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Smiling at her, I slide my hand from hers and put it around her waist. “If they insult you, they insult me.”
“See… hero.”
Chuckling, we walk with our arms around each other to the car and a waiting Todd.
“For a guy who got sucker-punched, you look pretty happy.”
“Todd, when you’ve got the best wife in history, being punched in the face ain’t nothing.”
Todd pretends to vomit. “Someone save me from all this mushy stuff.”
“Jealous?” asks Athena.
Todd nods. “You bet.”
***
The next day started like the day before. All three of us went to the studio together and were picked up by Charles and his team. The only difference was I had to go to makeup a little earlier to cover up my eye, which is slowly turning black.
“Cut!” yells Andy as he looks at today's filming. “Kris, you need to get to makeup to fix that eye. I need to go back through the rushes to see what you look like. We may need to reshoot some scenes.”
The rushes are the raw footage of the day. We’ve been at it since five this morning, and, apart from ordering me around, Andy hasn’t had one nice thing to say.
It’s eleven o’clock, and Athena is waiting for me near the buffet table. I’m being especially nice to everyone on set as I don’t want any negative publicity to impact the movie. Rumors in this industry can make or break a film.
My publicist is here as is my agent. Both look nervous as I make my way over to the lead makeup specialist.
“Harry, Jordana, how are you both?”
Jordana, my publicist, smiles. “Great, Kris! You?”
Harry, who knows me better, doesn’t try to appease me. “We’ve put out a statement regarding the drug allegations, but there’s been a development.”
Frowning, I stop walking and cock my head to the side. “How so?”
Jordana opens her bag and holds out a newspaper. She’s avoiding my gaze and fidgeting with the clasp on her oversized purse. Neither of them says anything as I look at the picture on the front page. It’s of me hitting the guy from yesterday, the headline readingBad Boy Runs with Bad Crowd.
“What the actual fuck?”
“Kris, we can—”
Balling up the newspaper, I throw it at a trash can. “How? How the fuck do we fix this?” My head swivels to Jordana. “What the fuck am I paying you for?” Throwing my hands in the air, I say loudly, “What the fuck am I payingeitherof you for?”
“Ah, Kris?” Turning, I see Andy’s personal assistant. “Andy would like to talk to you.”
With my hands on my hips, I draw in a breath. “Yep, I’m sure he does. Tell him I’ll just be a minute.”
Poking Harry in the chest, I close the space between us. “Fix this,”I hiss into his face, then stalk toward Andy’s trailer.
To be polite, I rap my knuckles on the door but don’t wait to be summoned in. I open it and walk right on in.
Andy is on his cell phone. He holds up a finger to me, nods, and says, “He’s just walked in. Yes, I will.” Andy ends the call, sits at the small table, and gestures to me to sit opposite him. “What was yesterday really about?”
“The guy said some pretty awful things about Athena, and I overreacted.”
Andy picks up a newspaper and tosses it on the table. “The newspapers say differently, and the studio says this guy is tied to a drug cartel.”
“It’s bullshit.”
