The Fence || h. s.

16 || Give Me Something Real

The next few days seem to drag on forever, mostly because my current circumstances have made it impossible to go out without bumping into the blood-thirsty paparazzi outside my house. My celebrity status may have decreased significantly during the last few years, but my last name is still enough to generate interest. Especially since the news of my father arriving in Los Angeles had somehow gotten out a day after our 'family reunion', and now every pap in the city is hoping to snap a picture of either one of my parents leaving my house.

Left with nothing else to do but hide away in my Malibu prison, I indulge myself in many different tasks to pass the time: working out, trying out countless new recipes, or spending time with Georgie. A few months back, we had put up a little gate connecting our backyards, which has now become my sole reason for sanity. Not only does it allow me to slip out to the beach unnoticed, but also makes it possible for us to meet without paps seeing her walk into my house. The last thing I would want is to involve my kind-hearted quirky neighbour in this mess. 

And so, my days are spent procrastinating in anticipation of the nights, when I sneak out through Georgie's garden to see H. Not even the chilly weather, growing colder due to winter fast approaching, can deter me from seeing him. Our silly book club for two has been thriving, and I'm pretty confident that he's been using our poetry reading sessions as inspiration for his own work. 

At this point, I am convinced that he has to be either a novelist or a songwriter. This guy has a way with words, coupled with an adorable obsession of leaving me notes, poems or short silly rhymes. All these hints can only point in one direction. 

Yep, definitely an author. 

Today marks about a week since the unfortunate encounter with my parents, the one that left me reeling and annoyed even days later. It doesn't help the matters that my father has apparently made it his mission to check up on me daily, either via phone calls or messages. Ironically, the way he's suffocating me with his constant presence only heightens the feeling of isolation I have been struggling with since I got stuck in my house. 

At least this means I'm getting daily updates on the Sally lawsuit situation, but the case has been progressing so slowly that it's hard not to grow discouraged. None of the victims have expressed any interest in coming forward, mostly out of fear of their reputation getting ruined in case of losing the eventual trial. Right now I am convinced that only a miracle could help us put this man down. 

That single push forward we need comes this morning, in the form of a call from a very unlikely ally. When I answer the phone, I momentarily struggle to connect the voice to a face, until she finally introduces herself. 

"It's Kendall, we met at the part a few weeks back, I don't know if you remember me?" 

I did remember. The two of us barely exchanged a couple sentences that night, but she introduced me to Heather, whom I have been casually chatting with ever since she DM'ed me on Instagram a few weeks back. 

"Hi, sorry, I don't recall us exchanging numbers." 

"We didn't. I got your number from Sally, I hope you don't mind," she explains. 

"Not at all. How can I help you?" I prompt politely, since I'm confused as to why she's even called me in the first place. 

"I know I should be discussing this with Sally, but I've been told that your father's team is handling her lawsuit. I have some information that you might be interested in," she says, quickly adding, "Let me start by saying that my name can't be associated with any of this, for obvious reasons." 

I nod to myself, "Understandable." 

"When I read the news that Baker fired Sally publicly, it made me so fucking angry because it has happened before," she starts with an obvious tinge of annoyance in her tone. "It's so fucking unfair, and I hate feeling so helpless."