The one and o n l y Hunter

B.N.E!

Aka, best news EVER! So it turns out my co-star in one of the plays I’m currently understudying in got–get this you guys, he got hit by a car! That’s not even the best part! Wait until you hear just who gets to play his part….THE GUY I’M UNDERSTUDYING FOR!

When one door opens, another one closes as they say!

Celebrating the downfall of an opponent, I see. Speaking from someone on the other side of that, I can assure you that seeing someone else rejoice because an injury stole an opportunity from you can be disheartening at best. Downright soul crushing at worst. I expected you to be on the right side of things. I expected sympathy. I expected… better. Pity.

Rachel: I only reject you because I know you'll just break my heart. You're the cute boy in high school that never would have liked me.

Rachel: I think the real question, is can /you/ handle my tongue? I have letters of reference for my skills.

HUNTER: So you break mine to protect yours. A burden I happily bare as long as it means that your precious heart remains in tact.

HUNTER: The boys in high school are just that. Boys. They intimidate easily. Men, on the other hand, do not. Even so, I can assure you, had we been in school together there is no doubt in my mind that I would have swept you off your feet.

The fundraiser would be over before he knew it, Hunter reminded himself for what felt like the millionth time and yet it did nothing to ease the growing tension. Time, it appeared, had given him the middle finger and began to slip by ever so slowly. And he was quickly beginning to lose his patience. Especially with the man before him and that slimy smirk that graced his lips as he not so subtly attempted to not only berate him by going on about the wrongs of violence, but he had the audacity to bring up the fighter’s injury. The one that may very well be the end of the career he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into. Literally. “Look, I –” He began only to be brought to a halt by the man waving his hand in Hunter’s face in a quick dismissal. Oh, how the fighter wanted nothing more than to smack that hand away and – No. He couldn’t. Balling his hands into fists, he attempted once more to slip out of the conversation, “Excuse me, I see – ” And for the fifth time he was interrupted, this time with a quick, “I have one more thing to add,” That was the last straw for Clarington. “No,” he growled out, stepping closer with his eyes narrowing angrily. “We’re done here.” The was, evidently, unfazed at first, his lips parting as though preparing to speak once more but Hunter took advantage of their height difference by squaring his shoulders and taking another step closer to look down at the man. “You’re done, you got me? Now turn around, scamper back to wherever you came from.”      

Mercedes needed a drink, and the closest tray was currently serving Hunter. A part of her wanted to find another server, even though he had wanted to do lunch, she was called out of town and returned right before the event so they had yet to bury the hatchet as they say. She knew he was going through a lot and if he said he didn’t mean to offend her then she would believe him at his word and extend an olive branch. So she walked over to him, but the moment she did, his words cut her like a knife. She shook her head taking a step back from him. “You know I was just coming to get a drink I wasn’t trying to talk about any of your issues. I was even going to accept your apology, but hey, thanks for yelling at me, that was fun.”

The instant the sound of Mercedes’ voice reached him, Hunter Clarington knew he had screwed himself over. He’d tried. God, how he had tried to clear the air with the songstress and with one moment he may have undone any shred of progress he’d managed to make. “Great,” he uttered below his breath as he brought the flute of champagne to his lips, downing it in one go. Placing the empty glass down, he turned to offer the woman a soft smile. “Mercedes. What a surprise.” he began, taking a small step in her direction. “Allow me to offer you yet another apology for that harsh response. Tonight has been,” he paused, muscle in his jaw jumping with the force in which he clenched his teeth. Tonight had been more than a little rough but he’d be damned before he admitted that out loud to anyone that he was not in pleasant terms with. “Quite the venture,” he concluded before extending his arm, offering up the full glass in his hand, “Champagne?”

OPEN · FUNDRAISER.

With all the people around, and with a big trail on her dress, Florence kept finding herself in trouble. Everyone was always too close to stepping on it, and the last she needed was for people to think a model couldn’t handle a dress. “I’m so sorry!” As she moved away from a director who clearly wasn’t looking, she collided lightly with a body. “Oh God, are you okay? I literally can’t move around like this” Her smile was still in place but her chuckles turned nervous right away, out of embarrassment. 

In that moment all Hunter knew was that he needed to shut his mouth and make a quick escape. As it turned out, keeping up the facade and pretending that all was well was far more difficult to do than he anticipated. But the fates were against him as he attempted to maneuver through the crowd only to find himself colliding with the blonde before him. Were it anyone else he would have likely uttered a harsh word and pushed by them but, despite what many there believed, he wasn’t a cave man. He would never dream of taking out his aggression on a woman. Least of all one so apologetic. “Don’t worry about me. I’m pretty sturdy so no harm done but you, on the other hand, appear to be in quiet the predicament.” He stated as he looked down upon her dress, “Bold move, wearing a train to a crowded event,” he teased lightly before hesitating, knowing that his reputation proceeded him and she my very well want nothing to do with him after the damaging headlines. And yet he proceeded to extend his arm out for her to grasp, “Allow me to escort you out of harms way.”

OPEN · FUNDRAISER.

One of the things she loved the most about this sort of event, not that she would ever say it out-loud, was the music. Since she was a little girl, along with all the other things that made them amazing, her dads had given her a love for dancing. They did those cheesy nights where they put music and slow danced all around the kitchen, even when Ophelia was big enough to tell them how embarrassing they were. Still, every time, she stayed to watch them, just as she was doing right now to the few people in the middle of the dance floor, with her third glass of champagne. It was really a lovely sight and she could stay there being creepy all she wanted to.

The way the couples swayed to the music as they danced under the warm glow of crystal chandeliers was almost hypnotic. Hunter could almost understand why Ophelia appeared to be entranced from where she stood. With a gentle smile, the fighter weaved his way through the crowd and quietly came to a halt beside the brunette. He took a moment to watch the crowd as they moved with the rhythm before turning his attention to the woman beside him. “Now why would a beautiful woman such as yourself be standing here all alone, watching the masses when you should be out there dancing yourself?”

Sam was spending way too much time trying to clock the wait staff to pick at some of the rather fancy finger foods they had among their drinks. When he saw one passing by Hunter Clarington, he headed in that direction against his better judgement and swept a treat off the tray, raising his brows at the sight of two drinks in Hunter’s hands. If he had three hands he would’ve guessed he probably would’ve picked up a third glass. “Hey, man, while I’m sure you got plenty to say about me, believe it or not, I don’t really mind other people’s headlines. Just my own.” He shrugged, flicking a toothpick in the corner of his mouth with his tongue. “Besides, that headline kind of did you dirty enough..” he added. “You got some balls of steel showing up here after that stunt, I’ll give you that.”  

The urge to roll his eyes was strong when Hunter discovered it was none other than Sam Evans who had approached him. The corner of his mouth curled upward in a tense smirk. How easy it would be to release some of the tension that had been building up within him with a quick verbal lashing but he was being scrutinized. Eyes were everywhere and he had to remain composed. “Funny, I’d almost forgotten you even existed,” The fighter glanced at the blonde from out of the corner of his eye and his irritation only grew. ‘Stay quiet and walk away,’ he thought to himself, knowing that to be the best course of action but then the model continued to speak and Hunter wanted nothing more than to turn and break that pretty little face of his. Instead he cleared his throat, returning the flutes of champagne to the tray before turning to face Evans. “Didn’t know you were so interested in my balls, Sam.” Straightening his tie, he allowed his gaze to sweep their surroundings quickly before he took a step closer, his voice dropping so his words could only be heard by Sam, and Sam alone. “You do not want to fuck with me, Evans. You’re already fortunate enough that we’re surrounded by all of these people, otherwise, you would become intimately familiar with my fists of steel. Then again,” he paused, his eyes sweeping over the other man, “I’m not normally a fan of picking on men weaker than I. After all, unlike you, my muscles aren’t just for show.”

It had already started to be an interesting event. Rachel had caught a few couples engaging in more than innocent flirting in various corners. It almost made her wish she worked for Dirt herself. She could only imagine the kind of damage she would do as a reporter for Dirt. But that simply wasn’t a big enough star for her to strive for. Then she saw the sandy hair of a very attractive friend of hers who was embroiled in scandal. Rachel felt terrible for what Hunter was going through but at the same time, she didn’t want him to bring her down. Reputation was everything to Rachel and if he was going to get in the way of that… Well, no. She couldn’t get rid of Hunter. Not really. As the petite brunette sauntered up to the entrepreneur, she smirked at his words. “Really? I would think you’d want me to smother you with compliments until you fall further in love with me?”

For the first time that entire evening, Hunter Clarington felt relief wash over him. The smile that graced his lips was no longer forced, the tension in his neck and shoulders easing ever so slightly. He turned to gaze upon the brunette that approached and wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and take her away from there. Away from the speculation, the gossip, and the dire lack of authenticity in the majority of guests around him. Yet he managed to restrain himself from doing so and only approached her to slip the flute of champagne into her hand. He knew she had every reason to avoid him, to keep a safe distance what with his questionable reputation at the moment but the fact that she was there made him care about her all the more. “I don’t believe it’s possible to be more in love with you than I am at this moment,” he stated with a grin, his gaze gently sweeping over her petite form. “You look stunning, as always.” After a brief moment he took a step closer, his grin slipping slightly, “I appreciate your efforts to display your loyalty but you and I are more than aware that eyes are everywhere, dear. I don’t want you to be branded a woman in support of a man capable of doing horrendous things.”

Brittany was thrilled to see Hunter at the fundraiser, even if he’d been kinda mean to her before. But if she wanted to be a good cat-mom, she had to forgive her cat’s boyfriend’s cat-dad for being so confusing; he was family now. She all but bounced over to him, grinning from ear to ear as though their last conversation had completely left her memory. She had a very important item to deliver to a very important friend. “Oh, I’m not here to ask you about the guy you beat up!” She usually didn’t pay attention to the news unless it was about her, but there had been so much about that particular incident that it was hard to miss. Not that it bothered her much. She didn’t like violence, but hunter was her in-law now. “I’ve got a gift for you! Well, not for you, for Mr. Puss. Lord Tubbington made it by paw for him and wanted me to deliver it at the first opportunity.” She hadn’t been sure that Hunter would be here, but she’d carried it around with her everywhere she went since Lord Tubbington made it, just in case. After rummaging around in her bag, she pulled out a cute cat collar then held it out for Hunter to see. “Lord Tubbington says the rainbow colours are to celebrate his love for Mr. Puss.”

That voice. Hunter recognized it immediately and any shred of hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get out of there without incident was gone in an instant. He didn’t turn to acknowledge the girl. Instead he took a moment to down both glasses of champagne, returning them to the tray within the waiter’s hands a little too roughly. He watched the tray tip slightly as the waiter struggled momentarily to keep it steady and, perhaps, he may have felt an inkling of remorse. Yet, as it was, he could only feel growing agitation the more the blond spoke. He hesitated, a part of him wanting nothing more than to walk away, to pretend that Brittany hadn’t dared to approach him but he knew better. Especially when he looked around to find a pair of eyes glancing curiously in their direction. With a sigh, he turned to the blonde, his eyes dropping to the collar in her hands. “For fuck’s sake,” He began before quickly silencing himself, teeth gritting against the desire to lash out at her, to call her a moron and release a slew of expletives. And, God, how he wanted to smack that collar out of her hands but, fortunately, restrained himself from doing so but only barely. “Put that thing away,” Hunter hissed, eyes sweeping their surroundings in hopes that few had taken the time to pay them much attention. “And do refrain from even mentioning my cat, love, and your ball of lard in the same sentence. I’ll say this only once more, Brittany, in hopes that it’ll finally sink through that thick skull of yours: Cats do not speak. Mr. Puss is not romantically involved with anyone, least of all the heart attack waiting to happen that you call a cat. This entire scenario in which these two cats are madly in love and will live happily ever after is nothing more than a delusion. The sooner you accept that, the better off we’ll both be.”

I have to say, this is one of my favorite charities to give to and to attend their parties. what about you? 

With the sheer number of worthy causes, I can’t say that any one in particular is a favorite. Though I do have to admit I’m fond of a number of them. This one… not being one of them. Don’t misunderstand, I’m all for children and their families receiving aid, but children themselves are… a hassle. One that I never intend to burden myself with.

‘Wear expensive heels to the charity event’ they said, ‘it’ll be great!’ they said. Until I had my very own Cinderella moment and the second I stepped out the door to get in the car, my heel snapped. Surely Cinderella didn’t have it this hard, where’s my glass slippers and my Prince Charmings when a girl needs them. Also, I vote that flats and sneakers be allowed as proper black tie footwear. Surely the night will still be great, everything’s fine! Unmatching shoes or not.

This sounds like the perfect opportunity to be swept off your feet. In the literal sense. I do hope that you were rescued like the damsel in distress that you appeared to have been and found yourself with a new pair of shoes. If not then I will come running to save the day. Just say the word.

The fighter was irritated. Had been from the get-go. The severity of the recent events brought on by the ‘breaking news’ left him lacking the desire to appear, yet he was informed that it would be in his best interest to do so. He needed to keep up appearances if he intended to fix his image. Fantastic. Now the majority of the evening was spent mingling and putting on a brave face as he tried to grin and bare his way through the constant conversations in relation to what had recently transpired with his career. Or soon to be lack thereof, in their opinions. While he tried his best to appear unfazed at the constant reminder, it was beginning to wear on him. He excused himself from yet another conversation, this time from a DIRTnow staff member attempting to wrangle a quote from him about the paparazzo and his pending charges, to saunter over  to one of the many wait staff carrying a tray of champagne filled glasses. He reached for one, only to pause and say fuck it, before grabbing two. Just as he had gone to take a drink from one of the glasses he heard the shuffling of footsteps approach. Instinctively and far too abrasively, he commented, “Look, if you have something to say about my presence and recent headlines, do us both a favor and keep it to yourself.” 

I mean, it didn’t have to be tiktok, but it ended up being tiktok. I probably could have ended up on youtube or something. As for the pop up, I just feel like it’s that meme that’s like, “that sign can’t stop me, because I can’t read!”. When have I ever been known to listen? There are some super questionable characters on there, but I try to stick with just the animals.

Given the opportunity, I would personally choose youtube. Less cringe and more likely to actually end up watching something that you’ll enjoy. Of course you see it like that. Though I can’t blame you. I probably would as well. Do I need to respond that? I think we both know what the answer is. Cute, little animals on tiktok aside, how have you been, Mads?

If it helps, I get it. I got out of sorts with a pap the other day and if I hadn’t had someone there with me attempting, and succeeding at diffusing me enough to walk away, I’d be in your shoes right now. It happens and I hope everyone involved is alright.

At least someone appears to understand. Far too often I see people commenting that their actions don’t excuse my own. Clearly, they’ve never encountered the wrong pap who just won’t take no for an answer. You were very fortunate. If only I could have had someone there to diffuse the situation for me. Last I heard was that the only thing I bruised was his ego. Must have felt like a big man until he triggered the wrong response in me. His camera, I’m afraid, didn’t make it.

There’s always a new headline around the corner to make everyone forget about the one today. You want to get away to New York for a bit? My door’s always open. You know that. 

While I do see your point there, that new headline can’t come soon enough. The disastrous affairs of others are mildly distracting but they fail to truly take the heat off of me, unfortunately. You have no idea just how tempting that offer is and I may just take you up on that. I desperately need to get away from the judgemental stares.

Maybe it’s time to brush up on the PR training.

I’m not one to get involved in public affairs but I sit on both sides here. The thing is, that doesn’t matter. An opinion from the public has already been made and cocerced by the media. Probably best to come at it in a gentler tone but I can understand the anger.

Whatever is going on, I wish the best for you, my dude. It sucks. Especially losing sponsors. If you need anything, my team and I are here in support.

While I can appreciate the kind gesture, I continue to be compelled to state... if I wanted your opinion, I'd ask for it. A statement is, after all, just that. Not an invitation for criticism.