According to a Source

by Abby Stern

  “Hi. Actually, it’s Ella. Not Bella.”

  “Really? That’s embarrassing. I’ve been calling you the wrong name the whole time I’ve known you. Why didn’t you ever say anything?” He gives me a sexy smirk and it’s hard to believe looking at him that he has any troubles in life, although there’s no question he does.

  “It’s not your fault. I told you my name was Bella,” I explain.

  “Why?” He looks at me quizzically. Why would I do that? That is the question of the moment and the one that I most need to, but most dread, answering.

  “I know … it’s complicated. Do you think we could go for a walk or something?”

  “Who am I to say no in the name of recovery?” He places his hand on the small of my back and we exit the building. I make sure to steer us north on Robertson Boulevard to avoid what’s known as paparazzi alley. “I was surprised to see you. You’ve never seemed like an addict to me, although being an addict myself I realize what an ignorant comment that is to make.”

  “I’m not actually an addict. I was having a bad day and drank way too much and got a DUI. Mandatory AA is part of my sentence.”

  “Been there,” he tells me with a smile and a laugh even though we both know it’s not funny.

  “It actually happened the night we made out in the bathroom at Ambiance.”

  He stops. “We made out at Ambiance?” Sexy Indie Film Actor racks his brain to try to find the memory that matches my story but the data isn’t computing for him. “Fuck, Ella. I’m sorry. I don’t remember. I’m an asshole.” He shrugs his shoulders.

  “It’s okay. Neither of us was exactly sober and I knew what I was doing. I’d just run into my ex and I was craving attention and you were giving it to me.

  “I thought I would hate AA,” I admit. “But things started making sense listening to everyone speak. Everyone’s stories are powerful and it makes me realize how selfish I’ve been and that I have to be held accountable for my actions and I need to make amends, starting with you.” I stop and Sexy Indie Film Actor does as well. “I’ve lied to you since the first time I met you.”

  “You gave me a different name. It’s not a big deal. Trust me; of all the lies girls in this town have told me, yours is innocuous. I forgive you.”

  “It’s not just that…” His curiosity is piqued, wondering what other misleading information I intentionally gave him. “I was an undercover club reporter for The Life. I close my eyes again because I am dreading the look on his face.

  “What does that mean?” He’s calm but looking me directly in my eyes, and I have to come completely clean, not just for him but for myself as well.

  “It means that every time you saw me I was working. The Chateau, clubs, all of it. I observed what you and all of the other celebrities were doing while they were out at night and I gave that info to The Life. When you read an article and it says ‘according to a source,’ that was me. I quit a month ago.” My voice trembles as I notice the expression in his eyes. “I’m the one that told them about you doing drugs.” His mouth tenses up and I feel like I have X-ray vision and am watching his brain run through a host of scenarios before determining which one to respond with. “If I hadn’t seen you at the meeting today I don’t think that I ever would’ve told you, but afterwards it didn’t seem like I could see you again and talk to you if I’m keeping this secret. I know that making amends is a long way off for me in this whole process but here it is. The first time I’m being honest with you. I, Ella Warren, am truly sorry.”

  I’m waiting for him to scream at me. I’m waiting for him to do an about-face and walk in the other direction. But he stands in front of me with no reaction for a good twenty seconds, which feels like an agonizing hour.

  “Ella—” I’m ready for my reaming. “I was mad at the magazine at first, but honestly, you helped save my life.” Okay, so apparently I’m delusional, because the first words I hear come out of Sexy Indie Film Actor’s mouth after my confession are gratitude.

  “I saved your life?” Now it’s my turn to stare.

  “Yes. You saved my life. Or you helped save it.”

  “How?” That’s not what I expected.

  “You exposed me. You made my drug use public and I couldn’t hide it or lie about it anymore. That and Twentysomething CW Bad Boy Heartthrob’s overdose were the catalysts for me going to rehab and getting clean.”

  “That’s great. I mean, not that your friend lost his life, but I’m glad you’re in a better place. Are you okay? I know you guys were close.” I place my hand on his shoulder to comfort him even though I’m the last person he’d probably want to seek solace with.

  “Thanks. I mean, looking back on it I’m not sure how close we really were. We were always fucked up. It wasn’t real life. Who knows if we’d be buddies if we were sober? I can’t think of anything we ever talked about other than partying, acting, or girls. But in those circumstances he was my friend. I still can’t believe he’s gone and I’m still here. I’m still trying to make sense of it.” He pauses. “Don’t you see? You’re part of the reason I was at that meeting today and why I also go to NA.” I want to discredit his theory and not be all hippy-dippy but I know he’s being truthful. “You leaking that information to The Life and my being fired from movies and having my agents drop me forced me to be honest with myself. Doing blow in the bathroom at Ambiance and making out with you and not even remembering … that’s not why I became an actor.”

  “So you’re not angry?” I check.

  “No. I’m a little paranoid but I’m not angry. These were all my decisions. You’re disappointed?”

  “God, no. I just feel like I’m being let off the hook too easily or something.”

  “You said that you got a DUI?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He puts his arm around me. “Well, then I think you’ve paid your penance.”

  “The fact that you’re thanking me … I feel like I’m hallucinating or something. It’s bizarre.”

  Sexy Indie Film Actor playfully slaps my shoulder blade. “I said you helped save my life. I never said thank you.” He winks playfully. “You did have a hand in killing my career,” he adds. “I mean it was mostly me … but a little you.” I can’t stand having to look him in the eye. “I hate to contradict Andy Warhol, since he’s one of my favorite artists, but sometimes measuring in inches what they write about you doesn’t matter, because no matter how long it is everyone else is actually reading it.”

  Any positive feelings I was taking away with me from AA are now dashed. I had a hand in ruining Sexy Indie Film Actor’s career and his dreams.

  “After I was fired from the first movie I was dropped by my agent. Right now I would have to get on my hands and knees to beg to even be considered for the next season of Dancing with the Stars. Turns out not all press is good press.”

  “And it all stemmed from that one story.…” Right about now I want to wring my own neck. I’m sort of shocked he’s able to stand in front of me and be so calm.

  “Your story, to be exact.”

  The butterfly effect that I set into motion when I exposed someone’s innermost secrets and demons is incalculable.

  “It would be nice if I could send my public image to rehab, too. Fixing myself is easy compared to fixing the perception of me.” He chuckles at his comparison but there’s actually nothing funny about what he said.

  Usually I get my best ideas in the shower. I’ve heard that it’s one of the few places where we allow our minds to relax and their capacity to think and create expands, but right now I’m having a brilliant idea in the middle of Robertson Boulevard.

  “What would you say if I told you I could help your image and your career?”

  Sexy Indie Film Actor glances at me skeptically. “I’d say I’m listening.”

  “I know how the celebrity world works. The gossip. The sensationalism. The damage control. The spin. I was on the inside. I promise you. I can help you fix this and help you put your career on
an even better trajectory than it was before.”

  Sexy Indie Film Actor raises his eyebrows.

  “What do you want?” I ask him.

  “I just want to be able to act again. To be given the chance to act again,” he says, docilely.

  “Let me help you,” I say again, appealing to his lack of other options.

  “I probably can’t be any worse off than I am right now,” he figures.

  Maybe confessing to Sexy Indie Film Actor isn’t how I’m supposed to make amends. Maybe I’m supposed to help him get his career back on track. Not just him but everyone I’ve hurt. And there’s a certain British heiress who’s on the top of that list.

  “What the hell? I’m in.”

  “You keep working on your sobriety every day and take care of yourself. Eat well, go to the gym, stay away from the usual paparazzi spots, and get plenty of rest. You’re going to need it. I will take care of everything else. You’ll be back at work before you know it … and maybe even on the road to an Oscar.”

  “Great. What’s the plan?”

  I haven’t formulated the full plan yet, but I have the first step.

  I throw my arms around him and squeeze him tight. A tingle shoots through my body. Nothing sexual. I left those feelings for him in my holding cell at the police station along with my pride. This tingle is a feeling of gratitude. Through helping him, he’s helped me realize what I’m supposed to do.

  “Just leave it to me. I’m going to start this right away. Will you be at the meeting on Friday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect. I’ll give you an update then.” I kiss him on the cheek and grab my phone as he walks away.

  I may have done some shady things when I worked for The Life but I was good at my job. My mom was right. With all of my connections I should be able to help Holiday … and Sexy Indie Film Actor, too. If I put my particular set of skills to good use I can salvage their reputations and careers. I know what I need to do but I can’t do it alone … and I just happen to know who can help me.

  Twenty-seven

  “Jess, Maggie; Maggie, Jess.” The two smile at each other, trying not to let their confusion and apprehension show. I return a keen one, being the only one aware of my plan.

  “So what are we doing here?” Jess asks as she sips on a cup of coffee that, thank God, I didn’t have to make, and skillfully snags a second guava pastry that my mother insisted on getting from Porto’s Bakery to entice my friends into assisting me. Maggie leans her back into the sofa, silently reiterating Jess’s question with her eyes. It’s only been a day since I conceived my brilliant idea, so I don’t have all of the details worked out yet, no devil in this plan, but I want to get the ball rolling ASAP and figure out the rest as we go.

  “It’s my new plan!”

  “I thought you were done with plans,” Jess reminds me.

  I ignore her comment. “I invited you both to come here to ask if you’ll help me.” They pause their answers, waiting to hear what I’ll require of them before they agree or not. “Obviously you’re both aware of my situation with Holiday.” Jess scoffs and a look washes over her face letting Maggie know I’ve just made the understatement of the year. “I was at my first court-ordered AA meeting yesterday and ran into someone else I’d done something similar to.”

  “The Robertson one?” Maggie jumps in. I nod my head, yes. “Who?” she wonders, with her eyes lit up like white twinkle lights on a romantic restaurant patio.

  “Mags, I can’t tell you that.”

  “Sure you can,” she urges.

  “The second A stands for anonymous. It would be like breaking the only rule they have.”

  “I’m just curious, Ella. It’s not like I work for a gossip rag anymore.”

  My smile shifts to a smirk. “Well, actually…” I say, moving on, “I want to start a new gossip Web site.”

  Jess also sinks into the couch and closes her eyes, and from that sentence alone and her not-so-subtle gesture it’s not difficult to determine her gut reaction.

  “It’s not what you think,” I assure them. “I want to start a site that promotes positivity.” They both lean in to me. Sheryl Sandberg would be proud. “The site is called Compassionate Celebrities and we only post photos and stories about celebrities doing good.”

  “Compassionate Celebrities,” Maggie repeats. “It has a nice ring to it.”

  “Right?” I agree.

  “Tell us more,” Jess asks.

  “So my vision is we follow the same structure as the other celebrity gossip sites. We run photos and daily items, but everything we write will be about celebrities who’ve done something kind or compassionate. We help promote the charities they support and help raise awareness about their charity events or when they’ve done something altruistic on their own.”

  “Well, that’s certainly different,” Jess says.

  “Yeah. This would be the first site of that kind,” Maggie reiterates. “Actually the more I let it noodle around in my head it’s kind of brilliant. Plus it would be like us making social reparations for all of the reporting we did for The Life.”

  “Exactly!” I’m ecstatic that they are getting it. “Not only will it be an inspiration for the readers but it will also be a way for me to help rebuild any of the celebrity images I helped tear down … we helped tear down,” I say as I lock eyes with Maggie.

  “It does seem like it would help me atone for my stalking sins,” she says as the idea continues to percolate. “I’m still in contact with the majority of my sources. I can try and dig up a few scoops to launch with.”

  “That’s perfect!” I blurt out. I already feel the momentum building. “Jess, here’s where you come in. I need an awesome writer to help me with the daily stories and someone who knows their way around Web layout, since I’m more ‘I need a job’ than Steve Jobs.” I shrug my shoulders in a bid to cajole her.

  “Are we getting paid for this?” she wonders.

  “That’s where your compassion comes in,” I tell them. “If we end up making any money, of course, but for right now this project is going to be funded by the kindness of our hearts. Does that work for you?” My mind is pacing since my body can’t while I wait for my make-or-break answer.

  “Yes. Of course I’m in,” Jess tells me. “I need a new project to help me diversify my writing portfolio. Never know, someday I may need to go corporate.”

  “Do you really think this will help?” Maggie asks.

  “I don’t know if we will be able to drown out all of the negative gossip, because there’s so much of it, but I have to try.” Besides, this is only Step One of my plan.

  Maggie becomes distracted typing on her phone.

  “What are you doing, Mags?” I ask.

  “Making a list of all of the celebrities I need to include in this. My body count is much higher than yours. I’ve got Ethnic Actress-Writer with Her Own Show and Keen Fashion Sense, Stuck-Up Broadway Star Turned TV Queen, Hard Body B-List Actor Without Much Range, Gold Digging C-List Actress with a Wealthy Beau. And that’s just the beginning.”

  Twenty-eight

  “Hi. Ella Warren to see Nick Williams,” I tell the new modelesque receptionist at Epic Agency. It feels like a lot longer than three months since the last time I was here, distraught. The receptionists turn over faster than paleo banana pancakes. The new one is wearing a cocktail dress in the middle of the day and looks like she’d give her right eye for an M&M. She calls Nick’s assistant and stares me down as she’s receiving information about me.

  “Can you just tell them that I need five minutes, please?”

  “She says she just needs five minutes,” she repeats to Nick’s assistant, as if I’ve inconvenienced the receptionist by asking her to do her job. “Okay.” She rolls her eyes and hangs up. “Melanie will come out for you in a minute. Take a seat.”

  “Hi, Ella, it’s good to see you again,” Melanie greets, with no hint of judgment about what happened between me and Nick, or between me
and Holiday for that matter. I wonder how much she knows.

  She escorts me to Nick’s office. “Thank you for squeezing me in last minute.”

  “Go on in,” she tells me and gives me a small smile that indicates that against all odds she’s on my side. I go through the formality of knocking on Nick’s door to let him know I’ve arrived instead of barging in. His feet are on the desk and he’s leaning back in his chair reading a script, which he places on the desk when I walk in.

  “Ella, this is a surprise.” He doesn’t mean one of those surprises like when your significant other tells you to pack a bag because you’re going to Palm Springs for the weekend or like you’ve won a million dollars from a contest you never even knew you entered. He really means nuisance, not surprise. I know that I have to be professional and I came here to help Sexy Indie Film Actor, but I’m also feeling slightly selfish. This is the first time I’ve seen Nick since he broke up with me and I’m fantasizing about leaping over his desk and jumping into his lap like he’s Santa Claus and squeezing him (not like Santa Claus). I’d give anything to nestle my head next to his neck and smell his cologne and feel his heartbeat against my chest. He sneaks a quick glimpse at his watch, subtly letting me know he has more important places to go and people to see and is definitely not giving off the vibe that he’s feeling reminiscent about our romance.

  “Thank you for seeing me.” I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and hope he didn’t notice my legs shaking as I walked in.

  “What can I do for you?” he asks, getting right down to business.

  “I’m here because I have a proposal for you.” He places the script on his desk to indicate that he’s listening but not invested. While I know that there’s no precedent for me telling him or any other agents which clients they should sign, I know I have a great idea. I just hope he’s willing to put our personal relationship aside long enough to give me a real chance. “I want you to sign Sexy Indie Film Actor.”

  “Ella—”

  It’s okay. I was prepared to be met with some resistance. “No, wait, before you answer, hear me out first. Please.”