Page 45 of Act Three
The bad press continued with social media posts, news articles, and internet gossip. At first, they focused on the circumstances of Brooke’s departure. But then they evolved into something else, something far scarier: stories circulating about what went on behind the scenes ofPushing Daisy. I was used topeople making up stories on the internet, but the terrifying thing about these stories was that they weretrue.
Somehow, someone named User8295001 knew that the kids visited and asked for autographs. Another anonymous profile, User9211952, knew about the funding deal with the Australian government. Someone else posted a photo of Kyla and Isaac eating dinner, the picture taken without either of them being aware of the photographer’s presence, through a pane of glass, and speculated about their relationship.
None of these stories were going to ruin the movie, but fear lurked within me. Someone was obviously giving them information. What if they found out about what I’d done with Kyla?
Or worse… what if Kyla herself was the person who’d leaked these details?
Perhaps my first impression had been wrong, and maybe she was just as ambitious and fame-hungry as the actresses I’d met in Hollywood.
She could have hired a photographer to wait outside the restaurant: I’d heard of people doing that before. It might have even been one of her friends. I’d seen her hanging out with a few of the other extras and who knows, it might have even been one of them.
I’d trusted her too much.
“Dean!” she called out after we finished one of our scenes. “Can I talk to you?”
I pretended that I hadn’t heard her as I hurried away, holding my phone as though there was something terribly important on the screen. I felt like an asshole, but what else was I supposed to do? My phone was ringing off the hook and if I spoke to her, I might give her more ammunition to use against the movie.
“Dean.” She was somehow in front of me, blocking the doorway, arms folded.
Damn, I’d underestimated how fast she could move on her fake leg. I dialed one of the numbers from my missed calls and held it to my ear.
I’m on the phone, I mouthed.
Fuck, Kyla looked sexy when she was angry. Her thick red lips were set in a pout, and her eyes… they were intoxicating. She took a step closer and I could smell her — not perfume, butherscent. The same scent that grew stronger when she was about to come.
“I don’t care,” she said. “We’re colleagues. I don’t care if you were only friendly because you wanted to fuck me — we still have to work together, and I expect you to act like a professional.”
Her lower lip trembled and her eyes glistened. I sighed. Whether she had leaked information or not, I couldn’t stand to see her cry.
“Good morning,” a male voice on the other end of the line answered. “This is the Daily Gazette. What can I do for you today?”
“I’ll call you back.” I hung up, placed my hand behind Kyla’s shoulder, and led her away from the set, where nobody else would overhear our conversation.
During the short walk, she’d regained some of her composure. The wetness had disappeared from her eyes when she glared at me.
“I know you’re a movie star, and that I’m nobody. I know you don’t want to fuck me again, and that’s fine. Buthow dare youuse me for sex and then ignore me while we still have to work together.” She hissed the words through her teeth.
“Is that what you think is going on?” Now that she’d said those words, I could see how it might look that way from her perspective.
“What else could it be?” Kyla’s shoulders fell forward. “Men use women for sex all the time. I didn’t think there would be afairytale ending, but I didn’t think you’d destroy the movie to avoid talking to me.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Firstly, that was an incredibly sexist thing to say. And secondly,Destroy the movie?
“Kyla, I’m the only one here who’s trying tosavethe movie.”
I frowned. Had she really not heard any of the negative press? It was everywhere. Not knowing whether she had her phone on her, I opened the internet browser on mine and passed the device to her.
“Search for ‘Pushing Daisy Dean Hart’.”
Kyla looked from the phone to me, confused.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
She typed the words with her index finger, the same index finger that she’d used to stroke my cock not that long ago. I tried not to think about that as the search results loaded.
“Now what?”
