Chapter 18 #2
Again, she paused, but Lana didn’t bother responding. It seemed clear her role in this scene was as a silent extra.
“They took it seriously, because this is a guy who doesn’t play into the bullshit.
He doesn’t have to play the game like the rest of us.
The game is played around him, to suit him.
Which is why some people hate him.” She thought for a few seconds, before clarifying.
“One of the reasons. If they only knew…”
She paused, as if it was Lana’s turn to speak. Her line. Lana couldn’t think of a thing to say—she didn’t understand where this was going.
Estelle turned and took in Lana, linking her fingers behind her back. “Whatever happened between Griffin and me, I owe him. Not because of Gods and Mortals, but because of the hack.”
“The hack?” Was Estelle the friend Griffin had mentioned—the one whose messages were hacked?
“You don’t know?” Her surprise seemed genuine.
Lana shook her head.
“Imagine all your private messages going online—the entire history. Thousands and thousands of them, going back years. Every time you’ve bitched to a friend about someone.
Every time you’ve let off steam in what you thought was a safe place.
” Estelle drifted to one of the alcoves in the wall and picked up a vase, slowly revolving it as if she were sculpting it.
“I lost a lot of friends. Came close to being blacklisted. But the thing that saved me? Becoming the Hollywood bitch made me perfect for the Hollywood ice king. Griffin’s idea.
He felt sorry for me—he hates that kind of gossip pile-on—so he had our agents set us up, publicly.
And the craziest thing? Some of the bitchiest messages I sent were about him. He could have hung me out to dry.”
She smiled wryly, returning the vase and subtly adjusting the angles of the ceramics.
“But Griffin’s Griffin.” She said it almost resentfully.
“His support changed the tone, and our relationship changed the conversation.” She strolled toward Lana, glancing at the sketchpad on the coffee table with a nostalgic smile.
“People think when you’re famous, they can say anything about you.
But actors are by definition vulnerable.
Vulnerability is what makes a good actor.
And the system preys on vulnerability. It smells it and seeks it out and destroys it at the source.
” She touched the center of her chest. “Like Franklin Ross did to Griffin.”
Franklin Ross. The director in palliative care. “What do you mean? What happened?”
“Oh, that’s Griffin’s story to tell—if he wants to. My point is, I owe him.”
“And this has something to do with Vivien?”
“Again, I’ll wait.” Estelle folded herself over the counter, bringing her closer to Lana.
“The problem with Griffin?” she said, lowering her voice.
“Even while he does all these things, these heroic things that make you think you mean something to him, he won’t let you in.
You’ll ache to be let in, but he won’t. He’s a difficult man to love, both because of who he is and what he is.
You can’t know him. He’s unknowable. And that’s the main attraction.
” She smiled, slowly. “And yet, everyone wants him. It’s not enough for people to watch him on the screen, admire him from afar.
There’s this primal desire in the communal psyche—to own him, have a piece of him that’s yours, like a coveted jewel.
But it’s complicated. Sometimes, in this business, it feels like half the world worships you and the other half wants to tear you apart with their fingernails.
They love him but they can’t have him, so they have an urge to destroy him—or destroy what’s his.
” She let her gaze drop to Lana’s bare feet, and raked it slowly back up.
“Mom is looking through the names…” Griffin’s voice startled Lana, but Estelle merely raised her eyes to the open doorway. “But there is one other weird thing she—” He stopped dead. “Estelle!”
Estelle unfolded to her full height. “It’s time we talked.”
“This is not a good time.”
“I mean all three of us. There’s something you both need to know.”
Griffin glanced at Lana, who lifted a shoulder in a shrug. Estelle directed them to the sofa, and they sat, she on one wing of the L-shape, Griffin and Lana on the other. Unlike before, his knee didn’t graze Lana’s.
“Firstly, I owe you both an apology,” Estelle began.
“My private investigators, at the set—the situation they encountered wasn’t what we expected, and they didn’t handle it well.
They didn’t have their sat coms with them and they’d disabled the wi-fi, so they couldn’t check in with me.
Unfortunately, that meant that when the situation escalated—”
Griffin sat forward. “Hang on, what?”
“Please.” She held up the beautiful palm. “Let me explain.”
“Save us the slow reveal, Estelle. Those were your guys? They tased Lana!”
“They said she was about to tase one of them—and in fact she did? And you threw a smoke bomb at them? And something about a slingshot and a booby trap? But sure, okay, they could have handled it better—they admit that much.”
“They came after us again today, at the hospital.”
“Came after you? They saved you! Who do you think pulled those paps away so you could escape?”
Griffin double-blinked. “I think you’re going to have to start from the beginning.”
Estelle threw up her hands in slow motion.
“What do you think I’m trying to do? Look, we were tracking Vivien’s phone.
When it pinged from the set, I sent them to find it, and instead they found Lana, and thought she was Vivien, and then of course, there was the plot twist about the involvement of the great Griffin Hart, so it got out of hand. ”
“You’re after Vivien?” Lana said. “Why? Why were you tracking her phone?”
“We are far from the only ones interested in your sister. Though the other party in this intrigue suddenly stopped looking for her, exactly one month ago—on the day she disappeared. What does that tell you?”
“Other party?” Lana’s mouth dried. “Who? Are you saying they’re involved in her disappearance?”
“There are many questions I cannot answer, unfortunately.” Estelle rose and walked to the kitchen, where she got out glasses, spirits, mixers, and an ice tray.
“You don’t mind, do you, Griffin? It’s early, I know,” she said, as she started pouring.
He made a go-ahead gesture, like he knew she’d do whatever the hell she wanted.
“For you, Lana, your sister’s disappearance might be the beginning of this story, but some of us are hoping it will be the end.
In fact, we believe it all started with you, Griffin. ”
“Who is ‘we’?” he said. “What are you talking about?”
“Myself and a group of … equally concerned individuals. I can’t name names—for reasons that will become obvious, we stay discreet. I had to get permission to share what I’m about to tell you. They’re all people in our situation who have been victims of this other party, including me.”
“A victim—you?”
“The phone hack.” Estelle distributed the drinks and arranged herself on the sofa, a storyteller settling in.
“It’s an extortion ring. They make their money in two ways, actually—blackmail, and selling scandal to the gutter media.
A large, insidious network that has infiltrated many levels of Hollywood.
They recruit hundreds of pawns, whom they pay to spy on celebrities and then blackmail into silence.
And they’ve been known to come through on their threats—violently. ”
“Pawns?” Lana said.
“Personal assistants, makeup artists, hotel concierges, drivers, nurses, cleaners.” She looked at Griffin meaningfully. “Maids.”
“Maids? You’re not talking about my journal getting stolen?!”
“That was one of their earlier operations. Once they have the compromising material, they either blackmail the person concerned for hush money or sell it to gossip merchants—whichever is the most efficient and lucrative. The money they’ve made is jaw-dropping—hundreds of millions of dollars over more than a decade.
We believe Vivien became involved and somehow discovered the identities of the main players—something that people far more powerful and better resourced have been trying to do for years. ”
“Vivien?” Lana said. “How?”
“They tried to recruit her as a pawn. She got hold of some compromising dirt on someone very high-profile. Something that could—”
“—blow lives apart,” Lana finished.
“Yes,” Estelle said, surprised. “We don’t know what it is, but it involves Walter Shepherd.”
Lana started. Her knee knocked the coffee table, and she caught a glass before it tipped. Griffin glanced at her, curiously.
“He thought she was trying to extort him, and came to us for help,” Estelle said.
“He won’t tell us what the blackmail was about—his prerogative.
But we believe this extortion network already suspect whatever it was he was trying to hide, and offered her a substantial sum for proof.
She refused, and went to the police, but was dismissed, written off as a fantasist. We have a useful source in the LAPD, though unfortunately not at a high level. ”
“But they have an entire unit for this kind of crime,” Griffin said. “My manager is dealing with them constantly about my stalkers. They’ve prosecuted a lot of celebrity extortion cases.”
“Only the low-hanging fruit. Easily proven, easily remedied. The cops have no leads on this group, no one even knows who they are—until now. We believe Vivien does know—or did.”
Lana flinched at Estelle’s use of past tense. “Vivien’s last text said, ‘I know who they are now.’ She meant this gang?”
“I damn well hope so.”
“So you and I have both been victims of this?” Griffin said.
Estelle pressed her lips together.
“There’s more? Estelle…”
“You remember how, after Ethan Pillay’s death, the news leaked about your involvement?”
“It was these guys?”