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You know, Luna.
You know.
Please…no.
Eliot shakes his head, and he’s glowering at Tom again. “I cannot believe you called her to use her as your bargaining chip. She’s ourbestfriend.”
Tom glares. “And she has more sense than you right now, dude. Just chill out.”
“Chill out?” Eliot’s eyes redden with more hurt. “Chill out? How would it feel if someone were to take your vocal cords and rip them out—”
“Eliot.” Beckett gives him a classicwhat the fucklook.
I wince. “Can we not talk about those hypotheticals?” I tell them.
Eliot and Tom have a brutal staring contest. “This is on you, brother,” Eliot says. “You’re the one about to cause her pain. Just remember that.”
“Then maybe I know her better than you.” Tom stands his ground. “Because she’d want to know.”
I might be a Hale, but I’m not slow.
I’m not an idiot.
I’ve figured it out, okay.
“They fired you?” I ask Eliot. “Your troupe fired you after hearing about my stories?”
Eliot shakes his head once. “No, they’re too spineless for that.” He glares at the ceiling. “They gave me an ultimatum. Either I leave the company or I stop associating with someone that would do damage to their family-friendly brand.” The fury in his gaze doesn’t subside when he looks to me. “First thing I told them was,you realize my parents have a porn tape out in the world?Apparently, past indiscretions don’t matter as much.”
So he quit.
For me.
Becauseof me.
And here I thought my parents’ companies were the ones going to take a hit. Not my best friend’s career. This hurts worse than any elbow to the mouth.
“There are other theatre companies,” Beckett tells Eliot. “Fuck the one that would make you take an ultimatum. You don’t want to be with them anyway, but you also shouldn’t torch the bridges you’ve built to get there. You don’t know who’s friends with who behind-the-scenes. The art world is small.”
I’m cold.
“It’s the point of the matter,” Eliot says. “The world should know what kind of people they are.”
“Let our family’s publicist put out a statement then,” Beckett says diplomatically.
“Beckett’s right,” I say. “If you post a rant video, you’re just going to get more shit too.”
“I’m not afraid,” Eliot decrees. “Fuck everyone who thinks you wrote something gross or obscene. Fuck thefanswho want me and Tom to stop being your friends.” Hot tears invade his eyes, like those last comments have punctured raw pieces of him. I haven’t dived too deep or long into the internet this week, and I’m starting to guess he has.
Tom crosses his arms over his chest. He looks to me. “We’ll always be your friend, Luna.”
I know.
I’m lost for words though. Every piece of information hollows me out more and more. My mistakes have grown like thorny vines, twisting around the people I love. Guilt has become heavier like a weighted blanket impossible to throw off.
Eliot watches me, his ire almost dissipating into more concern. “It’s not your fault, Luna.”
It is my fault.
