by Rowe, Lauren
“Regardless, it’s not like they’re offering me a seat at the judges’ table with a paycheck to match. So, let’s just—"
“Well, now we’re getting somewhere,” Daria interrupts. “Are you saying, if I could get you that—a seat at the judges’ table with a paycheck to match—you’d say yes?”
My lips part in surprise that she’s even saying that out loud. “They already said they don’t want me as a judge. Hence, the reason they hired Savage to replace Hugh, rather than me.”
“True, but that happened before today—before that woman’s video went off like an atomic bomb on the internet.” She leans back and swivels in her chair. “I could be wrong, but I’ve got a hunch the landscape dramatically shifted underneath Savage’s feet this morning. Don’t you think it’s a bit weird his agent called me, asking for this meeting? He made it sound like Savage was willing to do you a favor by saying yes to this . . . but would Savage really do a favor for you?”
“Absolutely not.” I pause. “So . . . what, then?”
“I’d bet money Savage’s job is on the line this morning, thanks to his shenanigans last night. My hunch is that Savage’s head is on the chopping block, and thanks to that woman’s video, and everything that’s come before, the producers have made you a condition of Savage’s continued employment.”
My mouth hangs open as my eyes widen with glee.
“Now you understand why I begged you to come down here for this meeting. If I’m right about Savage’s job depending on you, and if I’m right about the show practically drooling over this idea, then I think I can leverage both sides against the other to get you an offer you simply can’t refuse.”
I clutch my heart, feeling like it’s beating a mile a minute. “Okay, this might be a stupid question, but if you’re right about Savage’s job being on the line, then why wouldn’t I say no to being his fake girlfriend, thereby getting Savage shit-canned, and then swoop in and take his job?”
Daria shakes her head. “I’m sorry, honey. If they fire Savage, I’m sure they’ll replace him with some other heartthrob. On your own, your platform simply isn’t big enough yet. But with Savage, you’re in the cat’s seat. So let’s agree to help Savage keep his seat at the judges’ table . . . as long as he agrees to help you get a seat right next to his.”
I gasp. “At the judges’ table? Not as his mentor?”
“Correct. For the entire season. With a salary to match.”
I’m reeling. Losing my mind. “You really think that’s possible?”
“It’s a long shot, so don’t get too excited. But it’s worth a try. My gut tells me Savage is desperate, and the producers are frothing at the mouth. So, let’s see if we can exploit all of it to your advantage.”
I look out the floor-to-ceiling window of Daria’s office at the glamorous hustle-bustle of Beverly Hills for a moment, trying to collect myself. And when I finally return to my agent, I can’t hide it. I’m excited. “Okay,” I say on an exhale. “Let’s give it a try.”
As Daria whoops, a buzzing noise rises up from the intercom on her desk, followed by a male voice announcing, “Ms. Brown, Eli McKenzie and his client are here to see you.”
A demonic smirk lifts one half of Daria’s mouth. “Keep a poker face at all times. If I say something blatantly false, nod your head subtly and roll with it.”
“Got it.”
Daria presses a button on the intercom with her long fingernail and says sweetly, “Thank you, Hunter. Please, escort my guests to my office.” She winks at me. “We’re ready for them.”
Twenty-Three
Savage
The office door opens and a striking Black woman I vaguely recognize is standing before Eli and me. She says hello to Eli, whom she clearly already knows, and introduces herself to me as Daria Brown, before leading us into her elegant office.
We follow Daria into the spacious room and find Laila sitting in a corner, her body language in her armchair like she owns the place.
When Eli and I reach Laila, she doesn’t stand. Eli greets Laila with a handshake, but I don’t bother extending my hand. She won’t take it, anyway.
“Hello, Fitzy,” I say, as I take a seat next to Eli on a small couch.
“Hello, Adrian,” she replies stiffly.
“You’re looking well,” I say, leaning back and spreading my legs slightly. It’s an understatement. Every time I see this woman, she hits me like a ton of bricks. I add, “As always.”
“Thank you. So are you.” She smirks. “As always.”
I don’t know how Laila does it. Her words were complimentary, like mine, but her tone somehow transformed them into a dig. But that’s Laila for you. A master at throwing shade that gives you whiplash.
“Sorry we’re a bit late,” Eli says, eliciting a barely audible scoff from Laila—one that conveys she’s not the least bit surprised. Eli pauses, briefly, at Laila’s interruption, before adding, “A couple paparazzi were waiting for Savage as we left his hotel. So, we took the long way around, to be on the safe side.”
Laila’s blue eyes are fixed on mine now, so I flash her a look regarding Eli’s explanation that says, See? This time, it wasn’t my fault.
In reply, Laila shoots me a look that says, I don’t believe it for a second.
And in reply to that, I roll my eyes and look away.
Daria, the agent, says, “It was the right call to play it safe. If we’re successful in putting together a deal, we wouldn’t want anyone knowing about this backdoor meeting.”
“Exactly my thoughts,” Eli says.
“There’s no need to apologize for being late,” Laila says sweetly. But when she shifts her gaze back to me, her expression turns snarky. “I was on tour with Savage for three months, remember? I never expected him to be on time for this meeting, in the first place.”
Eli chuckles at Laila’s dig, while I exhale and shake my head.
“Well, this is gonna be fun,” I mutter.
Daria clears her throat. “Why don’t we get down to business, fellas.” She leans back in her armchair and crosses her legs. “You gentlemen requested this meeting, so go ahead and make your pitch to Laila as to why she should do this huge favor for Savage.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t be a favor for Savage,” Eli insists. “Like I said on the phone, this would be Savage doing a huge favor for Laila. He knows how much this would help her career, and—”
“Cut the bullshit,” Daria snaps, jerking forward. “Nadine told me everything, on the down low, so let’s skip ahead to the part where you try to convince Laila to save Savage’s ass from getting shit-canned.”
I can’t believe my ears. Eli swore Laila would never know I need her to save my job! My jaw hanging open and my eyes bugging out, I look at Eli, as if to say, Can you believe Nadine ratted me out? And, instantly, I know I’ve screwed up when Laila’s agent across from me blurts, “I knew it!” while pointing at my face.
“Goddammit, Savage,” Eli says, shooting me a murderous glare. “I told you to maintain a poker face at all times.”
I look down. Shit. He totally did.
Laila chuckles. But I’m too pissed to look up at her. Fuck.
Daria says, “It’s time to put your cards on the table, Eli. Savage messed up last night and, now, his ass is in a sling. The question is: what is Savage willing to do for Laila to save himself?”
Eli leans back. “Savage doesn’t need to do a goddamned thing for Laila. This opportunity is way too big for her to pass up. Savage could walk away from this show and still have a monster career that’s ten times bigger than Laila’s. I’m sorry, Laila, but it’s true. This opportunity would be a game-changer for you. You need to be smart.”
“Don’t address my client directly, please,” Daria says. “Especially not to condescendingly tell her to ‘be smart.’ I represent her in this negotiation, and I’ll tell her what I think is ‘smart.’ And then she’ll use her big ol’ brain to make the final decision.”
Eli bristles. “I apologize, Laila. No d
isrespect intended.”
“It’s fine.”
Eli returns to Daria. “I’ll say this to you, then. You’re doing your client a huge disservice, if you’re letting her think, even for a minute, she should turn this opportunity down.”
Daria sniffs. “I disagree. The per-episode fee for mentors is an insult, especially when they want Laila to take on the added duty of fawning all over your client like he’s the great love of her life.”
“Fair enough,” Eli says. “Then do your job. Rather than sitting here busting my balls about the money, call the producers and demand a sweeter deal.”
Daria looks fit to be tied. “Oh, is that how negotiations work, Eli? Thanks for mansplaining it to me.” She narrows her eyes. “Believe me, I know exactly what I’m doing. Before I’d even think about calling the producers to ‘demand a sweeter deal’ for my client, we’ll first need to reach an understanding between ourselves about our joint demands.”
Eli pulls a face. “Our joint demands? We have none. Whatever ‘demands’ you might have, they’re between Laila and the producers.”
“Jesus, Eli. Either you’re full of shit, or genuinely terrible at this. I’ll assume it’s the latter, and break it down for you. If you want to lure my client to the negotiating table with the producers, then your client will need to promise to present a united front with her, during those negotiations, on all her key demands.”
Eli sighs and drapes his arm over the back of the love seat. “Which are?”
“Thank you for asking.” Daria smiles. “Laila would consider taking part in the proposed fake romance, if she’s doing so as a full-fledged judge for the entire season.”
“Ha!” Eli blurts, as I sit forward gaping like a fish.
Daria calmly says, “We want a seat at the judges’ table for Laila, and we want Savage to help her get it, or this whole deal will be dead and Savage can kiss his job goodbye.”
I look at Laila, trying to gauge if she’s onboard with this attempted extortion, but her face is impassive. A perfect poker face, unlike mine.
“It’s impossible,” Eli says.
“Nothing’s impossible,” Daria insists. “They hired Savage as a judge, in the first place, despite his reputation for being a womanizing man-child who can’t keep his donkey dick off Twitter.” She smiles at me. “No offense, Mr. Savage.”
I can’t help returning her smile. “None taken. I actually thought you were complimenting me.”
Daria bursts out laughing. “And there’s that famous charm. By the way, I thoroughly enjoyed Twitter this morning. That was a top-notch swan dive.”
“Why, thank you. I was simply doing my part to spread joy in an otherwise bleak world.”
“You’re a saint.”
“Would you tell Laila that, please? She seems to think I’m the devil.” I glance at Laila and smile when I discover her poker face has been replaced by a grin. A reluctant one, but it’s there. I explain to Laila, “It was Kai’s birthday last night. He dared me, so I had no choice.”
“Ah. Birthday Truth or Dare,” Laila says, having heard stories about our long-running game from Kendrick. She adds, “Well, then, screw the morality clause in your contract. You had no choice but to strip down and take that naked flying leap.”
“See? I knew you’d get it. Why can’t the producers?”
Her reluctant grin widens, and for the first time in a long time, we share an easy smile. One that feels genuine and not laced with arsenic. And I can’t help thinking that’s probably a good sign for my chances here.
Daria says, “The producers know The Savage and Laila Show would bring in record ratings. And that’s all they care about, really. Ratings. So, let’s work together to convince them that’s exactly what they’d get.”
Eli chuckles. “I admire your tenacity. But you’re aiming too high. They haven’t budgeted for a fourth judge and the season starts shooting in two days. Please, Daria, let’s talk more realistically and find a middle ground we can—"
“There’s no middle ground,” Daria says flatly. “Laila needs to be offered a full-fledged judgeship this season, with a salary to match, or she’ll stick with her current contract and appear for one episode as Aloha’s mentor. Agree to present a united front with us on a phone call, or this meeting is over.”
I flash Laila a look that says, Damn, maybe I need another agent. And she flashes me a return look that says, Right? She kind of scares me a little bit.
I smile.
So does Laila.
Again.
And, suddenly, I feel tingles skating across my skin.
“For the record,” Eli says, “I think you’re trying to climb Mount Everest in stilettos. But we’re willing to stand united with you, while you try. Right, Savage?”
I nod. “Honestly, I think Laila would make a great judge. I’m all for it.”
In truth, I’m deeply skeptical Daria can make this happen for Laila, but why not let her try? It’d be no skin off my nose, if Laila became a judge. In fact, I’d kind of like having her around. First off, to amuse and distract me while I try to stave off the inevitable hives that will surely come from my presence on such a stupid show. But, more importantly, the more weeks Laila appears on the show, the more time that will give me to try to get her into my bed—to finally convince that stubborn woman to let me eat her pussy while she eats her words. The ones that have been torturing me for two months. This will never happen again. If Daria’s pitch isn’t successful, I’m sure she’ll cave and negotiate some middle ground for Laila—which, in the end, will keep me on the show, either way.
“Thank you, Adrian,” Laila says, looking genuinely touched. And I feel a sudden jolt of optimism that maybe Laila could find her way to falling out of hate with me, at the end of all this.
I wink. “Sure thing, Fitzy. I truly meant that. I think you’d be great.” Laila beams a huge smile at me and I feel myself blush. My heart racing, I look at Daria. “All right, then. Let’s make the call and convince the producers to make Laila’s little girl dreams come true.”
Twenty-Four
Laila
“I can’t emphasize this enough,” Nadine, the executive producer of Sing Your Heart Out, says to our foursome—Daria, me, Savage, and his agent—on speaker phone. “If we were to bring Laila on as a fourth judge this season, we’d require Savage and Laila to really sell the romance, both on and off camera, for the entire season—plus, a one-month grace period after the finale airs, so nobody thinks the romance was a set-up.”
We’ve been talking to Nadine and some other producers on her end of the call for the past twenty minutes. And much to my shock, Nadine and her people still haven’t hung up the call and/or told us to pound sand. On the contrary, without committing to anything, Nadine and her team keep artfully testing the waters, lobbing out different concerns and hypothetical non-negotiables they’d require “if” they were to agree to Daria’s “unthinkable” proposal. And through it all, true to his word, Savage has maintained a united front with me, casually saying “not a problem” to literally everything the producers have demanded.
Which, by the way, included the shocking demand that Savage and I would cohabitate this season in a location supplied by the show. When I freaked out, Nadine explained it would make the relationship more believable. Plus, it would make it easier for us to post daily on social media, like a real couple, which would be another requirement. And, finally, Nadine assured us the chosen place would be large enough for Savage and me to cohabitate without murdering each other, and full of enough amenities we’d feel like we’re on vacation. And what did Savage say to that particular bit of craziness? To my surprise, all he said was, “Just as long as our place has a hot tub. Laila and I would definitely need a hot tub.”
Savage was equally unfazed when the producers made it clear they’d require him to quit drinking for the duration of the season, if they were to agree to Daria’s proposal. All Savage said that time was his usual, “Not a problem.”
&nb
sp; Currently, Nadine is saying, “We’d also expect Laila to help keep Savage in line. You know, make sure he gets to the set on time and keeps his dick off Twitter.”
Everyone on the call, and in Daria’s office, laughs, while Savage pushes back for the first time.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” he says.
“Shut the fuck up,” Eli says.
And Savage presses his lips together and looks out the window.
“So, is everything doable, then?” Nadine asks on speaker phone.
“Savage?” Eli says.
“Fine,” Savage replies.
“Laila?” Nadine asks.
“Fine for me, too,” I say. I look at Savage. “But if I’m going to babysit you, you’d better not give me any trouble.”
Savage flashes me a look that says, Hey, I make no promises. And without meaning to do it, I smile in reply.
Nadine says, “We’re a bit concerned about the relationship being outed as fake. The last thing we’d want is for a flurry of your recent hookups to come out of the woodwork and create a ‘cheating scandal’ for us. How far back can we safely say this relationship started?”
Savage and I look at each other, neither of us wanting to speak first. On my end, I haven’t been with anyone since Savage. And before him, I hadn’t been with anyone since my ex-boyfriend, Shawn. So, I’m a clean slate for the past six months. But I certainly don’t want to tell Savage that, especially not after our tiff backstage at the Video Music Awards, when I demonically fanned the flames of Savage’s ridiculous jealousy about Charlie.
“What if we were to say you two have been living together for the past . . . month?” Nadine ventures. “Would that work?”
Everyone in the room, including me, looks at Savage, since we all know his reputation with women. Indeed, from what I saw first-hand on tour, I can’t imagine Savage hasn’t been with a virtual army of women over the past month.
Nadine continues, “In theory, we could track down a few people and ask them to sign an NDA to make this work. But if we’re talking about too many people, then the risks of a leak are probably too high.”
