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“Even if I wanted to,” he says, “and I’m not sure I do, I don’t think I can save you from this. I’m not an entertainment lawyer.”
I sag onto the bed, fall to my back, and let my legs hang off the side. “But you’re asmartlawyer.” I’m not kissing ass, it’s true. He’s myWalking Deadwingman. And I’m a dead man walking.
“I listened to the audio of the interview you sent. You basically breached your contract.”
At least I was smart enough to hit record on my phone. “I didn’tsayJax dies.” I put my hand over my eyes and massage my temples with my thumb and middle finger.
“You implied it,” he says. “To stick it to the show? Because the show’s going to stick it to you. You’re practically blacklisted with every other studio for the stunts you pulled over the last few months.” He exhales. “I realize things have been hard with your mom, not being able to tell anyone what’s going on, but the choices you made were immature and—”
“I know.” I clench my fist. Why can’t anyone remember hownotimmature I was all those years before everything went to shit with Mom? The years I showed up on set every day to work as hard as any adult when I was five and nine and twelve?
“That interview you gave Gretchen is going to cost you,” David warns. “Not only your career, but some serious financial damages if the show drags you to court.”
I already know that too. I drop my hand and eye the mostly empty bottle of Fireball I left on the table. Drinking this afternoon didn’t change Coley’s desertion or strip away the impossible promise I made Mom. But it did numb the place inside me that cares about those things. It also screwed everything with Jess.
I glance at her door. I don’t want to be the guy who lets her down. Who uses her. I want to be the guy who opened her car door, who talked her through her panic attack, who’s going to do whatever it takes to make things right.
“Gabe?” David sounds as if he’s seconds from killing our call.
“Gretchen went after Jess. There’s pictures, a video clip. They look bad.” Even though he won’t care, I explain why I did what I did. “Reporters caught us coming out of a public restroom. Nothing happened. But no one will believe that.”
“What does that have to do with breaching your contract?”
“I can’t do anything about the pictures people took on their phones, but Gretchen agreed to kill the sleazy clip for a hotter story.”
“You broke your contract—for agirl?” David’s pissed comes out dressed for battle.
“Not just any girl.” The girl who makes me want to be a better person. “Jess stood up to Gretchen for me today.”
“Gabe—”
“Jess isn’t like me. She didn’t sign up to be grilled about who she dates, what she eats, what kind of underwear she buys. That’s my life, not hers.”
David is so quiet I have to check my screen to see if our call’s still connected. While I wait for him to jump all over me, I get up and pace along the wall that separates me from Jess. Her TV turns on and the volume goes up. But I can still hear her crying.
I want to go to her. Wrap her in my arms. Talk everything out. But she needs time to calm down. Regroup. Or maybe that’s me. I slide to the floor in front of the adjoining door.
On the heels of a very long sigh, David finally breaks his silence. “I called your agent.”
It takes me a second to register that he might not have completely given up on me. “And?” I hold my breath.
“After Billy recited every foul word I know in that country twang of his, he said, ‘I’m on it.’”
I release some of the pressure in my lungs. “What does that mean?”
“It means we wait.”
chapter 31
Jess
Sarge got his nickname because he tells his team what to do on and off the field. And they let him. I’m waiting for him to push T to choose between their friendship and me. I’m not sure what I’d do if he broke us up. Most days, T’s all that keeps me together.
~ from the diary of Elizabeth Sara Thorne (age16)
Waiting is hard.
Waiting for my tears to run out. Waiting for the sleazy pictures to go viral. Waiting for that agonizing moment of awkward the next time I see Gabe.
