Already Written (Hollywood Exchange #1)

by Xavier Neal

  Cringing at the intensity of the new information, I sigh, “Shit. Is it that bad?”

  “Just check out. Text me or call me back when you can okay?”

  “Okay...”

  “Remember, either way, I love you and I'm here for you.”

  “Now I'm terrified.”

  “Just read it.”

  Before I can argue any further, she hangs up. In a haste, I click over to my text messages and follow the link. The headline reads 'Pierce Wyatt Rekindles Romance'.

  Well...that's a good start.

  My eyes devour the rest of article in record timing.

  To sum it up, it appears that my boyfriend is now dating Tessa Hope. That's right. The same Tessa Hope that was supposed to be dating some football player a couple weeks ago. Now, I know what you're thinking. Tabloids lie. It's their job. And I agree with you. 100 percent. The only difference between their shady lies and the ones with an ounce of truth is the photo evidence. For instance the spread of photos with Pierce and her at some night club dancing. Them beside his car. It's his license plate, so unless his stunt double has a double car, it's him... Yes I know his license plate now. His street address. I've observed a few things about my surroundings. Now focus because there's also a spread of photos from the two of them at dinner by candlelight, leaned in too close for comfort. What the hell is that about? To add fuel to the fire of rage the final photograph has him kissing her on what I hope is the cheek. It's somewhat hard to be positive. All of these photos were photographed within the last week. Hm. Now I know why Emerson fucked up her manicure.

  The sound of the front door opening shifts my attention to Pierce who's strolling my direction.

  Cheating sunglasses wearing bastard!

  “Hey nottie,” he coos, lifting them up.

  I grip my phone tighter and strain to steady my voice. “Hey.”

  Keep calm. Talk to him. Talk to him before you murder him.

  His eyes glance in the direction of the coffee table. He gets a crooked smirk. “Thought I told you no working and to relax before tonight?”

  “Huh?”

  He tosses his head at my computer.

  Looks like we're all liars in this house!

  “Oh,” my voice drops. “Right. Yeah I um...I needed the distraction.”

  Pierce braces his hands against the back of the couch to the side of me. “You okay? You look...stressed.”

  After a long exhale, I turn to face him. “Remember when we were in Texas and Emerson sent me that article? You told me to do you the courtesy of asking you about it before believing it.”

  He innocently nods.

  “Did you go out with Tessa?”

  His body stiffens answering the question before his mouth can.

  Flying off the couch I snap, “Fucking really?”

  “Minka-”

  “You went out with your ex-girlfriend on two dates?! What the hell?”

  “They weren't dates,” he argues.

  “Really? Because the only thing my face is ever that close to besides the man I'm sleeping with is an order of buffalo wings!”

  Now is not the time to judge me on eating habits!

  “How do you-”

  “Know what the rest of the country did before me? There's this elegantly written article full of some very beautiful taken photos of the two of you together.”

  “Minka-”

  “How could you!” I scream. “While I'm sitting at home like some bored housewife, you're out gallivanting with one of Hollywood's favorite whores!”

  “Hey!” He snaps. “Not every actor or actress is a whore!”

  “Says the man fucking two women at once! Oh! Says the man whose other woman he's seeing was just caught making out with an NFL player two weeks ago! No. You're right, Pierce. You're all a bunch of fucking saints.”

  Anger surges in his voice as he growls, “Don't. Don't ever accuse me of sleeping with someone else. I'm not a fucking cheater.”

  “No?” My fingers pound until my phone pulls up the photo again. Shoving it in his face, I snip, “Because if it looks like a hot dog, smells like hot dog, and has goddamn relish on it like a hot dog it damn sure ain't a hamburger.”

  He gives me a confused look over the metaphor.

  What! I don't have time to self-edit before I throw it out there! This is why I am a writer and not a speaker.

  Pierce takes my phone and scrolls through the photos, annoyance instead of guilt growing in his expression. When he's finally finished he sighs, “Can we talk about this after the event? Helena will be here in like twenty minutes and we both need to shower.”

  “No.” I fold my arms across my chest. “You're gonna explain to me what the hell all those photos are about, right now.”

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I knew this was going to happen.”

  “You...you're cheating on me?”

  “Stop accusing me of that.” His fierce pointing stumbles me backwards. “I don't cheat! I'm not one of those people! You're the only woman I'm sleeping with! You're the only woman I fucking love! You're the only one in my life like that!”

  “It's a little hard to believe when you're shouting at me!”

  “You're pissing me off!”

  D.J. Scratch? Pissing him off? Like it was me caught at night club with the salacious slut of the west coast?

  “Well you're pissing me off! Explain!”

  His hands move to his pockets as he sighs, “Tessa and I share the same PR guy. I was meeting Eddie for a drink when Tessa showed up. We talked, eventually she asked me to dance, and I did. It was just a few songs and afterward I walked her to her car with Gunz because she didn't come out with her own bodyguard. I came home to you right after that.”

  “And dinner?” my voice croaks. “What about that?”

  He makes an uncomfortable face. “That...that was...just two people catching up.”

  The stuttering of the sentence shoots my eyebrows up. “Catching up? You couldn't have done that over a text message or a phone call?”

  “She's in town. I'm in town. It rarely happens. She wanted to do it in person.”

  “I bet she did wanna do it in person,” I sneer. His mouth drops to fight when I bite, “Why couldn't you have had a cup of coffee instead?”

  “Would you honestly be less pissed?”

  “Uh...yeah!” My conscious starts to complain. “Probably! Maybe? I don't know! And I'm not pissed you went out with her-”

  “Really?”

  “Fine! I'm not solely pissed you went out with an ex-girlfriend, I'm more pissed off you didn't tell me or ask if I even minded,” I confess, my tone softening. “I'm upset because I had to read about it in some trashy magazine article. How am I supposed to trust you when you can't even tell me something that simple?”

  Pierce wets his lips but doesn't comment.

  “Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I wasn't aware I had to run everything by you like you're fucking Caroline.”

  The hurtful jab tenses my body. “I'm your girlfriend. Not your assistant.”

  “Look, Minka.” He lets out an exasperated breath. “I didn't tell you because it didn't seem like it mattered. We met up after a photo shoot, had dinner, and yet again I came home to you.”

  “Could you stop saying that like you deserve a prize for coming home to me? Like a goddamn gold star for being faithful.” Without allowing room for a rebuttal I question, “And the kiss?”

  “The goodbye one on her cheek?”

  “What happened to me being the only woman you didn't get paid to kiss?”

  My reference breaks something inside of him and he glares. “I can't deal with this right now. I can't keep having this fucking conversation with you going. You know what, Minka? This is the ugly side I didn't want you to be a part of. Everything presented isn't exactly as it seems. More shit in this industry is a fucked up illusion than it is real. You're gonna see bullshit on top of bullshit stacked and packaged to get the exact reaction
out of you that you're giving. I don't have the energy to baby you through every fucking report that's going to go up.”

  No, this fool did not just say baby me...

  “I'm sorry I didn't tell you I went out with Tessa, who by the way is still a friend. But nothing happened. Now, can we please get showered for this thing?”

  My eyes hold his hostage as I state very meekly. “No.”

  His shoulders slump.

  “I...I-I-I'm not going.”

  “What?”

  “I'm not going.” Clearing my throat, I add, “I'm not going and making headlines as the cheating skank, or side slut, or home wrecker or whatever clever catch phrase they come up with for me. I don't wanna remember the first time we ever went out into your life as a couple this way.”

  Pierce rolls his eyes. “Fine. Don't go.” He starts out of the room and mutters, “Dates are a dime a fucking dozen.”

  Shock at the callous comment drops my jaw.

  You know, I've seen that movie Waiting To Exhale a million times wondering how any woman could get angry enough to set someone's clothes on fire. Now I know. He better pray I can't find a lighter or lighter fluid or he's going to be getting a special call from the fire department.

  Pierce

  I give my signature smile for the flashing lights in my face hating every minute of it.

  Why would I wanna fucking smile when the woman I love not only accused me of cheating on her but refused to be seen in public with me? Don't take her side. Not now.

  Taking a few more steps, I pause again for another photo, at the same time a reporter tries to flag me down to answer questions.

  “Pierce!” The woman speaks loudly over the crowd and other reporters trying to get my fellow cast members’ attention. “You look great this evening!”

  With a wider, still forced smile, I reply, “Thank you. I appreciate that. My stylist is a God send.”

  Did I mention I'm tie less because my girlfriend likes me this way? See. I fucking care about what she thinks. How could she...no. Not having this conversation.

  The reporter continues, “So, we're streaming live right now, on Facebook, what would you like to say to all those fans waiting for the premier of the new season?”

  Smiling into the camera, I wink. “Buckle up. It's gonna be killer.”

  Yes. I get paid to be a cheesy asshole.

  “With all the drama surrounding Rex and Sylon, can you clue us into what we can expect for this fall season?”

  “Danger and excitement. The two things we do best as brothers.”

  “Have you started filming season 7 yet?”

  “We start next week,” I answer trying to keep my voice stable.

  I was going to see if Minka wanted to go home for a few days, check on her apartment, have lunch with Emerson and fly back to be on set with me, but now...now I don't even know if she'll ever wanna be anywhere near what I do for a living. Fucked up thing is I couldn't even hold it against her if she didn't want to.

  J.J. calls my name and I smile sweetly, “Big brother's calling. I gotta get going. To the fans watching, we love you.” I give another wink and rush off towards where he's posing, waiting to be photographed with me.

  The two of us pose for the swarm of cameras.

  “Swear I lose brain cells every time the lights flash,” he jokes tossing an arm around my shoulder.

  “That explains most of your stupid choices,” I tease back resulting in a head lock.

  Playfully the two of us toss light punches and exchange laughs the entire time our every action documented by the hungry paparazzi.

  They get paid to make my life miserable. What a wonderful job. I swear if it wasn't for J.J. and Erick my senses of humor would be non-existent.

  After a few more shots, we're joined by Camille who poses with us.

  Through a forced smile J.J. states, “You smell like a brothel.”

  Camille waves to some screaming fans who are behind the photographers. “You smell like a fish market. Tell that wife of yours she needs a better soap.”

  I lean into a closer embrace with her as J.J. says through his gritted smile. “Talk shit about my wife again and you'll regret much more than breaking my best friend's heart.”

  The three of take a few more steps forward and strike another pose. In a low voice she reassures, “Breaking his heart got me the role of a lifetime. Everything has a price.”

  “And apparently yours always ends with your legs spread,” I sigh and plaster on a huge grin.

  A few more flashes are delivered before we all enter the facility where they're screening the first couple of episodes.

  Right before every season premiers, there's an event like this to give us the first viewing, bring us together with selected fans from multiple contests, and drum up hype for a better initial launching. Normally, J.J. and I get into trouble for having too much fun. We have a habit of treating the fans like our best friends, food fights and pulling pranks, which Caroline scolds us over. J.J.'s personal assistant is actually his wife, so he typically gets away with much more than me. It's easy to do when you just have to kiss your assistant crazy and make her forget why she was mad. And no. I've never felt that way for Caroline. If I'm being honest, I feel like she's more asexual than anything else.

  In the building, Cam thankfully darts away to flag down Danielle, an actress with a reoccurring role every season as the siren bartender.

  “God I hate her,” J.J. grumps. “It makes me wish Danielle really was a siren and could lead her to a watery death.” After a sigh he questions, “Where's Minka? I thought she was coming to this thing?”

  “She-”

  “Pierce!” Caroline's voice interrupts as she rushes over to us. “The meet and greet is in 15 minutes. I scored Minka a visitors pass to get her in there, but she's going to have to hang out by me in the standing room area only. Big annoying mess and-” She cuts herself short and looks around. “Where is Minka? Bathroom?”

  I slide my hands into my pockets. “Not here.”

  “What?” They squeak in unison.

  In no mood to rehash the argument we were having I simply state, “She changed her mind.”

  “Women don't just change their minds, Pierce,” Caroline sneers.

  J.J. and I immediately give her a sarcastic look.

  Ha. You too huh?

  “Okay, so we do, but not for something like this.” She shakes her head. “What did you do?”

  “Agree with her on this one,” J.J. adds.

  “I...” My eyes glance upward as I grumble, “I don't wanna talk about it.”

  “Too bad,” J.J. denies. When my attention drops back to him he demands, “What'd you do, Pierce? Tell me and maybe I can give you the secret to fixing it. Gen and I have had some doozy fights over our time together.”

  “Who says doozy anymore?” Caroline giggles. “This isn't the 1950s.”

  “Or an after school special.”

  “Shut up,” J.J. grunts and folds his arms. “Now what happened?”

  “We got in a stupid fight.”

  Caroline holds up a finger for someone calling her name from somewhere in the distance. “About?”

  I admit in a lower voice, “I hung out with Tessa this past week-”

  “Not Tessa,” J.J. interrupts. “That girl smells like baby oil and Pixie sticks. So much worse than a brothel!”

  Before I have the chance to question the strangeness of that comment, Caroline snaps, “And?”

  “And I didn't tell her.”

  Her glare gets harsher.

  “And she found out through a tabloid.”

  Caroline's jaw hits the floor.

  You know hearing it out loud to other people only makes me feel like a dick. What do you mean I am a dick? Don't be bias.

  “I'm the dumb one on T.V., but you're the idiot in real life,” J.J. comments on a chuckle.

  My assistant snaps, “How could you do that?”

  “I-”

  “No.” She
points a harsh finger at me. “You know better than that Pierce! You know exactly what happens every time you step foot outside of your house in high profile areas. You also damn well know you can't just go around having lunch-”

  “-dinner-”