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“How can I make that happen for you?”
“Money, I need money. I have to get out of this fucking town. I’m so sick of all this shit. What kind of asshole fires someone because they do a little coke? Everyone does coke. That was just an excuse. You were pissed I couldn’t get that bitch over there to work for me. What the hell is she doing here anyway?”
Petrified, Emma hadn’t said a word, hoping her silence would keep her safe, but Kurt abruptly spun around and lunged towards her waving the long, glistening blade.
“Why is it my fault you’re a stuck-up Hollywood brat who doesn’t want to work in television?” Kurt railed. “I’m so sick of stuck up bitches like you. I should make you suck my cock.”
“I want to, then I can bite it off,” she yelled, her fury suddenly seizing control. “Why don’t you just leave us alone? Go and rob a jewelry store or something.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Let me open my safe,” Jerry shouted, trying to snatch Kurt’s attention away from Emma. “There’s plenty of cash in there.”
“Then do it, asshole.”
Rising to his feet, Jerry turned to the wall and swung back a large painting, but as Kurt focused his attention on Jerry, Emma slid her hand into her purse, moved her phone just enough to see the screen, scrolled down to Zach’s name, then hit send and waited anxiously for him to answer. When he accepted the call, Emma began to yell.
“Kurt, why do you keep waving that knife around? Jerry’s giving you the money, and Kevin’s stuck under the coffee table and can’t bother you. Seriously, you’re going to hurt someone. Just chill for five minutes, and put down that knife!”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
WHEN ZACH’S PHONE RANG, Martha was urgently describing what she’d just witnessed at Jerry’s office, and how worried she was. Glancing down and seeing Emma’s name on the screen, he hastily held up his hand.
“Wait, she’s calling,” he declared, grabbing the phone and accepting the call, then realizing what he was hearing, he hit the mute button. “ Listen,” he exclaimed anxiously, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on his desk.
“Shut the fuck up, you bitch,” Kurt yelled, his voice loud and clear over Zach’s phone. “Another word and I’ll cut you, I fucking swear it. I’ll cut up all of you."
“What the hell? Who is that?” Angelo demanded, jumping to his feet.
“Kurt Fielding, he just got canned,” Zach replied, running out from behind his desk. “I’m going up there. Martha, call 911.”
“No! Wait! Don’t call the police,” Angelo shouted, running after him. “They’ll arrive with sirens and guns drawn and send this guy over the edge. Just wait—I know how to deal with this.”
“But—how?” Zach asked urgently. “You’re an actor.”
“Do you want me to stand here and explain, or do you want Emma and the others safely out of there?”
