“Whoa, whoa. Wait, Gigi. Hold on.” I straighten in my seat. “It’s notthatbad. Is it?”
A pause, during which every terrible feeling comes rolling back in.
“It’s bad.”
“Really?” I whisper. “Like, on a scale of one to ten and ten is—”
“Bad.” She sighs. “Just don’t check social. Honestly, don’t check anything.”
I glance up when a car pulls in beside me, and frantically turn my computer so the family innocently heading out for kiddie meals doesn’t get permanently scarred by what’s on my screen.
My stomach’s a roiling mess of emotions. “So, I’m just supposed to…take it? Is this it? The end? The moment I accept that my career’s over and I’m homeless, sitting in a rental car that smells like weird crayons…”
“Wasn’t someone supposed to get you to a hotel?”
“I couldn’t deal with the security detail. Glorified babysitters.” I think of the way Zion fobbed me off on them, like he couldn’t wait to get rid of me, so he could go freaking play in a sex camp. And then, god, then, I remember the thing that happened earlier this week when I woke up in front of the TV and we… I shut my eyes hard on the memory. “When did it happen, do you know?”
“What, you mean the…”
“Sex tape. Yeah. When was it made?”
“Um, he met her at some art opening, I think? That’s what she’s claiming, which, you know, I could—”
“It’s true.” Suddenly, I’m numb. Three nights ago, he and I had what I’ll allow myself to think of as a near-miss—thank god—and apparently the very next night, while I read for a casting director, he went out and did…thething, with that woman.
While I was channeling a young, hard-nosed Prosecuting Attorney, fighting for justice, he was out doing dirty things with someone else.
I doubt I’ll get the part now.
Eyes unfocused, I watch the family head inside before dragging the computer back so I can see the full screen, whips, chains, and all. “Why did he do it? Why offer the marriage thing if he was just going to go and mess it all up?”
“Just couldn’t help it, I guess.”
“Fine. Fine, if he couldn’t help himself. I wouldn’t care about that if it didn’t involve me, you know?” My voice is getting higher, louder. “We’ve all heard the rumors. This just confirms them, right?”
I’m too worked up to hear her reply. “This’ll be a blip for him. Just another wild boy getting his rocks off. But, no, he had to go and marry me and drag me into it. Gah! Selfish prick!”
I’m yelling now, my voice shrill, raw. My eyes filled with tears that I will absolutely not, ever, no way, not for one single second shed over the guy who just turned my life into a nightmare. No way will I let him get to me. No way.
A message pops up on my screen. It’s from my PR person, Candace:Whatever you do, don’t get online. DO NOT.
I blink at it, then force my gaze back to Gigi, every cell in my body blazing. “Tell me, Geege. Tell me now. What are people saying?”
“It’s a shitstorm. Don’t even look. Throw that computer away if you have to. Just…” Her expression is as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “Promise you’ll stay offline.”
“Tell me.”
“I mean… You know. He’s a stud.” Eye roll. “And you’re…all the bad woman things.”
I can imagine it perfectly. Every single slur I’ve ever received, times a million—about my size, my origins, my skin color, my looks, lack of talent, and on and on. I’ve seen it all before. Except now…
“So, that’s it for me? Might as well retire? Become a preschool teacher?”
“Or a phlebotomist.”
“You don’t even know what that means,” I say, with a grudging half-smile. Inside, though, all the emotion’s coiling tighter, tighter… “Fucker,” I say, sitting back in my seat. “He’s there, right now, having wild, kinky sex with whoever the hell he wants, and I’m hanging here, like a…a…a…”
“Chad?”
