First, his agent. In theory, that could be a video call, but nah. As was his right as an American, Alex reserved the option to make faces at his phone when displeased by the conversation.
“Alex,finally,” Zach answered, and fortunately could not see the eye roll he received in response. “Stop dodging my damn emails. We have things we need to discuss.”
“Unfair, dude.” Alex leaned back in his office chair and swiveled it from side to side. “I didn’t dodge your emails. After reading them with laudable—nay,remarkable—speed and attention, I simply determined that they didn’t require any immediate response.”
From the other end of the line, there was an odd sound. Teeth-grinding?
Zach enunciated each word very carefully. “In recent weeks, I’ve received multiple messages from the producers of your upcoming projects asking about your current behavior. They’re all checking in to discover whether you’re, as they put it, ‘still spiraling out of control.’”
Alex and Zach had discussed the very same topic at least half a dozen times since the incident in Spain, and not once—not a single time—had Zach actually asked him what happened. Even though they’d been working together since the beginning of Alex’s career, both Hollywood hopefuls fresh out of high school and waiting tables to fill empty bank accounts.
It was a simple question, and one Alex had deserved after so many years.
“You said all this in your emails.” A better person would mute the phone as he yawned, but Alex didn’t bother. “Was there anything else?”
A heavy sigh. “In my emails, I also asked whether that woman Ron assigned you is keeping you contained, because another major scandal, and you’ll run afoul of the good-behavior clauses in the contracts you signed. You’ve failed to answer the question. Multiple times.”
Keeping you contained. As if he were a zoo animal. A lion, perhaps?
If so, something about Zach’s tone in reference to Lauren had rubbed Alex’s lush, gloriously abundant mane the wrong way.
He sat up straight. “ ‘That woman’ is Lauren Clegg. Or, rather, Ms. Clegg. And she is doing an exemplary job of stamping out all stray sparks of joy and exhilaration I might happen to experience on a daily basis, rest assured.”
“Fine. Good.” The edge in Zach’s tone matched Alex’s own. “Ms. Cleggbetter continue to do her damn job, because we can’t afford another screwup.”
“Whatever her job description might be,Iam responsible for my own behavior. Not her. No matter what happens, she’s not at fault. I want that absolutely clear.” The fuckingnerve. “Is that all? Because I have better things to do. I haven’t flossed for several hours, and I hear my future producers are also considering whether my plaque levels are within contractual bounds.”
A long silence stretched over the line, and Alex half wondered whether this was it. The moment, the conversation, that would sever their partnership at long last.
The prospect should probably frighten him, and maybe it would later, but it didn’t now. Either Zach showed Lauren respect, or he could fuck off to somewhere else in Hollywood.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Zach’s voice was tight.
“As much as I ever did,” Alex said, then ended the call.
To cool his temper afterward, he read a Cupid/Psyche fic where Psyche was a small village’s intended human sacrifice to a clan of werewolves headed by Jupiter—at least until Cupid, Jupiter’s grandson, fell in love with her and spirited her away from danger.
After that, matters got rather heated, and it was allextremelydelightful.
Spirits restored, he then FaceTimed his mother. Complete with video, this time and every time. Without fail. Because he needed to see her expression, her body language, for himself.
Linda answered after two rings, her gray-streaked brown hair gathered into a messy ponytail atop her head, her face lit in a happy beam.
The sun was just setting in Florida, and the warm golden glow bathed her perch on the back porch swing. She set it to rocking, and her tidy yard whooshed back and forth while her face remained steady and centered on the screen.
“Sweetheart!” Her eyes, the same gray as his, creased at the corners with her smile. “I didn’t know you were calling today.”
She looked good. She sounded good too, and something wound tight within him released. At least, until the next phone call.
He wished he could recapture the joy, the unalloyed comfort, her voice used to give him. That sense of homecoming and acceptance, despite all his grievous flaws.
Her voice hadn’t changed. Her love for him hadn’t changed.
He’dchanged, just over eleven years ago.
And it was for the better, it really was. He should know how he’d wronged someone he loved as dearly as he loved her, so he could do his damnedest never to make the same mistake again. But the guilt, the self-directed anger, had stripped away the simple solace her presence, her loving words, used to provide. Now when he talked to her, he wasn’t simply talking to his mom anymore. He was talking to someone he’d harmed, and he couldn’t forget it. Wouldn’t forget it.
“I wanted to check in and see how you’re doing,” he said, and it was the simple truth.
