I have a vague idea based on Keri Ann’s sculpture that she is pretty fucking pissed at me for the way I left. The last thing I plan on doing is rubbing her face in it by being seen with anyone else.
Audrey narrows her eyes and the cunning I see there makes me realize she has probably planned her final act as the scorned woman. And that is to hurt Keri Ann, too. Because clearly she wasn’t hurt enough.
“Actually,” It’s Audrey’s publicist who speaks, who looks like it’s her time to shine. “I know we said no relationships, but I think it would be better to level the balance here and have Mr. Eversea seen with one or two other potential love interests. That way,” she looks around the table with gravity, “people can feel a small modicum of sympathy for my client as well.” She pauses for effect, and I see the net that was cleverly cast, closing around me. “The only other way to garner public sympathy for Ms. Lane at this point is to talk about the failed pregnancy.”
“Fuck, no!” I explode, causing everyone in the room to jump. Anger and panic at this idea washes through me in physical waves. It’s painful. Or maybe I’m not breathing. Either way, I feel lightheaded. I have a mental image of me suddenly, bone-crackingly, transforming into a massive tiger and eating my way out of this cage of assholes. Not Sheila, she can live. Shit, I need to calm down. Keep my head together.
Sheila nods and says, “We have an agreement. Let’s not make it anymore complicated. No pregnancy mentioned at all in return for a few staged paparazzi photo ops. No perceived long-term relationships for the remainder of the contract term for either party. And we get the existing pictures. Let’s wrap this up. Mr. Eversea has another appointment with his new representation who was unable to make this meeting, but whom I will inform of all the decisions made today. We’ll be back by to sign the amendment and hear about your plans for the project in England.”
I’m unaware of the meeting she’s referring to, but I need an agent, like yesterday. Especially, if I’m about to sign on to another project with Peak. Thank God Sheila is looking out for me. I pull my chair up to the table and lay my head down on my arms. I am beyond exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and because I haven’t slept more than three hours in the last thirty. The sounds of everyone filing out washes over me.
I am so relieved this meeting is over, even though I’m left for dead on the battlefield. All I won was getting Audrey removed from my life.
I lost everything else.
“Jesus, Jack. Why didn’t you tell me?” Devon is staring at me hard when I open my eyes. I’d been lying there on his couch like I was in a damn therapist’s office, letting the last five months of my life pour out.
“Tell you what?” I ask. “That I was a coward, and I should have fought harder? That I was too tired and depressed to really fight? That I was so relieved to get Audrey out of my life, that I let the person I really wanted to be with slip through my fingers?” I sit up. “Because I didn’t want to face the rejection? Because I’ve gotten what I want for most of my life, but I chose not to fight for Keri Ann because deep down I thought I would lose?” The truth hits me hard.
Devon is quiet a few moments. “Is that truly what you think?”
I pick up the water, wishing it were whisky and down it. “I don’t know. The reality is that Keri Ann is as far from the kind of lives we lead as one could possibly get. This bullshit is my life. I can’t see it changing in the foreseeable future. Maybe I don’t want it to. I enjoy acting. I don’t enjoy the BS that comes with it, but it’s the price, right? Is there really a place for her in that? A place she would want? Deep down inside me I think that if she had the choice, she would choose not to be in that place.”
“You think she’d choose not to a famous guy’s arm-candy over being her own person?”
“Yeah.”
“I think you’re right. It’s going to be damn hard to avoid that.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”
“I am. That part is impossible and will take time. But it sounds like what she said was she doesn’t trust you and doesn’t want to risk you flaking out again. Based on what she knows and what the whole world got to see you get up to in England, I don’t blame her.”
“Did I?”
“Did you what?