Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
EMILY
I sat at my parents’ dining room table, staring at the Sapphire Springs snow globe as tiny flakes fell on the miniature Main Street.
I couldn’t believe how much I missed Dana, and it had only been a couple of days since she left.
I’d called her yesterday, but my call hadn’t gotten through.
She’d tried calling back, but by then I’d been on a shift at the restaurant.
I’d ended up texting her instead to let her know the article was coming out tomorrow.
I hadn’t bothered to tell her my good news: I’d been called in for an audition for a role in a sci-fi thriller that sounded terrific.
Once the news story came out, would the casting agent still be interested?
I’m doing the right thing. I want to take that fucker down.
My phone pinged.
I’m free to talk now. What’s up?
I stood up. I needed to stop wallowing and instead focus on something I’d been putting off for the last few hours.
I took a deep breath. I was dreading this discussion, but it had to be done. The alternative was my family learning about it from the news. I couldn’t do that to them.
I walked into the living room, my stomach swirling with nausea.
“Mom, Dad, are you free?”
Mom looked up from her historical romance. “Yes. What is it, sweetheart?”
Dad put down his phone, and leaned forward on the couch.
“I’m just going to call Lucia. There’s something I want to tell you all,” I said.
Mom’s brow furrowed. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s…” My voice caught in my throat. I really wish Dana was here. “I’ll tell you once I’ve got Lucia on the phone.”
I sat down and dialed Lucia’s number.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Lucia asked.
“I’ve got you on speakerphone with Mom and Dad.”
“Okay.”
I could tell from the tone of Lucia’s voice that she was worried. I took a deep breath then released it slowly.
Mom and Dad watched me with creased foreheads. Lucia was quiet.
The Christmas tree lights glowed in the corner. I could understand why Dana had ended up hating Christmas when so many bad memories were tied to it. Would that happen to me, if this all went wrong?
Oh, god. I swallowed.
Say it. The longer it stretches out, the worse it will be. If Dana were with me, it would be a thousand times easier.
“Tomorrow there’s going to be an article in the paper about Phillip, the director of Clique.” Okay, that was the easy part done.
“An article?” Dad said, frowning.
I let out a shaky breath. “Yes. He’s been sexually harassing women—from big-name actresses to young assistants—using his power and influence to try to pressure them into sleeping with him.”
I avoided eye contact with my parents and focused on the phone in my hand instead.
“Oh my god,” Lucia said. “Shit, Emily.”
“And…” I took a gulp of air. “I’m one of the women speaking out against him.”
I forced myself to look over to my parents. Mom raised her hand to her mouth. Dad’s frown had deepened, his jaw tense.
“You know how I’ve struggled to get any acting roles since Clique? He propositioned me and, when I rejected him, he said he’d ruin my career. And, well, you know what happened to my career after that movie. Apparently he spread a rumor that I was a nightmare to work with.”
“What a dick!” yelled Lucia, making Mom jump in her seat. “Oh my god, that is awful. I’m so sorry, Emily.”
Mom moved her hand down to grip her leg. Her face was pale.
“There’ll probably be a lot of attention on me after the article comes out. There’s a chance the media might find out where I live and show up here. I’m sorry that this is going to affect you too,” I said to my parents.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Dad, standing up. “That’s not your fault, Emily.” He walked over and enveloped me in his arms.
I hugged him back, leaning into the warmth of his body and inhaling the comforting woody scent of his aftershave cream.
“Why didn’t you tell us before, when it happened?” Lucia asked.
I ran my hand through my hair. “It was such an awful night and I just wanted to move on. I hadn’t realized he’d done it to other women as well.
I’d thought perhaps it was something I’d done—had I been too friendly, and he’d misread the signals?
In retrospect, even if that was the case, of course it didn’t make it okay.
And at the time, I didn’t really think he’d destroy my career. It turned out I was wrong.”
Mom stood to give me a hug as well. “I’d always wondered what had happened, because you did such a great job on Clique.
All the reviews were glowing, some of them saying you were the next big thing.
I thought it must have just been because acting is such an unpredictable career. But this makes so much more sense.”
“So what made you decide to speak out now?” Lucia asked.
I summarized the events of the past month as I fiddled with a candy cane decoration that had fallen from the tree. “The article is coming out tomorrow afternoon, so I wanted to tell you all about it first.”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Mom said, rubbing my back. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.”
I exhaled, relieved that it was over and that my family finally knew the secret I’d been holding for the past two years.
Should I try calling Dana again, to let her know how the talk went?
No. I needed to be mindful that I’d been the one to ask her to leave, and that it wasn’t fair to constantly call her, especially just so I could download all my emotions onto her.
Yes, I had said we should stay friends, but I needed to ensure I didn’t overstep any boundaries.
My chest ached. Had I done the right thing, sending her away?
It had certainly felt like the right thing in the aftermath of Phillip’s shocking appearance and his threats.
But now… I missed her so much. I shook off my doubts.
Now all I could do was wait and see what happened when the article was published.
—
I spent the night tossing and turning, having half-awake dreams about Phillip chasing me down a corridor and out into the street into a crowd of reporters.
The reporters barraged me with questions, lights flashing in my face.
And then, in the back, behind the reporters, Dana appeared, her face sad.
She turned and walked away. I looked down and realized I was naked, desperately started to search for something to protect my body from the paparazzi’s cameras, and then woke with a start, my heart pounding.
I looked at my phone. 3 a.m. Only twelve hours until the article would be published.
I was dreading it, but at the same time, it couldn’t come fast enough.
It was better to rip-off the Band-Aid, discover what the fallout would be, and then try to move on.
Hopefully the fallout included serious repercussions for Phillip.
But what if it didn’t? Panic welled up in me.
I took a deep breath. No, I was doing the right thing.
While that was a possibility, at least by speaking out there was a decent chance he’d be stopped.
At a minimum, it would hopefully warn other women, or perhaps make other women more comfortable to come forward.
When it was finally time to get up, I forced a few mouthfuls of cereal down and then went out for a walk, hoping the fresh air would clear my head and soothe my restless legs.
It didn’t work. After I returned, Mom sent me to work in the basement sorting through my old boxes of stuff I’d had since I was a kid.
I sifted through photos of me and Lucia helping hang Christmas decorations and playing in the yard, photos of me performing in school plays, family photos of Christmas and Thanksgiving feasts.
I paused at one of me standing on stage, arms flung out and mouth open, singing my heart out in my high school’s production of Oklahoma! I smiled, studying my face. My first lead performance. It had been exhilarating.
Footsteps sounded down the steps. I looked up to see Mom holding a mug of coffee.
“Here you go, sweetheart. How’s the sorting going? Have you found much you want to part with?”
I looked down at the pile of things to give away or throw out, although it couldn’t really be described as a pile.
All that currently sat there was an old toothbrush I’d found nestled between some mementos and a used tissue that probably housed some ancient flu strain.
At least the pile had grown since Mom had popped down and given me a sandwich for lunch.
“Not yet.”
Mom rolled her eyes, chuckling.
“Are you sure you’re okay down here by yourself?” Mom glanced at her watch and her lips pressed together.
Shit, what’s the time?
I checked my phone. 2:55.
Oh my god. The story would be published any minute. How had time suddenly passed so quickly?
I breathed out. “No, I’m okay. Thanks, Mom. I might just stay down here.”
Carefully holding the coffee, I climbed up from the ground where I’d been sitting cross?legged and walked over to the couch. I pulled out my phone and opened the newspaper’s website. Nothing yet. I took a sip of coffee, my heart racing.
Part of me just wanted to disappear, to run away—preferably to Dana’s cabin, with Dana and no cell reception—and hide out for a few weeks until it had all passed. But I also couldn’t look away.
My phone clicked over to 2:58, and I refreshed the website again. Still nothing. I wiped my hands on my pants. God, I was sweaty.
I desperately wanted to hear Dana’s voice. Was it weird to call her? She was probably working.
I dialed her number anyway. The phone rang twice and then went to her voicemail. I slumped back on the couch and refreshed the newspaper website again. 2:59.
Still nothing.
Cat’s number appeared on my screen.
I accepted her call. “Hey. How are you?”
“I’m shitting my pants right now. Sorry if now isn’t a good time. I just thought it might be nice to have each other on the line when it comes out. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty terrified too. I’m glad you called.”
Cat did a sharp intake of breath. “Oh god, it’s three. I think I’m going to be sick.”
I refreshed the newspaper website again, and there it was: Phillip Weatherstone Accused of Sexual Misconduct.
“It’s up,” I said. “Shit.”
I started to read the article, my eyes filling with tears as I reached Cat’s story.
“Shit,” Cat said after a few minutes. “Did you get to the part about his assistant? That’s just awful.”
A former assistant had been willing to share her story anonymously and it was grim.
“What an absolutely terrible human being.”
We kept reading. Rebecca had done an incredible job of weaving Phillip’s misconduct into a gripping tale of how a horrible, powerful man could get away with assaulting women for years through intimidation, payouts, confidentiality agreements and the powerful players in Hollywood turning a blind eye to the rumors.
And then there was my name. My chest constricted. Rebecca had sent me the quotes yesterday for final sign?off, so I already knew what they said, but still, seeing it there on the website was different.
“Wow,” I said. “I just finished reading. That was…incredibly written and just heart-breaking. I don’t see how he’s going to get out of this one.”
“Fingers crossed he ends up in jail. I’ve started talking to a lawyer about what my options are. And after reading that, if I have even a chance of getting him locked up, I’m going to give it a shot.”
“Can you let me know what they say? Maybe I should consider that too.” I didn’t think what Phillip had done to me had amounted to criminal conduct, but if it would help land him in jail, it was worth exploring.
My phone pinged with a message. It was from one of my co?stars from Clique.
Emily, I just read the article. I’m so sorry you went through that. He tried something similar on me. Thank you so much for speaking out.
Tears welled in my eyes.
My phone pinged again.
Emily, I just saw the article about Phillip. I hope you’re doing okay. Let me know if you want to talk or be distracted, and I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Much love, Mihira
“Oh, my brother’s calling,” Cat said, her voice wavering. “Shit, I forgot to tell him. I better take this. Thanks for being on the line with me. Maybe we could catch up for a coffee next week if you’re around in Brooklyn?”
“That would be great,” I said.
Something wet dropped onto my arm, and I realized I was crying. Crying for all his victims, for my career, for Cat, for all the other women affected by Phillip’s wrongdoing.
Hopefully the world would see the article and realize they had to take action to prevent this sort of harm from continuing. Certainly the people involved in covering up Phillip’s actions hadn’t come off lightly in the article.
Another message came through.
I hope you’re holding up okay. Let me know if you feel like a call. I’ll make sure I’ve got cell reception for the next hour just in case. Dana.
The tears streamed down my face even faster now.
Finally, Phillip was getting his comeuppance.
I just wished Dana was here to share it with me. Trying to communicate through texts and phone-tag calls wasn’t enough.