Season 20, Episode 2 The Greta Vendetta
“The Greta Vendetta”
Speak more about Fortune kicking your ass today.”
“Say what motivated you. Maybe talk about the kids?” This was Troy’s third time suggesting this, but I still hesitated to mention them on camera. “Luke, it’s key to your story…”
Troy’s cajoling was halted by the operatic wail of “JOCKSTRAPS!” He opened the door—a blond blur in a baby-blue camisole bolting past—and sighed wearily.
The ruckus led us to the kitchen, where Greta railed at a baffled Shawn.
His eyes were wide behind clunky glasses, clearly blindsided on the way to bed.
I hadn’t seen him in glasses yet, but he was somehow even more attractive, almost a hapless academic rather than a lad mag coverboy.
“Someone’s messing with you, Greta!” he protested. “Those were in my laundry!”
“Then explain how your cheap, dirty Underoos ended up ON MY BED!” She chased him to the pool, madly brandishing the jockstraps like a racing flag, the whole house pursuing the floor show.
I spied Chrissy and Solana stifling laughter, enjoying this escapade too much to be innocent bystanders.
They must have orchestrated this, but why target Shawn?
“Greta, stop! You owe it to me to listen!”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, mania in her eyes. “I owe you? I owe you! I… owe… you…”
“The classic three-peat,” Melange assessed dryly at my side, sipping rosé from a coffee mug. “I’ll say this for her, she always gives the editors options.”
“Here’s what I OWE YOU!” Greta summarily fled inside, leaving Shawn dumbstruck.
“And now she’ll guarantee she’s in the season trailer,” Melange continued, one master evaluating another, before Greta appeared on cue at the balcony above like a possessed Juliet, Shawn’s suitcase in her arms. She then tossed the unzipped bag, showering jewel-tone tank tops, stylish sneakers, and silver chains upon the pool and surrounding brick pavers.
A stricken Shawn retrieved a pair of shattered sunglasses, far more chic than the lenses he currently wore.
“These are designer, and you know it!” He raced toward the house, but I intercepted him, lifting him over my shoulder.
I was surprised to see him lose it, given how docile he’d seemed, but property damage was as good a reason as any.
“You’re paying me back, Greta!” he shouted from my grip.
“Exactly! I am paying you back! You stole everything from me, you slut!” she cried.
Troy signaled me to ferry Shawn across the yard, which only agitated him more. “No, I need my stuff! Those are all the clothes I own, like, in my life!”
“I got it,” Erika volunteered, making uneasy eye contact with me as she stepped forward.
We’d yet to speak since my reprieve, and though she’d allowed me to stay, I doubted she wanted to pal around.
Moreover, I had a contractual obligation to carry a thrashing, weeping adult film star into an Italian garden.
We trooped past generic replicas of classical statues until we reached the waist-high stone wall at the property’s edge, where I released him. “Shawn, that was intense, huh?” Troy began, unnervingly gentle. “How about you tell Luke your side of things?”
Shawn sank in shame onto the little wall, his glasses smudged and stained with tears. “Here, give me those,” I said, sitting beside him to clean them with my shirt.
“My prescription ones. I usually wear contacts when we’re filming, but I guess we weren’t wrapped tonight after all,” he sniffed. “They’re hideous, huh?”
I handed them back, our fingers grazing. “Personally I like a classic tortoise shell.”
“You really don’t watch Beverly Blonde?” he finally asked, catching his breath.
“Somehow it’s eluded me.”
“I got cast two years ago. My agent pitched reality TV as a ‘lily pad’ to legit acting gigs,” he explained, and I tried not to be cynical about how many porn stars had graduated to studio blockbusters.
“Of course, the whole cast absolutely savaged me over the porn. Except Greta. She was always on my side, even when we weren’t shooting. ”
“She probably needed new blood to film with her,” I said, my tone far from neutral.
“No, it was real! Like, she knew Endeavor was my favorite show and recommended me last year. That was before she started dating this douchey real estate developer, Nyle.” Shawn spat his name with disdain.
“She wore all this branded gear for his company. God, there was even a diamond-studded phone case. They got engaged at a big party for the BB mid-season finale… which is when Greta found all this porn on his phone.” Shawn swallowed grimly.
“All videos of me—and that jackass said I’d sent them! ”
Well, I understood why she hated him. “Yikes.”
“I never sent him anything. I offered to let her go through my texts, but Greta just kept saying I was a liar and she’s been on the warpath ever since.”
“She probably can’t stomach the truth,” I replied. “Sometimes the lies we tell ourselves are all that gets us through the day. God knows that’s the only way I endured the Log Cabin Republicans’ annual BBQ.”
He chuckled lightly, a smile sneaking up his cheek, as Troy’s hands clapped swiftly to our left. I blinked, stunned I’d somehow forgotten we were being filmed.
“Nice. We really got your perspective, Shawn.” Troy grabbed his walkie. “Zara, go to two… Is Norma Desmond still perseverating? Copy that. Okay, guys, Greta remains on her tear, so I’d chill here. There’s only so much footage that fits in one hour of TV.”
Troy and his camera team departed right when I saw Fortune emerge from the house to swim languid laps in the pool, despite Erika still fishing out Shawn’s clothes.
“Does nothing faze that guy?” I marveled.
“Not unless you cross him,” Shawn replied. “A bunch of dudes targeted him last year, so he volunteered for the Trials until he’d sent them all home, including Camdon. Full scorched earth. But he’s fair. He never fires the first shot.”
“What show did he come from?”
“A docuseries called Heartbeat from Greatness. It was about celebrity bodyguards, but he didn’t use his real name. He joked once that we both had secret identities.”
“What was his alias?”
“Butter Knife.”
We both cracked up. “Well, Butter Knife handed me my ass today in the Tribulation.”
“Luke, I’ve been obsessed with Endeavor forever. Every fan knows you will always be the GOAT with anything physical. You’ll get your mojo back.” He bumped my shoulder with his. “Thanks for rescuing me, by the way.”
“Least I could do. You had my back the other night. Quite literally.” I blushed, my hand flitting to cover my scars like I was twenty-two again, bewitched by a cute boy.
As our calves grazed each other against the wall, I knew I should leave, but I couldn’t resist the warmth of his attention.
“Those glasses seriously make you look twelve,” I teased.
“Probably why I got cast in Hairy Otter and the Sorcerer’s Bone. You know, they drew a dick-shaped scar on my head instead of a lightning bolt?”
“Okay, isn’t that a missed opportunity? Why not a lightning bolt on your dick?”
Shawn laughed. “You’re funnier than I thought you’d be.”
“I used to get that a lot. Got compared to Harry Potter too, ironically enough.”
“Because you’re smart?”
“Many people would disagree with that.”
“Oh, I meant ‘book smart,’ not ‘life decision smart.’” He grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “Pretty much every book I own has illustrations now, but I won’t bore you with dad stories. I’m trying not to talk about the kids here. Especially on camera.”
He inhaled, biting his lip. “Not to overstep, but… if you don’t give the producers a story, they’ll make one. Better ‘devoted father’ than ‘deadbeat dad.’ Besides, what you’re doing for your kids is really brave,” he said quietly. “You glow when you talk about them.”
The edge of his palm had migrated against mine on the wall, and we were now as still as the statues dotting the garden, our own little tableau in the balmy night.
I wanted so badly then for his mouth to find mine, but regardless of how kissing someone whose naked body was all over the internet might affect my divorce, the simple reality was I barely knew him, and—
His hand landed on my thigh, curving to the inside. No ambiguity now.
I breathed deep and leaned forward, logic dissolving like salt in boiling water. After all, I reminded myself, the garden was dark, Troy and the cameras were gone…
Except Shawn abruptly pulled away. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe I just did that.”
I blinked, clumsily trying to play it off. “Did what?”
“We both know what.” He took off the glasses. “God, I’m so embarrassed.”
I tried to be relieved. The last thing I needed was to complicate literally every aspect of my life. “Please, it’s fine, you decided you weren’t feeling it.”
“Actually, I feel things way too quickly these days.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation—”
“I’m celibate!” he blurted out, and I clearly must have looked stunned. “I know it’s stupid. Given, well—”
“Shawn, that’s not stupid.”
“I’ve just never had sex with emotion attached—in life, in work—which is obviously not healthy,” he continued breathlessly.
“After the Greta drama, I promised myself I’d only get involved with someone I feel an actual connection with, and you’re, like, the first handsome good person I’ve met in forever, which feels significant, but I’m… so confused.”
I tried not to dwell on the fact he’d just called me handsome, especially not when he looked so adrift, but I couldn’t let him spiral.
“Look, I’ve been through plenty of… significant stuff recently too.
Whatever just happened, you didn’t do it alone,” I said, voice thin.
“I guess we’ve both needed some kindness lately, but this would be—”
“Too tricky, yeah.”
“So maybe let’s focus on the game and… be friends?”
He exhaled, even more relieved than me somehow. “I’d like that. Significant friends.”
“Besides, I’m way too old for you.”
“Oh, I’ve been with men much older than you,” he said blankly, before giving me an impish grin.
I laughed in spite of myself, and we eventually rose to wander the garden, the awkwardness dissipating as Shawn went off on impassioned tangents about the show, his love for Endeavor clearly no joke.
Eventually I noticed a tiger tattoo on his shoulder, peeking from under his tank top.
“Dare I use the word of the day and ask the significance?”
“I thought it’d be cool.” He shrugged. “Not everything has to have significance.”
He smiled so genuinely then that I couldn’t disagree.