“What’s good for the movie is good for me, is good for you. Don’t worry, it’ll all work out. Let’s get you into the biggest parties. Let’s get you noticed. Let’s get youseen.”
I turned to Constance, who’d remained silent throughout the walk so far.
“Constance will make sure of it.”
“Thank you,” she mouthed at me, when Lou was checking her phone.
Her gratitude felt like a ticking time bomb. Soon, that story about her would come out, and I would never be able to look her in the eyes again. Or at myself in the mirror.
Back at the hotel, I hugged the girls goodbye. I had promises to keep and more plans to make. But first, I popped in my AirPods and flicked through my music, looking for something to put me in the mood. And then I realized: Ben was gone. I didn’t need to worry about him, to tiptoe around his feelings. I could blast my rage-y songs. I could dance on my own and bounce on the bed so hard the pillows flew off.
So I did just that. For a few minutes, I let it all come out screaming. His disgusting betrayal. Odetta Olson’s nastiness. The way Carmen hadn’teven lifted a finger to defend me. I didn’t know why I’d always worked so hard at being a good girl. It fuckingsucked.
Then I turned the music way down, sweat dripping down my back, and sat cross-legged on the undone bed with my laptop.
I was ready to get to work.
I texted everyone I’d met in Cannes and asked about upcoming parties. By now I’d made my own reputation. There was no way to confirm it, but people could guess that I’d been the one to spread the gossip they’d shared with me. I was the one who’d sprinkled a little karma over their Cannes drama. I’d made friends. Allies. I had, without even realizing it, been picking up chips along with every story I’d shared.
It was time to cash in.
Within an hour, I had a comprehensive list of events happening until the end of the festival, which I quickly ranked in terms of prestige and accessibility. On any given day in Cannes, there was an array of breakfasts, brunches, lunches, cocktail hours, dinners, and after-parties. There were events on boats, in villas, in luxury suites, on the beach, everywhere.
Some of these were official festival events with strict guest lists. The rest were, well, they were just parties. Organized by rich people, movie studios, or even brands with products they wished to promote to the glitterati of Cannes. These last ones were the easiest to infiltrate. If you arrived early, you caught the organizers at their weakest, when they still feared that no one important would turn up. There were too many competing events at any given time, especially if you didn’t have the budget to shower your guests with champagne and caviar. And I had a great asset. So I honed my pitch and sent it wide.
I’m the publicist for a young actor who stars inDon’t Be Sad!Hername is Lou Ocean Utley, and I’d love to have her attend your event. Here’s a link to Lou’s social media account so you can see her reach. She’s working with a hot new stylist who also dresses Dorian Fisher, so we expect Lou to geta lotof publicity!
I knew saying that Lou had “starred” in the movie was a bit of a stretch, but please remember that I still hadn’t seen it. If Lou had been left off the guest list for the welcome party, it was only because the rumor about Odetta Olson was true. She reallywasinsecure around younger women. And Lou had been at the party after all. Someone with influence had done what needed to be done to correct Odetta Olson’s wrongs. Dorian Fisher himself, probably.
He was looking out for Lou because he knew how special she was.
It all made sense.
And it cemented my strategy.
Once I had a schedule in place for Lou, I texted the list of events to Constance, so she could start working her magic. I was about to put my phone down when it beeped with a new text.
Hey sis! You’ve gone dark
Bet you’re having too much fun
Send pics at least!
It was from Jessie, Ben’s sister. We’d texted a few times in the first couple of days of Cannes, but now I was avoiding her.
Sorry!I replied right away, like I always did with Jessie.
She and Ben were close, too, and there was no telling what she already knew.
No pics I’m afraid.I typed now.Too much work!
Is that what you call all the parties???At least Ben sent me some. Looks incredible!
I flicked over to Ben’s Instagram account, though I already knew it was pointless. He only shared personal stories and details on the family chat—which I’d already checked—or directly with his sister. How long until I’d be removed from the group?
I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to see Ben again, but I wasn’t quite ready to lose everything that came along with him. His dad’s fabulous cooking, his sister’s sound advice every time I vented to her about something that happened at work, the sense of belonging I felt whenever I was in their presence. It was awful to think it, but I would have traded his family with mine without another thought. I got along well enough with my brothers, who both worked corporate jobs on the East Coast, but we had so little in common. My dad I heard from only once or twice a year. That left my mother, who took it as a personal affront that I’d snagged a guy like Ben when she was still licking her wounds from the demise of her marriage over a decade ago.
I wanted everything to stay the same with Jessie for as long as I could.
