Chapter 17
Somehow we pull through. Manage to get a shot Alessandro is happy with.
And then the room explodes: everyone celebrating that Avi and I have wrapped.
Joy that I should be sharing in too, as the culmination of everything we’ve worked for.
The film that was my dream, that I’ve been feeling so proud of for the last few weeks.
A dream which, right now, feels like it’s turning into a nightmare.
I look around. Beyond the hugs and high-fives of the crew is Alessandro’s face, serious and stoic.
I look around for Avi and spot him across the room, talking to Sienna. Alessandro taps me on my shoulder.
‘Bambina,’ he says, his tone not betraying any of his feelings. ‘I have spoken to Avi. I would like to speak to you too. If you please, could you come to my trailer before you leave set today.’
★ ★ ★
Alessandro’s trailer is sparsely decorated and notably different to my trailer.
I try to settle my nerves by looking around.
My eyes focusing on each aspect of the room as I enter.
Two chairs and a coffee table set up by the door, for entertaining – a tea set meticulously arranged on it.
Then, to the left, what looks like a camping chair, and a lamp next to it.
A side table, scattered with sections of script, his notes scribbled over them in red pen.
A board that looks like that of a police detective or conspiracy theorist, different coloured threads winding around pins.
My Polaroid from casting up there, next to Avi’s.
Notes about each of our characters. It’s the trailer of a genius – which he is.
But then my distraction tactic ends, because he clears his throat. Gestures to a chair, which I sit down in. My stomach churning with worry about what he might be about to say. He sits down opposite me, pouring us tea. Takes a sip, as if composing himself.
‘I want to thank you for your work these last few weeks, Lara,’ he says. And I let out a breath of relief – wondering if, maybe, this is going to be better than I thought. ‘But I am also very angry and very disappointed.’ My stomach drops.
‘I’m sorry…’ I try to think of a way to apologise. To explain myself in a way that won’t implicate Avi or Sienna. But I can’t think of anything and he holds his hand up before I can get any more words out.
‘I do not want to hear the excuses,’ he says.
‘Avi has already given me enough. And I have to say I would have appreciated a visit from you this morning too. But that is by the by now. What I want to say to you is this: when you spoke to me about wanting to be Amelia – because you loved her, because you wanted to do her justice – I thought, this is someone I can rely on. A professional. But this…’ He pauses, taking another sip.
‘This, I do not know if I can forgive. You have caused a press scandal because of your own personal feelings. Which might be the downfall of this film. And for that, you have let me down. You have let yourself down. And bambina, I am afraid you have let Amelia down.’
Oh, God. My chest tightens, the panic gripping me now.
And I feel sudden huge regret for how stupid I’ve been, how neglectful not to go straight to Alessandro’s trailer this morning and apologise for what happened, and for what it might do to his film before it even wrapped.
This is my worst fear come to life – that everything in this film would be messed up. Would fall apart. Because of me.
‘I hope you can learn from this, Lara,’ he says. ‘But I am afraid that because of this I am not sure if we will work together again. I want professional values on my set. Respect for the project. For what we are doing here. And I am afraid you and Avi have shown me the opposite.’
Fuck, I think, his words hitting me like a ton of bricks. What have I done?
And I scramble, to try to find something to say. Something that will make this okay. But he simply puts his tea down, the cup clattering into the saucer, and gestures towards the door.
‘I would like you to leave,’ he says.
The same assistant from this morning takes my make-up off, asking me about my plans now, what I think I’ll do next.
I give her pretty much one-word answers.
Because I don’t know now. Because I got everything I ever wanted and I fucked it all up.
And I have no room for any thoughts or feelings beyond shame and anger at myself.
By the time I make it back to my hotel, I’m completely defeated.
I go straight to Avi’s room, checking the corridor first to make sure there’s no one there.
I find him waiting for me. Sitting on the bed wearing an expression that matches how I’m feeling on the inside. And he starts speaking before I can.
‘I’m so sorry, Lara,’ he says. And there’s such genuine remorse, such concern in his expression, that the nerves from this morning flash up again. It feels like he isn’t just apologising for what happened – which isn’t his fault anyway. But for what he might be about to say.
‘It’s not your fault,’ I say. But his expression doesn’t change. ‘We both made those choices. We both thought it would be fine.’
But he shakes his head slowly. ‘I should’ve known better,’ he says.
And despite myself, despite the fact that I know we fucked up, that I know we’re facing the consequences – because we were reckless and stupid, and didn’t think them through – this lands like a familiar arrow to my chest. Last night was a mistake.
‘Look,’ he says, breathing out. I lean forwards, ready to hear what he’s saying.
Hoping it’ll lift some of the weight off my shoulders.
‘Sienna and I had a meeting with our publicists this morning. I’m sorry I couldn’t explain more earlier, but she came to set with me today as planned because we all agreed that the best thing to do is to proceed as usual.
To keep up our appearance of being a united front.
And for me to release a statement saying that what happened between you and I was a gross error of judgement – a one-off that won’t happen again. ’
I blink for a second, processing his words. Trying to figure out how I might’ve misheard them in the daze I’m in. Because there’s no way he said what I think he just said.
He looks at me, as if waiting for me to agree. One second passes, then the next. The reality hitting me like a truck. That he’s serious. That this isn’t all some horrible elaborate joke.
‘What the fuck?’ I say instead.
‘Lara,’ he says slowly. ‘You don’t understand how this stuff works.
This is the best plan, for all of us.’ And I bristle as he says it, some hurt coming up from before now too.
Because I thought I’d forgiven him, but there’s one thing that’s still unaddressed.
A thorn in my heart that I feel pressing in further now.
He’s deciding what’s best for me again. Like he did before when he thought my life would be better without him in it, so just disappeared entirely. Giving me no choice.
‘If I say this now, then maybe in a few months Sienna and I can release an official statement saying we’ve broken up, and—’
‘Then what?’ I ask, anger rippling through me and mingling with the hurt.
‘Then we can…’ He gestures between us, his words trailing off. ‘Figure something out. I promise, Lara. We’ll do it properly this time. Make sure we go through all the channels. We just need to give the public enough time to forget about it, so we don’t end up having a scandal following us around.’
And I know that it was me who didn’t want a plan, who thought it would be okay just to continue as before, not to put any pressure on this fragile thing we were building that now feels like it’s been blown to pieces.
Me who pushed Roman too far, who might honestly be to blame for all of this.
But in this moment, I can’t believe that it really seems that simple to him. That I’ll just go with it.
‘Look,’ he says, taking in my expression, which must show the horror I’m feeling.
‘This stuff isn’t real. But it has a tangible impact on our careers, Lara.
Yours especially, being so new to the scene.
’ Another flash of anger, weighed down by a crushing disappointment too.
Because I know – I’ve read the comments, I just spoke to Alessandro.
The impact on my fledgling career is at the forefront of my mind.
I just didn’t imagine I’d end up being rejected and discarded so publicly by him too.
‘Please don’t patronise me by talking about my career,’ I say quietly.
‘You don’t understand, Lara,’ he says, his voice breaking a little. And I look up, and see an expression on his face that makes my heart stop momentarily. ‘I am under so much pressure, all the time. If I don’t do this – if I don’t keep this balance – then I could lose everything.’
And I can see it: the fear, written all over his face right now.
Fear that his career is going to crumble over this.
And something shifts in me, breaking through my anger and hurt.
What he said to me in the park, about how important it is to him to inspire British-Indian kids like him, to show them they have a place in the industry.
To be a role model. And I find myself in his shoes, thinking about the pressure he’s under.
About all the reasons why he can’t lose everything he’s worked so hard for – reasons that aren’t just about him.
And it surges up now, replacing everything else.
Because I can see that he’s scared and as much as I want to take that fear away, I know that I can’t.
This is bigger than me. And the realisation hits me, with a crushing sadness: I have to agree to this.
But I can’t watch him leave a second time.
Even if this time he says it’s only temporary.
‘This is really what you want?’ I ask. He nods.
‘I don’t see another way,’ he says.
‘Okay,’ I say, trying to keep my tone level. Something clicking into place.
‘Okay,’ he says, his posture relaxing a little.
‘Great. So I’ll go ahead with the statement and I’ll probably have to go back to LA for a bit.
But in a month or two we’ll release another statement saying we’ve broken up, then maybe I can come to London and…
’ He trails off as he catches my expression. I shake my head, slowly.
‘No,’ I say, my voice cracking.
‘What?’ he asks, and I can hear the concern in his tone now.
‘You and I both know two months is too soon to start a relationship after a statement like that,’ I say, sadness coursing through me.
Because I might not be a PR expert, but the public’s memory is longer than he thinks.
I know that if we start dating in a few months people will dredge up these articles, the statement Avi made.
It will follow us around, just as it has now – but probably worse than before because we’ll both look like liars.
‘And I understand this isn’t real for you,’ I say, struggling to keep my composure.
Sadness spilling through every part of me.
‘But it’s real for me. And I can’t do this, Avi.
I want you to release the statement – because I trust you, if you think it’s the right thing to do.
I want to protect your career too. But I can’t keep feeling like I’m a mistake.
And if you release this statement, that’s all I’ll ever be.
The press will talk about your gross error of judgement every time we’re photographed together.
And I know that I’m to blame for this too – that we should’ve been more careful.
That I can’t ask you to blow everything up for me, especially when Sienna is involved too.
But I can’t face that. It hurts too much.
I want you to do this, if it’s really what you want, because I care – about you, and our careers.
But as far as our relationship goes, I’m done. ’
‘Lara…’ he says, his voice thick.
‘I’m sorry, Avi,’ I say, getting up. Making my way to the door. ‘I can’t wait for you any more.’