Chapter 6 #2
It was the first thing I’d done when going through the schedule: reducing any contact time with Alexander to a bare minimum.
I don’t trust myself enough, or more specifically my heart, to be around him and not to go running back to him.
If he’s going to insist that I be on this shoot, then I’ll insist that our contacts be both time-limited and in a public setting.
“We’ll need a copy for approval.” Paul’s voice is detached and clinical.
I take a deep inhale and remind myself that it’s better to respond than react.
“Of course,” I say in a measured tone. I swallow down my pride with my anger.
This is your territory, not Paul’s.
They are the guests here, not you.
“If anyone else would like the footage sent through, let me know and I’ll ensure that you get a copy too.”
“Before you move on,” Paul interrupts, directing his focus to the Brewed team on the screen.
“Alexander’s label put forward the idea of him recording a Christmas song for the campaign.
We’ve got Electric Lady Studios on hold Friday night, and we can have a rough mix ready to play in the background for Saturday evening’s shoot. ”
Connie half smiles, just as I catch the yawn attempting to escape me.
Of course this was always going to become the Alexander show, rather than him being the well-remunerated hired help.
A commotion unfolds on-screen. Chloe, Caryn, and the rest of the Brewed team talk among themselves before Chloe, the point person, leans forward to the speaker on their conference table.
“We’d need to speak with legal. We’ve already secured the sync license to Andy Williams’s It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year for the shoot.”
Paul leans forward across the table to the speaker.
“Alexander will happily have the sync fee for the recording rights taken out of his fee, and I’ve already put a call in to the songwriter’s publishers to grant permission to cover the song.
If they’ve agreed to using the song in the campaign, then they’ll not mind who’s singing it.
As long as they get remunerated for the usage. ”
“Let’s offline this conversation and see what we can agree on,” Chloe says, smiles from her colleagues appearing all around her on the screen.
Paul leans back in his chair. Smug. Chin lifted. Eyes resolute. If it didn’t create even more work for me than I’m already grappling with, I’d be impressed.
The rest of the meeting passes with relative ease, no major issues arising, and everyone takes their action points away as we end the call.
“Can I grab a quick word?” Connie’s eyes narrow on me as she pulls me gently aside. Everyone else other than Paul is filing out of the boardroom.
“Do you mind if we use the room?” Paul asks as he shakes Pietro’s hand.
“Julie?” Pietro turns to her to find out if it’s free.
“The room’s free all evening,” Julie says, missing the death stare I shoot her. Her attention is focused instead on collecting the glasses and tray, now void of any snacks that could settle my grumbling stomach.
“Great,” Paul says, and motions at me to sit down opposite of him rather than where I’ve been for the whole meeting. It’s clearly a power play unfolding in real time, and I’m not about to concede on the first move, so I opt to stay at the head of the table instead as Connie returns next to Paul.
“What would you like to discuss?”
I close my laptop and sit down, placing my hands underneath my legs and waiting for the trembling to subside.
“Things have changed somewhat since we last spoke,” Connie says. Her sharp exhale is tinged with the sound of a thousand unspoken thoughts. “And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about the agreement you signed back in June.”
Fury floods my mind at the mention of the agreement.
I try to put a cap on my anger, become a better person, but the flood barriers are unable to hold it all inside.
“Look, I didn’t ask to be part of this campaign.
None of this was my idea. In fact, it was your client who demanded I be on the shoot.
” I slide my hands out from underneath my legs and lean forward onto the table.
Connie looks at me with the eyes of someone who’s had to deal with this many times before.
Paul wears the kind of frown reserved for children when an adult is explaining the Easter bunny.
“I was quite happy never to see or speak to Alexander ever again.” I suppress a pang at the lie. “I planned to honor the contract you made me sign. It seems the conversation you should be having isn’t with me, it’s with Alexander.”
Acid burns the back of my throat. The sight of them makes me sick. Gone are the million questions I wanted answered. Instead, a red mist blurs my vision. Just as I was making progress with my anger management, these two send me ten steps backward.
Paul raises his hands in surrender, stopping me from continuing.
“We appreciate you honoring the agreement, but we are where we are now, and there’s nothing we can do to change that.
The bigger issue we have is something Rob has alerted us to.
” Paul’s cynical diplomacy is disconcerting.
“Alex’s behavior has become more and more erratic, and we believe he’s relapsed into drinking and using drugs again. ”
Paul’s stoic poise is unable to hide the fear in his eyes as confusion swirls in me.
Alexander has an addiction problem? He’d never mentioned that.
The red mist engulfs me further as I grapple with this new piece of information.
Am I drawn to addicts? Is this what my therapist meant about me being attracted to narcissistic and emotionally unavailable substance abusers that remind me of my father?
“You believe?” I ask, needing clarity.
R Kelly believed he could fly and look where he ended up.
“I spoke to Alex the other day, but he completely denied it. He was insistent he was just getting into character. That people are noticing him becoming more off-kilter because the character he plays becomes more erratic throughout the film.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
The clock on the wall behind them counts down the minutes I’m wasting sitting here listening to them both. I still have a shit ton of work to do before packing and catching the red eye to New York.
“Alex had a breakdown on set while shooting one of his scenes. Rob found him wandering the hotel hallway in a psychotic state a few hours later. We think a guy from the film crew has secretly been bringing Alex alcohol and drugs.”
A.
Guy.
The two words hit me like a sledgehammer.
The air escapes my lungs.
I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat, trying to ground myself, and rub away a smudge from the corner of my laptop before I’m able to start speaking.
“And this concerns me because?” My tone is more measured this time.
See, I can control my temper.
Great. I’m talking to myself as if my mum were in front of me.
“We know we can trust you,” Connie jumps in, her tone softer.
“We fear this will end up like it did a couple of years ago, when his drinking got out of control after he lost Samuel, and we had to stage an intervention. We want to do everything we can to prevent that. To remove anything that might tip him over the edge.”
The way Connie says lost Samuel implies that he was much more to Alexander than just his former assistant.
But this conversation doesn’t answer any of the questions I’ve been torturing myself with for the last ten weeks, and just adds a bunch of new ones. Does Alex have a substance issue? Was his ex-assistant also his partner? Why didn’t he tell me any of this?
Connie stares at me, waiting for a response.
“Oh, and you think I’ll tip him over the edge.” I reject the implication.
“No. Well, not exactly. We just need you to be on the same side as us. He’s got a busy week ahead and we don’t want to do anything to add to his stress levels,” she says.
“That’s rich, coming from the person who has single-handedly caused me more stress in the last three months than in the rest of my life combined.” My brows furrow; my nostrils flare.
The number of times I’ve dreamt of this moment. Of reading Connie, reading them all, the riot act for how they turned my world upside down. Chewed me up and spat me out. Leaving me feeling like some prostitute, discarded after I was no longer useful.
“Look,” Paul says matter-of-factly. “We can sit here pointing fingers at who is to blame for what was done to you. But Alexander has fallen off the wagon, and if we don’t address the bigger issue of how we are going to deal with it… Of how we get him through this next week, then…”
Paul stops himself. He takes a big breath and diverts his attention to the ceiling.
My focus drifts to Connie, who looks away.
Is this all a game? A way to manipulate me into getting what they want?
Will they dispose of me once again once they’ve got it?
“You’re the only one who can get through to him, Christopher.” Connie’s attention turns back to me when Paul doesn’t continue. Her voice is delicate like a flower and she reaches her hand across the table toward mine.
“Oh, so that’s why you’re really here. To get me to do your dirty work for you.” I instinctively withdraw my hand.
“Do you want to be responsible for sitting by and watching this all unfold? To wake up one morning and turn on the news to find out Alexander’s dead because you refused to help?” Paul’s voice is thick with conviction.
“Fuck you! How. fucking. dare. you.” I push myself up from my seat, slamming the chair into the wall behind me. Bile rises in my throat as I grab my laptop and head to the boardroom door. “You’re all as manipulative and evil as each other. And as far as I’m concerned, you can all rot in hell.”
Paul’s eyebrows shoot up, forming a high arch of astonishment, and Connie’s face contorts with a mix of disbelief and shock. Both sit frozen in their seats.
The door ricochets as I leave the room, and I pause momentarily on the other side, wondering how big of a dick I’ve been before realizing I don’t give a shit. They’ve royally fucked my life up, and I will be damned if I let them do it again.