I pressed my palms together and pointed my fingers at her. “Um, I don’t know how to say this any more clearly, but you’re not even in the show... at all. You’re Mack’s assistant. Your name isn’t even on the program! Not even in thethank-yousection of his bio.”
“You don’t have to remind me that I work for an irrelevant, thankless hack who’s long past his prime. I didn’t have the luxury of living on Mommy and Daddy’s credit card while I traipsed around from audition to audition, so I took the job with Mack, and I guess I’m too fucking good at cleaning up his messes. Because somehow my ability to go to auditions disappeared, and then I opened my eyes and I’d been an assistant for ten years.”
“Ten years?” I asked. “You look like you’re seventeen.”
She tossed her thick copper hair over her shoulder. “No thanks to your skincare line, I assure you.”
“Ooooh,” I said. “My feelings are so hurt.”
“I’ll make this simple. Give me the part, or else I’ll post this video on every social media platform I can find. People will meme this. They’ll remix your rasping voice until it’s a fucking club song. You’ll lose all legitimacy, and any time someone picks up a product with your name on it, all they’ll see is the image of you clawing at your throat.”
“You’re a surprise,” I told her. “I’ll give you that.” A zillion possibilities ran through my head. Not a chance in hell would I strong-arm her into the lead role, but I could give her aconcession. Something to get her to shut the fuck up, and then I’d have my team scrub every piece of technology she’d ever touched followed by yet another NDA.
But then that was admitting I’d done something wrong to begin with when the truth was much more nuanced. The overnight serum was one of my bestsellers, with the kind of reviews that sold the product itself. The ingredients were clearly listed for customers to see, and each package and container had a warning about a potential reaction. If I’d known about my allergy to vitamin C in advance, then I would have known not to use it myself. But making sure every single consumer wasn’t sensitive to any of the ingredients? That was impossible.
I wanted to fix this so badly. And I easily could. It wouldn’t take much... just steamrollering over the director and cast members who’d put so much of themselves into our ridiculous show.
Krysta’s words rang in my ears. Just the other day she’d told me I cared too much about what other people thought. And it was true.
But it didn’t have to be. Krysta lived without worrying about everyone’s perception of her, and she seemed remarkably well-adjusted, at least when she wasn’t violently seasick. And abruptly, I wanted that. The way Krysta chose things for herself depending on whatshewanted. The way she seemed anchored to herself no matter what happened.
I could have that. All I had to do was start choosing it.
“Nope,” I told Cassie... and it felt like an immediate death sentence. I wanted it to feel good. Doing the right thing should feel good, shouldn’t it?
“I’m sorry, what?”
“There you are,” Krysta said as she stepped through the curtain leading into the house. “I gave you way more than five minutes.”
Panic raced up the nape of my neck. If I couldn’t have this video leak when I was on the cusp of expanding my empire, then neither could Krysta know about theleaker. Because then she’d know that I’d been keeping secrets. That I’d been roaming off alone in potentially dangerous situations.
The thought of her disappointment was nearly as bad as the thought of my serum disaster tanking my Lemon Tree brand.
Cassie slunk back into her chair and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, her shy-girl act back in full. I had to admit—the girlcouldperform.
“I was just catching up with Cassie, Mack’s assistant. You remember Cassie, right?”
Krysta shook her head and held her hand out. “No, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Cassie blushed and shook Krysta’s hand before turning back to her binder.
The fucking quiet ones! You could never trust them!
“We need to get you to your first dinner,” Krysta said softly. “Bye, Cassie! Nice to meet you.”
Cassie glanced over her shoulder and ran a hand down her throat while Krysta wasn’t looking. “You too,” she said sweetly. “What a treat to get somefacetime with you both.”
My heart began to stutter in my chest, and I felt my throat tightening again. Just like in the video.
Was this a panic attack? I didn’t panic. There wasn’t time in the schedule. It wasn’t part of the plan. Panic attacks did not have their own roll of washi tape.
I yanked Krysta by the hand. I needed to get out of here. Away from Cassie. Away from the blackmail and the breathing, beret-wearing proof that I’d been keeping a very serious secret from her.
I pulled her through the crew door and down the stairs leading to the costume storage closet that doubled as the cast hangout room.
“Uh, the Korean barbeque restaurant is definitely not down here,” she said.
“I need you to sit on my face right fucking now,” I said as we walked through the first door and I turned the lock behind us.
