by Leigh James
"Hey there," she said, as if I'd come all the way from Echo Park just to ruin her day. "They're waiting for you. They're totally pissed about what you did, obviously."
"Obviously," I said.
"Good luck," she said sourly.
"Gee… thanks."
My palms were slick with sweat as I went through the door, but I straightened my back and took a deep breath. I composed my face so that I looked calm and collected. I was a famous actress for a reason, dammit. I could look calm for a meeting. I wasn't gonna let a little tequila—okay, a lot of tequila—come between my dreams and me.
But the little voice in the back of my head kept asking, Am I on my way up? Or am I on my way back down?
Eight men were sitting at the table, waiting. Eight of the mansplainers I'd been complaining about. They collectively frowned at me. Lucas was at the head of the table, wearing the biggest frown of all. His grey hair stood up in a wild, artfully crafted swirl. His tortoiseshell glasses made him look intelligent, which he was, and easy-going, which he was not.
"Lowell." He nodded curtly. "Take a seat."
I felt as though he was the principal and I was about to get a ruler across my knuckles. Or my ass.
"As you might imagine, we were all very surprised and displeased with your little performance on XYZ. None of us expected you to be a problem. Or a party girl, for that matter." Lucas rubbed his face. "That's one of the reasons why we hired you. We thought you were trustworthy and reliable. Instead, you've shown us that you're immature and capable of a wicked temper tantrum. Not what I was expecting, Lowell. Not what I was expecting, and nothing I find acceptable."
"Lucas, you've got to give me a chance to explain—"
"I have to do nothing of the kind." He looked at me from across the table, and my heart sank. "You're lucky we've decided not to fire you. Not yet, anyway."
I looked around the table and saw nothing but blank or disapproving looks from the other producers. "What do I have to do?"
"First of all, you need to apologize the right way. Your behavior has been very damaging to this film's prospects. We want you to do a contrite sit-down interview with one of the major networks. Second of all, you need to keep this guy Kyle around. I'm guessing keeping men around isn't your strong suit," Lucas said, a bit meanly.
I gulped. They had no idea what they were really asking. "Why is that? Not the part about me being unable to keep a guy around—but the part where I have to keep this particular guy around?"
Lucas gave me a tight smile. "Because he's the only reason you still have a job right now. You're lucky the press is eating this story up. We ran some market tests, and your approval ratings are higher than they've ever been. Which is really saying something because you threw up on a cop. After spewing a feminist rant. You know the public doesn't like that shit."
"It wasn't a feminist rant," I said, desperately trying to control my anger. "I was upset about the fact that you said I needed to lose weight."
"I didn't tell you that you had to lose weight," Lucas said, his tone a warning. "I told you that you need to be in better shape for our upcoming action sequences. As per your contract. You knew what you were getting into, Lowell. We talked about this before you came on board. There's no room for excuses now. You're supposed to conduct yourself like a professional. You're being paid enough to do at least that."
He sounded absolutely disgusted with me, and my face flamed. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I said, "I'm sorry about what happened, but it was a one-off. I'll be on my best behavior for the rest of the shoot."
"That's a relief," Lucas said. "I need you to shoot a few scenes this morning. Without any drama. After that, we need the following: You need to be in better shape for the action scenes. We're pushing the schedule back six weeks so you have more time to train, and also more time to put this incident behind us. Keep it up with the new boyfriend. Keep him in front of the press. Do the one-on-one interview. We want you to generate some excitement, some curiosity during filming. People want to see movies they're personally invested in, so if they feel like they know you and they know you were falling in love while we filmed Renegades Forever, we might have a chance to turn this thing around."
I nodded mutely. My head was spinning.
"I want exercise. A healthy diet. Lots of pictures of you with the boyfriend, smiling and holding hands. Do you copy?"
"Of course," I said, trying to be brave. I nodded calmly and met each producer's eyes. "I won't let you down. I want this movie, and I know it'll do very well at the box office." It'll do well, and I'll make enough money to start my own company and never work with you mansplainers again.
"I really hope so, Lowell," Lucas said.
"I really hope so too, Lucas," I said contritely. You prick.
Dismissed, I hustled through the door. Cristina jumped back as though she'd been eavesdropping.
"They're all yours, Cristina. Good luck with that."
* * *
I called Shirley before I went to hair and makeup, and I told her everything that had happened in the meeting.
"That's the plan then," she agreed.
My heart sank. I was stuck with Kyle for the foreseeable future. No one knew the trouble that could cause me. I was pretty sure I wasn't even being honest with myself about all the trouble that could call me.
"I wanna see lots of pictures of you two going to the gym. I'll have Gigi work on getting that exclusive interview scheduled." She was quiet for a moment. "You're doing a good job, Lo. You pulled a rabbit out of a hat, just like I said. I gotta thank Tori for finding him—she might just get back in my good graces after all."
I winced. If Shirley knew the truth, I was the one who would never get back in her good graces.
"Hold his hand," she ordered. "Smile! Have fun!"
"I'm not having fun," I said through gritted teeth.
"Well, you better act like you are," she retorted. "It's better than cleaning up puke—literally and figuratively."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I mumbled, but she'd already hung up.
Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, my phone buzzed again. My mother was calling. I sighed and answered.
"Darling," she said, breathlessly, "I've been thinking about our talk. I think you need your mother. I'm cutting my trip short. I'll be home soon."
"No!" I wailed, then I tried to calm myself down. "I mean, please, don't cut your trip short for my sake! I'm fine. I talked to Lucas this morning—everything's fine."
"You aren't fired?" she asked hopefully.
"No! Everything's fine... I just got out of a great meeting with Lucas. I was just being silly," I lied. "Don't come home yet. Enjoy your trip. I'd feel so guilty if you came back just for me." And trust me, you wouldn't like what you'd find.
"Well… maybe I'll stay for a few more weeks then. We're supposed to visit some amazing temples…"
"Visit them!" I practically shrieked. The literal last thing I needed right now was my mother back in town. "Please!"
"Are you sure everything's okay?" she asked.
"Yes. I promise," I said, steeling myself for the road ahead. "I want this job just as much as you want me to keep it, Mother. So I'm doing everything I need to do."
God help me.
Kyle
Ellie knocked on the trailer door later and told me they were shooting for the next six hours straight, so I just stayed inside and paced. When Lowell finally came in, her face was pale and drawn.
"Rough day at the office?" I asked, handing her a bottled water.
She nodded worriedly. "What about you? You sort of look… distressed."
I looked at myself in the small mirror on the wall. My hair was disheveled from running my hands through it, and my eyes were a little wild. I'd been replaying the conversation I'd had with my father over and over in my head.
She hired me, Dad. I'm working for her.
What the fuck does that mean? he'd asked. Are you her assistant? Who kisses her in public?
I'm her escort. Her hired date.
What the fuck does that mean? he asked again, but that time, his voice was flat.
It means that when you cut me off, I had no money to eat or pay rent. So I went to work as a male escort. And Lowell Barton hired me.
He hadn't said too much after that. But I knew that he was thinking, and that was probably dangerous for me. And for Lowell.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I'll tell you later. Did it go okay? The meeting?"
She shrugged.
"Are you done for the day?"
She nodded. She obviously wasn't in the mood to chat, which suited me just fine.
"Good," I said, grabbing her hand. "Let's go to the beach."
She surprised me by not pulling away. "Okay, that actually sounds good."
We left the studio and drove in silence back toward her house so we could change. I wasn't ready to tell her about my talk with my dad, and she didn't seem ready to talk about her meeting.
She slowed as we got near her neighborhood—about a dozen cars were parked in front of her house. Photographers, waiting for us. She sighed, and I turned to her.
"Just turn around," I said.
She drove away, frowning and lost in thought.
"There's a great beach in Santa Monica. Let's go there," I suggested, and she nodded. "What's the matter, Lo?"
She blew out a deep breath. "I just can't believe I did this to myself."
"Did you get fired? I was hoping everything was okay because you guys were filming."
"They didn't fire me," she said, then said nothing further.
"You wanna talk about it?" I asked.
"Is there a bar near this beach?"
* * *
In the end, we bought beers and sat on the pier, drinking them out of paper bags.
"This is so… slummy," Lowell said before swigging her beer. "It's so slummy it's awesome."
I watched her face. "You don't relax much, do you?"
"All I do is work. For all the good it's done me." She stared at the water. "So… back to Lucas. He didn't fire me, but he said they'd talked about it. I'm basically on probation. I have to get in shape before the shoot. They pushed it back six weeks so I have enough time to starve myself." She read the calorie contents on the beer and groaned.
I shook my head. "That's ridiculous, Lo. Did they actually tell you to lose weight? 'Cause I thought that was illegal."
"They didn't say 'lose weight'—they said come back in six weeks and weigh less." She shrugged. "It is what it is. They also said that I need to make this"—she motioned between us—"work. They appreciated that I've publicly rebounded in less than twenty-four hours. They said you've gotten me amazing approval ratings—better than before my, er… incident. So I need to keep you around and make the most of the press momentum."
"So that's good," I said, grinning at her. "You keep getting paid; I keep getting paid."
"We can't let anyone find out about us." Worry creased her forehead. "If it gets out that we knew each other… that our parents were married… that you're my escort… I'm dead. Tori's the only one who can know. "
I swung my feet over the water, back and forth, nervous energy bubbling through me. "Tori's not the only one who knows."
She looked stricken. "Did you tell Ellie? 'Cause she's really sheltered. She probably really can't handle that—"
"I didn't tell Ellie," I said. "I told my father."
She looked stunned. "What? Why?"
"So he wouldn't blackmail you into firing me, Lo."
She looked at me, surprise and anger playing out on her face. "You told him the truth? We have an agreement. A non-disclosure agreement."
She shifted her weight as though she was about to stand up, but I put my hand on her. "Wait. Please." I held my breath until she'd sat back down. "He'd already seen the pictures. I didn't know it, but he's had his assistant keeping track of me."
She looked at me, waiting.
When I was pretty sure she wasn't going to run, I continued. "He called me this morning. He threatened to call the press, to tell them that you're dating your ex-stepbrother—if I didn't break up with you immediately."
"Would he do that? To you?"
"I think my father has gotten into the habit of trying to protect me from my own bad judgment." I scrubbed my hands over my face. "I had to explain to him why it was in his best interest to keep his mouth shut. It wouldn't look too good for his latest business venture and his upcoming feature in Forbes if the press found out that his son's an escort."
"He didn't know?"
I shook my head.
"What did he say?" she asked quietly.
"At first, he didn't say anything. I think he was in shock. But when he came to, he said that he was glad he'd disowned me, that he'd rather give his fortune to a pet shelter or a distant third cousin than to me."
"I'm so sorry, Kyle."
"Don't be. I'm a fucking prostitute, Lo. All the bad choices I've made have led to this."
"You lost all your money. You had no education. It's not like you had a lot of options," she said, trying to console me.
I snorted. "I was a drunk-driving party boy until my dad took my inheritance away. But you want to know how I ended up here? I was giving surfing lessons, and a woman I was teaching asked me out. She was older, and I wasn't interested, but I was hungry. So I let her buy me dinner. No big deal, right?" I stopped and stared at my hands, feeling sick.
"Are you okay?" Lowell asked.
"Not really. I slept with her afterward, because she seemed to expect it. And then she offered to buy me breakfast the next day. Are you getting the picture?"
She nodded.
"She asked me stay with her, so I did. For a weekend. That turned into a week. And then a month. I was like her little… pet. I ate her food and lived in her house and did what I was told. Because it was… easy."
"It doesn't sound easy," Lo said. She sounded as if she felt sorry for me.
"It was easy until I got so disgusted with myself that I couldn't stand it anymore. After I left and Elena asked me to come work for her, I didn't even hesitate. I knew it would be better than what I'd had with that woman. Cleaner. I have a contract with my clients. They pay me in exchange for my services. That's it. No one's pretending it's anything else."
"Just because you made bad choices doesn't make you a bad person." She patted my shoulder. "At least, I hope that's true—for my sake too."
"Thanks." I smiled at her. "But I made my own bed where my father's concerned. I lost his respect a long time ago, and I've only gone downhill from there."
"Well… I'm sorry about your father. And I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"S'okay."
"Did he say anything else?"
I sighed. "No. But I don't think he's done with this yet. He sounded like he was thinking about what options he had. Which is unfortunate, 'cause he's a brilliant guy. So if he's thinking about ways to sabotage us, he'll probably come up with one sooner rather than later. And it'll probably be pretty good."
"Great," Lowell said. "That's just great." She took a swig of her beer. "Speaking of great, my mother called today too. She threatened to cut her trip short to come back and 'help' me. I talked her out of it, but I'm worried she's gonna pop up."
"Great."
"You can say that again. And again," Lo mumbled.
* * *
Only a handful of photographers were left at her house when we got back.
"Lindsay Lohan just got back in town," one of them explained, shrugging. "But we thought we'd wait for you guys."
I pushed thoughts of our parents aside and flashed him a megawatt smile. "You have excellent taste." I threw my arm around Lo and beamed. "I approve."
"How about that exclusive interview?" the other photographer asked.
"We'll make an announcement soon," Lo said. I looked at her in surprise, and she shrugged and mumbled, "I want to keep them on their toes."
We fina
lly made it into the house, and I could tell Lo was tired.
"Do you want to do an exclusive interview?" I asked. I couldn't really picture her sitting down with Katie from XYZ and, er, spilling her guts. Again.
"I have to eventually. Gigi's apparently working on it. Lucas said he has to approve everything I say though. He wants a representative from the movie to be there."
I looked at her skeptically. "Don't you think you'll scowl during the interview?"
She scowled at me. "No."
"Don't you think they'll bait you? About mansplainers and all?"
She jutted out her chin. "I'm perfectly capable of handling the press, Kyle Richards. Kyle Richards who's only been in the spotlight for twenty-four hours."
"Okay," I said, not wanting to fight.
"Okay." It sounded as though she was forcing herself to drop it. "It's been a long day. I'm gonna take a shower. You want to watch TV afterward?" She almost sounded nervous, as if I might say no.
As if I would ever say no.
"Of course," I said. "Meet you on the couch in fifteen."
She came out in her sweats, with wet hair, and handed me a glass of wine. She sat on the couch, yawning. "I'm already bored. Nothing to do but starve."
"I refuse to let you starve. I know you don't want me to say it, but your body's perfect, Lo. Anyone who tells you otherwise should Photoshop themselves out of existence."
It looked as if her face was turning red, but I couldn't be sure.
"That's sweet," she said. "I just wish the rest of the world agreed with you."
"The rest of the world does agree with me—it's those freaking industry people who are insane. People love you because you're a great actress, and because you're funny and gorgeous."
She just looked at me, seeming confused. "That's... nice. I don't remember you being nice. You're kind of freaking me out."
"I can be nice," I said defensively. "I'm nice."
"You didn't use to be nice," she said.
I sighed and looked at her helplessly. "I already said I was sorry. And that I've grown up. Now let's just have some wine and relax for once."
