This was the sacrifice she’d made to be at the top. This was the path she’d voluntarily chosen. The marble floors felt like quicksand under her feet.
“The papers are being sent to your attorney. We’ll be dissolving all ties. You understand, don’t you? It’s the VSU. We can’t lose those deals.”
“Scott, your dad would never have let this happen to me.”
“He’s gone, and I’m sorry. So are you, for all intents and purposes.”
Scott stood up from her fancy sofa. He turned his back on Goldie and walked out. Goldie was livid. How in the heck had it come to this? In one moment?
“I’m not being dropped, Scott—oh no, I’m dropping you!!”
Myrna ran through the hallway and out the door as Goldie’s emotions spiraled out of control.
She was panicked, angry, and in disbelief. And she felt betrayed. Her years of loyalty to Mitchell Ozock and his measly son had evaporated thanks to a disagreement with the latest bratty director.
Scott didn’t look back as she hurled her toothless statement at him.
Goldie was dropped.
Well, she’d find another agent, or an indie project, or a script to invest in. Why in the world hadn’t she started buying rights to books like Winne Reese did? She hadn’t gotten into producing. Ugh. She was at the mercy of an industry that valued her for her figure, face, and ability to turn on a fifteen-year-old boy. It was a mess!
She walked out to the pool and looked out. The view alone here was worth a million dollars. It was the right view in the right neighborhood.
This was where Hollywood power players lived. She walked among them! She had an Oscar, for flip’s sake.
Was this it? Should she start again? Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. No. She was way tougher than that.
No one got here without being tough. She just hadn’t been quite smart enough. She should have seen this.
She’d ignored the signs that Scott Ozock wasn’t operating in her best interests. They had boxed her out of an agency that used to use her name to recruit top talent.
Goldie didn’t know how long she stood there, looking at L.A. spread out below her. This view used to fill her with satisfaction. It was the proof she’d made it.
But right now, it made her feel cold. It made her feel alone. Millions of people out there and not one she could call to vent. Or to come over and commiserate.
She’d isolated herself on purpose.
Goldie was upset, betrayed, disappointed, and frustrated.
But she was also a fighter. She’d come here alone and had done what it took to get ahead. Despite how she was marketed in half her pictures, she wasn’t a delicate little thing.
She looked like a waif most of the time, but she wasn’t. Even though bile was the only thing she’d swallowed for three weeks leading up to fitting into that stupidsuper suit.
She had literally starved herself to be Steely Ann. All for her one stupid line. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a full stomach. It was all so messed up.
Her mind was drawing a blank, though, on how to proceed, on what to do next.
A voice pulled her out of her head and back poolside.
“Goldie, is this your little gal? I’m sorry, but the door was open, and she trotted right up to me.”
Goldie turned to find a gorgeous woman with waves of long auburn hair walking out to the patio. Myrna tucked in her arm. This had to be a former supermodel or something. Did Goldie forget some sort of charity event committee meeting?
“Myrna!” Goldie rushed forward, and the woman gently handed her over.
“Goldie, I’m so sorry to just show up. I know it’s weird.”
“Excuse me?”
