57. Will
WILL
Maybe I needed an adult diaper. All this ass sweat was getting ridiculous. At least the stylist had the good sense to pick out a pair of thick black pants for me to wear to the interview.
“Don’t forget to smile,” my mother said over the rim of her magazine. “You look less tired when you smile.”
I frowned. I’d spent the past week running through talking points with my mother’s PR team, and I didn’t need any more advice clogging up my brain. Besides, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
Dad had coaxed his old friend, Stewart Webber, out of retirement to conduct the interview.
Mom hated the man. Said he was a pervert—there were rumors his early retirement was a preemptive move to avoid being caught in the crosshairs of the #MeToo movement—but even she agreed he was a good choice, if only because he’d make me look sympathetic by comparison.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I dropped my controller and ran from the room. Not even Mario Kart could distract me from my impending public humiliation.
Once inside, I yanked my pants down, wadded up some toilet paper, and wedged it between my cheeks. I could do this for Dad, for Theo, for myself.
Tiffany knocked on the door a few minutes later. “You all right in there?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She’d come over for moral support and was driving us to the interview. Mom was tagging along, too, but only to protect her investment. It was costing her a small fortune to make me look halfway presentable.
My phone buzzed against my ankle, and I reached down to fish it out of my soggy pants.
I vaguely remembered drunk dialing Derek last night and leaving a three-minute voicemail.
I felt guilty going after his part, but Dad didn’t have time to wait for Derek to recover.
Plus, Derek couldn’t sing for shit. No way would they keep Theo’s song in the movie if Derek was playing Travis.
“Hi.” It probably wasn’t a good idea to take this conversation on right now, but after the interview, it might be too late.
“Hi.” Derek’s deep bass rattled the wax in my ears. “I got your message.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I think I might have had a little too much to drink.”
“I’m not surprised. You must be pretty nervous. I bet you’ve got real swamp ass right now.” After all our love scenes, Derek was no stranger to my body’s stress response.
“You have no idea. But listen, Derek, I want to explain because—”
“No”—he cut me off—“let’s not do this now. That’s not why I’m calling.”
“It’s not?” I caught my reflection in the mirror and winced at the dark circles under my eyes.
“No, I’m calling to tell you I did it. I fired Tony.”
I almost dropped my phone into my underwear. “What? Really?” This was huge. Tony wasn’t just Derek’s manager. He was like a father to him. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry, but Tony’s the one who leaked those stories about you.” He paused, as if I needed a moment to digest some huge bombshell. “He said he did it for me, that my career would be over if people started sympathizing with you.”
It made sense, in a twisted sort of way. A hero is only as good as his villain, after all. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything. I never should’ve taken him back the first time.” Derek’s breath crackled through the phone. “I swear, I didn’t know.”
“What do you mean, the first time? Have you fired Tony before?”
“I did, the day before the Golden Globes. He said if I pursued a relationship with you, it would destroy my career. He said I had to choose, and I chose you.”
This was preposterous. Derek hadn’t wanted a relationship with me.
“But then I got scared when I didn’t win and said a bunch of shit I didn’t mean. But I’m not scared anymore. I’m not, like, ready to come out or anything, but maybe you could come over for dinner tonight.”
“Will,” Miles called through the door, “the hair and makeup people are here. You almost ready?”
“I’m sorry, I have to go. We’re leaving for the interview soon.” My voice came out weak and breathless. Was this really happening?
“Do you still like Indian food? We can order in and watch our movie. I haven’t seen The Beautiful in years.”
“I thought you were in L.A.”
“I was. Right now, I’m somewhere over Nevada, though. Figured I should fly back to New York and make sure Tony hasn’t run off with my Oscar. I never should’ve let that asshole crash in my penthouse. As you can probably imagine, he’s not too thrilled with me at the moment.”
I pulled the wad of toilet paper free and tugged my underwear back up, shivering as the damp fabric touched my skin.
“Why don’t I just call you after the interview?” Derek suggested. “We can sort the details out then. Now, break a leg. I mean that. I would never root against you. I hope you know that.”
I threaded my belt through the buckle, wishing I never had to leave this bathroom. “I do. Thanks, Derek.”