“Lars Brecker called Shondra this morning and said he’d like to put a pause on the negotiations.”
“Fuck. I knew it. What else?” I ask because I know he’s holding something back.
“The studio is looking at other candidates.”
“God damnit,” I shout and start circling the room like a mad cow. “What the fuck am I going to do now?”
“We’ll get your publicist on it. I’ll call him straightaway.”
“Fuck that. I want to know how they got that video.”
“This is my fault,” Cassius says, looking grave. “I should have never given him a second chance.”
“Who?” I ask. I can’t even think I’m so furious.
“Elliot.”
“Elliot? What the fuck does he have to do with this?”
“I should have told you this a long time ago, Adam. The reason Elliot and I fell out at UCLA had to do with a young man named Louis. The three of us were in a design class together. Louis and Elliot started dating. Or fucking, I’m not really sure. And then one day, I discovered Elliot had been filming him without his knowledge. He’d set up a camera in his apartment.”
“What? How’d you find that out?”
“Elliot left himself signed into a studio computer. I saw the live feed. I showed it to Louis. There was an official complaint filed against Elliot, and he was put on disciplinary probation.”
No wonder Elliot didn’t want Cassius to tell me the true story of what happened between them. It’s fucking terrible.
“So, he just goes around filming people without them knowing?” I ask. Are there no rules for common decency out here? “Isn’t that, like, illegal?”
“Elliot swore to me he was over that obsession. That he’d got counseling for his addiction.”
“You think he planted the camera?” I can’t believe he’d do that to me, but then all those times I felt his eyes on me, assessing me in more than just an artistic way. He’s obviously a voyeur. How many times has he watched us having sex? How many times has he filmed it? What other dirt does he have on me? If a video of me wearing heels and a dress gets out, I’ll never act in this town again.
Cassius says, “No one else has had access to my mother’s bedroom, except Lucia when she visited after your surgery, but we were with her the whole time. Has Elliot been inside the house lately?”
“Sometimes I ask him to spot me on the bench when you’re not here. He could have planted it then.”
“I should have warned you,” Cassius says and draws his elegant fingers down his face. “I should have never let him into our home.” He looks worried, which makes me even more anxious. All the hard work he’s put into helping me build my brand and curate my image. Gone in a flash because of some stupid fucking asshole with a hidden camera.
“Why would he do this to me?” I ask. What the fuck did I ever do to Elliot to make him hate me so much?
“It was probably an accident. Maybe he showed it to a friend and they’re the ones who leaked it.”
“To make fun of me?”
“Who knows, dove? He has an illness.”
Elliot’s been laughing at me this entire time. That’s what he does inside the pool house, watches the Adam Bailey Show and feels superior with his art degree and fancy fucking vocabulary. Shit, the amount of time I’ve spent in that room, the things I’ve said and done in front of that mirror.
“I can’t fucking believe him. I’m going to…” I bring my fists to my face and press my knuckles against my eyelids until my vision goes black. What am I going to do? Find him, confront him, and figure out why the fuck he’s trying to sabotage me. “Is he here now?”
“I haven’t seen him this morning, but he seldom leaves the pool house. Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, you stay here. I’ll handle it. He’s going to regret ever knowing me.”
I run my hands through my hair and storm out of the living room, striding past the pool to bang on Elliot’s front door. When he doesn’t answer, I throw open the door myself. The music is loud as fuck, which enrages me further. “Turn it off,” I holler. He messes with his phone until the room goes silent, then looks at me curiously. What a fake and a liar. Pretending to be my friend while using me this whole time. I’m about to ask him about planting the camera when I notice the portrait he’s been working on. It’s me, but it’s…fucking hideous.
My nose is too long, and my ears are humongous. My abs—you can barely even tell I have abs because he’s given me a motherfucking paunch. Even the skin on my arms looks flabby like an old woman, and my hair—my hair is frizzyandthinning. How is that even possible? Did he do this on purpose to fuck with me?
