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Isabel’s lips part in surprise.
“You know why I knew Francesca had to be talking about Howard? Because my boss, CeeCee Rafael, had already warned me about him. She told me not to be alone with him. And then, a young woman who works at Howard’s company told me every young woman who works for Howard knows not to be alone with him. In fact, all the young women who work at Howard’s studio know to use the buddy system when interacting with him.”
Isabel looks like she’s having a hard time taking air into her lungs.
“Thanks to this insider at Howard’s company, I’ve now interviewed five actresses who told me detailed stories about Howard sexually assaulting them. Everything from unwanted groping and kissing to coerced sex to being roofied and raped.”
Isabel groans like she’s about to throw up.
“The only problem? They’re all too scared to come forward.” Georgina leans forward. “He’s a predator, Isabel, and my gut tells me you know it.”
“No.”
“Don’t you want to stop him? Because he’s not going to stop, unless someone brave, someone the world will believe, leads the charge. Isabel, that someone is you.”
Isabel looks frantic. “You think I know about all this? I don’t!”
“Yeah, well, you know something. At the very least, you know what he’s done to you, personally. But I’m here to tell you, you’re not alone. He’s done stuff to others. And he won’t stop, just because he’s marrying you. He’ll never stop.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell the truth, on the record. Either to the police, or in an interview, or in a press conference. I don’t know. I want you to stop him. Because once you speak out, everyone else will, too. And that’s the only way we’re going to take this man down. If we band together.”
Isabel is trembling. And there’s no doubt in my mind Georgina is right: Howard’s done something to Isabel. The thought physically pains me.
“For what it’s worth, I have a glimmer of understanding about how hard this is for you,” Georgie says. She reaches into her computer bag and pulls out a copy of her Gates article. “This is going to be published in a couple days in Dig a Little Deeper. It’s an article I wrote about the forty-two-year-old man who tried to rape me when I was seventeen. He wasn’t a billionaire movie producer, and I wasn’t a young actress with big dreams, who felt like she had no other choice. But he was very powerful in my little world. After he assaulted me—and to be clear, he came as close to forcibly raping me as a person can get, before I wiggled free from his clutches and ran away—after that happened, I was too terrified to say a word to anyone. So I kept it bottled up inside me for almost five years. But, recently, I found out he’s hurt other girls, too. And that made me realize he’s going to do it again and again, unless someone stops him. So, I decided that someone is going to be me.”
Isabel picks up her martini with a shaky hand and drains it. But she doesn’t speak.
Georgina taps the article on the table. “Pretty soon the whole world is going to read this article and know what he did to me, and to those two other girls. And I can’t begin to tell you how fucking proud I am, how freeing it is, to know I’m not hiding this secret anymore. And not only that, I’m doing everything in my power, however small, to protect other girls from suffering at the hands of that fucking prick.” Georgina reaches across the table and takes Isabel’s hand. And to my surprise, Isabel doesn’t flinch or jerk away. “You’re about to play a superhero on screen. But on your deathbed, won’t you be far prouder of yourself for playing a superhero in real life?”
Isabel slides her hand away. But not forcefully. Her demeanor is dejected. Scared. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”
“You can do this,” Georgina says. “If I can do it, then you can, too. And, by the way, I don’t want you to do this to help me. I want you to do it to help yourself. To help the other women he’s hurt and the ones he hasn’t yet but will.”
Isabel’s features harden. “You don’t understand. You’re not me. I’ve got too much to lose.”
All of a sudden, I get it. “Howard has been blackmailing you, hasn’t he? You met him at CeeCee’s party, not at an audition a year later. Howard found out you were a working girl at that party, and he’s been blackmailing you about your past, ever since.”
Isabel’s breathing halts, and, just that fast, I know I’m right. Isabel did, indeed, meet Howard the same night she met me. The night we went back to my hovel of an apartment and fucked like rabbits and talked until sunrise about our dreams and ambitions. The night I told her I didn’t want her working for that fucking escort service any longer. The night I told her I’d pay her rent, even though I could barely afford to pay mine, so she could stop selling her body and concentrate on her auditions and making her dreams come true. The night I told her I’d always protect her and have her back, no matter what. And she let me say all that. And do all that for her. She let me think I was her knight in shining armor... and all the while, she was fucking Howard on the side. Or, if not fucking him, then flirting with him. Stringing him along. Wrapping him around her finger until he finally gave in and gave her the big break she’d been trying to coax out of him for a fucking year.
