8. Jake
Chapter 8
Jake
Dear Jake:
You probably don’t remember the time we went to Vegas to meet with a friend of mine. You were only four years old. But when we were there, you saw a sign. You could read just well enough to see that it said the slot machines paid out 99% of money paid in. The actual numbers are closer to 85-95%. How they can lie like that in print is a mystery to me. The bigger the company, the more they get away with their lies.
But Jake, what you must have forgotten was the lesson I taught you that day. Only suckers play those odds. If you’re going to put your money in a slot machine, over time you will lose. Wanting a career as a singer or an actor is worse than playing slots.
So don’t ever write me a letter telling me that you’re a talented singer or even worse, that you have promise as an actor again. Not ever, you hear? The Priests aren’t chumps, and we aren’t suckers. Don’t waste your time or the Fansee’s money on something that stupid. Skip the lessons and pocket the cash. We’ll need it when I get out to run the big con on those idiots. I’m lining things up—don’t worry. It won’t be much longer now.
We’ll get our revenge and then some.
-Dad
M oments after I leave the set, still floating when I think about my date with Octavia, I get a call. It’s a strange call. My agent almost never calls me unless we’re negotiating a new contract, and I like it that way. He’s a horrible person, as nearly all agents are, but he and I see eye to eye in a way few people really can.
“Priest,” he says. It amuses him to call me by my ironic last name. He knows I’m the opposite of Godly.
“Bradley.” His name is Brad Hawthorne, not Bradley, but I like to make him sound even nerdier than he is, and he’s mildly irritated by it, so I persist.
“I want to start out by saying that I do remember our deal.”
When I signed with him, I told him my one stipulation is that he must never try to manipulate me. If he tries managing or manipulating me, even once, I’ll walk. Our contract has a clause. I can terminate at any time for any reason. “Good.” Then this should be a short conversation. They always are.
“You’re making a mistake, dating the burned girl.”
“Don’t call her that,” I say. “Octavia has a name, and it’s a beautiful one. Just like her face.”
He clears his throat. “So it’s not just for publicity?”
I want to hang up.
And then fire him.
“Okay, well, I still think it’s a mistake. There are way too many ways it could go wrong, but it sounds like you’re set on this.”
“I am.”
“Then I guess I’ll do my best to manage whatever happens. But Jake?”
“What?”
“When you dump her, and you will dump her, be prepared. It’s going to be ugly for you.”
I do hang up then, but I don’t blame him for being worried. I can see why he’d assume that it was a mistake for me to date someone if the public might not approve. I haven’t dated anyone in. . .well, ever. Not really and truly dating, anyway. One night stands, the occasional passionate weekend. Sure.
And I’ve ‘officially’ dated plenty of movie stars. The tabloids are always claiming I’m secretly involved with my co-star, and usually the orders from the top brass are to foster those rumors right up until the movie hits the box office. Sometimes they even orchestrate big public break-ups when buzz starts to wane. People like it when their favorite leads are dating “in real life,” and they seem to like it even more when we crash and burn.
Not that any part of my supposed life is “real.”
What I eat, what I like, and what I do for my hobbies has all been carefully crafted by PR teams to make me look both tough and approachable. Handsome and yet vulnerable. It’s all a big steaming pile of garbage. Of course I don’t love Red Bull. It tastes like gym-sock-soaked-cola. I don’t enjoy cycling, but Peloton pays me a lot to pretend to love it. And I definitely don’t think tofurkey tastes anything like the actual roasted flesh of the bird, but here we are.
Imagine my surprise when, in my attempt to help Octavia, I discovered that I actually do like her. And then, when I came over to try and figure out what to do about it. . .she seemed to like me back . She’s not vacuous, selfish, or greedy, so I’m confused about what motivations she might have for liking me.
Could Octavia really be as shallow as all the girls who show up on set holding signs? Is she only interested in me because of my dimples? There’s no way she likes me for my brain. It’s mediocre at best. My singing voice—same. But for some reason she said she wanted to go on a date, and I’m embarrassingly excited about it. The problem is, I’m not really sure what to do on our date. I’ve just typed in “best first date ideas” on my laptop browser when there’s a knock at my door.
I groan.
It’s probably someone who wants to clean my windows. Or a salesman trying to convince me to change my laundry service. I think about ignoring it, but they bang again. “It’s me.” Eddy.
“And I’m here, too.” Shoot. That’s Adam Forrest, our producer.
“Coming.” I jog to the door and whip it open. “What brings you guys over?” I try to sound casual, but it has to be something about Octavia. The producer and the sound director—who’s also coordinating the album launch—is not a coincidence.
“We need to talk.” Adam looks ticked.
“About?” I lean against the doorway. “Is this about Octavia?”
“Can we come in?” Eddy has both eyebrows raised.
I sigh and shift, and they both walk through.
“This is a pretty nice place,” Adam says.
I can’t help my frown. “You should know. Your people found it for me.”
Adam walks toward the bay window overlooking the ocean.
The Pacific is pretty far from here, so the waves are teensy, but you can see it. I don’t really care, but apparently oceanview places cost way more. It’s like everything else in Hollywood—inflated and misguided.
“You know,” Adam finally says, “every actor’s career makes some sort of parabolic curve. You gain in popularity, demanding more and more money, gaining more and more fans.” Adam drags one hand downward, downward, downward. “Until you don’t.” He brushes his hands together. “Your popularity, your fans, and the amount of money you command goes up. . . until it doesn’t.”
He’s straight-up pissing me off now.
“We all want you to be the next Tom Hanks.” Adam smiles. “And I think you have it in you to do it. You’re smart, you’re handsome, and gosh darn it, people like you.”
I roll my eyes.
“But Tom Hanks didn’t get derailed by making poor relationship decisions,” Eddy says.
“Really?” I’m the one lifting both eyebrows now. “Do you care to tell me why it’s a poor decision to date Octavia?”
Eddy and Adam share some kind of look.
“Because her face is burned?” I swear, I am going to punch someone really soon. “That can’t be the reason.” I start to pace. “She pays her taxes. She works hard. She’s smart. She’s kind. She never attacks people on set or off. She’s got an amazing voice, and?—”
“It’s her face,” Adam says. “And I can’t say that anywhere but here, in this private apartment, and if you ever say I said it, I’ll lie, but Jake, the optics are bad, okay? And what I wish the world was and what it is aren’t the same.”
I can’t believe I’m hearing this.
“You shouldn’t be dating anyone really,” Eddy says. “It’s not just her. Lots of guys are good looking, but you’re well-spoken, you’re clever, and you’re single. You’ve always been single. Rumors, but nothing more, and along with your clean-cut image, it really plays right now.”
“It plays all the time.” Adam shrugs. “You even have a pretty decent fan group that’s hoping you’re gay and the few women are a cover-up.”
“But dating someone, especially someone about whom everyone will have an opinion?” Eddy sighs. “It’s complicated, and complicated is always bad.”
“Tom Hanks was married—twice,” I say. “And it really seems like his second wife broke up his first marriage—a marriage with kids, I might add. So don’t tell me?—”
“That was a different time,” Adam says. “It was before social media. Now all anyone remembers is that he’s been with Rita for a million years, and that he sure made cute movies with Meg Ryan.”
I roll my eyes. “Look, I appreciate that you guys want what’s best for me, and that you’re trying to help, but I’ll remind you that what I do when the camera isn’t rolling isn’t really your concern. That’s my life, and it’s the one place where I get to call the shots.”
“Alright.” Adam drops onto the corner of my sofa.
I take some small satisfaction knowing that it’s about as comfortable as a nearby park bench.
“Let’s play this out.” Adam drops his head on his hand and leans over the armrest. He’s hoping it’ll be more comfortable, but he’s wrong. Their firm’s interior decorator sucks. “Let’s say you get good press for dating Olivia.”
“Octavia,” I say.
“Right.” Adam nods. “Let’s say women like that you don’t care about her looks.”
“I do care,” I say. “I happen to think Octavia’s face is beautiful.”
Adam frowns. “Fine. Then, that. And let’s say women believe you, but think about this. If people love her, then how are they going to react when you break up?”
“Why would we break up?” The whole idea pisses me off. “What if we got married?”
Adam splutters.
Eddy coughs.
“You’re the one who started this.” I start pacing again, my hands jammed in my pockets. “So let’s play it out. Let’s say Octavia and I get married. Actors get married. It happens.”
“Okay.” Adam frowns. “And now you’re suddenly stuck playing action roles, because your new wife with the. . .” He clears his throat. “Beautiful face is all anxious about you kissing someone else.”
“Please.” I snort. “Stop saying dumb stuff.”
Eddy chucks a pillow at me. “Jake, the point is that people either love her, and they get mad when you break up, making you the villain, or they hate her, and the longer you’re together, the more your career nosedives. We brought her in because you insisted, but so far she’s been the biggest liability of this entire movie. She almost destroyed our lead’s image yesterday.”
“You’re blaming Octavia for Patty being horrible? That doesn’t seem a little unfair to you?”
Adam stands. “It’s cute you think that ‘fairness’ matters.”
I walk toward the front door. “My contract has no stipulations on whom I can date. Your angelic lead Patty caused her own problems by being a raging villain, and I have no intention of not dating Octavia because you two disapprove. So if there’s nothing else. . .” I open the door. “I’ll see you on set tomorrow.”
“You used to be easy.” Adam glares. “But now, you’re not great to work with, Priest.”
“I could say the same for you.” If he thinks I’m scared of him because he came all the way to my apartment to try and bully me into dumping a perfectly sweet woman, he’s wrong. I’m not scared. There are other producers in LA, and there are other roles. I’m the good guy here, and I won’t be pushed around for it.
I’m not Octavia.
“We came to make you an offer,” Eddy says. “Before we go, I’ll at least share it with you.” He walks to the door, and then he turns around. “We’ll agree to double the promotion budget for the album, and we’ll even feature Octavia in all the videos and materials. It’ll be great for her future and the album’s earnings.”
“Why?” I can’t help my scowl. “Because if you convince her not to date me by dangling this in front of her, you’re just going to piss me off more.”
“We’ve said our piece on that. The rest is your call—as you pointed out, our contract doesn’t give us the right to stop you.” He narrows his eyes. “Our offer for additional promotion has another stipulation.” Adam pulls an envelope from the inside pocket of his suit. “All Octavia has to do is promise not to post any more videos on social media between now and when the movie releases.” He leans closer and shoves the paper at me. “Not so much as a Happy Birthday song for a friend. Nothing that isn’t approved by our office.”
“Wait, you think she’s been posting videos from the set?” I can hardly believe it.
“Another one went live from the music video filming, and it wasn’t pretty. Who else could be releasing these?” Adam asks. “They’ve all been hugely positive for her.”
I shake my head. “It’s not Octavia. Trust me, it’s not.”
“Then she won’t have any problems with signing this,” Eddy says. “Get her to do it.”
But after he leaves, I can’t help wondering, if it’s not Octavia , and I’m sure that it’s not. . .who is posting them?
And why?