I kept waiting for her to show up on set, but I never saw her. At first, I was relieved because it let me focus, but then I started to worry she was just going to leave without giving us a chance to talk.
The cold dread that had my hands shaking as I tried to get dressed in my trailer clarified my feelings sharply. I was far more upset at the idea of her leaving me than I was at the idea of her having lied to me. I was sure she had her reasons and we could work through it. But only if she would give us a chance.
As I drove home, my doubts slowly piled atop one another, crushing me until I was near panic. It went beyond anything Max had said and back to my own doubts and insecurities about fame.
Did she even want to be with me? She’d avoided the subject of a future every time I’d hinted at something more, and she always spoke up when she wanted something. Why would she stay silent about something this important? Maybe I was pushing this on her. I didn’t want her to feel obligated or guilty or like I was entitled to more of her if she was ready to move on.
Even asking her felt like I would be putting her on the spot, but I couldn’t live with myself if I just let her go.
Our contract expired while I was sitting in traffic. I’d texted her twice to ask her to wait at my place, but she hadn’t answered.
Maybe it was madness, but in the stress of creeping down an LA freeway when all I wanted to do was get to the woman I was crazy about, a wild thought occurred to me. We’d been holding off having sex, but now that our contract was expired, I wasn’t a client anymore. If this was real between us, if I was really the exception for her and she wanted a future with me, that would be one way to tell without asking her outright and putting her on the spot. I’d never push sex on her either, but if she chose to do that with me then I’d know for sure this was real to her too.
Max said she made every man think they’re the exception. My insecurities and the stress of fame could fill my head with all kinds of lies, but if what I had with her wasn’t real, then my every instinct was wrong and that was too much to contemplate.
She was my match, my equal, my fierce goddess, and dammit I wanted to be the exception more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.
44
Elena
Isat in silence on Alex’s deck for a long time, staring at the ocean and contemplating what my next steps should be. I could go to the producers, but that would let them control the message and they had a history of siding with their director over me.
I should probably have told Alex first, but I needed this to be my decision and mine alone, needed to finally take my power back by myself. He would seek to protect me.
I sat and wrote the story I wanted to tell in the most vulnerable and raw way I knew how before I lost my nerve. This would be my one chance to share my experience before accusations were thrown back and my profession clouded people’s judgment.
And it would. They would say I was doing it for attention. That I had it coming because I was a sex worker. That I was a whore who was asking for it. Max’s friends would defend him and speak against me. In the end, it might not stop him from being able to do it again. But I had to try or I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
When I was finished, I felt raw and powerful at the same time. Revisiting what he’d done was triggering, but it was cathartic to stop avoiding the memories.
I emailed it to a reporter friend atHollywood Weekly, feeling lighter now that I’d taken that first step. Then, I sent it to Victoria since there would be negative blowback she needed to be prepared for, and to Ophelia to ask what the repercussions could be from the NDA I’d signed with him. It wasn’t going to stop me, but I wanted to know what I was getting into.
It may very well impact my career if my clients didn’t believe me and turned on me for outing another client.
It definitely meant there was no future for Alex and me. I would always be associated with sex work and now this story and it would be terrible for his career to be with me. For this, and a thousand other reasons, I needed to walk away.
But it hurt. I thought I was an expert on pain, but the idea of leaving him was a searing agony on a different scale than I’d ever imagined possible. I would leave him because I had to. He deserved better.
The ruthless part of me wanted to gather my things, leave without saying goodbye, and let that be it. The cowardly part of me needed that last hit, craved one final time with him to cling to in the ugly weeks to come. More importantly, I wanted to tell him the truth before he heard it from someone else.
I stalled long enough that the decision was made for me when he slid the door to the deck open, pausing and looking at me without speaking for a long moment.
I’d never seen such an intense look in those electric blue eyes.
He said, “I couldn’t find you. Thought you might’ve left without saying bye.”
“I thought about it.”
“Why didn’t you?” He leaned against the frame of the door.
“Because I’m a coward.”
He reached me in three quick strides, rushing to get to me then looking like he wasn’t sure what to do once he was there.
He glanced at his watch. “You’re officially a free woman. Our contract is over. What will you do with your freedom, Lady Elena?”
This was the moment to tell him I wanted to find a way to be with him, even if it meant burning everything we’d each worked for to the ground. But I couldn’t find the words to ask him to give it all up for me.
