19. Lex
19
LEX
S hattered crystal glittered on the floor, sparkling around the discarded roses. Something that had been so beautiful was now destroyed. What a perfect symbol.
I was in shock. Somehow, I couldn’t wrap my mind around what just happened. The movie was cut and pasted and reconfigured until it was more like Frankenstein’s monster than anything Summer had originally filmed. My father’s audacity at pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary about the whole situation. His ass-kissing sycophants applauding like they just watched fucking Citizen Kane or some shit.
And his announcement that he was stepping aside, handing over the reins.
I could hardly pin down any one of my confused, angry, disappointed thoughts. We had lost something good, and not only in terms of the footage Summer shot.
This wasn’t the time to think about her. I’d end up shutting down completely since the thought of her walking out of my life forever was too much to comprehend. No, I had one thing and one thing only that required immediate attention. I couldn’t let myself lapse into personal shit when there was betrayal to deal with. That meant slowly walking out of the office, where I left the shattered ruins of Summer’s bouquet, then turned down the hall, walking straight to Dad’s office.
The voices around me blended into noise that did nothing to permeate the shock still gripping me.
How could he?
How could I?
I’d sat there without saying a word, stunned at first, then self-preserving. We were in mixed company at the time, and I was seriously considering murder. No wonder she felt betrayed.
How was I supposed to make this up to her? Something she had looked forward to long before stepping foot through the studio gates. Her first major film, a dream come true. From where she stood, that dream had been thrown in her face.
I strode past his assistant’s desk and into the empty room. He wasn’t back yet, probably still patting himself on the back. I sat behind his desk, something that wasn’t lost on me, symbolism-wise. This would be officially mine.
I had never wanted it less.
He didn’t keep me waiting long. For all I knew, he got a call telling him there was a loud fight. My pulse pounded a little harder with every footstep, louder until he sauntered into the room wearing a patented Alexander Landry shit-eating grin. “What did I tell you? Your old man still knows a thing or two about what’s going to work.”
His smug attitude made me sick, though battling the urge to puke was easier than fighting the desire to hurt him. “You honestly believe that, don’t you?” I asked. “Somehow, you have deluded yourself into believing whatever it was I just watched is something worth being proud of.”
Laughing indulgently, he pointed to the desk. “That’s not yours quite yet. And you’re welcome, by the way,” he added as he approached while I stood. “Silly me, expecting thanks.”
“We both know you timed that announcement carefully.” He had played me like a fiddle from the beginning. I was clueless or arrogant enough to believe him. “To keep me from ripping your goddamn head off.”
He lowered himself into his chair with a sigh. “Son, that is exactly where you’re wrong about this whole thing. It’s better for you to learn it now. Pride is a useless goal to strive for. It doesn’t last. And it doesn’t satisfy investors. You want to be proud? Be proud of all the money your movie is going to make.”
When I scoffed, his brows lifted. “It means there will still be a studio for you to run. Did it ever occur to you that I did this for you? Knowing I would step back, handing you something that will survive?”
“But the movie is garbage. You have to know it.”
“It’s a hit,” he fired back, waving a hand. “You think people want to go to the movies to think? To learn how challenging it is for a woman to make it in racing? Give me a fucking break! They want to be entertained. They want to see a little skin. They want to be excited. They want to forget the shit going on outside that theater. That is what we’re providing.”
“Well, good luck with it.” I waved a hand, prepared to leave the room and the studio. I’d had more than enough. “I wasn’t bluffing when I said I would leave, so your fake offer to retire was wasted.”
“I am retiring,” he insisted as I walked away. “At the suggestion of my oncologist.”
I had to give it to him. He always had a talent for pulling the rug from under me. I froze, the word reverberating through me. Oncologist.
Turning slowly, I searched his face, his body language for some sign he was screwing with my head. I found nothing but a weary old man. “Dad,” I choked out. “You have cancer?”
“I’ve got this thing in my stomach,” he grumbled. “They found it early and the doc has hope it’ll pass with surgery and radiation. But I need to rest, and I think we both know that’s not possible around here.”
As I sputtered, fighting to make sense of it all, he asked, “Do you understand now? Throwing your attitude at me, calling me everything under the sun when I’m trying to leave you with something here. That’s all I ever wanted to do. I couldn’t hand over the reins, knowing there won’t be anything left to give you.”
There was a hollow feeling in my chest as I approached, finally sitting on the corner of his desk. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“I didn’t want to see the look you have on your face right now, for one thing,” he grumbled. “I’m going to be fine. I’ll step back, spending the rest of my life enjoying the fruits of my labor. Let’s not start casting my biopic just yet.”
His choice of words brought to mind one of Summer’s many scathing comments and hardened my attitude a little. He was sick. He had his reasons, but he was still wrong. “You had no right to do what you did to her. You had to know it would kill her.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“I don’t think so,” I murmured with a sinking heart. It was easy for him to say. To him, she was a means to an end. His diversity hire. Slap her name on the project, earn some brownie points, make a mint. She wasn’t real to him.
“Oh no.” I looked his way in time to see his eyes roll. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t fuck the girl.”
“Charming,” I muttered. “The point is, she’s a human being. You used her and had the balls to act like there was nothing out of the ordinary about what happened earlier. Like she should’ve been grateful and kept her mouth shut.”
“Which is exactly what she should’ve done.”
“You’re wrong.” Standing, I shook my head. “I’m going to make things right. You want to hand over the studio? Fine. Which means I’m calling the shots now.”
He sat up straighter. “Wait?—”
“You made the announcement. I’ll have a press release written up to confirm it.” With one last glare, I added, “Try me.”
“Do you know what I went through to get that film edited behind her back?” he demanded, almost jumping from his chair. For a sick man, he had plenty of energy.
“I don’t care. You wasted your time.” With a shrug, I backed away. “If the investors don’t like it, they can have their money back. I’ll cover it myself. It’s what I should’ve done from the beginning.” Hindsight was twenty-twenty, after all.
“You’ll be making a mistake, son,” he warned in a chilly voice. “I can’t be any part of this.”
“I don’t remember asking you to.” I left him that way, gaping at me from behind his desk. There were things to do, calls to make. There had to be a digital copy of Summer’s rough cut backed up somewhere. I’d find it or die trying.
Dad wanted me to take over the studio. It was time for my first official duty—restoring the original film somehow.
Then, I’d spend the rest of my life making this up to the woman who directed it.
If she let me.