Chance and Tennyson. His arm was around her. They were leaning in close. It almost, but not quite, looked like they were kissing. She suspected what was happening was that it was noisy by the street and they were saying goodbye, which required leaning in. She wasn’t worried. Chance despised cheating, given his father and grandfather, and he would never do that to her. She was confident that they were back together and there was no way Chance would be unfaithful.
“Let’s go,” Elle said. “There is a quinoa salad in there calling my name.”
“Yum,” Jolene said, though she didn’t mean it. She would rather have fried chicken. She started to walk away, but the photographer stopped her.
He both grabbed her arm and shoved his phone in her face, like he was going to get it in there closer so she would give him the reaction he wanted.
“You need to back off,” she said, firmly. “And let my arm go. Now.” He had crossed a line.
He let her go, but with a shove. Jolene stumbled backward and she fell to the ground. Another paparazzi was already trying to help her up while a third took pictures. Elle was in the first guy’s face and there was shouting, accusations, threats to call the cops. Jolene just sat on the pavement, stunned.
The other man kept murmuring, “Are you okay? Let me help you up.”
Accepting his offered hand, she forced herself to stand up. The hell if she was going to be photographed sprawled out on the asphalt of the grocery parking lot. She was determined to hold onto her dignity, such as it was.
“Thank you,” she said to the one decent human being in the bunch who had offered her a hand. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Hart.”
Then the cops arrived and it was a hot mess of he-said, she-said and it was an hour before Jolene and Elle got to leave. Without any quinoa or vegetables.
It was the first time she’d really experienced a photographer getting physical with her and it was very unnerving. She tried to call Chance but he didn’t pick up. It worried her a little that Chance was going to be upset. Hell, angry. Ticked off that already the media was interfering in their relationship. It had driven a wedge between them before and she didn’t want it to do that again, but he didn’t call her back so she tried to just put the whole nasty incident out of her mind.
When their older brother Shane called Elle and asked to come on over because he had some news, she figured it was a perfect diversion from the crappy downturn her day had suddenly taken.
Elle, who was usually so pragmatic, kept trying to rile her up further. They were standing in Jolene’s kitchen eating yogurt that was a little off from being in the fridge too long, but they were both too hungry and stressed to care. “You need to sue that guy. How dare he say that I shoved him when he started it?” Elle was fuming as she shoveled yogurt into her mouth.
“I have a call in to my lawyer. Hopefully he’ll call back soon. I’m sure it will all be fine.” She hoped, anyway. This was a first for her–to be in an actual altercation with paparazzi.
“We can press assault charges against him too, so that’s a wash, right?”
“Lord, I hope so. We can’t be casual about legal shit.”
“I can’t believe he said I tripped him, which is total crap. It’s not my fault he fell when I was calling him a piece of shit.”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Jolene asked ruefully. “And please tell me Shane is bringing us food when he comes over. And that Mama isn’t with him as some sort of surprise, because I will lose it. I can’t be cheerful for Mama when I’m worried.”
“No, of course not. She’s still in St. Pete hitting on retired doctors. What does Shane want, anyway? I’m not in the mood for his businessman attitude. Every time I see him he gives me a hard time about not saving for my retirement. I can’t even plan tomorrow, how can I plan my retirement?”
“Don’t even talk about retirement. I just need to get through writing this next album.” She tossed her spoon and yogurt down onto her gorgeous quartz counter topping the beautiful mahogany cabinets in the house she was not going to be able to keep when that photographer sued her pants off.
“Hey, hey,