Chapter 38
Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
‘What is it?’ I say as Antoinette pulls Agnes in closer to her. ‘Agnes?’
Agnes looks up at me. She looks wretched. Her eyes are all red and swollen and I notice she’s trembling. ‘Agnes?’
She lets out a whimper. ‘I don’t want to say. It’s humiliating.’
I pull up a chair on the other side of her. ‘Agnes, please tell us. Let us help you.’
Agnes wipes her nose. ‘It’s too horrible,’ she says.
‘What is?’
She takes a deep, shaky breath. ‘I thought we’d moved on from this sort of thing. As like, an industry and as a place,’ she says eventually.
Oh no.
No.
It was her audition today.
Please no.
‘The producer?’ I say and Agnes nods. ‘What did he do?’
She looks at me, eyes full of shame.
‘I really thought he was interested in my tape. In me,’ she says sadly. ‘But they’re still doing it. They’re still getting away with it.’
‘Tell us,’ Antoinette says, so quietly I can barely hear her.
‘It was just us,’ Agnes says. ‘At his house. At the brunch. No other actors. And I shouldn’t have been so stupid.
I should’ve known something wasn’t right because who even does that?
Who willingly goes into a house with a man, alone?
’ She looks at me again. ‘What was the fucking point of #MeToo if it’s still happening? ’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I say. ‘Whatever he did, Agnes, it’s not your fault.’
‘It is,’ she sniffs. ‘I was stupid and naive.’
‘No,’ says Antoinette. ‘Did he—?’
Agnes shakes her head vehemently. ‘No, but he touched me. He groped my boobs. Put his hand up my top and tried to kiss me, tried to touch me under my skirt. It was horrible, his hands were everywhere and I didn’t think he was going to stop.
’ She lets out an anguished wail. ‘And he made it clear that if I sucked his dick he’d give me a role in a movie.
And that if I didn’t, he’d make sure I never ever got a role.
He said he would make sure I ended back at home with my parents and that he’d get me kicked out of school.
’ She takes another deep and shuddering breath.
‘I tried to run out but he’d locked the door and I just started crying and crying.
He just laughed at me. Told me not to be such a pathetic baby.
Then he unlocked the door. He didn’t say another word to me.
Didn’t even look at me.’ She sniffs and wipes her nose with the back of her hand.
‘He’ll tell my agent some fucked-up version of events and that will be that. No one will touch me.’
‘Oh, Agnes!’ Antoinette pulls her closer into her chest and lets her cry it out.
That piece of shit.
That fucking piece of shit.
Antoinette locks eyes with me. Her expression is cold as steel. I know exactly what she’s thinking. And I’m thinking it too.
There’s no way we’re going to let Richard Stone get away with this.
We walk Agnes back over to the guesthouse after she’s calmed down a bit. She’s told us that she doesn’t want to go to the police, that she doesn’t see the point.
‘It’s his word against mine,’ she’d said miserably. ‘And who’s going to believe me, a nobody, over one of the biggest producers in Hollywood? He’s obviously got away with it before.’
And she’s right.
But there’s another type of justice heading Richard Stone’s way.
‘Thanks, you two,’ she says to me and Antoinette. ‘I think I just want to go to sleep now. I want to forget about today.’
‘I’ll stay with you?’ Antoinette says but Agnes just gives a little shake of her head.
‘I just want to sleep.’
She disappears down the hallway, an exhausted and slightly forlorn figure, leaving Antoinette and me in the kitchen with Lauren and Cort.
‘Did she tell you what happened?’ Lauren asks.
I nod. ‘Yeah. What a piece of shit.’
Lauren makes a noise of agreement and Cort lets out a loud performative sigh. Like he wants us to know that he is Very Deeply Concerned.
Lauren puts her hand on his arm. ‘What is it, baby?’ she says.
‘It’s just …’ he says, tucking a stray lock of hair that escaped from his bun behind his ear. ‘Women should never be put in that position. I just hate living in a society that commodifies female bodies. It’s disgusting.’
Antoinette gives me a look and presses her lips together until they go white. She reminds me of a cobra right before it pounces.
‘Right,’ I say.
Cort holds his hands over his heart. ‘But also, and I say this with love, so much love, we’ve got to talk about boundaries.’
Antoinette narrows her eyes at him. ‘Go on,’ she says but it sounds almost like a threat.
‘Agnes shouldn’t have gone alone,’ he says. ‘Men like that thrive on blurred lines. I tell Lauren all the time to protect her energy, don’t I, Lo?’ Lauren nods. ‘Don’t give men access they haven’t earned.’
‘It was literally an audition,’ Antoinette hisses. ‘You’re not meant to need an intimacy coordinator at a fucking job interview.’
Cort nods hard. ‘Totally,’ he says. ‘I hear you. I’m just saying that we need to coach our women to navigate these systems safely.’
‘Coach our women?’ Antoinette echoes in disbelief.
Cort ignores her and keeps going. I get the feeling that this is the sort of thing he always does. For someone who is apparently so here for the women, he talks over them a lot.
‘If Agnes ever wants to talk to a man about healthy masculinity, I’m here,’ he’s saying now, his hands still over his heart.
‘I’ve done the work.’ He looks around at the three of us as if he’s expecting us to applaud or something.
We don’t. And he keeps talking. ‘Shadow work, mirror work. I’ve done rage circles with my men’s group. ’
‘Jerk circles more like,’ I hear Antoinette mutter.
‘I’ve cried with so many brothers this year alone,’ Cort continues.
‘And I want to bring that healing and energy into my everyday life, you know. I want all men to be able to tap into those parts of themselves.’ He leans back now, stretching but somehow making it smug.
‘Predators like Richard Stone give all men a bad name. It’s embarrassing for those of us who are doing the work. ’
I stare at him.
I know all of the words he’s just said but somehow they mean absolutely nothing.
Lauren closes her eyes. ‘Cort,’ she says. ‘Please stop talking.’
‘What? I’m just trying to bring some consciousness to the space.’
I see Lauren take a deep breath. She looks like a harassed mother of a toddler.
‘Come on, Kits,’ Antoinette says. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Oh stay,’ Lauren says. ‘Ignore him. He may be a self-proclaimed feminist ally but he just likes the sound of his own voice sometimes.’
Cort shrugs. ‘I can’t help it if I’m self-aware,’ he says.
Antoinette looks like she’s about to uncoil and strike.
I grab her arm.
‘Come on,’ I say. ‘We need to go.’
And we do.
There’s a producer we need to kill.
Now.