“We get it Asher, we get it. It wasn’t the result you were hoping for. Still, it could have been worse.”
Jett is standing over by the window, and hard though it is for me to imagine how things could possibly be worse right now, I’m grateful to him for the intervention. I smile tentatively in his direction, but he’s already buried in his phone again, and I end up catching Asher’s eye instead.
Whoops.
“Do you seriously think this isfunny?” he says, stopping his pacing to glare at me. “Do you have any idea what’s at stake here? Jett’s career, his reputation… his father’s career, his father’s—”
“Enough, Asher,” Jett interrupts. “You’ve made your point. You don’t have to rub it in. And this has literally nothing to do with my father, anyway.”
Asher’s mouth tightens into a thin line, but he doesn’t reply. I sincerely hope Jett will be rewarded in heaven for his kindness in sticking up for me, especially considering that I’m sure he must be just as angry as his agent is right now. When I told him in the car why I’d run out on him like that, he simply nodded tightly, then sat looking out of the window. He didn’t explode with anger, the way Asher has, but he hasn’t spoken much since then either, so I have no way of knowing what he’s thinking.
What are you thinking, Jett?
“Look,” he says, pocketing the phone at last. “I’m sure we all have something we’re scared of. It’s not Alexandra’s fault that she happened to be confronted by hers.”
Grace nods, eagerly.
“I’m scared of buttons,” she offers timidly. “And empty swimming pools. They terrify me.”
“Spiders,” Leroy admits, looking bashfully. “No creature needs that many legs.”
We all look expectantly at Jakob.
“Death,” he says. “The inevitable downward spiral towards old age and infirmity. And also harem pants.” His mouth twists into a grimace. “There’s just no need, is there?”
“Hold up,” interjects Leroy. “I want to change my answer to what he said. That’s way better.”
“Are you scared of your own mortality too, Leroy?” Grace asks, placing a comforting hand on his arm.
“Naw, I mean them baggy pants,” says Leroy. “That shit’s bad.”
“You want to know what I’m scared of?” Asher snaps loudly. “I’m scared of being poor,” he goes on, having successfully gotten everyone’s attention. “And the rest of you should be, too,” he adds. “Because if Jett’s out of a job, we’reallout of a job. And I somehow don’t think Justin Duval will be impressed with today’s coverage, do you?”
There’s a moment’s silence during which I have to bite my tongue to stop myself retorting that if Jett has to give up acting, maybe Asher himself should give it a go. He’s definitely dramatic enough. This definitely wouldn’t be a good time to be drawing attention to myself, though, and I’m still having painful flashbacks to that photo of me running out of the restaurant with my mouth open, mid-scream, so I remain silent, and try my best to retain my balance on the bar stool I’m sitting on, which is one of those revolving ones. This doesn’t bode well for me.
“Um, no publicity is bad publicity?” Grace says at last, breaking the silence and earning Asher’s wrath in return.
“Nonsense,” he barks. “That’s just what amateurs say, Grace, you know that. This is terrible publicity. Terrible.Catastrophic. And now we need to find a way to fix it. Which, given that we can’t get rid of Ms Steele, here, without making Jett look even worse, is going to be a pretty tall order. Suggestions, people. Quickly.”
There’s another short pause.
“Fix her eyebrows,” Jakob says, smirking.
“Maybe we could use this as an opportunity to raise awareness for kabourophobia,” Grace says timidly. “That’s what you call a phobia of crabs,” she adds earnestly. “I looked it up. Maybe Lexie could say she’s trying to help other people with the condition. She could start a charity and—”
“I’m thinking we hire a yacht,” Asher interrupts her. “Get some photos of the two of them on deck, in their swimwear.”
“NO,” say Jett and I in unison.
I’m glad there’s one thing we agree on, then.
“Okay, Grace, try to find out which events are scheduled for tonight, then,” Asher replies, shrugging. “The more public, the better, really.”
“No,” Jett says again, more quietly this time. “No big crowds, Asher. Not unless we absolutely have to.”
He shoots his manager a look, which, to my surprise, instantly makes the other man back down.
“Okay, okay,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. “Another restaurant? A better one, this time?”
