Chapter 36 #2
·Ew, her real name is even worse. What kind of name is Greer? And Greer Moore sounds like a cemetery. Or maybe a severe case of gangrene.
·Yeah, I want to see a lot LESS of her, not Moore.
·How much less could you see? She’s a stick. There’s no way they’re together. His women always have more meat on them. He’s a man, not a dog who wants bones.
·That ugly dress is NOT doing her any favors, either. She’s on the red carpet with THEEEEE Tripp Carter. You would think she would make an effort.
·That alone is proof that she’s just an employee. And probably not one who will be around for a while. At least the hot guy was fun. I saw them party together at The Sign. She’s not much to look at, and she’s not fun. She looks like she’s going to lecture him to death.
·Right? Did you see that eye roll? 1) What kind of employee rolls their eyes at their boss? A fired one. And 2) Who is crazy enough to roll their eyes at Tripp Carter? He could tell me the sky was green, and I would smile and nod.
·I don’t think that wrist touch from him says professional relationship…
·Maybe he was discreetly checking to see if she has a pulse.
They went on like that. For every complimentary comment—or at least neutral one—there were two absolutely roasting me.
My hair.
My face.
My body.
There were comparison photos of me and the models and starlets Tripp had been linked to in the past.
And the not-so-past.
Because a bunch of the videos I doomscrolled through featured him with other women at the Hullywod party and some other places I didn’t recognize. There was nothing overtly sexual or even flirtatious, but with the right angle and gossipy caption, it looked bad.
But nothing looked as bad as the photo slideshow I was tagged in most.
The first picture showed Tripp entering the bathroom.
I swiped over, already knowing what I would see.
Sure enough, the next was the two women I’d seen entering after him.
I zoomed in at every spot I could, including trying to see the reflection on the mirror on the wall.
There was no sign of them in Tripp’s photo or him in theirs. For all anyone knew, the pictures could’ve been taken at different times.
Hell, in different years.
But that didn’t matter. Everyone jumped on the graphene thin evidence like the pictures showed some Cirque du Soleil style threesome happening before our eyes.
·Ohhhh GreerMoves, better get your man.
·They already got her man.
·They can have me, too. Damn.
·This is why I never care about Hollywood romances. It’s all fake. He might seem so sweet and charming, but he’s the same as the rest of them. A cheater.
·TBF, I don’t think he’s a cheater because I don’t think he’s with that other woman. He’s way out of her league.
·And if he is a cheater, who could blame him? If I could pull all those bitches, I wouldn’t settle down until my dick stopped working.
I exited out of the app and tossed my phone down. I should’ve deactivated my account. It would’ve been the smart thing to do. But the thought of touching it filled me with dread.
People were brutal. I knew that. I’d seen it in other comments sections.
But I wasn’t prepared for how much it would tear at me to have that vitriol aimed my way.
And for what? It wasn’t like they knew more than that short footage had shown.
Which was basically nothing. No kissing.
No real touching. It looked like I was a platonic employee, and they still fucking demolished me.
My phone rang, and I snatched it, hoping like hell it was Tripp with some magic way to make it all better.
It wasn’t.
I hesitantly answered the unknown number since it could still be something related to him.
I should’ve learned my lesson last time.
“Greer,” Josh said before I even said hello.
I hung up and blocked the number that was different than last time.
Within thirty seconds, my phone was ringing again from a new number.
I didn’t answer.
More calls.
A variety of different numbers, each leaving messages that I also ignored.
I was about to turn off my phone—responsibilities be damned—to go hide in bed with the covers pulled over my head. Or maybe hide under the bed. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the real world right then.
Before I could, a text came through.
Unknown: I can do this all day. Online numbers are free and easy to get.
Unknown: But I don’t think you’d want that.
Unknown: I’m calling in 30 seconds. Answer, or I hit post on this video. And with your newfound fame… I wouldn’t be surprised if you went viral in minutes. I’m sure your boss would love that.
Oh shit.
Oh shit, shit, shit.
Every possibility managed to shoot through my head at the same time, from the insignificant—him doing a tell-all video of how boring I was—to the extreme.
There were more options for that one.
Him sharing our dirty messages that weren’t even that dirty.
Pictures he probably had of me in bikinis by my pool.
Videos he probably had of me when I was drunk.
Videos of us doing… stuff. I didn’t think he had any of those.
I was too paranoid to ever agree to that.
Knowingly agree, at least. And while I wanted to believe Josh wasn’t the kind of guy who would secretly film our intimate moments, did I really know him?
No.
No, I did not.
There was also the very real possibility any potential tell-all video was actually about my dad. I wasn’t sure he would link himself to a story he’d managed to stay out of, but again…
I didn’t really know him.
The thirty seconds somehow seemed to drag for thirty hours as I waited to get it over with. I answered the call on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“And hello to you, too. How’s life been? Anything new?”
“What do you want?”
“To give you a heads-up. And maybe a chance to fix things.”
My jaw would’ve dropped if I wasn’t too busy scowling. I had no idea why he wanted to fix things. More importantly, even if I wasn’t sleeping with Tripp, I would never want that. Ever.
I ignored the last part. “A heads-up about what? What video were you talking about?”
“Doug prescribing Xannies for an invite to that senator’s gala.”
My stomach sank as saliva filled my mouth. I breathed slowly through my nose, fighting against the nausea.
Maybe he’s bluffing.
But he wasn’t. I knew it even before he offered, “I can send it to you first if you want a private screening.”
“What do you want?” Dread mixed with the terror as my thoughts twisted round and round until I felt like I was restrained by panic.
There was a lot I would do for my dad, especially if it was only until his plea deal was signed and official.
But I drew the line at any kind of reconciliation with Josh.
That wasn’t what he was after, though. “A job.”
I sank back before a thought occurred to me, and I asked for clarification. “What kind of job?”
Because if it’s the hand or blow variety, you’re out of luck.
I’m not wasting my newly discovered skills on you.
“The acting kind,” he said before pausing. “Though if you’re offering the other kind, I won’t say no.”
“I can’t get you an acting job.”
“No, but your boss can. I knew that was you in those pictures of Tripp Carter with the hottie on Christmas. But then I was like, no way. You were always all high and mighty, not caring about celebs, so I talked myself out of it. Imagine my surprise when I opened TikTok today, and there you were. Literally, every other video on my feed. Guess without your daddy’s money paying all your bills, you had to get a job, huh?
And now you see what I put up with as a PA. It sucks, right?”
I made a noncommittal murmur since it didn’t suck. I’d expected it to, but I loved working for Tripp.
“It’s fucking hilarious that people think you two are dating.” Josh backed up his statement with genuine laughter, like the idea that Tripp would be attracted to me was so outlandish. “You’re public enemy number one with his fangirls.”
“Yeah, it’s a laugh riot.” The reminder of cruelty in those comments swooped in like daggers to my already churning stomach.
“At least your boss seems decent. Majors is a dick. I had to clean his entire house when he saw some promo for that movie they did, but it was only Carter and not him. He went nuclear. Holes in walls, everything trashed and broken. Total temper tantrum.”
Tripp called it.
“It would be one thing if Majors was helping my career, but he’s not.
He keeps saying he’ll recommend me for roles.
Nothing. I’ve booked two projects, and they were both background extras.
And those were auditions I set myself. I don’t think he has the pull he thinks he does.
Either that, or he’s feeding me bullshit so I’ll keep doing everything but wipe his ass for him. ”
Even without my vendetta against Chase Majors, working for him sounded like a nightmare. I almost felt bad for Josh.
Almost.
“I still don’t get what you expect me to do,” I said.
“Have your boss get me a job. There’s already a lot of buzz about that shitty chick flick he’s doing.
I’ll take a part in that because people seem hyped.
But I want a role in one of his action movies, too.
A big one, not some background nobody that is too blurry to see, and then their name at the very end of the credits. ”
“You think Tripp has more pull than he actually does,” I said, using his own words against him. “And even if he did, I don’t have any kind of pull to make it happen.”
“You better figure out a way.” Some of the firmness left his voice.
“I’ll always have love for you, Greer. That’s why I’m coming to you first. This business is cutthroat, and I have to use what I have at my disposal.
Majors is a bust, but now that you’re linked to Tripp, the media will give a shit about your dad and the Xannies.
I could sell my story and use that coverage to get my name and face out there. ”
“You think telling people you facilitated drug deals is going to help you?”
“No, but telling them that his actions forced me to quit and now I’m struggling to make ends meet would.”
I had no doubt that he would twist the story into something sensationalized until only a thin thread of truth remained. But since he had video footage of that thread, it would lend credibility to the entire pile of bullshit.
Shit.
I’m so fucked.
Dad is so fucked.
Rage and fear surged through me in equal measure until I was shaking so hard, I nearly lost my grip on my phone. My words came out as a trembling whisper. “I need some time.”
I’ll quit.
Or have Tripp put out a statement that I’m just his employee.
Or maybe leak pictures of him at a club with some women.
I’ll even be the photographer.
Then no one will care enough to cover the story.
But Josh cut off that plan before it could fully bloom. “I can give you a day.”
“That’s not enough time to make this happen.”
“It’s all you’re gonna get. You know how quickly shit changes.
” It was almost like he could read my mind with how efficiently he torched the one hope I had.
“If I wait longer, and Tripp is spotted with some woman over the weekend, no one will care about you at all. I’ll miss out on my window of opportunity.
I can’t do that. I need this, Greer. I’ll be in touch tomorrow. ”
With a beep, the call ended, leaving me in heavy silence with my racing thoughts.
My breath came faster and faster until it felt like I wasn’t getting a single hit of oxygen in my burning lungs.
My fingertips went numb. My heart slammed out of my too-tight chest, the erratic beat going so fast, I swore it would stop.
That it would give out the same way all the boxes in my head were giving out.
Sweat broke out across my clammy body, leaving goosebumps as my mouth filled with saliva.
Tripp will help me.
Even if he can’t get him a role in Summer, maybe another movie would be okay.
Or he could ask Tony to be Josh’s agent.
I grabbed my phone to text Tripp, but he beat me to it.
TC: We’re going to Gilded.
It was small, but a fraction of the anxiety making my head swim lessened.
Gilded always made me feel better. I would ask Tripp to use the flogger on me until I was a bubble who couldn’t think, and then I would ask for his help.
TC: Wear extra makeup.
Extra makeup?
Did he see the online comments, too?