“Image is everything,” Saylor murmurs, her eyes wide and interest piqued, as she sits on the top step of the stairs. At least I still have her attention.
“Yeah, well the money men thought so too. And the big thing was the studio wanted Jenna’s little trip to rehab kept under wraps. They knew if the backers found out she’d broken the terms of her contract, they’d pull the remainder of the funds, which in turn meant less marketing, less everything . . . including us getting paid until after it’s released and there’s ticket sale money being generated.”
“They can’t do that.”
My laugh is rich. I love her naïveté about the industry and wish I was just as oblivious most days. “I may be successful and a big-draw name, Say, but the money men . . . they have a lot more control in my world than people think. They give the money to the studios and since they’re the ones shouldering all the risk, the actors must deliver on all aspects: acting, promoting, public relations. They hold all the cards. So the day after Jenna goes into rehab, I’m called into a meeting where I’m told the details of her contract, and the repercussions for both her and me if the backers find out she’s using again. Talk about a cluster fuck. I freaked while my lawyers scrambled to find a loophole in my contract and demanded answers why I wasn’t told this prior to filming. At the same time, Jenna’s lawyers were in my face begging for me to stick it out to save the film. It was a nightmare I couldn’t get out of without seriously damaging important business relationships and throwing a lot of hard work down the drain. During the chaos, they asked me and anyone who knew anything to sign a non-disclosure agreement. They didn’t want word getting out and ruining the chances of the movie being released. They were banking on it to be the blockbuster that would boost their ever-waning profit margins in this constantly growing NetFlix, AppleTV, and online streaming world. They thought if we kept Jenna’s rehab stint under lock and key and her image squeaky clean, we could pull it off. They released old pictures of us to the press or planted stories in Page Six. All kinds of stupid shit to hide she was in rehab. Anything to keep the perception alive that we were costars in love, on and off screen. Then after the movie releases next month, we could call off our fake relationship.”
“Wait a minute. Your studio asked you to pretend to be a couple for her image’s sake?” She sounds dumbfounded. Just like I am most days in this industry.
“Yes. But she didn’t keep her nose clean. A few months ago she got into it again with her dad and he basically disowned her until she straightened her shit up. He knew the signs, knew she was using again, and wanted to show her some tough love, I guess. She came to my place crying hysterically and lost her mind when she saw Tessa was there.” I think of the scene. Jenna’s unpredictable actions and crazy temper. How she tried to hit Tessa and then me. Threw shit. Broke stuff. “That’s when I realized that Jenna had an unhealthy attachment to me and that I needed to start distancing myself from her. It was as if she believed all of the bullshit stories being fed to the public about how we were still together. It kind of freaked me out, Say. I suddenly realized we—meaning the studio and how I went along with it—were so very wrong in how we handled the situation. And I’m not sure if it was the pressure of her father’s ultimatums or realizing she and I were really all an act, but the night after I kicked her out, she attempted suicide.”
“Hayes.” And just like that, the sound of compassion in her voice tells me she just might not unravel when I tell her how she plays into all of this. Then again . . .
“Yeah. It was bad.” I think back to that phone call. To the frantic feeling over whether she was going to be okay. From disbelief to guilt wondering if it was my fault. “And of course I immediately felt responsible for being the tipping point because I kicked her out of the house. Those first few days were horrible and for the life of me, I have no idea how her attempt had been kept out of the press. I can’t imagine the number of greased palms and signed NDAs that her agent or manager or the damn studio for all I know, swooped in and used to keep everyone quiet. But they did. Until two days later when someone saw me heading into the hospital to check on her and started snooping around. I had no clue but somehow the studio found out. Their PR person, unbeknownst to me, decided to distract the snooper by diverting their attention to me.”
“The cheating story.” The way she says it, like she never believed it in the first place despite asking me, makes me feel a bit of relief.