Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

"Teller! I know you're in there! Open the damn door right now!" My manger's voice thunders behind the door of the trailer. Eyes opening and a headache slowly brewing, I rub a hand over my face as I slowly wake up. What now?

Pulling open the little metal door with probably too much force than was necessary, I stare at the small man before me.

In actuality though, he was probably a foot or so shorter than me but fit, with muscles that stretched his custom made shirt. The two top buttons were open to reveal a bush of dark chest hair. He had a motley haircut that was graying at the temples and, bushy eyebrows atop deep set, dark eyes that were currently fixed to a scowl, a cigarette hung in his mouth, grabbing it out he puffed a cloud of smoke. His features looked tired as though he hadn't had much sleep.

"You my friend –", he points his cigarette at me before throwing it down, trampling it and looking back up at me, "fucked up. Big time." Gesturing I move aside, he climbed up the rickety staircase into the trailer.

We're standing at the miniscule dining area when he throws down today's paper and Talk Magazine's latest issue. I stand in my place, the overhead light shining down at the glossy shots and gasp, no, no, no; this was not happening.

"Please tell me, why you're running around the damn area with this journalist and her kid?" John's voice is nothing but a whisper as I look at the pictures before me. There's Sierra atop my shoulders, smiling her toothy smile and pointing at the ship. There's Alisha, our brief kiss on the ship and of course –the last picture from when the damn cameras followed us all the way back to the jeep.

My arms protectively hold both Alisha and Sierra. The pictures definitely portray us out to be doing more than an evening together but at the same time, I didn't find it wrong. Just harmless fun. We...look good together. I can see these two people becoming part of my life, I can see us doing this in the long haul. Jesus, get yourself together man.

I let out a sigh, and drag a hand through my hair, "I...don't know what to say, except that it's just blowing things way out of proportion." I eye John, his arms are crossed and he's leaning against the tiny kitchen sink, he nods his head slow as if asking me to continue and I do.

"Look they've not done much since they got here...she mentioned wanting to see the falls and since I technically had the three days free, I opted to take them", my fingers pick up the glossy magazine and I stare down at my face, that smile was real. I was happy and I honestly don't remember a time I smiled just because I felt good.

Living a life that's always in the open you eventually rehearse your responses and act accordingly when in the public eye but here I was, Sierra on top of my shoulders, her tiny hands pointing at the ship while her eyes sparkled.

A heavy sigh falls over the silence and I look up, John has his thumb and forefinger squeezing his eyes shut.

"I get it, you were being a good friend", the words dripped in sarcasm. "But you need to be smarter than this man. We won't know much about her and the papers are calling her kid your love child, don't you get how bad this is going to be. We need to fix this Jackson".

I contemplate the situation before me, again nothing seemed wrong. The child I had grown to love, sure she wasn't my own but that didn't mean I loved her any less and her mother? Well I was already in love with her. I gaped at myself at that revelation. Woah, I love her.

Recognition dawns on me. Chewing on my bottom lip I simply stare at the magazine and try to figure out what I should do. It suddenly occurs to me that while my manager was here trying to fix my problem, Alisha is probably alone right now, trying to figure this all out on her own.

Dropping the magazine down on my desk I go over to the tiny kitchen counter and grab the keys to the jeep.

John tucked his hands into his pockets, "where do you think you're going?"

I open the door and gesture to it with my head, "where do you think?" I ask as we both hop down the stairs, "I need to check on them –Alisha must be so confused".

He growls in frustration while watching me jog towards the jeep. "Don't you get it man? She's going to use you for her five fucking minutes of glory and you're just playing right into it".

I bite down any response I want to throw back at him and jump into the jeep. Key in ignition, I drive out towards the studios metal gates, heart hammering and I silently pray they're okay.

***

The traffic begins to piss me off, but you know what pisses me off even more? Calling Alisha and her number being busy. Every. Single. Time. Eventually though, I round off the bend and turn into the brownstone's lane when I suddenly brake. Fuck Me.

White reporter vans are deposited all over the curb, neighbors are peeking over the walls and there are cameras, everywhere. Before I can even think of backing up one of the reporters spot me and the cluster of electronics hover closer towards the vehicle.

With a deep breath, I park the jeep and hop out. Head down, hands in my pockets I walk over to the apartment and jog up the stairs. The front door is open so I walk in and latch it close. Jogging up the stairs I reach their floor and unlike my first time over here, the corridor is quiet.

There is no children's music blaring through the halls, Elmo or Cookie Monster aren't conversing. I knock on her door and the door adjacent opens, an elderly man puts his head out and peaks, I simply give a nod and look back at the close door before me.

I contemplate banging on the door but figure the man next door might think I'm one of the reporters down stairs and try to call the cops on me. Calm, stay calm. I knock once more and the door opens, Alisha's red and swollen eyes greet me through the metal chained latch. My throat is dry and I think I've stopped breathing.

"Please let me in." I beg, my own eyes and nose stinging as I swallow. The click of the latch comes loose and the door swings open. She's still in her silk pajama shorts and tank top. Her hair is a mess and she sniffles as I walk past her and inside.

"Sy?" I ask, eyes searching the quiet house.

"Heather came about an hour ago", her voice is hoarse, as if she'd spent good amount of time crying and the sound sends a punch to my very being. This is all my fault. Grateful to my sister, I make a mental note to thank her for helping out. Walking over to Alisha, trapping her body between my own and the front door, I bend my head until our foreheads rest together and breathe in her soft vanilla scent.

"I'm so sorry, Alisha. I'm so sorry", I feel an incessant shake and when I open my eyes I notice her entire body tremble as a sob breaks out of her body, grabbing her by her waist I pull her and crush her body with mine. Holding her as she falls into a million pieces.

There's a buzzing and when we both look up Alisha realises it her phone. She walks over to the little table at the entryway and picks it up. Her face suddenly turns grey and her mouth pops open. When she looks back up at me she mouths "Wanda Skyes", and picks up the call, she walks away further into the house and towards the entrance of the open kitchen and dining area. I hang back thinking it would be best to give her some space.

My own phone buzzes and it's a text from my sister, it's a link to another news portal the message underneath it reads "Fix this or you'll lose them both". Clicking on the link, the web page reroutes to a video posted on another tabloid website called "S News". The video was of when I nearly knocked a guy over for blocking Alisha's door and then the caption read "Jack Teller's Secret Baby Mama??" my blood boils and I nearly crush my phone with my bare hands. I walked towards the kitchen but immediately stop myself when I hear Alisha's voice rising.

"There is no way you can do this Peter! Please! I'm begging you". Her voice screeches at the end and there's no doubt that's fear in her tone, she's scared. I hang at the entrance just as she's hanging up. She tugs at her hair in frustration, pacing up and down frantically.

I feel so helpless, watching her world fall apart. This was not what I and wanted. Cautiously, I step in and speak.

"What did Wanda want?" she looks up suddenly registering that I was still in the house and slums down into one of the kitchen isle's stools.

"Nothing really, just asked if I was okay...and that they would make sure no more damage was done to my name. I should be grateful –I've got a boss who's putting a lot on the line to save my face..." God she was beautiful but so naïve!

I roll my eyes, and shove a hand into my own hair. "It's not you they're saving Alisha, it the magazine –since you're an employee –they need to ensure that their own names don't come out. Especially if people find out a Hollywood actor was in fact hooking up with a reporter".

She flinches at my words and she looks up at me in shock, you'd think I physically slapped her. I press my lips together and get on my knees so that we're at least at eye level.

"I'm so sorry that this happened –I wasn't thinking about the public, I just wanted some time with you and Sierra", I place a hand on her knee and gave it a light squeeze, her eyes squeeze shut but a single tear slips down.

"You don't need to apologies Jackson –I knew what we were doing. I agreed to us hanging out. I'm just sorry you got caught and labelled the way you did. It can't be easy for you either". It baffles me how even when she was being attacked by the public, she was more worried about me. This was just gives me more reasons to love her.

The phone on the kitchen table begins to ring again but she takes a look at the display and winces. Her eyes meeting mine, she gulps through new tears.

"Who is that?" anger slowly bubbles within me, did the reporters get a hold of her number?

"It's Peter, my ex-husband", she whispers and my body stiffens. There was no noise, nothing except for our breathing and the incessant ring of her phone.