“Working on it,” she says, taking a big mouthful of chocolate sugar. “This stuff is so good.”
“It’s just sugar, you know.”
“Oh, I know.” She grins at me. “I work from home, so who am I impressing?”
I sigh. “Your pancreas?”
“She’s good. Very strong.” She pats her stomach.
“Your pancreas is a girl?”
“Of course,” Laney says. “Every organ I have is a girl, but if I were a guy, they’d all be a dude.”
“Makes sense,” I say, nodding at her simple logic.
Laney flips the television channel and lands on one of those gossip shows. It’s a new episode, because they’re talking about some really recent drama. I’m only half paying attention as I scroll through Facebook on my phone when I suddenly hear Jackson’s name.
“That’s right,” the presenter, a chic and thin-looking brunette woman with an Italian name, “the new hunky action star Jackson Hendricks is confirmed to be dating his dreamy co-star, Holly Hart. We don’t know when this little on-set fling began, but apparently it’s hot and heavy already.”
I stare at the TV as they transition into another short bit of news about some teen actor I’ve never heard of. I keep staring at the TV, totally blown away.
“Hey, Tara, you okay?”
I blink and look over at Laney. “Yes,” I say softly.
“You look like you just saw a ghost. Seriously, you okay? Is it the Hendricks thing we just saw?”
I stare at her and I want to tell her everything, but I can’t, not now. Especially not now.
“I’m just an idiot,” I say, and get up off my chair. I quickly walk out of the room, ignoring Laney’s protests, and shut my bedroom door quietly behind me. I lock it and sit down on my bed, head in my hands.
I feel so stupid. I feel like a total idiot. I let myself get my hopes up again, and now he’s destroying them. Jackson will break me, every single time, and I can’t ever let him get close to me. I opened myself again, imagined what it could be like, and here I am, broken all over.
I feel that hollow pit in my stomach that lingered for years after Jackson left me starting to open up, threatening to swallow me whole.
13
Jackson
I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at a grown ass man the way I yelled at Mickey Rains.
I thought I was clear. I told Harold and Franklin that I’m not doing the whole fake relationship thing, and I assumed that was the end of it. I went back to the set the next day, and things seemed totally fine.
At least until I got a call from Mickey, explaining that the relationship story was about to drop.
I fucking lost it. I’ve never felt so goddamn betrayed in my entire life, and the worst part is, if I don’t play ball then they’ll replace me. Despite the fact that I’m headlining this film and have a bunch of scenes fucking shot already, they’ll cut me right out and replace me with some other fucking action asshole.
“That’s the business,” Mickey said to me. “I saved your career.”
“Fuck the business,” was my reply, but it didn’t matter.
It was done. I couldn’t change it.
Now I’m in a fucked-up position. On the one hand, I don’t give a shit about this movie. I’d gladly walk away and never look back. I hate letting these assholes push me around, especially when it’s a bunch of Hollywood douchebags. Maybe I’d be torching my acting career, but I’ve already made so much fucking money, I can easily find a new line of work to support myself and be very comfortable. It’s not about the work at all. I’d burn it all down for my own sense of honor any fucking day.
The real problem is, if I walk away then I may never see Tara again. She’ll disappear on me. Sure, she wants me, and we shared that insanely good kiss. But that doesn’t mean I’m forgiven for fucking up all those years ago. If I leave this movie, I don’t know what she’ll think, and I’m afraid I won’t get another chance to try and make this shit right.
But if I go through with this fake relationship, I don’t know how she’ll feel.
Then again, she’s in the business. She knows how these things go. I bet she’ll understand that this whole relationship is a fucking load of shit, and she’ll see through it. Or maybe she won’t, since I do think she has some jealousy toward Holly. Goddamnit, there’s no good answer to this situation.
And so I find myself sitting across a table from Holly at a nice restaurant, pretending to be on a date.
I don’t know why I agreed to this. The cameras went fucking crazy when we got out of the car together and walked inside. Fortunately they’re leaving us alone, but people keep glancing in our direction. At least I have some nice, strong whisky to help me through it.