I stared at the name on the screen.
Eve Laurent.
For a moment I just looked at it, the two words sitting there, calm and unassuming, like any other contact calling on any other afternoon.
My thumb hovered.
I thought about not answering.
I thought about letting it ring out, blocking the number, pretending I'd been asleep or in the shower or simply unavailable to women who had spent the last several weeks trying to dismantle my career from the inside.
Then I thought, "no."
Because not answering was information too. Not answering told her something about where I was and how I was feeling and what she had managed to do to me.
And I was not going to give Eve Laurent that.
I answered on the fourth ring.
Not the first, that would have looked eager.
Not the last, that would have looked rattled.
The fourth. Calm. Unhurried.
"Eve," I said.
"Zoe." Her voice came through warm and immediate, the particular warmth of someone who had rehearsed it. "Oh thank goodness. I wasn't sure you'd pick up."
"Why wouldn't I?" I said pleasantly.
A small pause. Just half a beat.
"Well." She exhaled softly, the sound of someone genuinely concerned, performed to absolute perfection.
"After everything that happened I just, I wanted to check on you. I hope that's okay."
"Of course," I said. "That's really thoughtful."
I moved to the window.
Looked out at the evening city.
Kept my voice completely easy.
"How are you doing?" she asked. "Really. Today must have been, God, Zoe, I can't even imagine.
The show, and then what they're saying online," She made a small sympathetic sound. "It's just awful. You don't deserve any of this."
"Thank you," I said warmly. "I really appreciate you saying that."
"I mean it." Her voice was earnest. Sisterly. The voice of someone who had your absolute best interests at heart and needed you to know it.
"This industry can be so brutal sometimes. The way people jump to conclusions without knowing the full story," A pause. "Have you spoken to your team? Are they taking care of you?"
"Diane is on top of everything," I said. "She's incredible. I'm in good hands."
"Good. Good." A brief pause. "And the, I mean, I don't want to pry, but the substance they found. Is that going to be."
"It's being handled," I said. Smooth. Final. Giving her absolutely nothing to work with.
A beat.
"Of course," she said. "I'm sure it'll all be cleared up quickly.
These things always are when there's nothing to them." A small warm laugh. "And honestly anyone who knows you knows this is ridiculous.
You are one of the most professional people in this industry."
"That means a lot coming from you," I said.
And I smiled as I said it.
Because if we were performing then I was going to perform.
"I did see the footage outside the venue," she said, casually, the way you mention something you've just happened to notice.
"With the man. Bryan, is it?" A light curious tone. Just interested. Just making conversation. "He seemed very, present."
"There it is, I thought.
The first real probe underneath the concern.
How close are you to this man. What does he know. Is he a problem for me.
"He's a friend," I said simply. "He saw the news and came to make sure I was okay.
It's always good to have people like that in your corner."
"Absolutely," Eve agreed immediately. "Everyone needs that." A pause. "Though I imagine John must have been, I mean, seeing that online. That must have been an interesting conversation."
I almost smiled.
Interesting conversation. She wanted to know if Bryan's appearance had caused damage between me and John.
She wanted to know if she could add a relationship fracture to the pile of things currently falling on my head.
"John and I are perfectly fine," I said pleasantly. "Thank you for asking."
"Oh good." The relief in her voice was immaculate. "I'm so glad. You two are such a lovely couple."
"We are," I agreed.
A brief silence.
I could feel her recalibrating on the other end. Probing and finding nothing. Smiling and getting smiled back at.
Every carefully placed comment landing on a surface that gave nothing back.
"Well," she said finally, with the warmth of someone wrapping up a genuinely caring call. "I just wanted you to know that not everyone out there is against you.
There are people in this industry who see what's happening and think it's wrong."
A pause. "If you ever need anything, someone to talk to, someone in your corner, I'm here."
"Eve." I put real feeling into my voice. Gratitude. Warmth. The works. "That is so kind. Honestly. Thank you for calling. It means more than you know."
"Of course," she said softly. "We have to look out for each other. This industry is hard enough already."
"It really is," I agreed.
"Take care of yourself, Zoe."
"You too, Eve. Truly."
The line went dead.
I stood at the window for a long moment with the phone in my hand and the city moving below me and the smile still technically on my face even though there was no one left to perform it for.
Then I let it go.
Took a slow breath.
Eve Laurent had just called me to check on me.
She had expressed concern about the drug accusation.
She had asked warm questions about John and Bryan and my team.
She had offered her support.
She had been, by every observable measure, a concerned colleague reaching out on a difficult day.
And every single word of it had been assembled with the precision of someone who knew exactly what buttons to press and exactly how hard to press them without leaving fingerprints.
The substance they found. Is that going to be...
Pressing for information.
And the man. Bryan, is it?
Checking the damage.
John must have been, that must have been an interesting conversation.
Hoping for fracture.
She had gotten none of it.
I had given her warmth and pleasantness and complete composure and absolutely nothing useful and she had ended the call with less than she'd started with.
Good.
I set the phone down on the windowsill.
No concrete evidence, I reminded myself. Not yet.
I knew what she'd done. I knew who she was and what the dress seam and the paper wrap and the badge access log all pointed toward.
I knew with the kind of bone deep certainty that doesn't require proof to exist, proof just confirms what you already know.
But knowing and proving were two different things.
And until the gap between them closed I had to keep playing this game, composed and unbothered and completely unreadable while Diane worked and the access logs were traced and the truth assembled itself at whatever pace truth moved at.
With time, I told myself.
With time.
I made tea I didn't particularly want and sat on the couch and opened my phone properly for the first time since the morning.
The internet had not calmed down.
If anything it had gotten louder.
Zoe hasn't posted anything. No statement. No story. Nothing. And honestly? That's the most confident move she could have made. Let them talk.
44.2K likes
UPDATE: apparently mystery man's name is Bryan. That's all we have. No last name. No social media presence anyone can find. This man is a GHOST and somehow that's even more attractive
38.7K likes
The way Bryan said "the people responsible know who they are" and then just, walked away. No further comment. No name dropping. Just said what needed to be said and removed her from the situation. SIR.
52.1K likes
I scrolled further.
I'm going to need people to stop making this man Bryan a hero. We still don't know what he is to her. And we still haven't addressed the drugs. Stay focused.
9.8K likes
Counterpoint: the dress failing AND substances found at the same show is statistically unlikely to be coincidence. Someone needs to be investigating the show staff not Zoe.
61.3K likes
Okay but where is JOHN in all of this. I've been asking for two days. His girlfriend is all over the internet and he has posted nothing. Said nothing. Done nothing publicly. That's a choice.
47.8K likes
That's a choice.
I stared at that last one.
Forty seven thousand people had liked a stranger pointing out that John had said nothing.
Done nothing publicly.
While Bryan's face and voice and the people responsible know who they are was everywhere.
I put the phone down.
Thought about John's call.
Who is that man.
Not are you okay.
Not I'm coming.
Just,who is that man.
The wrong question.
On the worst day.
Bryan texted at nine.
Bryan: How are you holding up?
Me: Still standing.
Bryan: Good.
A pause. Then —
Bryan: How are things between you and John? I can imagine any man seeing his girlfriend trending online with another guy isn't exactly sitting well.
I looked at the message for a long moment.
Thought about lying.
Decided against it.
Me: He called. He wasn't happy. Which I understood, I do. Any man would react the same way seeing that footage, but...
Bryan: But?
I smiled slightly despite myself.
Me: But the part that broke me a little, with everything happening with my career, the show, the dress, what they found backstage, that wasn't the first place his mind went. His career concerns came after. His questions about you came first.
A pause on Bryan's end.
Bryan: I'm sorry Zoe.
Me: Don't be. John has his own way of fixing things. He'll come around. He always does eventually.
Bryan: That's a lot of eventually to keep living in.
I read that and said nothing for a moment.
Because he wasn't wrong.
And we both knew it.
Bryan: Does he know who I am? Did you tell him?
I looked at that question.
The honest answer sat in my chest like something with weight.
Me: He wants to know. He asked.
Bryan: And?
A long pause on my end this time.
Me: I don't know if I can bring myself to tell him you're my ex. Not right now. Not on top of everything else.
The three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Took longer than usual.
Bryan: I understand that.
Bryan: But Zoe, you're carrying a lot of things alone right now. The career. The accusations. Whatever is happening with us.
Bryan: At some point something has to give.
I stared at whatever is happening with us for a long time.
Me: I know.
Bryan: I'm not pressuring you. I just need you to know that I see it. All of it. Even the parts you haven't said out loud yet.
I pressed my lips together.
Even the parts you haven't said out loud yet.
That was the thing about Bryan. He never needed you to finish the sentence. He already knew where it was going.
Bryan: For what it's worth, whatever you decide to tell him or not tell him, I'm not going anywhere.
I set the phone on the nightstand.
Turned the lamp off.
Lay in the dark staring at the ceiling.
I'm not going anywhere.
And John's voice."
Who is that man.
Two men.
One who had called to ask about my career and stayed to talk about himself.
One who had driven across the city, said exactly the right thing to a press pack, and was now texting me at nine o'clock to ask how I was carrying everything.
Not to ask what it meant for him.
Just, how I was carrying it.
I closed my eyes.
And let the question I'd been avoiding settle over me properly for the first time.
At some point something has to give.
He was right.
I just wasn't ready yet to decide what that something was.
The heaviest things we carry, are never the ones other people can see.
They are the sentences we don't finish.
The names we don't say.
The truths we keep folding smaller and smaller, hoping they'll eventually disappear.
They never do.
They just wait.
Patient as anything.
For the moment we finally, run out of places to put them.
Pretty poison always comes in the warmest packaging.