CHAPTER TWO #4
I watched in shock as he tossed his suitcase onto the bed and then rushed around like a man possessed, throwing his belongings into the case willy-nilly.
If Nate was absent from the première and I walked the red carpet alone, tabloid gossip and innuendo would explode.
So many people were working hard to ensure the première ran smoothly.
We didn’t need more drama. I knew it was selfish, but I wanted Nate by my side, after all, we’re in this together.
Luckily, Roz stepped in and in an unusually calm, measured tone she said,
“Nate, stop. If you breach this promotions contract you can kiss goodbye to Maritime financing the screenplay you’re writing.
Like it or not, how you handle this will affect your career.
Take a breath, think logically, and don’t react with heated emotions.
Please honey; let us see what we can hash out. ”
Nate tossed the pair of brogues he was holding into the case then his shoulders slumped, the fight appearing to flow from his body.
A wave of helplessness washed over me again.
A voice in my head was telling me to escape from this push-pull angst. I wanted to run too.
Maybe I should just take Nate’s hand and we could run away together!
More wishful thinking! I worried a palm across my mouth and felt the scratch of my short stubble.
“Hey, mate, come take a seat,” I said as I slumped onto the grey velvet couch.
Moments later Nate was beside me, the smell of his sandalwood aftershave filling my senses.
Every cell of my being wanted to reach out and hold his hand, just for comfort, of course, but he’d sort of closed down, as if he’d been pushing uphill for too long and had nothing left in the tank.
Anja took food orders for everyone in the room.
I ordered a steak for myself. Nate said he wasn’t hungry but I secretly ordered Mac ‘n’ cheese too…
for him. He’d told me once that when he was a kid his dad worked away a lot and his mum had two jobs.
He’d learned to make Kraft Mac I hoped he was messaging Lucy to let her know what a shit-show this junket had become.
The video call to the US connected. We were nine hours ahead of Los Angeles and so the people on the screen looked dog tired, having been woken at 4 a.m. From where I sat on the couch, I could see Bo Bellingham—Avery’s assistant, and six other smaller screens that I assumed showed the legal team was also on the call.
Avery turned to Anja and said, “I need you to step out. Knock when the food arrives.” The girl nodded and left us.
“Okay, the first thing we have to ascertain—is the photo real? Could it be Photoshop or AI?” Avery asked.
Bo spoke up, their tone less than reassuring.
“The photos…because we have more than one, were published first by TMZ and of course, social media exploded. We’ve contacted TMZ for confirmation and they appear to be real.
They won’t reveal the source or the photographer, but from analysing the images we believe they were taken by a drone. ”
“A drone? What the hell is this world coming to?” Roz exclaimed.
Bo then continued, “The story is all over Variety, Rotten Tomatoes, Buzzfeed, and the Daily Mail. So far, we’ve found at least sixteen men via Twitter, Facebook, and Bluesky who say they’ve had a relationship, with Erik Thorne since 2015. Some one-night, others longer.”
To my right, the gasp from Nate was awful, like he’d been stabbed in the gut. “For fucks sake, guys! Nate is sitting right here,” I growled at the assembled team. I was furious that the devastating news was relayed with such cruel disregard for Nate’s feelings.
We all react differently to bad news. Some people get angry, shout, and break things; others fall apart and wilt into themselves, or they might get drunk.
I turned to see that the colour had drained from Nate’s golden tanned skin and from the tear tracks on his cheeks, he was silently crying.
What the fuck? I reached for his hand and he gripped my fingers hard again, as if I was his anchor.
“I didn’t know…how did I not know?” I eased Nate closer and he came willingly.
Roz turned to us to see the crumpled mess in my arms, evidence of what their insensitivity had done.
I sent Nate’s agent a derisive glare, tightened my jaw and shook my head.
This was Nate’s life, for fucks sake. Roz appeared a little guilty and regretful, and in what I’d describe as a patronizing tone she said,
“Nate, honey, do you want to sit this one out?” He raised his head and wiped his hands over his eyes.
“No, no. If there’s proof he was fucking around before and after our marriage I wanna know. This is my life, my career…what’s the damage? Hit me.”
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