18. Summer
18
SUMMER
T his was it. This was what it had all boiled down to. The endless hours, the nights spent sleeping on the tiny sofa in my office—when I slept at all, which wasn’t always guaranteed.
An enormous bouquet of white roses arranged in a crystal vase waited on my desk when I reached my office the morning we were scheduled to screen my movie in full for the first time. My heart skipped a beat before I crossed the room and found the card tucked among the blooms.
Knock them dead today. - L
The nerves I had wrestled with all morning and most of last night eased a little. My chest loosened. I could breathe… sort of.
Alexander Landry would be there, along with the film’s principal investors and other studio executives. The idea made cold sweat bead on the back of my neck, but I shook it off, determined not to let it get to me. They had to love it. I hadn’t spent days on end sitting with the editors, tweaking every last detail and polishing it until it shone for this to flop. I had never been so sure of anything as I was of this movie.
My only hope was they felt the same way. The thing about art was its subjectiveness. The viewer always brought with them their own perceptions and expectations.
Please let them put all of that aside for today.
Claudia was in bed with a nasty summer cold, and I had promised to call her as soon as it was over. “ You’ve got this, ” she’d reminded me as I left the apartment this morning. “ Knock ’em dead. ”
I planned to.
Everything I knew to be true ran through my head all at once as I crossed the lot on my way to the screening room. I knew what I was doing. I was damn good at it. I had Lex to back me up all the way. We had worked hard, doing great things.
And this was just the first of many victories. Like he said while he was inside me on that hotel roof—I was going to own this town. I was never so sure of it as when I stepped into the room where numerous men in suits waited.
One of them was Lex, who offered a secretive little smile when our eyes met. My body ached for him—his arms around me, most of all. I needed his strength and confidence when mine was in short supply.
“And there she is.” Alexander stood and extended a hand, cordial as ever. “I’ve been looking forward to today,” he informed me with one of his million-dollar megawatt smiles. It was easy to see where his son got his charm because the man practically oozed it.
“So have I,” I told him. There was a seat open in the front row, center, which I guessed they were saving for me. I would much rather have sat in the back, watching their reactions, but maybe this was better. If they cringed, flinched, or gave each other funny looks, I wouldn’t have to see it.
Lex gave me a tiny nod, taking his seat at the end of my row, three seats down. “Let’s begin,” he announced loudly enough for the guy in the booth to hear him.
It was like going up the first hill on a roller coaster. I gripped the armrests with both hands, my heart in my throat, my breath coming in short bursts until my yoga training kicked in, and I consciously forced myself to breathe slowly.
It would’ve been better if I’d let myself hyperventilate and pass out.
All it took was five minutes, maybe less, for dread to take root in my gut. My breathing, once so erratic, turned tight and shallow, almost scorching my lungs. But nothing hurt worse than the fiery coal lodged in my chestnothing burned worse than the burning coal lodged in my chest.
This wasn’t my movie. Not the way I made it.
I glanced over at Lex, hoping against hope this was a joke. Some sort of prank, a welcome to the studio kind of thing. I was still that desperate for none of this to be real. He stared at the screen, brows drawn together, his lips slightly parted. Confused?
Absolutely. I know Iwas utterly baffled. I wanted to leave, yet I felt compelled to stay, to watch what unfolded before me and try to make sense of it all. Minutes passed, endless minutes where I had no choice but to watch a parade of scenes someone cobbled together. They were scenes I had shot, but they were out of order. There were bits and pieces cut out that ruined the context. Around thirty minutes in, there was a montage featuring various cuts of Danica and the supporting actresses washing cars. They had played around a little, spraying each other with the hoses, and I had let it go because I figured they were having a good time, and happy actresses led to better work. Some fucking genius decided to turn it into an actual scene, and they no doubt planned on layering pulse-pounding music on top once the score was added.
After an hour, I checked out. It was safer that way for everyone involved. My nails dug into my palms long enough that I hardly felt the pain after a while. It was nothing compared to the pain in my heart, anyway. How did this happen? Why? Wasn’t my work good enough as it was? Why couldn’t they leave it alone?
Had they ever planned on releasing the movie I filmed? Or were they always going to do this?
And did he know? How much did he have to do with it?
When it was over, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t pull my gaze away from the blank screen now that the last of the movie was finished rolling. There were a few seconds of silence so profoundthatI could’ve heard a pin drop if it wasn’t for the pounding in my ears.
It was Alexander who spoke first, in a loud voice that filled the room. “It looks like we have a blockbuster on our hands, people.”
I had to be imagining this. This was all a sick, twisted dreamwhere a bunch of people erupted in applause over a piece of shit that the world would forget in a week, if that. It might not even take that long for them to dismiss it and move on to the next thing because the public, in general, didn’t have a long memory.
It would be forgotten, pushed over to streaming within a month of the premiere. And then it would be time for The Next Big Thing, while I had a piece of shit under my belt that wouldn’t get me a job anywhere. Not a job I wanted, at least.
“Bravo!” one of the men called out, which led to a round of applause that was somehow worse than anything so far.
No. There was something even worse than that. The way Lex sat there, staring at me, his eyes wide and seemingly sunken into a pale face. This was his chance to stand up and ask what the hell this was all about. What happened to our movie? Who did this? How could we undo it?
He could have…
… but he didn’t.
“Now is as good a time as any to make an announcement.” Alexander worked his way to the end of his row, then walked down the short series of stairs until he reached the bottom row and came to a stop beside a frozen Lex. “The premiere of this film will mark the beginning of a new era for Landy International. I intend to step aside and name Lex as my successor.”
Lex reeled like somebody hit him, but his father pulled him to his feet and wrapped him in a bear hug. That was what it was all about. Making the movie his daddy really wanted to prove he could handle the studio.
I couldn’t sit there another minute, listening to the applause, the smug self-congratulation as they all patted each other on the back and projected box office numbers. Was I supposed to sit here and pretend there was nothing wrong? Of course, because that’s all that mattered. Pretending. And I thought I wanted to be part of this?
“Summer?” Alexander called out by the time I was halfway out the door. I didn’t trust myself to respond or even act like I heard him. I settled for fleeing flat-out, rushing down the hall and out the door into the brilliant, sunshiny day. How was the world turning? How were people going about their business like it was any ordinary morning? Didn’t they know the world was ending?
“Summer!” I heard Lex behind me but didn’t acknowledge him. I needed to get away. To get my shit from the office and get the hell out of this godforsaken town. It had only ever broken my heart. I could honestly say my parents were right all along. I had no hope of surviving around here.
“Goddammit, Summer. Wait! Please!” Lex didn’t catch up with me until I was already in my office, where that arrangement of flowers only taunted me now. Fuck finding my peaceful center. I picked it up and threw it to the floor in time for him to witness my rage.
“You motherfucker!” I snarled as broken crystal scattered across the floor in all directions. “How could you? Why did you do this?”
“I didn’t do anything!” He had the nerve to stand there, looking shocked and innocent, like he was the wounded party. It was like it was his work that had been so callously disregarded, and he was the one someone had lied to. Like somebody had asked him to sit back and pretend everything was okay when it definitely wasn’t. What, was I supposed to never say a word about my movie being butchered to hell?
“I cannot believe you. No, actually,” I decided. “I can absolutely believe you. I can’t believe myself for being so fucking stupid!” It was all so ugly and painful and sad. The whole thing was so sad. I could’ve cried myself to death over it.
With his hands held in front of him, he urged, “You have to let me explain.”
“I don’t have to do a damn thing,” I reminded him. How was I so blind? I couldn’t really blame him. He was only behaving as his nature made him. I was the one who walked willingly into the trap. Forcing myself to forget everything I knew, and for what? A big dick? I had betrayed myself, and now there was a ruined movie to show for it.
“I didn’t do that.” When I laughed at his lies, he grunted out, “Summer, I swear, I didn’t!”
“So it was magic? The movie I made, a movie with heart and soul and intelligence, mysteriously turned into a brainless, testosterone-fueled mess? You expect me to believe that? How gullible do you think I am? No, don’t answer that,” I added, almost spitting the words. “I know exactly how stupid you think I am.”
He blew out a trembling breath and was quieter when he spoke again. “Please, let me explain. I know, I should’ve told you?—”
“So you admit this has your fingerprints all over it!“
“No, dammit, that’s not what I mean. Yes,” he barked out. “I knew the sort of movie Dad wanted. The studio needs a win. But all these months, I’ve bent over backward trying to convince him the movie you made is that win.” When I didn’t react right away, he asked, “Why don’t we sit down?” He even had the nerve to gesture toward the sofa, like I was going to be so easily placated into having a sit-down talk where he would undoubtedly feed me more lies.
And damn him, I wanted to believe them, which was why I couldn’t give him the chance. “I have nothing to say to you,” I whispered, shaking my headandbacking away when he reached for me.
His arms dropped to his sides. “I’ve been behind you from the beginning.”
“There’s a joke.” I snarled. “From the beginning, you told me who my cast would be. What my timeline was. I’m supposed to believe you didn’t go in and edit my film until it’s practically Swiss cheese? I lost count of all the plot holes now that scenes were taken out and moved around! It doesn’t make any goddamn sense!” It came out as a cry straight from my heart, and I wasn’t only talking about the movie. Nothing made sense anymore.
When all he did was stand there with his mouth hanging open, bitter tears welled in my eyes. He had no defense because there was none. He knew what he had done. He knew what it meant. Between hitching, silent sobs, I whispered, “I will never forgive you for this.”
He pushed up his sleeves, grunting as he did. Glaring at me now that he knew his lies wouldn’t get him anywhere. “I’ve been fighting for this movie from the beginning. I refused to give my father what he wanted. I only wanted the movie you wanted to make, Summer. I don’t give a shit whether or not you believe me. It’s the truth, and I know it. I guess that will have to be enough.”
“Oh, you fucking hero.” I smirked, giving him a slow clap. “And when they make a movie of your life, who do you think will play you? I mean, a story like this should be shared with the world. Make sure they include the gripping climax where you climb over my carcass to claim your place at the head of the studio.”
“Sure. Take it out on me.” He sneered. “The only goddamn person who’s been on your side through all of this.”
“Newsflash, genius! You have not been on my side because you allowed that to happen! I don’t care if you did it yourself or not, it happened under your nose. You’re supposed to be fighting for us!”
Before he could plead with me and insist he had, I held up my hands in surrender. “You know what? Save yourself the trouble. I don’t want you to fight for me, and I don’t need you to. I forgot I’ve never been able to depend on anybody but myself. But thank you for the reminder,” I concluded. “Get the hell out of my sight.”
“You think it’s that easy?” he demanded as his face darkened along with his eyes. “You think I’m going to just let you walk away?”
“You don’t have a choice.” I was almost sorry for him. He was that deluded, that sure of his power over me.
My reaction made him growl before he muttered, “Remember, you’re contracted. The press junket. The premiere.”
Dear God. I was so busy falling apartthatI forgot all about that. The idea of sitting around and pretending to be proud of the piece of shit I was just forced to watch made my stomach turn. “No way. I’m not doing it.”
“It’s nice that you think you have a choice, but you don’t.” He shrugged, folding his arms. At the end of the day, it was always going to boil down to the studio and his image and money.
“Sue me. What the hell do I care? No, you know what?” I asked when a better idea came to mind. “Aside from what I’ve spent already and the money I used to pay Claudia, you can have the rest back. The entire balance of my fee for this film. I’ll pay the rest back if I have to. That’s how determined I am to have nothing to do with any of this.”
“You would do that? You would shoot yourself in the foot just to prove a point?” Before I could answer, he shook his head. “What the hell am I saying? Of course, you would. This is who you’ve always been. Listen to me.” He surprised me by approaching, the urgency in his voice written on his face. I backed away again, bringing him to a halt before he sighed. “What I saw back there? It makes me sick to see what they did. But I am not giving you permission to walk away. You don’t get to wash your hands of this.”
“What are you, my father? Don’t tell me what you will or won’t give me permission to do!” Could people hear us outside? Did I care? Hell, I hoped they did. All those people walking around, kissing his ass, treating him like the second coming. They deserved to know what a spineless, cowardly piece of shit he actually was.
His shoulders heaved. His hands tightened into fists. “You know it won’t be that easy. Though the way you’re acting, it might be better if you don’t participate in the press junket.” Still, his eyes narrowed in a steely glare. “But you will show up at the premiere, and you will play nice. The rest of it, we can brush under the rug.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re very good at that.”
“Don’t do this,” he whispered, like a last-ditch effort. “Don’t push me away. We need each other now. We can find a way out of this.”
Wouldn’t that be nice? To fall into his arms and believe whatever he said. To betray myself again. “You can take your false promises and shove them up your ass,” I whispered back.
“But…” he blew out a deep breath, trembling, “… I love you.” His voice was soft, desperate, vulnerable, and it almost was my undoing. There was no way I could survive. Not once I heard those words come out of his mouth.
I love you too. My heart screamed it loud enough that I was surprised he couldn’t hear. “Another lie,” I whispered, making him cringe. “Love?” I snorted out, throwing my hands up as if the universe had just cracked a cosmic joke. “Well, that’s another lie. The only person you love is your goddamn self!”
My bag was on my chair. I grabbed it, as it was the only thing in the room that was really mine. My laptop and everything else were at the apartment. “As for me, I’m going home where I belong. See you at the premiere, Mr. Landry.”
His face fell. “Wait?—”
“I swear to God,” I said. “I will kill you if I have to look at you a second longer. I cannot stomach the sight of you.” He made the mistake of getting in my way, and I shoved as hard as I could. Somehow, the mixture of my rage and his surprise was enough to make him stumble backward. I marched past him and out the door, searching desperately for my phone with a hand that shook so badlyI could barely get a hold of it.
But I did, and I called Claudia. She picked up as I slid behind the wheel of my car. “How did it go?” she asked, chipper in spite of her stuffy nose.
That was all it took. Her hopeful, eager greeting. That was all I needed for my resolve to break along with my heart. Covering my face with one hand, I sobbed. “We’re leaving. I’m packing everything, and we’re leaving as soon as possible. It’s over. It’s all over.”
It had never really begun.