“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to ride out the sickening feeling of my stomach dropping out from under me.
“People are going to try to figure out who you are,” Devon said. “I’ll be followed specifically for the chance to get a photo of you, to get you to react to awful questions so the photo can be purposefully terrible. You’re probably the highest bounty in Hollywood right now.”
“Bounty?”
“Photos of you will probably fetch a higher price than photos of me,” he explained.
“Oh.” That didn’t sound pleasant at all.
“This isn’t really what you had in mind, is it?” Devon asked unhappily. “I’m so sorry, June. I know what you must be thinking.”
“How did I get into this and how do I get myself out of it,” I intoned, rubbing my face with my hands.
“Chaz has an option,” Devon said, but I shook my head.
“I heard what Chaz said. He said you’re slumming it with me.”
“Chaz was being a dick because he was upset,” Devon reasoned.
“I don’t trust him.”
“I do.” Devon tucked a piece of my hair back behind my ear. “I’ve known Chaz longer than I’ve known anyone in the business. You can call him a dick. That’s reasonable. But he’s a dick who knows what he’s doing, and that’s invaluable to me.”
“What’s Chaz’s suggestion?” I asked. “Hide my ‘rando’ face in a paper bag the next time we venture out? Never go out? I bet that’s it. He wants me to begin a hermitage.” I was supportive of that second idea. Devon’s house was big enough that I was sure I’d get lost in it. It would be impossible to be bored. I would never have to face the music, growing fat and pale—but protected.
“No,” Devon said. “Chaz says you should face everything head-on, and I agree.”
“What?” I spluttered. “Just let the paparazzi take shitty photos of me and the Internet write shitty stories? No, thank you.”
“He suggested you should do an interview.”
“That sounds even worse.” I could only imagine the types of questions I would field, the statements that would get taken out of context, the anxiety I wouldn’t be able to escape for the duration of the ordeal. That was an idea that could only backfire.
“If you let people know who you are, it’ll be on your own terms,” Devon persisted. “You would have control. Chaz knows this side of the industry intimately. He’d vet the interviewer—and the questions. He’d coach you beforehand. This is what he does. This is what I pay him to do.”
“I don’t think I want to do this.”
“I don’t think you have much of a choice,” Devon said gently. “Think about it, June. If you try to remain anonymous, they’ll never leave you alone. This is the best option. Do the interview.”
“Is this what it’s like all the time?” I asked mournfully. “Is this your life, worrying about what people say about you, how you look, who you’re with?”
“Fame and fortune come at a pretty steep price,” he confirmed. “I’m sorry I dragged you into it.”
“I could always sink back into anonymity in Dallas,” I said, almost hopeful. “That’s a good plan, right?”
“Only you wouldn’t be with me,” he said. “I think that’s a bad plan.”
I sighed. I didn’t know what I thought anymore. “I want to be here with you, Devon, but I really hate the paparazzi. There has to be something that can be done about them. They shouldn't harass you as badly as they do.”
“Beat them at their own game,” he encouraged me. “Do the interview. Control your image. Chaz can take you under his wing for this.”
“I don’t think Chaz likes me very much.”
“He doesn’t like anyone. It keeps him honest.”
“I’ll do the interview, then,” I said with a long sigh.
The next day, Devon had to run errands and attend some professional commitments. I got dressed and was ready and waiting for Chaz when the agent let himself into the house. He came bearing coffee.
“Glad to see Devon away at the things he’s supposed to be doing,” Chaz remarked by way of saying hello.
“I guess,” I said, noncommittal.
“You’re an enormous distraction to him,” he said. “I hope you know that.”
Well, I did now. I didn’t know what to say to this brusque man. Devon promised me Chaz would grow on me. I didn’t see that happening at all.
“Devon’s a grown man,” I said, deciding to take my stand. “He does whatever he wants. I don’t control him. And as much as you wish you did, neither do you.”