“It’s not what you think. Let me explain.” I’m not sure which one I should say first so I say both as fast as possible, knowing I need to stop this before it starts.
“Not what I think?” She folds her arms across her chest. Shifts her feet. Clenches her jaw. “I’m trying to be calm here, Hayes, and not jump to conclusions but I’m having a hard time. Maybe you should explain why you’re so upset. Why you’re talking about image and doing something to someone which sure as hell sounds like you’re referring to me . . . and why you told Jenna you love her when I’m really hoping you actually said you loved her.”
“Jenna’s a mess.” I start the only place I can because the space between Saylor and me feels like the fucking arctic chill is freezing me out, and so I don’t have time to waste. “She’s been in and out of drug treatment centers for the better part of the last year and a half.” Her eyes widen. Surprise fills them and thank fuck because it’s a whole helluva lot better to see the surprise than the hurt that was there a few seconds ago.
“It’s Hollywood’s best-kept secret. Everyone knows but no one dares talk about Paul Dixon’s daughter and her little nose candy problem. Shit, I didn’t even know about it for the first six months of our relationship. We were working a ridiculous schedule on The Grifter, and I was either too tired or too preoccupied to notice the signs.”
I think back to how it all started. The mornings she’d miss her call time. The endless excuses. The erratic mood swings.
“I tried to be patient with her. Thought I could help her. I don’t know.” I sigh. Run a hand through my hair. I’m restless. “I was in way over my head, but I liked her. Liked having someone who understood the pressure of the job. It didn’t hurt we were on a remote location in Vancouver so we mostly had each other to pass the time.”
“What does any of this have to do with right now? With what you said? I thought you guys broke up a few months ago.”
I chuckle. It’s a self-deprecating sound that reflects how stupid I feel now over agreeing to it. “To the outsider, we did, but in all honesty we were done way before that.” Saylor shakes her head and tries to process shit I don’t even understand. “We completed the film, and when we came back to Los Angeles she was out of control. She went off on the director, fired her agent, and publicly bad-mouthed both. She barged in on a movie her dad was filming, accused him of all kinds of unspeakable shit and embarrassed the hell out of him. Then in a horribly bad move, she pissed off the studio with an interview she gave where she criticized the film and the decisions being made surrounding it. Suddenly the film the studio had slated as their blockbuster of the summer was surrounded by bad press. There’s no other word for the damage she’d done but fucking brutal. We had to stage an intervention that ended up with her checked into a rehab facility. Little did I know it had been her third or fourth time there in as many years.”
“I remember the bad press about the film. But didn’t realize any of this—”
“No one does. The studio was pissed. The backers and producers who gave huge sums of investment capital to the studios to fund their budget were pissed. Especially since this film’s budget was one of their largest in the studio’s history, they were willing to do whatever it took to make sure its success wasn’t risked before it even released. But her interview got a lot of press. She was a loose cannon and the studio wasn’t sure they wanted to risk losing the marketing budget for a movie when the lead actress seemed determined to undermine it. They talked about tabling it or sending straight to Netflix, but they knew they’d lose their ass. Some of the backers threatened to pull their money from the project if the studio didn’t get Jenna’s antics under control. And little did I know that some of the backers knew her history because they ran in the same circles as her dad. And that shared history led to them inserting an addendum in her contract that very few people knew about—me included.” I shake my head in frustration. Remember how fucking furious I was when the caveat was revealed to me the day she entered rehab. “It stated that if she didn’t stay sober, she agreed to forfeit her advance and all earnings from the film. And in turn, mine in a sense. To say I was a little blindsided is an understatement especially considering she hadn’t stayed sober. Shit, the studio went into panic mode trying to figure out how to hide Jenna’s breach of contract from the backers.”
“Image is everything,” Saylor murmurs, her eyes wide and interest piqued, as she sits on the top step of the stairs. At least I still have her attention.