Call Me Vi | ONC 2024 Entry

Chapter 2

*I do not own the music in this chapter*

She wore a long, form-fitting purple dress under a fur trimmed coat paired with dark sunglasses.

My hand reached out for the drink that the bartender placed in front of me during the chaos, but I didn't take my eyes off of her. There was no doubt she was beautiful but also just as chaotic as the press made her out to be. Spencer had been trying to get me to write a story about Violetta for years, but the woman was so hard to track down it seemed more like a wild goose chance than anything.

The longer I took in her presence, the more I wondered just how much she was like what the stories said.

"Baxter. Bax!" Violetta yelled, now glaring in my direction.

I shifted my eyes down to my drink, letting the fruitiness coat my throat as I gulped down more of the alcohol.

The man in the suit came to her side, an exhausted look across his features. "Yes?"

"Tell these gawkers"—she looked straight at me—"that violations of my privacy will not be tolerated." Violetta turned up her nose as she stepped closer.

Maybe she was just as stuck-up as the press described. I held back a snort.

"Was that funny to you?" She snatched her sunglasses off of her face, her eyes fierce.

Apparently I wasn't doing a very good job. "You talk about privacy," I said, "and yet you invade my personal space."

Violetta rolled her eyes. "You don't get to talk to me about personal space. This is my vacation time and I will not have it ruined by some...civilian. And in yellow, no less." She said the last word as if she were talking about a dirty tissue as she took in my appearance.

I glanced down at my top and frowned. It wasn't that bad was it? And what did she have against yellow?

"Well, at least I know how to dress myself without the help of an entire team," I threw back at her. It was mean, yes, but she could've just let this all go.

The woman growled deep in her throat. "You do not get to talk to me like that. And if you ever cross me again—"

"Miss Dawson!" the concierge called out, desperately waving his arms. "While we always appreciate the business you bring to us here at The Bearside Hotel, I respectfully ask that you not, erm, harass the other vacationers."

"Very well." With a flip of her auburn hair and one final sharp glare across her delicate features, Violetta stomped off with Baxter following behind.

I returned to my dinner, chomping quietly on my chicken tenders as a television played in the corner. "Some vacation this is turning out to be," I muttered to myself.

The bartender chuckled as he wiped a glass clean. "Violetta is surely one of our more complicated guests. But I feel for the poor girl. Twenty-seven years old and scandals out the wazoo."

My ears perked up at the sound of that but then I immediately kicked myself. No, I would not dig for a story right now. Violetta may've been a bitch, but that didn't mean she deserved for her life to be put on the front pages more than it already was.

"Anyway," the bartender continued, "don't let her diva attitude deter you from enjoying the sights of Asheville."

I smiled as I dipped my last tender into the honey mustard sauce. "Thank you. I plan to make this weekend as relaxing as possible." The last thing I wanted was for Violetta to ruin the first vacation I'd gifted myself in years.

After I finished eating, I returned to my room to unpack. Although my work tablet was stored safely in my desk at the Tribune, I still had my personal device that I liked to use on the weekends. The closest I got to a vacation these days was lounging in a bikini on the deck of my townhouse with a book and a mango daiquiri. When Mari and I were still together, we would do this every weekend in the spring and summer.