The dismissal stings, but I somehow manage to drag myself up and trudge to the door. Another long elevator ride, more stares and whispers, and I stuff what few personal belongings I have in my office into my purse.
The trip to legal is a haze of muffled voices and a blur of papers being shoved in my face for me to sign. I don’t even know what I’m signing at this point. My walking papers, sure, and probably a Nondisclosure Agreement. I'm sure Oliver will take me to court if I say word one against the company.
When I finally exit the building, the reporters who followed me in are all waiting in the parking lot. I try to keep my head up, but shame and nerves cause me to duck as more cameras and microphones are held to me. The reporters shout questions, and many of them have heard the same rumors Oliver did. I keep my teeth clenched tight, my mouth shut, not wanting to give them any more ammunition against me than they already have. If I’m going down, I’m going down on my own terms. I’m not letting them get to me.
Except theyaregetting to me. My steps quicken as they crowd me in the parking garage, and before long I’m running to my car.
Thank God for remote entry. I rip open the door and jump in, slamming the car shut before any of the manic reporters can get a hand in. I push the start button and gun the engine, but it doesn’t deter them. They swarm my car, and I have to inch forward to make any progress. Now that I’m an ex-employee, I can’t call security to have them removed. I have to find a way out of here on my own.
I have to do everything on my own now.
As I crawl out of the garage at a snail’s pace, I scramble to think of where I can go. I can’t go home, can’t go to Micah’s; they’ll be waiting for me there. I don’t have really anywhere to escape to. The few friends I have in the area will all be working right now. Nobody’s home to take me in until this blows over, and even if they were, who would? I’ve been so busy in recent years that I doubt anyone would be comfortable enough letting me stay with them.
I finally break past the throng of reporters and exit the parking garage. More cars wait along the street for me, and they pull out behind me to follow me wherever I end up going.
I don’t know how the actors do it. The constant media presence is maddening. No matter where I turn, what road I take, they’re after me. I’ve gone from behind-the-scenes to hot commodity, and I don’t much care for it.
If I’d thought the drive in had been bad, my exit is even worse. It’s like the cars following me are multiplying before my eyes. Every time I check my rearview mirror, I see more of them. More photogs hanging out car windows, more cameras, more vehicles riding my ass. LA traffic is bad enough without all this distraction. I grip the wheel with shaking hands, trying to keep myself—and my car—under control as they swarm me.
I glance in the rearview for the hundredth time in less than a minute, and I scream as the van behind me slams into me full force, knocking my car into the back of the SUV in front of me. My head slams into the headrest behind me as the airbag deploys, and that’s the last thing I know.
Chapter 32
Micah
I get the call from Iris’s company about two hours after she left. As I’d expected, they’re dropping me and Hailey from the campaign. I don’t give a shit, but I know Hailey will be disappointed. She was excited to be on television.
I break it to her as gently as possible, and to my surprise Hailey just shrugs and continues with her workbook. “Okay.”
That’s it? “You’re not upset?”
“Nah. I didn’t like the lights and stuff. There were too many people, and the makeup felt icky on my face. Acting isn’t fun. I wanna be a zookeeper, anyway.”
I should’ve known. Four-year-olds are resilient, and they change their minds more frequently than they change clothes. Well, at least that’s one less girl to have to console today.
The hours drag by as I wait for word from Iris, making work almost impossible to focus on. Where is she? If she was fired, I’d think she would be home soon after. Did that mean she managed to save her job? I’d like to hope so, but I also saw the interviews with Karen and Sloan. I doubt Iris could spin that in a positive light for Mr. Franklin.
I break at noon for lunch and open a new tab on my computer, hoping to find some word through social media. I scroll through the entertainment headlines in search of some clue.
Actor arrested. New sitcom announced. Closure on the freeway after a bad accident.
Thatgives me pause. The freeway that’s being closed is on Iris’s way home from her office. I open the article and close the few ads that pop up.
What I see causes my lunch to resurface, and I grab the trash can by my desk to catch the vomit.
I’d recognize that car anywhere. It’s been parked in the driveway next door for months.
I’m just not used to seeing it sandwiched between two other, larger vehicles.
The aerial replays, taken by helicopter, show Iris being pulled from the wreck with a neck brace on. She’s placed on a stretcher and put into a waiting ambulance. With how far away the camera is, I can’t see much more than that. I don’t know how badly she’s hurt, and that scares me more than anything. The footage also isn’t live, so I have no idea how long ago this was. I scan the article for answers.
From the looks of things, I’m way behind. The article says the accident happened hours ago, but the freeway is still closed off for cleanup.
The article doesnotsay which hospital Iris was brought to. I slam my fist against my desk and search the internet for more news on the crash. Maybe another outlet has more info.
No one, it seems, is reporting on where she was taken.
I grab my phone with a shaking hand and call Becky. I have to find Iris, but I can’t take Hailey with me. She’ll be scared if she sees how upset I am.
