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They shouldn’t have pushed me here. They should have let me pursue my relationship with Cora. Live my life how I want. But neither of them seemed capable of handling life when I wasn’t improving theirs. Now… now there is no other option. They did this and now they will pay the consequences.
A few more clicks of the camera and the photographer announces the shoot is a wrap. As soon as those words are spoken, I distance myself from Layla. And she notices immediately.
“You okay?” Layla asks as she approaches me.
I slip a hoodie over my head before chugging my water dry. During the whole process, Layla stands a foot away and regards my lack of speech and eye contact. Good. I hope it makes her sweat. Hope it makes her question why I have been so standoffish. Hope it unsettles and worries her. It should.
> But she won’t have to question much of anything in a moment. Shit… meet fan.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Alyson walking toward us. I drag in a deep breath and prepare for what will happen next. If I know these two women well enough, one will go into hysterics while the other throws a rage fit. Not that I care, but let’s see how right I am.
“Gavin. Layla. Great job out there today,” Alyson chirps. Her whole demeanor is as it was before we ever went to Florida. Chipper and smiley and completely artificial. Since she has been my agent, I always sensed her artifice. But I passed it off as being out in Los Angeles, and that is how most of the population is. Now, I see things differently. Now, I see she only cares about me for one reason. My signature on her paycheck.
Alyson starts scrolling through her phone and ignoring Layla and me. As she has done a thousand times prior. So, I steel myself and start the inevitable.
“Alyson. Layla. We need to talk.”
Layla stares at me, her amber resin eyes asking me question after question. But I ignore her and stare at Alyson, who has yet to look up from her phone. With each passing second, the fact that she continues to ignore me pisses me off further. So to grab her attention, I opt to snap my fingers in her face.
When she finally looks up from her still lit-up phone screen, irritation rests on her face. Irritation for me disrupting her. But I don’t give a fuck.
Welcome to the club of pissed-off people, my name is Gavin.
“Gavin, I was just reading an email for another shoot. If you would’ve waited another—” Alyson attempts to hold the floor, but I cut her off.
“Stop,” I shout. My voice bounces around the small studio. The eyes of crew members still in the room look our way. But I don’t give a shit. I am over this. More than over it. “As I said a moment ago, we need to talk. The three of us.”
“I heard you, Gavin. Can it not wait? I have other appointments I need to get to.” As she says the words, she flicks her wrist and glances down at the gold and diamond watch on her arm. This irritates me more.
“No, Alyson. It cannot wait,” I seethe.
She locks her phone and rests her hands on her hips. She purses her lips and regards me as if I am behaving like a stubborn child. Obviously, she has forgotten her place in this world. Has forgotten the fact that she only has a paycheck because I grant her such a privilege. Sure, she has other clients, but none of them are as big as I am or as fruitful to her bank account. If anything, she should be vying for my attention. Doing whatever makes me happy.
“Well, spit it out. As I said, I have other appointments to get to.”
Beside me, Layla starts biting her fingernails. It is such a disgusting habit. One I tried to help her curb time after time. By the time I finish, she probably won’t have any nails left.
My eyes dart between the two of them—one worried, the other annoyed. “You’re fired,” I state firmly, not an ounce of regret in my voice.
Alyson blinks a few times before taking a step back. Confusion mars her face for a beat as she lifts a hand to her chest. “Sorry, I think I may have misheard you. What did you just say?”
I want to laugh and shake my head, but bite my lip and resist the urge. She heard me loud and clear. Just doesn’t want to believe it. “You heard me just fine. But if it needs repeating… You. Are. Fired.” She jerks her head away as if I slapped her. But before she says another word, I face Layla next. “And you… I don’t ever want to see you again. We’re done. No more fake engagement. No more friendship. I hope you enjoyed the ride because it’s time to exit.”
Layla goes wide-eyed and stands speechless. She stares at me slack-jawed as her eyes glaze over. A million thoughts and questions flit across her face, but she remains stoic. After a moment, she finally locates her voice. “This is because of her, isn’t it?”
I don’t owe either of them an explanation after the shit they have put me through, but I answer her anyway. “If I’m being honest, it’s not just because of Cora. But yes, Layla, she is the shift that has made this happen. It was a long time coming, and she gave me the push I’d been missing for years.”
“You can’t do this!” Alyson yells, not caring who heard her outburst. She points her French-manicured nail in my face. “We have a contract.” Her eyes light up, hoping she caught me in some loophole I forgot about.
But I didn’t forget about our contract. She must have me pegged as an idiot. Joke is on her.
“Actually, I can do this. We did have a contract. A contract I had my attorney look over when I told him I wanted to seek a new agent. After some light reading—” I smirk “—it was determined that our contract period ended almost two years ago. But seeing as we had been doing so well together, neither of us paid much attention to that fact. Too bad for you.”
Alyson is a deer in the headlights. She has no comeback for the truth I just laid on the table. No rebuttal for the fact that we carried on for an additional two years without signing a new contract. This hiccup is a win for me, and a major loss for her. If she would have continued looking out for my best interests, our business relationship may have continued. But greed took hold. And greed loses in the long run.
While Alyson marinates in the loss of being my agent, I turn and speak to Layla. “You know, we had a great friendship. One I never questioned. We were always there for each other. Had each other’s back. But your ego surpassed your morality not too long ago. And the stunt you pulled in Florida… it’s unforgivable.”
A lone tear rolls down her cheek, her perfect stage makeup not smearing or running. Sadness hits when I question if I should believe this tear or not. As a model, Layla is an actor. She knows how to put on a show for the camera and crowd. Knows how to make people believe what she is selling. So how can I believe this lone tear is real? That it comes from somewhere genuine.
