21. Avery
Somewhere over Colorado,it sinks in: I’ve made a terrible mistake.
Anger and hurt propelled me through the security lines at the airport, and onto a last-minute late-night flight to LA, but now the lights are dimmed and everyone’s sleeping, and there’s nothing but a menu of old, crappy movies to distract me from the hollow ache in my chest.
I want Duke.
I want his arms around me, and that low drawl telling me that everything’s going to be OK. I want his massive frame crowding up the seat beside me, and his chest to rest my head against, while he strokes my hair and makes me feel like, for the first time in my life, I’m not doing this alone.
I miss him.
Damn it.
I try to swallow back the sting of tears behind my satin eye mask. The stale airplane air is going to be bad enough for my skin as it is, I don’t need to arrive red-eyed and puffy from weeping, too.
“Where the hell does it end?”
I pull on my headphones, but still, his words echo, impossible to forget.
“How long are you going to live like this?”
They play over and over in my mind, because they’re questions I’ve wondered myself, a hundred times over. I’ve had my sights fixed on the prize so long, it was easy to dismiss them, but now, all my fears and doubts and insecurities come whirling to life again.
Can it ever be enough for me?
The fame. The money. The adoration. I thought that if I could just make it up that mountain to the glittering heights of the Hollywood A-list, I would be safe. Safe in my hilltop mansion, with a team of lawyers on speed-dial and nothing but freedom and my pick of the biggest roles around.
The kind of security I could only dream about growing up.
But I’ve been climbing for the past ten years now, and that safe haven is still just out of reach. Sure, I’m closer now than I ever have been before, but Duke was right: the tabloids can take it from me, anytime they choose. One more fake scandal whipped up to sell copies and clicks, and nobody will want to be in business with Avery Lawrence.
Not even that asshole, Brady, and his Annihilation team.
I wince. It would be easier if I could write Duke’s attitude off to jealousy, wanting to keep me all to himself, away from other men, but it’s not that. He doesn’t have an insecure bone in his body, and he wasn’t thinking about himself for a second, I could see that all over his face.
He just wants the best for me.
The tears well again, remembering that look of steady determination in his eyes as he took my hands, and vowed to give me whatever I need.
My chest aches. I gave up on hearing those words– or ever believing them– a long time ago. I thought I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. So, when the best man I’ve ever known is standing in front of me, telling me everything my heart needs to hear, what do I do?
Yell at him, slam the cab door in his face, and run away clear across the country.
Great job, Avery.
I groan. Is it any wonder my life is a mess?
“Miss?”
I tug my eye mask down. A flight attendant is standing in the aisle, looking at me with concern. “Do you need anything?” she repeats.
I shake my head quickly, and fake a smile. “Thanks, I’m great,” I lie brightly.
Great at screwing everything up, at least.
I textDuke as soon as we land, as the sun is just rising over the ocean.
I’m sorry. I was a bitch. Call you later when I’m human again?
His reply comes immediately. I’ll be here. It’s all going to be OK.
I feel a pang of relief. A part of me wants to call him up right now, and spill every messy, emotional tangled thought I have all over him, but I force myself to tuck my phone away.
I still don’t know what I’m going to say to him, and I don’t want him thinking I’m some needy, desperate wreck, but just seeing those small words on my screen fills me with the reassurance I needed.
I can figure all of this out. Starting with my career.
I swing by my apartment, and do my best to make it look like I’ve had more than a couple of hours of restless airplane sleep, before going to meet my agents for breakfast at their swanky offices near Beverly Hills.
“Here she is!” Max greets me like a I’m a conquering hero, strolling into the conference room where he’s got the rest of my team and all the assistants gathered– along with stunning views of the Hollywood sign, and a lavish buffet of food.
“You got the good bagels,” I note, glancing at the spread. “I must have done something right.”
They all laugh. “The offer on Annihilation 3 came in first thing this morning,” he beams. “I don’t know what you did to charm Brady Patricks, but it worked. The producers said he can’t wait to get you out to Europe and into Lacey’s costume.”
I’ll bet he can’t.
I fill a plate, and get seated, while Max dives into outlining the main deal points. “You’ll be filming at least four months, plus prep time, and promo,” he reports. “So your next year is pretty much locked down already.”
A whole year dressed up in skintight hot pants, deploying evasive maneuvers whenever Brady comes around?
Perfect.
“And what about the Amelia Earhart project?” I can’t help asking. “Have we heard from Madeline Maronne’s people? Would it take me out of the running, if I choose to move ahead with this?”
“Choose?” Max repeats, frowning. “What are you talking about? This is a slam dunk. World Series. You’d be crazy not to take it.”
That’s exactly what I yelled to Duke about the job last night, but in the bright light of day, I’m not so sure.
“What does Madeline say?” I ask again. “Is she any closer to making her decision on casting? We had a really great meeting,” I add. “I think we connected over her vision for the character, and?—”
“You’re not getting that movie.” Max cuts me off bluntly.
“She already chose someone?” I ask, feeling a sharp stab of disappointment.
“No, but she will – and it’s not going to be you.” Max sits forward. “Look, Avery, I’ve got to level with you, you’re not Madeline Marrone material. She’s a serious director, her movies are going to win Oscars one day. That’s not your path.”
“It’s not, huh?” I carefully put down my bagel and meet his eyes, keeping my voice calm even as frustration flares in my chest. “Tell me, what is it you see as being my path?”
“You’re blockbuster material!” Max says it with a big smile on his face. “Annihilation is just the beginning. We’re going to book you billion-dollar franchises, brand deals, everything we’ve been planning for. Who wants to waste their time fucking around with those little indie projects when you can be the biggest A-lister in the world?”
I do.
“The thing about being an A-lister, your blockbuster babe, is that it’s not down to me, is it?” I say slowly.
A cold, steely calm begins to trickle down my spine. Clarity.
Max looks confused. “Of course it is. You’ve made it happen, Avery. You’ve earned this.”
“No,” I shake my head. “Because this path, this kind of career, is always in the hands of someone else. The man who finds me hot enough to cast me, the studio head who signs off on my deal, the editor who decides to put me on a magazine cover– or not. If my entire career depends on men like you finding me hot enough to jerk off to in the shower at night, then I’m not the one with the power, am I? You are.”
I get to my feet. My heart is pounding, and I’m pretty sure there’s a 50/50 chance I’m burning everything I’ve built to the ground, but there’s a reckless certainty surging in my veins.
I’ve been playing these games for too damn long. Duke was right. There’s no way for me to win– not by their rules.
“What are you saying?” Max rises too, his smile fading fast. “You’re not going to do the movie?”
“Nope.”
“Whoa, let’s just talk about this for a minute,” one of the other agents jumps in, looking panicked. “If this is about the money, this is just an opening offer. I’m sure we can get them up, what, twenty percent?” she looks to Max.
“Thirty, plus a cut of merchandizing,” he says immediately. “You know I’ve got your back, Avery.”
“Do you?” I demand. “Be honest, have you even made a single call to Madeline’s people about her movie?”
Max’s gaze flicks away.
Busted.
“Well, that explains a lot.” I pick up my handbag.
“You want to think about this,” Max says, an edge to his voice. “We brought you this role on a damn platter. If you walk away from this opportunity…”
“You’ll what? Fire me as your client?” I ask, flicking a glance back at him. “Go ahead.”
And I start walking.
But I barely make it to the elevators before the panic sets in. I stab blindly at the buttons, and swoop down to the lobby just about as fast as my heart is sinking in my chest.
What the hell have I just done?
Never mind that I’m the one who was begging to be cast in the Annihilation movies just a few short months ago. Now I have zero representation, no work on the horizon, and, oh yeah, I’ve barely recovered from a very public, national humiliation that would make any serious film-maker think twice before ever even taking a meeting with me!
And for what, my principles?
I sure picked a great time to even discover I had some!
I freak out all the way back to my apartment. I’m not ready to give up on my acting career, I can’t. But I don’t see a way forward. If all they want from me is to play the hot chick in the tight outfit, then there’s already an expiry date ticking closer, and no amount of Pilates and dermatology is going to make a difference!
Should I just say “fuck it”, and take the gig, and count myself lucky to even have the opportunity? Grit my teeth, and charm more assholes like Brady, and accept that nobody will ever see me in any other light?
I thought I could change the narrative, but maybe I never had a chance.
I trudge through the lobby, and up the stairs. But when I turn the corner to my unit, I find a surprise waiting for me, sitting sprawled out on the floor outside my door.
Duke.
I stop dead. He’s scruffy and unshaven, and he looks like hell, but I’ve never been more glad to see anyone in my life.
He gets to his feet, and gives me a tender smile. “Surprise, baby.”
And I burst into tears.