“Clearly having a sponsor doesn’t work. That’s why we want you to go out to the Meadows in Arizona for a while. Get out of the spotlight, be able to work on yourself. Unpacking all of this will do you a world of good.” Paul grabs a brochure out of his pocket and slides it toward Alexander.
“But the film?”
“I’ve already spoken to Alfonso. They’ve banked most of your scenes and there’s an additional budget for pickup shoots, so we’ll do those once you get out.”
My heart rate slows as my body recognizes it’s no longer under threat. The mood in the room seems to be shifting from one of conflict to support.
“And how will we navigate all of this?” Alexander turns to Connie.
“We’ll put out a press release saying you’re taking a break to focus on your mental health.” Connie hands a sheet of paper over for Alexander to study.
“After the VMAs though, right?” A cloud of smoke leaves Nathan’s mouth as he pulls his vape pen away.
“You’re joking?” Carla swings round to face Nathan. The coldness of her tone matches the ocean-blue eyes Alexander gets from her.
Oh shit.
If things are as bad as Paul says they are, and they seem to be, surely he should be going today. Not after the VMAs on Tuesday.
Nathan, startled, looks at Paul.
“The VMAs are a great opportunity to shore up votes ahead of the Grammy nominations in November. You want to finally get your hands on one of those gramophones, don’t you?” Paul’s eyes are expectant.
“You asshole,” Carla says, helping Alexander up and storming out of the lounge into the bedroom. Bruce follows behind them.
I fight hard to hold back a laugh at Carla’s words.
That’s not new information to anyone in this room.
Paul throws his hands up in despair, but it’s hard to find any sympathy for him no matter how much I try to look at the situation from their perspective. Paul’s preying on Alexander’s vulnerabilities and doesn’t seem to have his best interests at heart.
“Can you help?” Paul turns toward me.
I want to read him the riot act, but think better of it. This isn’t my battle, it’s Alex’s.
“Afraid not.” I head to the door without saying another word, nodding at Rob as he steps aside to let me to leave the suite.
Tuesday
The lack of communication from Alexander and his team since Sunday had me all but convinced he’d gone ahead and entered rehab. That was, I was sure he had until I noticed the final list of VMA performers on MTV’s socials this morning. Alexander’s name was still there, right at the top and opening the show.
The sight is another blow to my chest.
But as the saying goes, it’s out of sight, out of mind.
Yet I can’t seem to escape him. The pictures of him from the Brewed shoot stare back at me from my laptop.
“How was the trip?” Pietro asks across the boardroom table, rolling the cuffs of his shirt up toward his elbows.
“Exhausting, but everything went well. The video director reckons she’ll have a first draft of the advert to see Friday.”
I’ve become so adept at being truth-adjacent, I barely notice the lies leaving my mouth these days.
“Great, and the press shots?”
“Got them through an hour ago.” I spin my laptop round.
Pietro grabs it and scrolls through the selection of images. They were taken at the end of the shoot, just as dawn was breaking through the window of the store.
