Especially since Richard sent me a text reminding me I have one day to decide, with several of the photos of Julia and me attached.
It pissed me off more than ever. It stirred a feral, protective part of me to life.
So now, with a new fire burning inside of me, I storm across the set. Julia is out of cell service range at the drive-in movies with her family, which is just as well. My intuition tells me that this conversation will go poorly, and I’d rather she not be here to bear the brunt of it.
The first thing I did on my way over here was reach out to a contract lawyer recommended by my agent. Out of everything that’s gone on over the past several weeks, the thing that’s unsettled me most is the camera inside the house. So I want a professional—who is not paid by the studio—to tell me what that could mean for the contract. And my legal obligation to participate in the show.
It’s a long shot, but I have to try. Because IknowI didn’t consent to that, which means Dick Wad trespassed and put an unauthorized camera on private property. It feels an awful lot like a crime.
Richard is a slippery motherfucker, though, so I’d rather not hang my hat on something before I know the legalities. It’s alsonot something I want to give away to him until I know that there has truly been a violation.
I’m not in a position to sacrifice the money, but it’s gotten to a point where I need to lay out in clear terms what I will and will not do for this show. If that means he fires me, then I will have to live with that.
I don’t bother knocking. I grip the metal handle and rip the door open, skipping the bottom step, going straight for the top one and pulling myself into Dick Wad’s dingy little office.
My plan is to sock it to him.
But the problem is he’s quite busy socking it to Evelyn.
My eyes widen, and my jaw drops as I take in the scene. Evelyn is bent over Dick Wad’s desk, palms flat, dress flipped, ass up, makeup smudged, and Richard is balls deep inside her, thrusting away.
Evelyn’s mouth pops open in a perfectly round O shape, while Richard booms, “Get the fuck out, Bush!”
But I don’t respond. I just stand slack-jawed, feeling naive for one of the first times in my life as I watch them both scramble apart with red cheeks and heavy breaths all while Dick Wad continues to tell me to get the fuck out.
Evelyn scrambles to push her dress down as Richard draws away. She approaches me with wild eyes, tears brimming along her dark lashes. “Emmett, you have to know why—”
I hold a hand up to stop her coming any closer. “Evelyn, it’s okay. It’s just a show. We’re not together. You don’t owe me shit.”
“He promised me an audition, a real Hollywood audition.”
A sob lurches from her throat and my stomach drops as I watch this woman begin to unravel in front of me. I don’t particularly like Evelyn, but I do feel a flash of empathy for her. Pity maybe. Unfortunately, she’s fallen for Dick Wad’s creepy fucking promises.
But I suppose that in a way, I have too.
“Good luck with that,” I say, my voice heavy with skepticism.
She drops her head and hustles past me, tears of embarrassment glistening on her cheeks. Which leaves Richard and me alone. Belt jangling, cheeks puffing, he looks like a tomato—with very white teeth—set to explode.
“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, marching in here like you own the place,” he says, rounding his desk to face me.
“That’s rich, coming from the guy I just caught pounding his favorite contestant. Although I guess we all know why she’s your favorite now.”
“You think you can just talk to me like that?”
I make a show of glancing around his trailer, mind buzzing with what this development could mean for me. “Now? After this? I’ll talk to you however I damn well please.”
“Watch yourself, Bush. I don’t respond well to threats.” Richard puffs up like he has some hope of intimidating me. This kind of bluster is old hat for me though. I’m not the least bit affected by his attempt at intimidation.
What I am affected by is the overwhelming realization of how colossally fucked-up this entire experience is.
It’s fake. It’s transactional. It’s manipulative. It’s fucking soul-sucking.
My knee-jerk reaction to joining the show had been that it was a line even I wouldn’t cross. I should have trusted my instincts. Instead, I was blinded by dollar signs. And now the weight of my own regret is downright crushing.
What have I done?
I allowed this man to put a price tag on my integrity.
