Page 142 of Breaking Hollywood

“You talking about Ava?”

I glance at him. “I trusted her. Spilled my fucking guts to her. And, now, because of that, my past, the stuff I wanted to keep hidden, is splashed all over the fucking tabloids. My career is in the toilet. And not only is my career fucked, but this is going to screw things up for Tate’s, too.”

“How?”

“He’s a doctor for kids. You think people are going to want the child of mob bosses and the brother of an ex-whore taking care of their kids?”

“Tate will be fine. And so will you.”

I laugh hollowly. “I’m dead in the water after this. Who’s gonna want to hire me now?”

“Gabe, how many actors and actresses do you think have succumbed to the casting couch over the years? Thousands, I bet. The only difference is, they sleep with whomever they need to, to get a part in a movie. You slept with women to feed your kid brother. I know who’s the better person in that scenario.”

“Yeah, but their stories aren’t splashed all over the papers.”

“No. But we’re all whores in this business. None of us are clean.”

“You are.”

“I’ve done things that I needed to, to get to where I wanted to be.”

I stare over at him. “The…casting couch?”

“Fuck no.” Pause. “You?”

“Surprisingly, no.”

We look at each other and laugh. And it feels good for a moment. Then, I remember what I’m laughing about, and I don’t feel so good anymore.

“That’s because you’re a great fucking actor, Gabe. Your career isn’t done. And neither is Tate’s. You don’t need to worry about him. Trust me. We’ve seen worse things happen in this business, and careers have survived.”

“Worse than two parents in jail for racketeering, drug dealing, and murder and me selling myself for money?”

“Okay, well, maybe not that bad. But isn’t that what we do now? Sell ourselves, our bodies, to the world for money. Look at Martha Stewart. She did time for fraud, and she came back even stronger. She made more money after that than she did before. It’s how the situation is handled that counts. We get your PR team handling this the right way, and it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, Vaughn.” I lie back against the sofa and let out a tired-sounding sigh. “I just really don’t feel like talking to anyone right now.”

“Then, let me do it. I’ll speak to Gil. I’ll handle things for you.”

I stare out the window at the view. “Fine.” I sigh. “But I’m not speaking to any interviewers or going on any chat shows to talk about my fucking feelings. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Gabe

“Charly’s here,” Vaughn says to me, his cell pressed to his ear. “Is she okay to park in your building’s parking garage?”

“Sure. Tell her to put eight-eight-three-nine into the keypad at the entrance, and the barrier will open, letting her in. She can park in bay two. You’ll need to go down in the elevator to get her though. Use my key.” I point to it on the coffee table.

“Did you get that, Pins? Yeah. See you in a few.” Vaughn gets to his feet and swipes the elevator key off the table.

“Charly, she’s…alone, right?”

Vaughn stops and looks at me. “Ava’s not with her if that’s what you mean. She’s still at the hotel.”

“Good.”

Vaughn goes to get Charly, and I pick up the coffee that Julian brought back and take a sip.