I fight to keep from laughing just at her expression. “What’s that?”
Iris rifles through the to-go bags, takes out the mozzarella sticks, and unlocks her phone. “Photographic evidence of me eating junk food.”
In the next instant, I’m holding a cheese stick too, and Iris is taking a selfie of us.
“Oh, perfect. We look just as dirty and sweaty as we are.” She shows me the picture, and yeah, we’re a mess. Iris leans her back into my chest, a wide smile on her face as she bites into a stretchy piece of fried cheese. I’m grinning like a fool behind her, cheese stick in one hand, looking down like I’m amazed to find this stunning girl in my arms, and Mica’s nose is in the shot, just inches from one of the bags again.
Like Iris said, it’s perfect. It may be my favorite photo of all time.
“She’ll hate it.” Iris quickly types up a caption and then shows it to me. “This okay?”
After an afternoon of hurricane cleanup, we’re so glad #sonic was open! Mozzarella sticks for the win! Yes, Mica, the burger is for you.
#dogsofinstagram
#boyfriendmaterial
#safeafteraddie
Yeah, I’m grinning big when I read#boyfriendmaterial.She’s telling the whole world what I am to her. I might have to set up an IG account just so she can tag me in shit like this.
“Go for it.”
She beams and posts the picture. I pull onto Pinhook Road.
“And now you need to call Ramon, tell him about the cards, and get your lawyer on it. STAT.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
IRIS
I havea feeling I’m going to look back on my life and think of it in terms ofBefore Hurricane AddieandAfter Hurricane Addie.Not because of historic destruction, but because of the life-altering shift this storm made in my life.
We don’t film on Monday or Tuesday because power is still out over half the city, but not at my house, thank God. Beau says it’s because I’m so close to City Hall. He has been staying with me. We worked on his house together, putting a temporary patch of plywood and blue tarp over his busted roof. He was able to get inside this time and pack more clothes and a few other things.
I have to admit, I’m glad power hasn’t been restored to his place yet. Since he’s out in the country, he thinks it could be a few more days. I know it’s wrong, but I’d be okay if it takes longer. With just over four weeks of filming to go, I want to spend as much time with Beau as possible.
This week has been busy with other things too—especially after we resumed production. Including working with the attorney Ramon retained for me, who specializes in entertainment law. Ela Flores is based in L.A., but even with the time difference, she’s gone out of her way to conference with me when I’m not on set.
And there’s been a lot to conference about.
She issued Moira a cease and desist letter warning her against any further interference with my finances, social media accounts, public persona, and private property. It turns out Moira had cancelled my credit and debit cards, reporting to the bank that since the passwords on the accounts had been changed, she suspected foul play.
Yeah, right.
So, I’m waiting on new cards, but she must have known better than to actually touch any of my money because it’s all there. I can pay bills online and use ApplePay and cash until those come in.
I guess cancelling my cards was a way of letting me know she could still mess with me. That she still had the power.
I don’t want to admit it to anyone, but she still does have the power. A lot of it, anyway.
I’m afraid of seeing her. I haven’t actually laid eyes on her since before the storm, and I don’t want to. But she’s come close. Moira showed up at the studio on Thursday while we were filming. She flashed her badge, got past security, and probably would’ve stormed the set right in the middle of Raven and Anmyr’s kissing scene if Ramon hadn’t spotted her first.
Security confiscated her badge and escorted her off the premises. Ray said she went ballistic. I’m glad I wasn’t there, that I didn’t even know it was happening. When I imagine that—of her yelling and carrying on—my muscles lock up and I feel like I’m six years old again.
If I had been there, she would have screamed at me to call them off, and I can’t be sure I wouldn’t have done it.
Everyone—and by that I mean Ela, Ray, Sally, and Beau—wants me to get a restraining order. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t even know if I can explain why. And maybe I’m holding out hope that things will change for us if she’s not my manager. Just my mother.
