Chapter Eleven
I couldn’t believe him .
Pissed, at him, at myself, at Colton fucking Payne. Hell, I was even pissed at Jerry despite it being my own damn fault for signing his stupid contract in the first place after my first agent told me she was retiring. But mostly, I was pissed at the mass of muscle in front of me who’d gripped my face and looked into my eyes like he saw me. Saw who I really was. Not Dreena, but me.
I was a fucking idiot.
This was exactly why I’d sworn off men. I had shit taste in them.
Glaring at a man named after a predator, I got in the back seat of the SUV.
He slammed the door and rounded the front of the vehicle like he was the king shit. I hated every single one of his dominant strides and his stupid handsome face. But I hated it more that I was wondering what the hell had happened between the breakfast he’d cooked for me and now.
All muscle and controlled movements, he got behind the wheel, started the engine and threw the car in reverse. “Seat belt,” he clipped.
Immature and petty enough to ignore him, I crossed my arms.
He put the vehicle back in park and turned. “You want to play this game with me?”
I refused to look at him. “I don’t want to do shit with you.” Lie. I wanted to punch him. Maybe kick him.
“You gonna be pissed the rest of the day?”
I was going to be pissed for a lot longer than that. Men didn’t turn me down. I turned them down. “I’m not pissed.” He didn’t get to have that satisfaction from me.
“You’re lying. You’re pissed I didn’t worship at your feet with that little speech of yours.”
I turned in my seat and hated all over again how damn handsome he was. “You’re so fucking egotistical, it’s disgusting.” I sounded exactly as pathetic as I felt, like a jilted lover.
His cell phone rang through the speaker, and he hit a button on the steering wheel to answer. “Tank.”
“Mr. Gunther, this is Peter Stanislas. I need to speak with Ms. MacKenzie, but she isn’t answering her phone.”
“That’s because he took it from me,” I bitched, throwing him under the bus.
A car pulled up next to us and two paparazzi spilled out with their cell phones and cameras.
“Audrina?” Peter asked.
Tank’s massive arm reached over the seats, and in one quick, measured movement, he grabbed the seat belt, stretched it across my chest and threw it home. Jamming the gear shift into reverse, he stepped on it.
I glared at Tank. “Yeah, Peter, I’m here.”
The huge vehicle lumbered back, and Tank spun the wheel. I would’ve been thrown into the side panel if I wasn’t buckled in.
“You don’t have your cell phone?” Peter asked, confused.
Braking as abruptly as he’d stepped on the gas, Tank threw the gearshift into drive and gunned it.
We were out of the garage before the paparazzi could get back in their car.
“I took her phone,” Tank answered Peter. “She was a nervous wreck waiting for the blood draw when she pulled it out. She didn’t need to see the video in that moment.”
Peter cleared his throat. “I appreciate your concern for her well-being. I’m assuming you’re finished at Memorial now?”
“Affirmative.” Tank took a corner too fast .
Thrown against my seat belt again, I cursed.
“Audrina?” Peter asked, his voice laced with concern.
“What?” I snapped.
“Are you okay?”
Just fucking peachy. “Fine.”
Tank smirked.
Asshole.
Peter cleared his throat. “Mr. Gunther, please return her phone and take me off speaker so I can confer with my client.”
Tank pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, hit something on the steering wheel then handed me his phone.
Glaring at him, I took it. “Hi.”
“Am I off speaker?” Peter asked.
I hated how Tank’s cell phone smelled like him. “Yes.”
“Are you all right? Do you need different security? Because I can—”
“It’s fine.” Apparently I was glutton for punishment, because the thought of getting rid of the asshole driving like he was auditioning for NASCAR made me want to cry.
“Okay.” Peter exhaled. “You ready to go over this?”
No, yes, I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter, because I’d already pulled the trigger. I piled on the lies. “More than ready.”
“All right, let’s start with Janette. She took the news well, and she wished you well once I explained what you were doing. She’s signing the termination contract as it stands. She won’t be an issue.”
A small breath that wasn’t enough air barely inflated my lungs. “Okay.” I gripped the phone tighter. “And Jerry?”
Peter paused, then spoke in a rush. “It’s worst-case scenario. He alerted the studio before I could. He’s digging his heels in. Breach of contract, lost wages, claiming verbal consent on three more movie deals.”
“That fucking liar,” I spit out. “I never consented.”
Tank looked at me in the rearview mirror.
I ignored him. “I’m not going to take this sitting down, Peter.” I wasn’t going to get sued by the studio because of an asshole agent I’d made.
“I know, I know,” Peter appeased. “I reminded him he only has the contract for the current movie through its premiere and release. I told him everything we discussed, then I gave him the terms of our offer. He has forty-eight hours to sign the termination contract if he wants to get paid.”
“He isn’t going to sign it.” I knew Jerry. He was too greedy.
“That’s fine. We’re prepared for that. This will just take longer.”
And cost me more in legal fees. Which Jerry knew. “He’s playing a game.”
“Then you have a choice.”
I knew what that choice was. Up the termination severance. I didn’t even want to give him a severance in the first place, but Peter had said it would be the quickest and easiest way to get rid of him. I’d warned Peter that Jerry was a bully though. He wouldn’t fight fair. Or ethically. “You know how I feel about that.” I’d rather pay Peter’s legal fees than pay Jerry another cent.
“Then we have our plan. We’ll wait the forty-eight hours. In the meantime, we need to deal with the Colton Payne issue.”
I didn’t know what the hell to do about that. I hadn’t seen any of the coverage or videos or what my fans were saying. Which, technically, I shouldn’t care about. I was walking away from acting, but I didn’t want to be sued by the studio if the movie tanked because of this. Colton could fucking take that responsibility.
“What did Janette say?” I hadn’t anticipated needing her past this week. All the interviews she’d scheduled were set up. All I had to do was show up and smile. After that, I was supposed to be free.
“She didn’t, except to say if you needed her again, she would be willing to work on an hourly basis if need be.”
“She had a plan for how to handle this.” But I’d been too fucking angry to listen to the details.
“Would you like me to contact her? ”
A vicious headache started right behind my eyes. “No.” I needed to learn how to handle my own affairs.
“You sure?” Peter asked.
I wasn’t sure of anything except out was out. If I was walking away from Hollywood, I didn’t need a Hollywood handler. If I was finally going to be myself, then this was it. This was the time to start.
Dreena MacKenzie was dead.
I was Audrina MacKenzie, a Midwest farm girl.