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The answer is simple—I can’t.
“Gavin,” she chokes out and sniffles. “I’m sorry. It’s just… Alyson called me and told me what was going on. That you planned to move back to Florida. And I just reacted. I freaked.”
I shake my head. “You just reacted? You freaked?” I laugh at her, incredulous. “No. What you did was behave like a child who didn’t get her way. Because if I moved away from you, you wouldn’t get to ride my coattails anymore. But instead of talking with me, you chose a different tactic. Chose to be bitter and selfish and vindictive. Too bad it didn’t work in your favor.”
Her tears flow a little more steadily now. Maybe they are real, but no chance in hell am I letting my guard down enough to question their validity. If my guard goes down, she will push her guilt on me to appease herself.
“Gavin, please,” Layla begs. “If our years of friendship mean anything to you—”
“No,” I shout. “You don’t get to pull the friendship card to manipulate me. After the stunt you pulled, knowing full well what it would do, there is no friendship card anymore. It expired the moment you used me as a pawn in some game to keep me. You know what she means to me, and you used that knowledge as a weapon. Friends don’t do shit like that, Layla. Friends congratulate each other when good things happen.”
In my periphery, Alyson unlocks her phone and begins to frantically go from screen to screen. I told my attorney I planned to speak with Alyson and Layla after the shoot ended, and gave him an estimated time as to when that would be. By now, he has emailed the termination paperwork to Alyson. A few seconds later, my thoughts are validated when Alyson slaps her hand to her mouth and gasps. As if she did not believe me.
My work here is done. And I have other obligations to attend to. So, without another word, I turn my back on them and walk away. Both women try to garner my attention as I head for the exit, but I ignore them as I push through the door. Already, a major weight lifts from my chest and I breathe a little easier.
Studio lights blind me as a man attaches a small microphone to my shirt. “Mr. Hunt, could you please say a few words so we can test the mic?”
I have the sudden urge to behave like a child with a toy microphone. I tap the mic clipped to my shirt a few times. “Testing. Testing. One, two, three. Can you hear me?”
A woman behind a soundboard with headphones over her ears gives a thumbs up. The man beside me returns the gesture then fidgets with the mic a little more, trying to disguise it behind my shirt. A moment later, he walks off and leaves me to sit on the studio stage alone.
Before I have too much time to ponder how long I will sit here alone, Janet Maverick sits in the plush armchair beside me. Janet Maverick—one of Hollywood’s top reporters. When she talks to a crowd, people listen. And that is the exact reason I came to her. So my story will be heard by the masses.
“Hey, Gavin. How are you today?” Janet asks, genuinely interested.
“Oh, you know. Things aren’t so hot. But I’m hoping this interview will be the fresh start to things getting better.”
She nods. “I’m sure everything will work out. Just stay positive.”
A moment later, the stage crew crowd around us. We are asked to get in position on set. Janet and I are asked to say a few last things for a final check of our mics. Then a woman behind one of several cameras begins counting down with her fingers before pointing at Janet.
“Good evening, Los Angeles. If this is your first time tuning in, I’m Janet Maverick. And you’re watching The Heart of Hollywood. Tonight, I am honored to have Gavin Hunt on stage with me.” Janet faces me and gives a warm smile. “Welcome, Gavin.”
I have been in front of a camera hundreds of times, but in this moment an overwhelming sense of stage fright consumes me. “Thank you, Janet. It’s great to be here,” I stumble then cough. A stagehand points to a bottle of water beside me, signaling me to drink. Glad someone is looking out for me.
Janet carries on as if there is no reason to panic. As if millions of people aren’t flipping on their televisions to watch this very moment. Right now, I envy her this.
“For those of you who aren’t familiar with the man beside me… First of all, shame on you,” she
jokes. “Seriously. Mister Gavin Hunt is a model. You may have seen his work in a magazine or twenty. He has also appeared on the cover of several romance novels. Ladies, check those book covers.”
Someone behind the soundboard presses a button and some previously recorded laughter echoes around us.
“But let’s get down to the nitty-gritty,” Janet says. “Gavin, you just returned from a photo shoot in Florida. How did it go?”
I hold Janet’s gaze, doing my best to ignore the cameras and crew focused on us. After a quick inhale, I answer. “The photo shoot was phenomenal. It was nice to return to Florida after being away for so many years.”
Janet perks up at this. “Return to Florida? Is that where you’re originally from, Gavin?”
“It is. I moved out to California when I was sixteen after my mom received a promotion. This past trip was the first time I’d been back.”
She nods, her face studious over my response. “So, what can we look forward to seeing after this shoot?”
“I was doing a shoot for Beach Global Magazine. There will be several images with a new line I’m helping them promote. Casual wear for the beach and city. As well as swimwear and undergarments,” I say, waggling my brows.
Janet lays her hand over her heart before fanning herself. “Gavin, you can’t just say things like that. Now I’m blushing on national television.” She swats me with a small pad of paper.
“The magazine is set to release at the beginning of summer. Make sure you get your copy. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.” I wink at her.
