Breaking Hollywood(40)

"You still here?"

He turns at the sound of my voice. "You look like shit."

"So sweet of you to say." I unscrew the cap off the water and drain the bottle halfway. "How long was I out for?"

"An hour."

"Is that all? Felt like longer."

"How are you doing?" he asks.

I shrug and walk over to the sofa. I put the water down on the coffee  table, pick my smokes up from there, and sit my ass down on the sofa.

"What happened to Tate and Julian?" I ask.

"Tate had to go to the hospital. He got called in. There was an  emergency with one of his patients. He'll be back as soon as he can.  Julian's gone on a coffee run." He looks at me. "You were out of coffee.  And you know how twitchy he gets without it."

"Ava-" I cut off.

"Ava what?"

I drag a hand through my hair. "Nothing. She used to get the coffee; that's all."

He's silent a moment. I light up a smoke and stare at the TV.

"You know, you didn't have to stay," I say low.

I can feel his eyes on me, but I don't look at him.

"I know I didn't have to stay. I wanted to."

I take a drag of my cigarette and slowly blow the smoke out.

"When the shit hit the fan with Cain and Piper, who was the first person  to call me? You. Hell, we weren't even close back then. We just knew  each other through work. But you were the first to call. You got my ass  out of the house. Sure, you took me out and got me trashed, but you were  there. The very fucking least I can do for you right now is be here  when you need me."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, you look it. Oh, and I cleaned up the glass from earlier, so you know."

The bottle I smashed earlier. Shit.

"Thanks," I mutter.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"You mean, me being an ex-hooker?"

I stare at him, wanting to make him uncomfortable so that he won't push  the conversation, but the fucker steadily stares back at me.

I look away. "No. I don't want to talk about it."

"And what about Ava?"

"What about her?" I glare at him.

"Do you want to talk about her?"

"No."

His silence weighs heavy for a moment.

"Charly's with her. They're at the Four Seasons. Ava stayed there last  night. Charly flew in with me this morning and went straight there to  see her."

The Four Seasons, huh? Nice. She must be using the blood money she earned from selling me out.

Hurt and anger squeeze my chest like a vise.

"Why are you telling me this?" I speak the words through gritted teeth.

"I thought you might want to know."

"Well, I don't," I snap. "I don't give a shit where she is."

Silence.

"Charly says that Ava is adamant that she didn't talk to that journalist."

I slide hard eyes to him. "You believe her?"

He lifts a shoulder. "Charly does, and I trust Charly."

"Then, you're both as big of a fool as I was." I stub my cigarette out and toss the butt into the ashtray.

"Gabe"-he sits forward, arms on thighs, hands clasped together-"the  stuff that Digby printed. The things from your past. It doesn't matter  shit to me. I don't look at you any differently. You did what you needed  to, to survive. Fuck, you were barely an adult yourself, taking care of  your kid brother. No one will judge you for that."

"Yes, they will." I tip my chin in the direction of the window. "Them out there, they'll judge me."

"So what? Don't let other people make you feel ashamed of who you were. You're who you are now because of your past."

"Yeah, and aren't I just a fucking stellar example of a human being?"

"You can be a moody asshole at times. You drink way too much and smoke  like a fucking chimney. But you're also one of the best people I know.  You'd give your shirt off your back to help someone. And don't try to  fucking deny it because I know you would."

I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and stare down at the floor. "I just wish I hadn't been so fucking stupid."         

     



 

"You talking about Ava?"

I glance at him. "I trusted her. Spilled my fucking guts to her. And,  now, because of that, my past, the stuff I wanted to keep hidden, is  splashed all over the fucking tabloids. My career is in the toilet. And  not only is my career fucked, but this is going to screw things up for  Tate's, too."

"How?"

"He's a doctor for kids. You think people are going to want the child of  mob bosses and the brother of an ex-whore taking care of their kids?"

"Tate will be fine. And so will you."

I laugh hollowly. "I'm dead in the water after this. Who's gonna want to hire me now?"

"Gabe, how many actors and actresses do you think have succumbed to the  casting couch over the years? Thousands, I bet. The only difference is,  they sleep with whomever they need to, to get a part in a movie. You  slept with women to feed your kid brother. I know who's the better  person in that scenario."

"Yeah, but their stories aren't splashed all over the papers."

"No. But we're all whores in this business. None of us are clean."

"You are."

"I've done things that I needed to, to get to where I wanted to be."

I stare over at him. "The … casting couch?"

"Fuck no." Pause. "You?"

"Surprisingly, no."

We look at each other and laugh. And it feels good for a moment. Then, I  remember what I'm laughing about, and I don't feel so good anymore.

"That's because you're a great fucking actor, Gabe. Your career isn't  done. And neither is Tate's. You don't need to worry about him. Trust  me. We've seen worse things happen in this business, and careers have  survived."

"Worse than two parents in jail for racketeering, drug dealing, and murder and me selling myself for money?"

"Okay, well, maybe not that bad. But isn't that what we do now? Sell  ourselves, our bodies, to the world for money. Look at Martha Stewart.  She did time for fraud, and she came back even stronger. She made more  money after that than she did before. It's how the situation is handled  that counts. We get your PR team handling this the right way, and it'll  be fine."

"I don't know, Vaughn." I lie back against the sofa and let out a  tired-sounding sigh. "I just really don't feel like talking to anyone  right now."

"Then, let me do it. I'll speak to Gil. I'll handle things for you."

I stare out the window at the view. "Fine." I sigh. "But I'm not  speaking to any interviewers or going on any chat shows to talk about my  fucking feelings. Got it?"

"Got it."





Gabe


"Charly's here," Vaughn says to me, his cell pressed to his ear. "Is she okay to park in your building's parking garage?"

"Sure. Tell her to put eight-eight-three-nine into the keypad at the  entrance, and the barrier will open, letting her in. She can park in bay  two. You'll need to go down in the elevator to get her though. Use my  key." I point to it on the coffee table.

"Did you get that, Pins? Yeah. See you in a few." Vaughn gets to his feet and swipes the elevator key off the table.

"Charly, she's … alone, right?"

Vaughn stops and looks at me. "Ava's not with her if that's what you mean. She's still at the hotel."

"Good."

Vaughn goes to get Charly, and I pick up the coffee that Julian brought back and take a sip.

It's decent, but it doesn't taste as good as Ava's coffee.

And I fucking hate that I miss her making me coffee.

God, I'm pathetic.

"What did Gil say?" Julian asks me.

I glance over at him. He's sitting on the other sofa, drinking his coffee.

"Vaughn talked to him. Said I just needed to okay that press release he  sent over, and once that's out there, they'll start pulling together a  strategy based on the public response to try and stop this shit from  completely destroying my career."

"Have you read the release?"

"Yeah." I sigh.

"And?"

"It's just the usual shit that we read all the time. Gabriel regrets his  past actions, and his parents' criminal past is in no way a reflection  of him. He does not condone their crimes and has not had contact with  his parents since their arrest. Blah, blah, blah."

"If you hate the release, then have them rewrite it."

"And put what?"

"I don't know." Julian brings his coffee to his lips and takes a sip.  "Just think about what you want to say and then tell your publicist and  have her write it up."         

     



 

"Yeah. I guess I could." I take another sip of my coffee.

A few minutes later, I hear the arrival of Vaughn and Charly.

And the first thing I want to do is ask Charly how Ava is.

How fucking lame is that?

I really need a punch in the face.

"Gabe." Vaughn's voice comes from behind me before he comes into view.  He stands to the left of the sofa, Charly by his side. "Charly needs to  talk to you. It's important."