Chapter 58
Fifty-Eight
S ybil
Perry made sure to prep me and Cooper for what to expect.
After the red carpet arrival, where everyone would be dressed to the nines, the cast would give interviews while the rest of the guests enjoyed themed cocktails and conversation.
After the initial announcements and promo trailer, there would be an early viewing of the pilot.
Everything tonight is meant to create buzz for the show, so cameras are expected to be everywhere, especially the cellphone cameras of all the social media influencers.
We’re counting on them to spread the word even more, and gaging their reactions so far, they’re already salivating at the content possibilities.
“Who’s ready to view the first episode?” Perry asks into the microphone, and everyone cheers. “Remember, when the show airs in two days, it will be paired alongside a real-time social media feed. Viewers can comment and like or dislike what’s happening as America watches together.”
I’m not sure if I’m going to like that, but Perry insists it’s going to make our numbers better. The social media influencers seem excited, at least.
We shuffle into the large theatre for the premier, and as expected, the cast and most important crew members get to sit in a sectioned off clump. That’s how I end up behind our cast and their dates. I finally spot Benton.
He and Gloria are not each other’s dates for tonight.
They broke up in dramatic fashion on the last day of filming. Their drama will be the final linchpin of the season. Until then, they have to pretend to be civil with each other, not that Gloria is even trying. She keeps shooting him scathing looks.
Benton does not seem happy about it, but I know for a fact he’s happy to be rid of her.
I catch his eye and give him a thumbs up. He only shrugs. I’ve assured him it’s all going to work out, but he’s convinced he’s going to be the most hated man in America. I feel guilty about that, and I promised to go to bat with him in post editing.
I turn my attention to the screen as the pilot starts, one hand firmly clasped in Cooper’s.
He rubs his thumb along my palm, and I lean over to kiss his cheek.
In my other hand is a champagne flute, filled with crisp, sweet, bubbly deliciousness.
Cooper’s chosen to stay sober, and I offered to skip the drinks, but he insisted I have one.
I’m proud of how much he’s matured. The old Cooper would’ve never said no to a drink.
The buzz from earlier hasn’t died down, but the audience quiets when the cast gets introduced on-screen. The forty-five minutes that follow are filled with typical reality television antics, but elevated because of the status of the cast, and then elevated even further with the feed of comments.
These are example comments made up by the network, but I see Perry’s vision. The algorithm has been built to feature the most liked comments. It reminds me of watching a live tv show finale while simultaneously scrolling on my phone to see what people are saying about it.
It’s wild and fun, completely on-pulse with current trends, but I have to admit, I’m glad I’m not on the show. If they want more fame, well, they’ve just landed in a heaping pile of it. Is it a pile of gold or a pile of trouble?
The episode ends with Benton and Gloria making out in the hot tub, his voice over explaining how he’s not looking for anything serious and only here to have fun, which is great, considering Gloria had told him she wants the same thing.
Then we’ve got her voice over, gushing about how she’s looking for marriage and babies, and she thinks Benton might be the one to make her dreams come true.
The screen goes black, and the crowd erupts into applause.
On our way out of the theater, we’re stopped by people wanting to chat with us about the show or congratulate us. I lock eyes with Benton, knowing exactly how he feels. He’s practically being mobbed, and while he’s smiling, his eyes are tense.
My stomach flips. There’s a narrative arc within the season that temporarily makes him the villain before it turns around and shows the truth of him being manipulated the entire time by Gloria.
She never got to know the real him; she wanted airtime and drama.
He’s just got to stick it out for the next few months.
But it’s going to get worse before it gets better.
“You ready to go?” Cooper asks, and I nod.
With his hand on the small of my back, he leads me out the front doors. We’re not the only ones leaving; a crowd spills out after us.
New York City at night glitters, and I’m floating on a high. Cameras are still out here, capturing every move, searching for famous faces, but the crowd has multiplied exponentially, and Cooper’s hand slides into mine.
“Stay close,” he murmurs.
We’re swallowed, weaving through the sea of bodies, and I realize why it’s gotten so crowded. The security can’t do a good enough job when most of these people aren’t guests from the event. Word got out, and fans showed up, here to catch a glimpse of famous people.
Several of them call out names, and some of them start crying.
“What the fuck?” Cooper curses under his breath, and my anxiety grows.
People shout, cars honk, and the neon glow from the cinema creates a dizzying effect.
“It’s Justin!” someone screams, and the crowd shifts violently. A sharp jolt sends me sideways, and I lose my grip on Cooper’s hand as a group of teenage girls pushes me. I’m not about to be trampled, so I shuffle to the edge of the crowd, my eyes frantically scanning for Cooper.
He’s taller than most men and women, but it’s loud and crowded, and he’s got a prosthetic leg. He needs to be extra careful.
“Cooper?” I yell into the crowd.
A few people look at me weird, but for the most part, I’m ignored. My pulse quickens. Where is he?
“Cooper!” My voice cracks as I yell again, but it’s drowned out by the sudden surge of noise from the crowd. The cast has come into view.
I need to get in there, but before I can take a step, someone grabs my arm. Hard.
“Spare some change?” The voice has a jagged edge that scrapes my nerves.
I turn and freeze. The man looming over me has a dark look in his sunken eyes. His clothing is filthy and tattered, and he grins with broken, yellowed teeth.
“I don’t carry cash,” I say. “Sor?—”
The apology sticks in my throat as the man yanks me closer, his street-stench slamming into me.
“You do,” he hisses, fingers digging into my arm while his other hand darts yanks at my designer purse.
“ Stop .” I twist away from him, panic rippling up my spine. He shoves me hard to the ground, pain exploding through my tailbone.
“You Hollywood creeps think you’re better than me?” he screeches. His dirty hands reach for me, and I almost throw my bag at him just to get him away. But his fingers lock around my throat.
He squeezes my windpipe, locking my scream in my chest. I claw at his wrist, kicking like a maniac.
“Shut up, stupid bitch.” He lands a punch to the side of my face, the crack like a gunshot in my ears. My head snaps to the side. White-hot pain blooms from cheek and jaw.
I choke on my sobs, not understanding why this man doesn’t just take my purse and go. He punches me again.
My vision goes white, then black, then clears. I’m crying so hard I can’t breathe. Or maybe it’s because he’s still choking me.
There’s a flash of movement, and Cooper’s rage-filled voice fills the air. “Get away from her!”
The pressure on my neck releases, and I gasp for a much-needed breath. The sound of fists, knuckles against bone, barrels toward me. I blink my tears away, begging my eyes to focus.
“Cooper!” I scream. His fists are bloody, his back arched, his arm a continuous pendulum. I barely see the man on the ground underneath him.
“Stop, Cooper. Please,” I beg, panic gripping my heart. He can’t get caught in a media shitstorm. He can’t beat this man to death.
Cooper’s arm stops mid swing. His chest heaves as he meets my gaze with tortured eyes.
“Let’s get out of here,” I ask, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Please.”
He releases his hold, and the man scrambles away, disappearing into the crowd.
Cooper watches his retreat, darkness shadowing his face. “We need to report that asshole for assault.”
All I want to do is get out of here. People are starting to stare, a few pointing their cellphones our way.
“Please take me home.” I climb to my feet and straighten my dress.
“Are you okay?” a nearby girl asks.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Crazy person attacked me. He’s gone. Be careful out here.”
The girl nods, and her friends look at me with equal parts horror and disgust.
I really need to leave.
Cooper turns me to him, his fingers trailing across my face. I wince. The pain is spreading.
“Fucker,” he growls. “I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Yeah, you might, but we’re not doing that,” I say firmly. “We’re going home.”
Cooper shakes his head. “You need to see a doctor.”
I want to argue, but when I touch my forehead, my fingers return dripping with blood.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “Let’s go.”
He wraps his arm around me, anchoring me away from the chaos.