My Sacrifice // Creed

The hotel is swarmed with paparazzi. As soon as I got off the phone with Char, I called for my driver. Swinging past the front of the hotel to the secret back entrance, my driver weaves through a parade of black panel vans. We can't see the throng of vermin with cameras as we drive past but taking into account the amount of vehicles present, there must be a fuck ton. We pull into the garage and stop at the celebrity drop off station. It's Jeeves 2.0 today, another stuffy guy with white gloves. He opens the passenger door to greet me.

"Your new room key, sir." Jeeves 2.0 drops the key card in my hand. "As requested, we've taken all of your belongs to the penthouse. The crew your people sent are still going over your old room. I'm told they are to make a report directly to you when they've finished."

"Thanks."

I hop out and rush to the celebrivator.

I pace inside the metal box as it rises to my floor. When the doors open, I enter my new hotel suite and walk directly to the window. Being in L.A., the high rises are nothing like other big cities. I can still see the ground from the top floor with pretty decent clarity. Glancing down, I swallow hard. Shit, I was right. An absolute fuck ton of cameras aimed right at the door. A few security guys from the hotel try holding them back but it reminds me of a couple toothpicks trying to hold back an entire river.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll to Clinton's contact. He answers on the first ring.

"Go," he says.

"Go where? Should I leave? Did you already send me a plane ticket? Should I contact David? Does my director know I'm leaving-"

"Dude, stop. I meant, go, tell me what your status is. That's what go means."

I smack my forehead. "Oh."

"So...go."

"I'm holed up in my hotel room, watching the paps swarm like flies on shit."

Clinton chuckles. "They didn't get you coming or going so we're good so far."

"You sure about that?"

"Listen, I have a team of no less than six hackers at any one time taking down every single photo or video of you posted online in the last twenty-four hours."

"You can do that?"

"No, I can't but these guys are the best there is. And they don't have official authority, but what's a little illegal internet scrubbing these days?"

"Uh...right." I'm pacing. Worried about everything that's out of my control. But it sounds like Clinton's handling it all.

"We do have one issue," he says, pulling me out of my short-lived relief.

"Shit. What?"

"Star Tracker is airing an interview with Curt tonight. Prime time."

"The online gossip show?" They've given him a mic. It can only go downhill from here.

"We already know his story. It's nothing worse than what's been circulating out there."

"But he'll pull on public sympathy. It could burn Char."

"Not gonna happen on my watch."

"Clinton, I hate to break it to you, but all of this happened on your watch."

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could stuff them back in. What a shitty way to treat the guy who's done nothing but have our backs.

"Man, that was uncalled for. I'm so fucking sorry." I sit down, now sick to my stomach with guilt. A tense silence ensues.

"There's a morsel of truth to what you said. I underestimated what Curt was capable of. That has come to bite us in the ass. I won't let it happen again."

"Nah, man. Like I keep telling Char, the guy is a master manipulator. He had everyone fooled. That was just my frustration talking. I don't blame you."

I hear Clinton inhale sharply before blowing out a breath. It's the first sign of disappointment I've sensed from him.

"Very true," he says. "Listen, I need to check in with the team. My guys should be wrapping up their evidence collection and bringing you their findings. I want you in the know until I get there."

"No. You stay with Char. I don't need you out here."

"Noted. I'll let the evidence decide where I'm most needed."

"Fine. And why the fuck are your guys doing it? Isn't this a criminal investigation? Don't the cops need to conduct it?"

Clinton's silence at my direct question unnerves me. I wait long enough to make it awkward before speaking again.

"I'm assuming your silence is necessary?"

"Just listen to the report. Carefully. It will all make sense soon enough."

I nod. "Okay, I will."

"And get some sleep. You've had a rough night."

"Sure, I'll get right on that." I'll be lucky if I sleep at all this week, not after the shit show I fell into.

I put my phone away, still pacing a hole in the fancy carpet while waiting for the mysterious report which is supposed to answer all my burning questions.

An hour and a shot of marshmallow rum later, a knock on the door rouses me from a sleep drunk daze. I rush to open up, hoping whoever it is has something more than room service for me. When the door swings wide, I'm met with 3 uniformed officers.

"Jacob Stewart?" The officer closest to me asks, tall with short black hair and a serious expression.

"That's me." The two guys behind him are equally intimidating with broad shoulders and sharp jaws. None of them are smiling.

"We've got a report here for you. Our forensic team is done investigating your previous room on the 45th floor. Can we come in?"

I glance at all three of them, my jaw nearly dropped at the realization. These guys are in Clinton's back pocket. Is he double dipping? Is that illegal?

He is a former L.A. cop. Maybe he called in a favor. I go with that rather than stumble down the rabbit hole my brain is dying to go. Clinton is the biggest question mark I've ever met.

"Come in," I say, leading them to the living area where I sit across from what seems to be the lead cop. The other two stand at ease near the couch, ready to pounce should anyone break through the door. Not that anyone would, but now I'm paranoid.

The lead guy hands me a manila folder which I open to find a form and some notes.

"Most of the data collected is in a digital file, but these are my notes after speaking to the forensic technology investigator." He points to the second page. "It appears that the device was planted in your room sometime the day you checked in. Most likely the maid was duped to letting the offender into the room. That portion of the investigation is ongoing. Our team will be reviewing security footage within the next 36 hours."

I scan the notes, seeing that the tech guy was able to hack into the device's signal and somehow locate an IP address.

"If they knew what they were doing, they leapfrogged the signal through multiple countries. It makes locating the origination source exponentially harder. Your security team will be looking into that aspect."

I nod, not believing this is my life now. Some dickhead planted a camera and filmed me with Char. Now it's a sex tape that Clinton is having scrubbed from the web. It won't hurt me, these violations never seem to ruin the men involved. But Char. She doesn't deserve this.

"We've also dusted for prints, but that's a long shot unless whoever did this is a moron."

"Right. Because who would plant a clandestine device without wearing fingerprint protection."

"Our best bet is the CTV footage for leads. We'll keep in close contact with your security team if we find anything of interest."

I nod again and thank them before they leave. I still feel violated, in disbelief. I don't know how to proceed. Staying here seems insane. But leaving feels like defeat.

What the fuck do I do?

***

I sleep the rest of the morning away, wrung the fuck out. I wake up to a shit ton of messages from just about everyone I know.

Ryan: damn, who did you so dirty? My money is on that Emily chick. She's wacko. I hope you take 'em down.

Zack: call if you want Clinton out there. Or on Char duty. Or I can keep her with me and Bree. Let me know.

Clinton: my team sent over their report. We're digging into every lead. I'll get back to you as soon as one of them takes us somewhere.

Bree: I'm keeping her close. Don't worry. She's my rock and I know she'll be yours, too. We can be hers right now.

Char: I hope you were able to sleep. I'm just numb. I miss you.

Me: Miss you, too baby

Fuck. That one killed me. I toss my phone down and start throwing clothes in a bag. Everyone keeps telling me to stay business as usual. Go to work. Follow my routine. Show them this hasn't broken me.

Which is stupid. What rational person wouldn't be broken even a little by this? No one, that's who.

I open my phone to check for flights when a notification pops up. Curt's name is trending. His interview must be airing. I navigate to the Star Tracker livestream only to be smacked in the face with Curt's evilness.

"She's cheating on me, pure and simple. I gave that girl everything she asked for including my silence during our entire marriage. I thought we were trying to work our [bleep] out. Then she goes and does this."

My jaw clenches along with my fist. What an absolute bottom dweller.

"I took a beating for her." Curt leans forward, dropping his tone and looking the interviewer right in the eyes. "Her own brother [bleep] me up."

Shit. He's doing it. He's walking back on whatever promises he made in the so-called contract he made her sign.

"Her brother." He emphasizes in case no one caught it the first time. "I figured she'd come from some kind of past abuse to behave the way she does, and then to see how he went off on me for making a basic joke."

Curt scoffs, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair. "Worst thing I ever did was trust her. It's like a knife in the kidneys what she did. And now I've lost everything. I lost my band," he counts off on one finger. "I lost my reputation." He counts off on another. "I lost my life savings." A third finger pops up. "I lost feeling in my arm so I can hardly play anymore." A fourth finger is added. "And I lost my trust in humanity." He throws both arms in the air, done counting apparently. "What else is there? I can't get that back, Brad. It's just gone." He crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

The interviewer askes a few more question which I can't hear because my ears are ringing. How do we come back from this? He's vilified us when he's the literal villain.

The interviewer turns to the camera.

"We reached out for comment from Citizen One but as of filming have not yet heard back. More to come on the Curt Wainwright come back tomorrow night as the series continues."

Series? Fabulous. More bullshit for him to spew. Whoever thought giving Curt a spotlight was a good idea should have privileges revoked. Like, all of them.

My phone vibrates. I look down to see a posting notification from C1's official social media account.

@CitizenOneOffical – Let's be real @startracker. U never reached out and we never ghosted.

Another one pops up immediately after the first.

@CitizenOneOffical – and @WainwrightRocks is a tool. Don't believe a word he spews.

Well, I guess I know they were watching.

I lay down on the bed, spent. Isn't that what they call it when you've got nothing left? I can't make any decisions right now. I'm not physically capable.

I close my eyes, willing the bullcrap to disappear. Eyes still closed, I knock my heels together. "There's no place like home. There's no place like home."

I open my eyes to disappointment.

"Damn. It didn't work. Dorothy lied."

Anyone recognize "knife in the kidneys" ??? Who even says that?? Lol if you know you know, Cootie Kody Brown from Sisterwives has the WEIRDEST sayings. I think Curt stole a page out of Kodys playbook lol!!

My Sacrifice is a mood and it fit this chapter although the lyrics really don't. It's heavy, like these scenes, so I chose it.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

Thanks for reading!!