Chapter Thirty-Nine Los Angeles to New York City
Vivienne Cross took the first flight out of LAX on Tuesday. She flew commercial to NYC, which was always a fucking problem for Vivienne.
Henry was seventy-one. He had represented a laundry list of stars, CEO’s, politicians, and anyone with money and a messy problem to solve.
He was four-foot-seven and had seen it all.
He stood up when Vivienne came in.
“Vivienne.”
“Henry.”
The waiter came by instantly.
“Coffee, black. Martini, dirty.” The waiter nodded at Vivienne.
“Tell me.”
She played out the situation starting with Jayson, whom Henry already knew. The nine-year arrangement and then Noah, the photographs, the amended contract with the ten-million-dollar forfeiture clause. The running figure across nine years and the pending tax bill.
Henry looked at her across the table.
“How much time do you think you have?”
“Caleb Ward is a careful reporter. He’s not going to publish. I’m not worried about him, it’s every thirsty bitch in that office that I’m fucking worried about.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
He said it without emphasis.
Vivienne said, “Tell me why I’m wrong.”
Henry leaned back.
“Social media finds everything, you know this better than my old ass. Who took these pictures?”
She waited.
“I think I know.”
He set his coffee down. “It’s Jayson, isn’t it? He doesn’t need more money. Jayson doesn’t fear jail. What Jayson wants is order in the castle. When something violates that order, that something pays.”
“And Piper is that fucking something,” Vivienne replied.
“You need to protect him. Jayson will kill him. I know these men, Vivienne.”
“Well Henry, that’s why I flew here, commercial for fuck sake, to save my Piper,” Vivienne continued, “So what do you recommend?”
“I recommend that you not fight him.”
“That’s not an option.”
“I know it’s not an option. I’m telling you what I recommend before I tell you what I can actually do.”
She nodded.
“What can you actually do?”
Henry was quiet for a moment.
“I can talk to a couple of my lawyer friends on the Days team and ask them to calm him down, but it will not last, and the pictures are still out there, and we don’t know who has them.”
Vivienne nodded once. She was already considering a second option in her head. A fixer she had used before, for a basketball player she repped who got filmed at a gay bathhouse.
“Would that work?”
“It would buy you time. It would not solve your problem.”
She nodded. She had flown across the country so that Henry could confirm things she had mostly already understood.
She reached for her coffee, took a sip, then chased it with her martini.
Henry said, “There’s one more thing.”
She set the glass down.
“Tell me.”
Henry opened the folder in front of him.
He took out a single printed sheet and turned it around on the table so that Vivienne could read it.
It was a screenshot. A direct message exchange on Instagram.
The account initiating the conversation was unidentifiable, a handle made of numbers, no profile picture, no posts.
The account receiving the message was verified, blue-checked, and had six million followers. Riley Dane.
Vivienne knew the name. Riley Dane ran a podcast called You Can’t Hide From Riley Dane, that had been running for four years.
She built an audience by naming closeted athletes and celebrities when she had enough circumstantial evidence to justify it and the athlete was famous enough to be worth the noise.
Nine names in two years. Five had sued and all had settled, but were still outed.
The message attached a Dropbox link. The Dropbox contained the photographs.
Vivienne did not have to open the link to know which four.
“Fuck you, Henry, you read me lip service and you knew this cunt is holding all the cards this whole time?”
“Vivienne, she is holding back.”
“Why?”
“Riley wants to verify. She is more cautious now that we have all these deep fake AI images out there. She knows a guy who can get her The Beverly Hills Hotel security footage, and the minute she gets that she will release the images.”
She breathed out.
“So, the story breaks when Riley finishes verifying, which could be any day now.”
“Correct.”
She was quiet for a minute.
Then she said, “Can you stop Riley? I mean, don’t kill the bitch, but.”
Henry looked at her for a long time.
“No.”
“Can you slow Riley?”
“Possibly. Not by much. Riley does not operate on the rails I am on. Riley operates on an Instagram account, a Patreon subscription, and the ethics of a pathetic bitch who hunts people in the closet. You cannot litigate that view out of someone, and you cannot bribe it out of someone either. I can try to reach Riley personally.”
“Who does Riley listen to, would she listen to my Glock?”
“Don’t even think about it, Vivienne, this is not a fucking Martin Scorsese mob movie.”
She thought about it. “I did love Goodfellas.”
“Should I let Carmen know?” she said.
“I think it’s time, but it’s going to be a major playoff distraction.”
“Honey, so will being outed by this Riley bitch.”
Henry looked at her.
“Vivienne.”
“Yeah.”
“I want to help you, but I can’t give you any promises. Riley might not give a shit about a lawyer’s warning. She has been sued multiple times.” Henry nodded once.
“Thank you, Henry.”
“Pay my bill.”
“I always do.”
“So I hear Caleb Ward has everything on Jayson, but can’t release it?” Vivienne asked.
“He is scared shitless that Jayson will kill him like the others, so you are safe…for now,” Henry replied.
She stood. He stood. They shook hands across the table. “One more thing,” Henry said as he grabbed a large manila folder.
“What now, you are full of surprises tonight.”
“Donna Ashton.” He handed the folder over to her.
“What about that crazy bitch?”
“Piper deserves to know the truth. I know he is going through a lot, but what’s one more thing.” Henry gave a half smile.
“I will review and brief him when I am back in L.A.,” Vivienne said as she walked out of the restaurant.
***
New York was covered in the bright tackiness of Christmas. Vivienne stood at the corner with her Birkin on her shoulder, and took out her phone.
She scrolled to Carmen Vale but didn’t call. She didn’t know how to tell her what she was about to tell her.
She walked south on Park Avenue for three blocks, through the cold air, Christmas decorations and tourists from Ohio littered the city in a grotesque fashion she never could get used to this time of year.
She thought about her Piper, the boy she had signed when he was twenty-three, two years after he had signed with Jayson. The up and coming first draft pick quarterback, under contract with one of the most powerful men in the world. She thought it was a real get at the time.
In front of Bergdorf Goodman’s elaborate holiday window displays, she knew she should have saved him sooner.
She caved and dialed Carmen Vale.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Bitch. It’s Viv. We need to talk.”
Carmen said, “I’m in New York meeting with that bitch tennis player I represent. She is threatening to fire me if I don’t land her that Nike deal,” Carmen said.
“Did you meet up with that hedge fund fuck buddy? I already let you know he had herpes right? I happen to also be in New York as well. Tell me where we can meet. We have a code red,” Vivienne said.
“Minetta,” Carmen answered.
***
Minetta Tavern in Greenwich Village was humming, every table full.
Carmen was already there when Vivienne arrived. She had taken the corner booth with her fur coat folded on the banquette beside her, martini in hand.
“Bitch,” Carmen said.
“I see you picked the place where I can’t fucking move,” Vivienne said.
Vivienne sat. A waiter came.
Vivienne ordered a martini. Carmen asked for another.
Carmen said, “How bad?”
“Worse than you think.”
“Tell me now, bitch.”
Vivienne told her. The same order she had told Henry Weiss that morning, minus the lawyer detail and plus the Henry conversation itself, which Carmen tracked, Vivienne watched her absorb it, a small tightening at the corners of Carmen’s mouth and nothing else.
At Riley Dane, Carmen set her martini down. Vivienne finished.
Carmen drank her martini and petted her fur coat, which had become a nervous tic. Her hamburger was barely touched in front of her.
Carmen said, finally, “Noah doesn’t know, but I saw this coming.”
“I assumed.”
“Last week he played the best football game of his career in a fucking rainstorm, and tonight we are here, this is going to distract him.”
“Yes.”
Carmen was quiet again.
“Viv, what the fuck are you going to do?”
“Well Henry is going to threaten Riley a bit. He said I could not put a gun to her head, so plan A was thrown out.”
“For how long?”
“Maybe a few days, a week,” Vivienne replied as she grabbed Carmen’s burger and took a big bite.
“Oh, she is eating now, is she?” Carmen rolled her eyes.
“Bitch, I am here doing the lord's work, I need sustenance. Anyways, aren’t their burgers famous here?” Carmen said as she took a long breath to break the anxiety of it all.
“We need an out. Bitches like us always have an out?”
“Let's order another martini, I have an idea.”