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“I didn’t think she would be crazy enough to do this. I was paying her every month to keep her quiet.” I cover my face with my elbow and lean back in the cab.
“It isn’t your fucking job to calculate risks like that. It’s why you pay me a retainer and percentage. I make those decisions. Your life isn’t your own. You are a brand. If you didn’t understand that before, you’re about to understand it intimately.”
My stomach drops. What the fuck is happening? I groan but can’t think of a thing to say in my defense.
“It’s too fucking bad that you didn’t realize that fucking Voltic didn’t pay you a hundred million dollars because they liked your smile. They liked your brand. Loves his mama, loves his ladies. A bad boy with the charms of a Southern gentleman. That is what they’re paying for. They will not pay if your entire existence doesn’t align with that brand. And, I hate to break it to you, but not even the loosest definitions of ladies’ man include fucking half of the married women in Hollywood for five grand a pop.”
“I know.” I flinch. I can hear the hurt in his voice and I’d rather he was angry. I hate knowing that I’ve disappointed him. His esteem will be a bitter loss. But, it’s nothing compared to what it will mean if I can’t make things right with Apollo.
“Graham, why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you. You’ve got so much potential. You’re squandering it.”
“I don’t give a fuck about my potential. I give a fuck that my woman is going to see that and know that I’m not the man she thinks I am.”
“Oh, she knows who you are already. Do you think that doing what you did so that you could take care of your mother makes you a bad person? There are people all over the world who are trading sex for money so that their kids can go to school. Those strippers in those clubs you and your friends used to visit, do you think they’re doing that because they like it? I fucking get it. For the people we love, we would do anything. But, you don’t keep people who you care about in the dark because you’re more worried about looking bad than you are about violating their trust.”
I’m stunned listening to him bat away the fact that I slept with women for money like it’s a bothersome fly.
“We need to bring Jenn in on this, and we need to meet right away. Where are you?”
“Going to Apollo’s place.”
“No, you’re not. We still have a couple of offices in our old suite in midtown. Go there. I’ll call ahead so they’ll let you up.”
“I need to talk to Apollo.”
“No, you need to talk to me. Believe me, if you don’t get out in front of this now, it won’t matter if Apollo forgives you or not. Prostitution is illegal. I want to check statutes of limitations. I want to make sure there aren’t any charges being filed and warrants being issued.”
My blood runs cold.
“Oh, fuck,” I say under my breath.
“Exactly,” he snaps. “Now, turn off your phone. Come to my office and call me from the desk in suite 1502. My cell is on the second speed dial button,” he says.
“Excuse me, can we go to 300 Madison Avenue, please?”
“Sure thing.” The cab driver hits the meter to start it over and books a U-turn on Forty-Second Street without missing a beat.
I can hear papers rustling on Dean’s end of the phone. “Don’t talk to anyone. Especially not Nanette.” And then he hangs up.
I stare at it and then remember Dean’s words. I text a quick, “I’ll call soon. Please don’t do anything,” to Apollo and then power my phone down.
We pull up to Dean’s office. As I approach the rotating doors, a security guard unlocks it, and it starts to swing.
As soon as I step into the lobby, he starts walking toward the bank of elevators. “Mr. O just called, said to get you upstairs without delay. The elevator’s waiting. It’ll take you the fifteenth floor. Their suite is unlocked.” I step into the elevator and once again, marvel at Dean’s well-oiled operation. He has the most efficient and discreet team in this business. This whole debacle wouldn’t have happened if I’d just told him and Apollo from the beginning, but I thought they’d be disgusted. Not want to work with me. Touch me. And, I wanted to forget it. Telling them, I’d thought, had meant giving it life. But, it was already there, and my fear and silence have fed it and turned it into a monster that I can’t destroy without destroying myself.
Anxiety sends my stomach into a series of flips that threaten to send the paltry contents of my stomach up. I step into the suite, turn the light on, and call Dean.
“The show doesn’t want you back for the special, and they’re not airing the two recorded seasons. You can keep your signing bonus, but they’re done,” he says as soon as he answers.
My knees buckle, and I sit back in the chair.
“Are you fucking serious?” I ask and put my face in my hands.
“Yes. And this is just the beginning. It’s going to get rough, kid. It’ll be worse, but it will get better. And you’re not going to jail. The statute of limitations for—”
“It’s okay, Dean. For prostitution. And I already know this,” I say wearily.
“Yeah, it’s one year. You’re good. She’s not. What a bitch. I found out they paid two and half million for that interview.”
