Chapter 31
Chapter thirty-one
The Comedown
Outside the supply closet door, it takes all my energy to separate myself from him. My chest is being pulled down by what feels like a weighted blanket. The crowd is inching closer toward the theater room, about to start the showing.
Influencers and vloggers are documenting the experience.
Little girls are standing in front of the cardboard cutout of the movie poster.
Other celebrities are huddled in little pods with their various people, probably not wanting to sit down quite yet.
My feet are firmly cemented to the purple carpeting. I’m far enough from the supply closet, but close enough to hear a few teenage girls talking.
“Sloane and Graham are going to enter the theater soon. We should wait.”
“Did you know she isn’t even dating him anymore?”
“No way. They have been together for years!”
“Yeah, I hear that she had a fling with her costar. Look—”
Craning my neck to the side to take a peek at the photo, I clear my throat and decide to wait too.
The image loads slowly, taken through cast iron metal bars blocking a driveway gate. If you squint closely, you can see what looks to be Theo Alder shoving Sloane up on the hood of his car with his left hand disappearing underneath her skirt.
As another castmate strolls into the building, the crowd disperses to take photos with them. I untether myself from this spot and bolt for the entrance toward where I arrived, seeing my purpose for sticking around right in front of me.
I spot her icy cool-blonde hair instantly. With each glossy smile and hair flip that feels like a natural twitch, a loud, roaring fire builds in my stomach.
Sloane must’ve gone back to finish up their press coverage, because they are still taking photos in front of the backdrop. Still doing press interviews. From afar, I see her handler placing another piece of popcorn in her mouth like she doesn’t possess hands. A pit forms in my stomach.
This time, it’s not nerves.
I can feel Skye’s energy coming at me all at once. I don’t even need her nudge this time to tell me what I know in my gut to do.
“Go over there and verbally obliterate their asses,” Skye whispers. My feet are already charging in their direction.
No army of people or security guards could stop me from what I will consider me “blacking out” in a rage when I spot a microphone lying on a media cart—just waiting for me.
“So what was the casting process like?” the interviewer asks.
“Daunting. They really had me work for it, but I was so glad I got to play such a complex character.”
Something inside of me snaps.
I walk up slowly behind the interviewer, catching Sloane’s eye and gracing her with a slow and stretching smile. Leaning in close to the interviewer’s ear, I murmur, “You’re going to want to record this.”
I shove the microphone inches from Sloane’s mouth, watching the color drain from her face. The interviewer looks to be in her mid-twenties as well, just standing there unmoving, in pure shock. Probably her first big break on the carpet. As much as I hate to do this to her, it has to be done.
Graham is standing beside Sloane, looking lovingly into her eyes. I’m sickened by the sight. Were they in it together—playing a game like Holden and I were? Or was she just a selfish social climber bound to fuck the next shiny thing that dangled in front of her?
It takes them a few moments before they both tilt their heads to the side, piecing together their interview has derailed. It’s my turn to ask questions…
Starting with, “The two of you have been together so long. Did you both start dating on the set of All or Nothing?” I push the microphone even closer to her mouth.
Graham reaches for her arm, wrapping his fingers around her to give a gentle squeeze.
“You’re Charlotte Tate, right?” he asks.
His voice is warm and inviting. Another boy with curated charm. I blink hard, refusing to answer, my eyes locked on only Sloane.
“Was it before, during, or after your relationship with Holden?”
A nervous laugh creeps out of Sloane, darting her eyes between the other interviewer and Graham. She doesn’t say a word, letting Graham drive the conversation.
“Sloane and I couldn’t deny our feelings for each other shortly after the show wrapped. We are so happy we got to meet each other on set. We owe that show a lot…” He grins, satisfied with his own answer. I match his grin as I point the microphone toward him now.
“How is your relationship with Holden now? Do you owe anything to him?”
“What about it?” Graham chimes in again.
I push my head back into my neck with a slight smirk and ask, “Rumors say that your dating timeline isn’t the most accurate…” I let my words trail off.
In the corner of my eye, I see her handler passing another piece of popcorn. As she is chewing, she pitches in with, “Rumors are just that. Rumors.”
“Speaking of rumors. You and Theo look super friendly.”
“What are you getting at?” Graham barks back.
“Nothing, just trying to understand the timeline. I can understand how things can blur on a set.”
“Have you ever been on one?” Sloane chuckles, and this only makes the smile on my face spread wider.
“What inspired you to play such a noncommittal, relationship-phobic person in this film? The character clearly carries a lot of emotional baggage.”
Sloane’s jaw ticks as she takes the microphone from my hand and stares down the barrel of the camera.
“Well, I watched a lot of my favorite actresses in similar roles and tried to channel what made their performances so compelling. It was a really complex and challenging character, like I mentioned. But working closely with my acting coach helped me bring her to life.”
Sloane giggles, placing a hand dramatically over her chest as if she’s fully in character.
Graham massages the muscles in her shoulders as if he is relaxing a UFC fighter.
“Yeah, my baby is a pro at acting. But enough about us, what are you doing here?” Graham questions.
“Oh, nothing. I am just trying to understand what helped you become so successful. You have had quite a career since All or Nothing. It’s inspiring.”
“Thank you…” Sloane says, even though her tone doesn’t suggest she means it.
I can hear the other interviewer gasping and loving every second of this.
The remaining paparazzi on the carpet have caught wind of this interaction.
Sloane must’ve caught on too, because she is dazzling, giving an “unbothered” grin to the camera again.
Snapping back into performing.
“Well, I know how exciting of a night this is for you too. Thank you for taking the time to answer a few questions of mine. Do what you do best—keep acting.” Their mouths are wide open as I pass the microphone to the interviewer right next to me.
“Weren’t you the girl that stepped on my dress?”
“Yes, Sloane. That was me.”
I drop my smile as the reality of this is now settling in, turning my face flush, obscuring my line of vision as spots form in my irises.
Each flash is aimed at me.
“That’s Holden Strauss’s girlfriend,” one of the cameramen shouts.
“Awe, a girl fighting his battles,” the man next to him yells.
“Someone’s jealous,” Sloane mumbles under her breath.
A sentence that sends me stumbling back into the crowd and escaping the circus freaks. My hands shake uncontrollably as a buzz vibrates throughout my whole body.
I can’t believe I just did that.
On the side of the building, I rip the blistering heels off my feet and walk toward Sunset Boulevard. I don’t look back the whole way there, walking as far as humanly possible away from the crowds of people.
I think I am going to throw up.
I brush past street performers dressed as Spiderman and Elvis, wannabe rockstars busking with their guitar cases open for tips, more influencers taking pictures in front of a pink backdrop. Everything is fading into an Instagram filter of pinks and whites.
I full-on projectile vomit on the curb, wearing a designer dress that costs more than my rent. Getting everything out of my system.
Nobody around me seems to notice.
I wipe the puke residue off my lips as I request a rideshare. I’ve never been so delighted to breathe in the pungent smell of marijuana and sewage lining the street.
Never been so enthralled to see street performers yelling at crowds who walk by without shame.
Even the trees are reflecting a deeper green and the sky looks more vast than it ever has since I moved here.
LA has never looked brighter.