“What was that?” Ethan interjected. The moderator blinked several times, a deer in the headlights.
“Sorry?”
“That card. That question you were about to ask. Please, we’re all on the edge of our seats.”
The moderator looked offstage for support. “I don’t think—”
“No, no, let’s hear it.” It was clear that Ethan wasn’t going to let it go. To her credit, the moderator straightened her posture and regained her composure. She took a deep breath before speaking.
“Now, there’s obviously an important person missing here tonight.”
“Really? Who?” Grey felt like she was going to vomit. She shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see Ethan’s face, hardened and sarcastic, eyebrows raised cartoonishly high. The moderator pressed on like she hadn’t heard anything.
“What is it like being up here together, talking about this movie, without Sam?”
Grey’s eyes shot open.
The room was deathly quiet. One person in the audience tried to stifle a cough. Though the question wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, neither Perry nor Nora made any attempt to answer, their microphones forgotten and limp in their laps, their attention fixed on Ethan. Ethan was frozen, chin resting on his chest, eyes in shadow. Finally, he brought his microphone to his lips.
“You people are fucking ghouls, you know that?” No one said anything. He rubbed his hand over his face, muttering as if tohimself. “What am I even doing here?” He looked out at the audience. “You can all stop gawking now. I hope you had your fucking fun. I hope you got what you wanted.”
He slammed the microphone down onto the side table next to him, standing up abruptly. It rolled off and hit the ground with an overamplifiedthunk.He leaned over Nora, who looked stricken, and murmured something in her ear. Her microphone picked up his voice, sending it echoing through the room:Are you happy now?
He straightened back up and looked directly at Grey. She had jumped to her feet without realizing it. Their eye contact only lasted for a split second before he stalked offstage. The crowd erupted in confused chatter, as the moderator struggled to maintain order.
Grey grabbed her purse and darted toward the hallway, racing down the back stairs and out the emergency exit onto the street. She spotted Ethan instantly, his broad back moving away from her.
“Ethan!” She barely recognized her own voice, shrill and tight with panic. He slowed for a second, so she knew he heard her, but quickly picked up the pace again. She broke into a full sprint, grateful she’d eschewed high heels for the night as she dodged pedestrians to catch up with him.
He didn’t stop and look at her until she’d reached his side and placed a desperate hand on his arm. When she got a good look at his face, contorted and stormy, her heart plunged into her stomach.
“Where are you going?” she panted.
He shook his head, refusing to look at her. “I can’t.”
“What? You can’t what?” People had started to notice them now, to stop and gawk. Out of the corner of her eye she saw phones poised and ready to capture whatever was about to happen. Of fucking course. Even the buffer of anonymity provided byseen-it-all New Yorkers was no match for an impending celebrity meltdown.
She grabbed Ethan’s hand and pulled him off the curb, using the line of parked cars as a temporary barrier between them and the gathering crowd. Mercifully, an empty cab drove by, and she flagged it down and hauled him inside.
“Third and Bowery, please,” she instructed the driver, stabbing at the obnoxiously loud Taxi TV screen until she finally found the mute button.
She sank back into the seat and turned to look at Ethan. He was already staring at her, his eyes glazed and dull. “This is what you were waiting for, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“An excuse to bail. To leave me again. Just like Palm Springs.”
Grey’s mouth fell open. “Palm Springs? What the fuck are you talking about? What does that have to do with anything?”
It didn’t seem like he’d heard her. He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, muttering to himself. “I fucked it up. I fucked it all up.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “You just need to get some help. We can fly back to L.A. tonight. I’ll call Nora, or Audrey, and we can figure out somewhere for you to go. Will you do that? Please?”
He shook his head violently, pushing himself upright in a lurching, unsteady motion. He spoke forcefully, spit flying. “You can’tfixme, Grey. Nobody can. This is me. The real me. This is who I am, this is who I’ve always been.”
Grey fought to keep her voice from trembling. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re in control.”
He shut his eyes again, his face a mask of despair. “No. I’m not.” The agony in his voice was a blunt object, knocking the wind out of her.
