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“You don’t really think just because you quit, people will forget you.”
“Sure they will.”
He huffed out a long breath. “You break this contract and they’ll be all over you like flies on shit. There won’t be anywhere you can hide.”
“They can try to find me.”
“The circus that descended at your family’s place? It’ll be nothing compared to what will happen if you just disappear. I thought their privacy was your priority.”
“It is. But Muriella is number one.”
He sighed. “Listen, I don’t want to know the details, but what the hell makes you think this will solve all your problems?”
I dropped my head back to the pillows. Muriella wouldn’t let me out of this bed…and it wasn’t for the reasons I’d like.
“I don’t think it will,” I said. “It’s a start.”
“Let’s just set aside this flawed logic for a minute. If you back out of this contract, you’ll owe the studio a shit-ton of money.”
“That’s why I have you for a lawyer. To figure out how to get me out of stuff like this.”
“Jacobs, don’t do anything stupid. Take a breath. Wait a few days.”
“I don’t need a few days.” I switched to speaker, my arm already tired from holding up the phone. “And forget that damn interview. I’m not doing it. I don’t care if the world thinks I threatened Randall Hedley. If this shit keeps up, I just might.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he huffed.
“I wanted you to hear it.”
“Don’t screw that whole situation up by trying to play hero. I’ve almost got his ass nailed, so sit tight.”
“Do you talk to all your clients this way?”
“To the ones who are being foolish, yeah.”
“Draft the letter. Better yet, send them the Johnny Paycheck song. That should about cover it.” Everything felt so damn heavy. My arms. Legs. Eyelids.
“I’m not telling them to take their job and shove it.” He spoke as if it were the most preposterous request I’d ever made.
“I think it sums it up nicely.”
“How many of those pain pills have you taken?”
“Want me to get my nurse so you can ask her?” My head lolled to the side. Sleep pulled at me.
“You owe me for all the excuses I had to give Drusilla. And you owe Drusilla an interview.” His frustration barreled at me through the phone, but the reporter would have to get over it. My interviewing days were over.
“Just get me out of the contract and don’t let me lose the ranch.”
I hung up as Daniel tapped on the doorframe.
“You look like shit,” he said. With a glance behind him, he closed the door with a quiet click.
“At least I have an excuse,” I mumbled.
“What contract are you trying to get out of?”
“You’re a nosy bastard.” He shot me an unimpressed look. “The movie. I’m done. My fame nearly landed Muriella back with that son of a bitch.”
