“Calling the execs?” Troy laughed as she retrieved it. “They won’t side with you.”
Barnes’ phone burst to life, a photo of me and the kids from the previous Christmas plastered on his home screen. He ignored the rush of notifications, scrolling deliberately until his face darkened. “You probably shouldn’t watch this,” he warned me, handing Zara the phone.
“I’ve come this far,” I said flatly.
Mortified recognition filled Zara’s face as grunts echoed, and I moved to see the screen.
A bathroom stall. Shawn’s bare back arching, tiger tattoo drenched in purple light. One knee on the toilet lid. Barnes roughly inside him. “Your cock feels so good… Pull my hair…” The hand of the viewer passes Barnes an opaque vial of poppers. Barnes shoves it against Shawn’s nostrils; he inhales deeply. “Too much?” The frame tilts to reveal the viewer’s hard cock, a hand with a beaded bracelet massaging it. “Fuck no, more.”
Imogen clutched my wrist, my pulse pounding in my temples.
Barnes pulls out and cums on Shawn’s back, teeth bared. Shawn drips with sweat, eyes dilated and wild. “Don’t stop, I didn’t cum yet.” Barnes regards the viewer, voice spent: “Want a turn?”
“What?” Troy gasped.
These are strangers, I recited.You don’t know them. You don’t care about them.But I did. I cared about Shawn so much and I despised seeing him like this, so vulnerable and compromised, oblivious to being recorded. But then I understood I was right: I didn’t know this person. This wasn’t the Shawn I knew. The Shawn fighting to change. The Shawn I would do all in my power to protect from this.
Tile floor fills the screen as the phone changes hands. “You want my dick?” a voice says. “I don’t care who, just fuck me,” Shawn replies.
“You sure?” Barnes asks.
“He’s had so much G he won’t remember who fucked him, just that it was a good time,” the man says, face still off camera. “I texted the guys at the bar. Full party.” Hands grab Shawn’s ass, and the man enters him, two quick thrusts until the camera pans up to reveal Troy in profile. “You like it—”
Barnes ended the video.
Troy’s eyes were so wide I thought they’d tumble out his skull. “You—”
“Kept filming and only sent you the first half?” Barnes supplied blankly. “Yeah. Ironically, I thought it’d be risky for you to possess the rest. You know, since you’d just signed Shawn to his first season ofEndeavorthe week before?”
And there it was. “Troy, you are officially removed from this set,” Zara said, her customary certainty revived. “Fortune, take him outside until security comes.”
Fortune wrapped a bear paw around his shoulder, but Troy was fixated on me, voice dripping acid on his way out. “You’re beyond stupid if you think he came here for you.”
Barnes regarded me tentatively, but I kept quiet as Troy passed us by.
“You know, I see why you didn’t get cast onLobby Boys, Troy,” Greta sighed, watching his departure in the handheld’s viewfinder. “You really aren’t that compelling on camera.”
The aftermath of Troy’s exodus proved anticlimactic. While she waited on guidance from the network brass, Zara paused production. No cameras, no mics. Imogen shoved frozen pizzas in the oven, while Fortune played solitaire with Winston’s old cards and Greta grumbled into the void. “I just don’t see why I’m in quarantine too. Aren’t I a free bird now?”
“Maybe they’ll let you back in the game since Troy was blackmailing you,” Imogen said.
Greta affected an uncannily good Drew Ecklund. “‘And now, free from the shackles of her extortionist, welcome back good old Greta…’”
“They’ll never mention Troy,” Barnes said, peering out the windowalmost in a trance, his first words since Troy had left. “And they definitely won’t scrap the whole season with one day left. They’re just figuring out how to cover it up.” I wondered if Barnes had at last given up. On me, on everything. After all, I’d now learned every lie he’d told, the indelible details of the life he’d lived for years beneath our own.
I finished my pizza and reached for Erika’s plate as well. “I’ve got it,” she said before walking off. Apparently our detente ended once Troy was vanquished.
Zara eventually entered, a PA following with reams of paper. “Okay, I just spent two hours on the phone with network legal, and I’ve been sent NDAs for each of you, which JoJo will distribute.” The suddenly christened PA waved sheepishly.
“I’m not signing anything without my lawyer’s approval,” Barnes replied blankly.
“I don’t have an NDA for you,” Zara shot back. “These deals are ‘most favored nations’ for Luke, Imogen, Erika, Fortune, and Greta. The network wants to speak withyoupersonally, Barnes. I distinctly recall the word ‘fraud’ being used.”
His face fell, and I silently watched him march to the executioner as Zara began outlining the documents. “Essentially, you’re releasing the network from any responsibility for what Troy did, and in exchange you’re each being offered a $1 million settlement.”
“Holy shit,” I murmured. I’d have enough money to provide for the kids for years, but I still sensed a catch. “And if we don’t sign the NDA?”
Zara grimaced. “You’d be barred from competing tomorrow in the finale or appearing in future seasons ofEndeavor… or any other show on the network.”
