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THE NEXT EVENING
Xavier’s leg is bobbing up and down like a sewing machine needle. His publicist and agent are on speakerphone. My agent is seated next to me on the sofa. I’m still nauseous over the photos that went public last night, and even more so when I consider what Millie must think of me.
Xavier has been on the phone with his agent and manager all day. He’s cranky from his hangover—and I from mine. We’re in his ginormous mansion, where I spent the night. We didn’t sleep much. He was pacing and fretting and swearing, and I was shaking, my stomach tossing. This morning I managed to keep down some water and a couple Advil, and I’m glad. My head was a throbbing, pounding mess.
“Meredith?” Xavier’s agent caws through the speakerphone.
“Here,” my agent answers, impatience in her tone.
“The best course of action for everyone involved is for Nina to tell the public she took Millie’s award.”
Mer snorts and asks, “Oh, is that what’s best for her?”
Dick—yes, that’s his real name—argues his case. It involves a lot of skewed reasoning, but I’ll summarize. He’s been suggesting I admit to stealing the Oscar, since Xavier’s film is about to release and the film can’t handle “the bad press.”
Meredith argues fervently in my defense that the press would be bad for me, too, especially because I’m out of work. She shoots me an apologetic head-tilt as if to reassure me that she doesn’t believe I’m unemployed. I manage a brittle smile.
Negotiations continue and I flash a glare laced with hurt at Xavier, who doesn’t mouth I’m sorry but emotes it on his disgustingly handsome face. Then he pairs it with a shrug that’s too careless for the situation.
When the conversation comes to a close, I offer to take the blame, and Xavier offers me a part in his next feature film.
“I’ll refuse to be in it unless Nina has a starring role,” he says, his eyes glimmering with hope. He nods in my direction. “I’d do that for you, baby.”
I’m not sure if I’m more disgusted that he believes he’s doing me a favor, or that I’m tempted to take the offer. He has that power, and I’m ambitious enough to want a shot at the silver screen that I’m willing to part with a tiny piece of my integrity in exchange for it.
“Nina?” Meredith shakes her head, then sighs when she sees the determination on my face. “I’ll do what you want.”
“I want an Oscar,” I say. “One with my name on it.”
“Done. Next starring role is yours, Nina. With me. We’ll handle the haters together.” Xavier nods.
Dick shouts triumphantly, and my stomach tosses violently.
It’s the beginning of the end, and the end-end for Xavier and me. It bothers me that it’s all handled with our agents present, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s been forged in the gleam of the brightest lights. His sights are on his film release and the success of his next. I’m collateral damage. Dick mentions rehab and my agent holds up a hand to stay my reaction. Then Dick mentions a public reconciliation and Meredith’s eyes light up. She likes the idea of us reconciling.
I don’t.
