34. Ben
34
Ben
The morning after his arrest
Carlisle, I’m so sorry. I’m sure you’ve heard about last night by now, but I’d like to explain everything myself.
Shit, I feel like all I do is apologize to you.
I know you asked for time to figure things out, so I’ll leave you alone now. Please call me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting.
One day later
More bad news. Because of this fiasco, our promo tour has been extended to figure shit out. I’m not sure when I’ll be back in LA. I’m so fucking sorry for everything. Please let me explain everything. I miss you so much.
Two days later
I miss you. I want you. I love you.
I choose you, Carlisle.
I will always choose you.
T he studios delayed the Seoul premiere by several days—supposedly to give us time to issue statements and get ahead of the story—but in reality, it took the studio's team of lawyers that much time to clear me to travel out of Japan. Becky made it seem like the incident was resolved quickly, but the wheels of Japanese justice move at a much slower pace than the Hollywood publicity machine.
The Captain Commander cast finally made it to Seoul in the wee hours of the morning, and the press got wind of our arrival. It was an absolute madhouse at the airport, and it continues to be with hundreds of people camped out on the streets surrounding our hotel.
Though Becky requested privacy, we’ve received none. The studio is ecstatic about all the free publicity that Willa and I have generated for the film. The day after my near-arrest, Willa sat down for a one-on-one interview with Good Morning, USA . She tearfully explained how frightened she felt since we didn’t have any security with us and how quickly the situation unfolded and escalated. She painted me as her protective boyfriend, her knight in shining armor, and the American public ate it up.
Much of what Willa said about that night, and our relationship, was total bullshit, but it helped sway public opinion in our favor .
In the aftermath, I was officially offered the role of Martin in Losing Love . That victory feels bittersweet.
I’ve tried calling and texting Carlisle, but she hasn’t responded. I hope she’s simply taking the space that she asked for, but the longer her silence continues, the more despondent I become.
At this point, I don’t know our status. Are we still together? On a break? Broken up?
It’s the not knowing that’s the tricky part. I’m stuck in this awful limbo. I hold onto hope that once we’re back in LA together, we can resolve our differences, but the more time that goes by without hearing from her, the more hope dwindles.
Depressed and depleted, I pour myself a finger of whiskey from the hotel minibar and walk out onto my hotel balcony. I’m fucking over being cooped up and living under a microscope.
The only upside to being sequestered in hotel rooms is that it's been easy enough to avoid Willa since I put my foot down and refused to continue sharing a suite with her. She is, in large part, the reason that I’m in this mess. I’m angry with her for shooting off her mouth and telling the world that we’re in love, for taking drugs, for getting trapped in a club, for kissing me, and for using me to rescue her. She’s apologized over and over via text, but it’s not enough.
When I agreed to our showmance, my biggest worries were that it would negatively impact my relationship with Carlisle or my friendship with Willa. Unfortunately, it’s fucked up both.
My brooding is interrupted when my cell phone rings inside my room. Abandoning the hotel balcony, I head inside to answer it.
“Ben, it’s Jada and I have Becky on the line too. Is now a good time to discuss things?”
Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair and sit on the edge of my bed. “It’s as good a time as any. ”
Jada begins running down a revised schedule that the studio sent over. The Truly, Madly, Deeply publicity team wants to take advantage of my notoriety, so they’ve tacked on an additional press junket in New York City.
Reluctantly I agree to the scheduling change, but I stand firm that I won’t accommodate any more extensions or additions. I’m ready to get back home. Becky and Jada capitulate readily to my request, which is unusual.
“One last thing, Ben. Becky and I have discussed this ad nauseum, and we’ve come to the consensus that the best option for your image right now is to continue the arranged relationship between you and Willa. Your original expiry date was in early January, but the optics will be better if you wait longer to announce a break-up.”
“No. Not just no, fuck no, Jada!” I cannot believe they have the audacity to ask this of me. “There is no way that I’m going to put Carlisle through that, especially not after the disaster that Willa created.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger, Ben.” Jada’s soothing tone is having the exact opposite effect on me. My blood pressure rises, as does my rage. “This is coming from the studios too. It’s to protect both you and Willa.”
Becky chimes in quickly. “We’ve put to rest the murmurings in the press that your relationship with Willa was fabricated for publicity. However, if that narrative is resurrected, it would be catastrophic in the wake of the paparazzi altercation. We’ve already spun the story that you were protecting the woman you love, and the public pardoned you for it. But if it comes to light that everything between you and Willa is fake… that would be costly for you both.”
Before I can respond, Jada agrees with Becky. “Do you really want to risk your career for Carlisle? You know how difficult it is to remain relevant in Hollywood. You’re on top of the mountain right now, but you’re always just one wrong step from tumbling down.”
That’s the problem when you make a Faustian pact with the devil. Nothing is ever good enough. They will keep demanding more and more from you until you have nothing left to give. I’m fucked no matter what decision I make.
Keep publicly dating Willa and lose Carlisle.
Drop Willa, date Carlisle, and lose my career.
I’m stuck in a no-win situation.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I finally say, “Give me some time to think about it. I need to speak to Carlisle before I make any decisions.”
There’s an awkward pause before Becky says, “Umm, Ben, have you spoken to Carlisle recently?”
“No, I haven’t,” I unwillingly admit. “She asked for some time and I’m giving her that.” Something about the way Becky asked makes me wary. “Why?”
“Right after the paparazzi incident, I had a sit down with Carlisle. I needed to make sure she understood how serious the ramifications would be for you if the press found out about her. She told me that I didn’t need to worry about that because you two had split up. Luckily, she was willing to sign an NDA, so we don’t have to worry about her talking to the media.”
“Becky, no.” I slump forward in disbelief. “You’ve got it wrong. You must have misunderstood her. She wouldn't do that without talking to me first.”
Would she?
“No, Ben, I don’t think I did. She seemed confident in the decision.” A pregnant pause stretches between us again. “I’m sorry that this took you by surprise. I assumed you two made a mutual decision to split up. ”
Draining my remaining whiskey, I mutter, “Well, we didn’t. But thanks for letting me know.”
After ending our call, I pour myself another drink. I can’t believe Becky, not without proof, so I call Jo. She’ll know if what Becky told me is true.
“Hey,” I croak, my emotions getting the better of me.
“Ben, are you okay? So much shit has gone down.”
Sighing, I take a moment to collect myself. “Yeah, I’m hanging in there, but Carlisle isn’t talking to me. Becky just told me that Carlisle…” Shit, how do I admit that my girlfriend broke up with me through my publicist? This is fucking humiliating. I furiously rub my hand down my face as I start again. “Carlisle told Becky that we broke up and since Carlisle won’t return my calls, I don’t know if that’s true or not. Have you seen her? Or spoken to her lately? Did she tell you that she wanted to end things with me?”
With an audible exhale, Jo replies, “No, I haven’t seen her since the news of your arrest broke. I know that she and Becky had a talk that day though. Want me to go check the house to see if she’s there?”
“Please.” I wait anxiously as I listen to Jo’s hurried footsteps as she searches the house, calling Carlisle’s name.
“Shit, Ben. Her all her stuff is gone, but she may have just gone to stay at her condo for a few days in case the media camped out at your house or something.” But then Jo gasps sadly. “Oh no."
"What? What is it?"
"Carlisle left your house key and the charm bracelet you gave her on the kitchen counter.”