Chapter 22 Miles
MILES
ARIA: Hi. I didn’t want to say anything yesterday because we were having such a nice day. But I got a text from Tyler. He’ll be in town in a few weeks, and he wants to come to the show. What would you like me to tell him?
I would like her to tell him to fuck right off. Actually, I’d like to tell him myself that he can fuck right off. Am I going to say those exact words to him? Not yet. But let’s see here…
Let me just do some totally rational, professional lawyer weighing of pros and cons here.
On the one hand, we have a beautiful, pleasant, talented woman.
Said woman is a substantial part of my life now—she has provided my daughter with her first opportunity to star in a stage musical, and she recently blew me in the back of a van.
On the other hand, we have…the overrated asshole I was using as an excuse to cockblock myself from that beautiful woman and the happiness that I might actually deserve. Lemme think on this for a second...
Fuck you, Tyler Holden.
ME: Hey, babe. Lemme deal with him. You don’t have to tell him anything.
ARIA: Okay. Did you just call me “babe”?
ME: Yes. Deal with it.
ARIA: I am dealing with it. And I like it.
ME: Good. I’m gonna call you babe all the time from now on, babe.
ME: *In private and in text messages only.
ME: For now.
I’ve been thinking about how I’d handle this for a couple of weeks now.
When I look back on my life, I want to remember this as the summer when I started prioritizing the happiness of the people in my personal life over the prestige of being a heavy hitter in Hollywood.
The summer when I learned that if I reschedule a lunch meeting and drive home, I might find my daughter dancing and laughing.
The summer I learned I could leave work early to get to a rehearsal for a children’s musical and still manage to stay on top of things.
The summer I finally got on top of Aria Cross, and underneath her, behind her, in every position imaginable—and realized I was still young enough to stay up late even if it was just to kiss her goodnight when she got back from a meeting with her music director.
I remember overhearing Pops talking to Mama back when he was still starring in a soap opera.
Once Owen, Dylan, and I had moved out of the house, every time his contract came up for renewal, Mama would—in her very subtle southern fashion—mention that she missed Texas.
Pops would talk about how he didn’t have quite enough “fuck-you money” saved.
Apparently he’d saved enough a few years ago for them to say fuck you to Los Angeles and return to the Houston area.
I don’t have as much fuck-you money as I want to tell all of LA to fuck off yet, but I have enough to tell one client to fuck off and hand him over to one of my colleagues.
Tyler wasn’t a big enough client to be serviced by one of our partners back when I signed him.
He was what we called a “baby gorilla.” But he’s a young adult gorilla now, making just enough money to be of interest to them.
So I go in for a chat with one of my bosses.
I tell him it’s possible that Tyler won’t want me to represent him after I have a talk with him about who I’m dating.
I explain that they broke up years ago and have little to do with each other anymore.
I encourage my boss to reach out to him and let him know that he’s available to be his point person at the firm now.
My boss questions whether I need to have the discussion with Tyler at all.
I explain that I’d prefer to come clean with Tyler—so Aria doesn’t have to.
I show him the deal points on the contract I’ve been working on for him, and we go over the commissions I’m due on past contracts I’ve negotiated for him.
Lawyer-to-lawyer discussions are easy. After my boss messages to let me know he’s talked to Tyler, I call him myself.
Dial his number all by myself and everything.
The conversation goes exactly how I imagined it would.
I give him an update on the negotiations for his latest deal, let him know that I’m on board with having one of the partners on his team, and then I tell him I’ve been quietly seeing Aria Cross for a few weeks and that I think it’s getting serious.
When he’s silent for five whole seconds, I continue to explain that I first met her three years ago and that I decided not to pursue her as soon as I found out who she was.
I skip over the part about how I changed my morning routine and went out of my way to try to see her, even in passing, from a distance, during the weeks when I didn’t have Macy staying with me.
I do, however, let him know about the back-end money that’s owed him and Aria.
The money that I dug around and found for him.
It's the entertainment lawyer equivalent of a compliment sandwich. Thick slice of money talk, a thin slice of oh by the way, I’m having sex with your ex-girlfriend and care more about her than I do about you now filling, another wholesome slice of money talk.
Except I also make it clear that I really care about Aria, that my daughter is starring in her production, and that we’d all appreciate it if he didn’t come to any of the performances so the focus of the night can be on my daughter’s and Aria’s work—not him.
I like speaking on behalf of myself, my daughter, and Aria.
He’s silent for a passive-aggressive moment, and I ride it out.
He doesn’t literally tell me to fuck off, because despite being a neurotic, self-centered creative type, he is a professional too.
He tells me this news makes him uncomfortable.
He says it would be a good idea for me to be removed from his team at the firm.
I let him think it was his idea—like Inception.
But without the dreams. Or Michael Caine.
I tell him I understand, that I’ll let his manager and agents know, and I wish him all the best, hanging up before he does. Then I flip my phone the bird.
And that’s that.
I call Aria from my personal phone.
She answers hesitantly. “Hello?”
“Hey, babe.”
She sighs. A sigh of relief. “Hey. Did you talk to him?”
“Yeah, babe. I did. He is no longer my client, and he will not be coming to your show. Our show. He won’t be coming to our show.”
“Really? That is…great. So you told him about…us?”
“Yes, babe. I did. He took it pretty well, considering. If he bothers you, let me know. We’ll still keep it on the DL until the show’s over. Or whatever the kids are calling it nowadays.”
“It’s still called a show.”
“Good to know.”
We’re both quiet for a few seconds. I know we’re both thinking the same thing—when am I going to tell Macy about us? I wish I could tell her today too. But I say, “Hey, babe?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I want to tell Macy too. Soon.”
“Glad to hear it, babe. Me too.”