Call Me Vi | ONC 2024

Chapter 3 | Edited

"First of all," I said, rubbing my eyes and yawning, "that's not a real thing. And secondly, it's not because of work."

"Oh yeah." Hayden reached out of frame and returned with a coffee mug. "Violetta Diva-son is there, isn't she?"

My stomach twisted into a knot. "How'd you know?"

"It's all over the front page news. Along with a photo of her getting out of a car at a hotel that looks strangely like yours."

"Shockingly, you're correct." I craned my neck to see back inside the hotel room. Violetta still had not yet made her reappearance. I stepped in to check out my tablet. Sure enough, there was a story on the front page:

'Violetta Dawson and Long-time Boyfriend Split! Violetta Spirals Out of Control, Seeks Solace At Mountain Resort'

"Holy crap," I whispered. "No wonder she's been so moody."

"So you've met?" he asked. "I mean, I figured maybe you'd at least get to see her but it sounds like maybe you've got more than a glimpse."

"Weeeellllll," I dragged out the word. "She's kind of hogging my bathroom right now."

"Reagan!" Hayden sat up higher in the frame. "I thought you weren't doing the hookups right now. Especially with a"—he lowered his voice—"an unstable actress like Violetta."

I wrinkled my nose. "I never said I hooked up with her. And hey, remember she's a person, too. Even if the tabloids like to scream out their dramatics on the front page."

"Then why's she in your bathroom?" he asked just as the deviless herself emerged.

"Call you later." Before he could say another word, I tapped to end the call.

Violetta narrowed her eyes, now dressed in a simple lavender sweater and jeans with her hair pulled back into a twist. "Who was that you were talking to?"

"A friend."

"Uh huh." Her gaze wandered across the room, stopping as they landed on the table in the corner where I'd moved my stuff the night before. Violetta pursed her lips. "Is that...a press badge?"

I followed her gaze, my eyes widening. Crap. I forgot to put that away last night. "Yes and no. For one, I'm not the 'press' per se. I'm a, er, small-time journalist for a local magazine. That's it."

Violetta's glare deepened. "That's why you sought me out, isn't it? You thought you could get some story out of me? That's it, huh?"

"Violetta, I swear I never sought you out." I put my hands up in defense. Then I walked over to the press badge, picking it up so she could see I meant no harm, and shoved it deep down into my suitcase. "Believe me, if it were up to me I wouldn't have interfered last night."

"Why wasn't it up to you? You could've just left me there, I would've survived. I've done it before." She stepped closer. Her eyes swirled a mixture of gold, brown, and green. The angrier she got, the more mesmerizing they were to look at.

I swallowed. What was I thinking? No, professional. This was not professional. "It's not who I am to leave someone behind when I know they're in pain."

The silence spread out between us, and I suddenly wished I was anywhere but here.

"I'll be leaving now," she announced. "Don't expect to see me again. I plan on getting a new room far away from you."

"Good," I said. "Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out." The door slammed behind her, echoing through the room.

There was no way I wanted to spend more time around Violetta than I had to. Hopefully her publicist would honor her request for new accommodations soon.