubs with to-die-for abs? I hear her Madgesty approves. Hail baby Jesus! Wait, that’s already stale news in the Material Girl’s fast-flipping book. Anyhoo, we just hope Ms. Rhodes gets it right this time. Ehem. Prenup? Stay with us everyday for more developments on this budding romance. We love you, Stella:)

I feel my heart spiraling downward, my bile, rising up.

I’m definitely making a come-back in scandaldom and fuck if that didn’t make up for my decade’s absence.

I know something’s wrong.
She’s not answering her phone. I’ve been calling her in the last four hours. I know it’s really chaotic at this point.
Her show’s in three days.

She’s been extremely busy since Monday and we hardly saw each other except at night when she crashes on the bed dead to the world the moment her head hits the pillow, and at breakfast. But she can’t be too busy not to reply even with a single text message.

I’m with Guy at the Pier 26 at the Hudson River Park, helping manage the construction of Ella’s runway. It’s an elaborate set that requires dozens of men to construct within just a few days. It has to be finished tonight as the models and performance artists will be here tomorrow evening for the final rehearsal.

I couldn’t hang out with Ella as she was always on the go meeting with various teams involved in the production of her show. Misha told me it’s going to be star-studded, with Hollywood celebrities in attendance and numerous important clients of Ella’s in the fashion industry, politics and business.

I didn’t want to get in her way and I didn’t want to be useless either so I went with Guy even though I would have preferred to be by her side.

I miss her. Seeing her at work has been both awe-inspiring and intimidating for me. She works so hard, almost tirelessly. I’m glad for the nights when I can hold her in my arms while she sleeps like a child from exhaustion. When this month is over, I swear I’m going to kidnap her and bring her back to the island for a much needed rest.

I just wish she’d pick up her phone today, even just once.

I called Misha at seven in the evening. She answers right away.

“Where’s Ella, Mish?”

“She’s at the event hall watching the rehearsal.”

“Has she had dinner?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“She said she’s not hungry.”

That didn’t sit well with me. She needs to eat. I don’t want her skipping meals.

I thank Misha and cut the line.

I arrive at her studio
at past eight in the evening with two bags of
take-out from a Japanese restaurant.

Ella is still deep at work at the event hall.

I peek inside the hall, watching her from a distance. I don’t want to intrude as she looks so serious as she talks to the show director every now and then. A mock up runway was constructed to simulate the set at the Pier 26 and dozens of models are walking on it to a mix of Nirvana and some experimental ambient music. I say it’s a clever idea, the music and the set. I can imagine where’s she’s going with this concept. It’s a statement of rebellion and defiance, or maybe a new emergence. It’s gonna rock tomorrow.

I wait until there’s a small break to approach her.

“Hey,” I greet her, bending to give her a kiss on the cheek.

She turns to evade me. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner. Misha said you haven’t eaten yet.” I put the small pack of take-out sushi and a tall cup of her favorite lemon drink on her table.

“You didn’t have to,” she says dismissively.

I have to get used to her distant demeanor whenever she’s working and not take it personally. I respect her creative space. I have these moments, too.

“Babe, you can’t skip meals, especially now. You need extra energy,” I tease her.

“I said I’m not hungry,” she snaps at me.

She turns around and approaches the show director again.

I sigh and walk over to Misha who’s sitting at a nearby table.

I sit beside her. “She’s really stressed,” I remark.

“Understandably so, considering the scale of this show. She wants to top last year’s and I tell you, last year was epic.”

I shake my head. “Is it like this every year?”

“Yup, but we’re used to it. Stella is obsessively competitive and a perfectionist, but that’s her normal. She’s just extra stressed today.”

“Why?”

She looks at me quizzically. “You don’t know?”

“What…?”

“You guys are on Out.”

“What’s that again?”

“Man, tabloid!”

I freeze. “We’re on the tabloids?”

“Front cover.”

“Have you seen them?”

She gets busy with her phone and then shows me something on the screen. “Here. Brace yourself. It’s really bad for Stella.”

She finally called it a night at eleven in the evening.

We silently board the elevator going to the penthouse.

I want to hug her so bad but she hardly threw me any glance the entire night. I feel her slipping away so fast and I’m desperate to pull her back. Our relationship just started to take a new shape into the direction I was hoping for and now it’s taking a mean left turn into the jungle.

“Ella,” I start.

She remains silent, just standing there, her eyes going through the steel wall. She looks exhausted.

The doors open and she goes out first, walking briskly towards her apartment.

I follow closely behind her.

We enter her apartment.

I can’t stand her silence.

“Baby, talk to me, please.”

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“Ella, please, can we have a minute?”

“What do you want, Raiden?”

“I saw the tabloids. Misha showed me tonight. I had no idea, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it was bound to happen.”

“Are you okay?”

She gives out a hollow laugh and shakes her head. “What do you think?”

I reach out to hold her arm.

She shakes off my hand. “Of course I’m not okay! I’m the laughingstock of New York all over again!”

Her sudden outburst hits me like a blast.

“Babe, I don’t think it’s that bad—”

“What do you know about being a tabloid punch line, huh?! You, who have lived a fucking fairy tale of a life in that perfect island?!”

I can see the strain this has caused her all day. I want to comfort her but she runs upstairs to the loft.

I follow her there just as she lets out an anguished cry from the en suite.

I run to her, my heart slamming with fear.

I find her sitting on the commode, her hands covering her face.

I rush to kneel in front of her. “Babe? What’s wrong?”

She answers with a sob.

I hold her shoulders. “Ella, tell me what’s wrong! Are you ill?”

She drops her hands and looks at me, her eyes awash with tears. “I’m not pregnant…” she utters in a brittle voice and gestures to her underwear bunched at her ankles. I see blood stains.

I understand immediately.

I hug her.

She pushes me. “Don’t.”

“It’s okay, baby…We can try—”

“No! Please, leave me alone for now! I wanna be alone.”

“Ella—”

She pushes me hard and I’m forced to let her go. “I said get out!”

I don’t want to agitate her further so I walk out of the en suite.

I sit on the bed, worried like hell. I’m also disappointed that she’s not pregnant but I’m more concerned for her well-being. She’s taking it really bad. She stays in there for almost an hour.

When she gets out, I stand up immediately to comfort her.

She evades me. She’s taken a shower but her face looks ravaged, her eyes puffy from crying, her nose, red.

“Ella, please, talk to me,” I say gently.

“I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

“Baby, you can’t handle this all by yourself. Let me help you—”

“How dare you even presume that I can’t handle this!” she lashes at me again. “I’ve been handling everything by myself most of my life. I don’t need you to handle anything for me!”

She misinterprets everything I say. “Why are you pushing me away? I just wanna help you.”

“Well, I don’t need your help. Will you sleep in the guest room tonight? I need to rest now for tomorrow.” She lifts the edge of the comforter.

“Please, don’t do this—”

She yanks the comforter violently and drops it. “What do you want from me?! Why are you even here?! Don’t you have better things to do than hang out with an old wreck like me?!”

“Ella, stop that.”

“It’s true! What do you even see in me? You’re wasting your time with me, Raiden! Go home! Go back to your island! Leave!”

“Ella, please, listen to me.”

“No! I don’t wanna hear it! Look at me! Can’t you see? I’m a mess and you’re better off without me! I can’t even give you a child! What will you do if I can’t give you a child? You’re a prince for fuck’s sakes! You need heirs!”

I don’t know how we came to this in the span of one day. I’m blindsided. I feel like the floor is giving way to my weight and I’m falling.

I grasp for something to hold on to but she’s not extending her hand towards me. “We can adopt.”

She laughs harshly. “Adopt? You?! What the hell do you know about adopting babies?” She shakes her head in mockery.

Her words are like knives slashing at me but I take them. I’ll take more than this for her. “More than you apparently think.”

“Oh please! You know nothing of real life! You’re twenty-five! I know you’re just experimenting. This older woman thing is a novelty to you. Just a phase. It will wear off.”

“It will not.”

“Will you get off that fucking bubble, for christ’s sake?! You actually think we have a chance? In that island, it seems possible, but here in New York, get real, Raiden! By the time you’re forty, I’m on menopause! What will you do then, huh?!”

“You’re being irrational about this.”