Page 109 of Dark Ugly Places

And then there were the interviews. The way they’d stand or sit next to one another in the press junkets. The flirtatious eyes and pretend sister-brother comment she’d hear them throw around. “So-and-so is like a sister to me,” was Jason’s favorite line. Bambi cringes, thinking now of how she sat, watching him on stage presenting an award with one of them—a tall blonde with a round face, all legs and breasts—and the way he held her lightly by the waist as he said his line, “And the Oscar goes to …”

Not wanting to appear small-minded or as an outsider, Bambi played along. The role of the good celebrity’s wife. Isn’t that what was done? But lately, Bambi had been made to feel a fool. A silly fool that all the world was laughing at behind the scenes. And meanwhile, Jason betrayed her on set after set after set. His people—ferocious and hungry for his fees—lapped up the scandals for him and stomached dirty abuses to keep their money coming in. He was their cash cow, after all.

How didn’t she see it? Or was it that she chose not to?

She sits up when she hears Jason’s keys in the lock and flicks on the TV—another station—a silly movie. Footsteps. He comes into the TV room, shoes still on, and plunks down on the sofa nearby, feet on the table. His eyes are wild, hair greasy but slicked back. He runs his hands over the stubble forming around his chin. “It’s over. It’s all over.”

Does he know? Bambi wonders. Agnes has always been good at keeping things from him. But then he grabs the remote and changes the channel to the news without a word. CCTV footage. LaMonte’s spokesperson talking next to footage of her on set from an earlier film.

“Sources claim that LaMonte is filing rape charges, and LionDale Pictures has dropped Jason Redfern’s contract, effectively putting the duo’s latest release—The Hurting Game—on the shelf.”

Jason turns up the volume. His phone rings.

“Agnes. It’s a fucking shit show. Where is Allison? We need her getting interviews. Now.”

“Sweetie, just calm down. We’ll get Allison on it, okay?”

He flicks the phone on speaker and eyes Bambi as he paces the living room, talking.

“Of course I didn’t see the cameras. How could I? How the fuck was I to know I was being set up? Can’t we make this go away?”

A pause. “Did you do it, Jase?”

“Of course I didn’t do it. I never touched her, Agnes.”

Bambi is sure she can hear Agnes breathing in a cigarette. “Did you rape her?”

“Absolutely not.”

Eyes flash to her, and Bambi feels sick. She stays put, watching him, the whites of his eyes growing larger.

“Well, she doesn’t see it that way, honey,” Agnes intones.

“Co-stars get close. It happens. But I never hurt her. Not that way.”

“I get it,” Agnes says. “But the public won’t. As far as they are concerned, this isn’t about infidelity. It’s about rape, and they think you did it. They believe her.”

“Jesus Christ. We fucked, okay? But that isn’t rape, Agnes. You know this. How do you have on-set chemistry without chemistry?”

Agnes is silent. “Jason, they are claiming you assaulted her. Do you understand? That this happened repeatedly on set. Other women want to come forward.”

“What women?”

Agnes sighs. “I don’t know. Other women. Women who claim you did the same to them.”

“Bullshit!” Jason shouts, his voice breaking. “There were no others.”

Agnes sighs, the change in her palpable. “Cut the shit, okay? We both knew this was going to come out sooner or later.”

“So that’s it, huh? Just like that?”

“Well, no, that isn’t it. But it doesn’t look good for me to be representing you anymore,” says Agnes.

Jason sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Agnes. Please. Don’t do this. I need you.”

“Graham will stay on, but I’m done, Jason. Understand? I’m dropping you.”

“Fuck! Agnes!”