Marnie
“Can you believe this?” Carmen said, practically throwing her phone at me. She shook her head, nostrils flared. “Who does she think she is?”
Don’t Be Sad! Actor Takes Cannes by Storm
It was a post about Lou. One of many. But this one had a very unfortunate subheadline:
And Odetta Olson Is Livid
I tried to give Carmen’s phone back to her, but she ignored me. I placed it on the table between us instead.
“It’s not that girl’s fault people are noticing her,” I said with a shrug, like I had nothing to do with this. Like I hadn’t been Lou’s sidekick at the latest events she’d attended. Luckily, I’d had the good sense to step away whenever someone approached to take her picture.
“She’s a fucking nobody trying to conjure fame out of thin air, and she’s taking Odetta down at the same time.”
“I don’t think that’s what she’s—”
But Carmen sighed so deeply that I shut my trap.
We’d moved our meeting to a little café in the older part of town. Carmen was in no mood to be on display at one of the Cannes hot spots, where we might bump into someone we knew. We were in hiding mode, riding the storm and counting down the hours until this ordeal—and the festival—was over.
At least that’s what I thought we were doing. I truly didn’t see it coming.
It was cloudy, but Carmen pulled down the sunglasses that had been resting atop her head.
“I’ve always thought you were like me at your age,” Carmen said. “Well, I was never so uptight and desperate to have life figured out, but I saw how ambitious you were. How smart. I trusted you. I don’t think I’ll be making that mistake again.”
Carmen’s tone had gone from wistful to ice cold in seconds.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“I know it was you. All these stories. You did this. I didn’t want to believe it, but Odetta saw right through you.”
I wouldn’t insult Carmen by denying it. I’d always known I’d need to fess up to it at some point.
“I did this for her, for you. For us. I had a plan.”
“You spread nasty stories about the director of the movie we’re promoting for me?”
I shook my head. I had spread tons of stories, but they were never about Odetta Olson. In fact, they were about anyone but her. Now I was using Lou to get good publicity for the movie. It wasn’t my fault if the media still found a way to spin a bad tale around Odetta Olson’s supposed jealousy.
“I never shared one bad thing about Odetta,” I started to explain. “I would never. I was trying to fix things!”
“Odetta is convinced the stories about her are an orchestrated smear campaign. And frankly, I agree. It’s pretty obvious.”
“It wasn’t me!”
Carmen took a sip of her coffee. Her lips were pressed in a thin line. She was pissed.
“Let’s pretend for a moment that it’s true,” she said coldly.
“It is true!”
“So what did you do?”
“I, um”—I took a large sip of my water before continuing—“I realized there were lots of interesting things happening in Cannes. Lots of gossip that people might find interesting. And I thought if the media started talking about other people, there would be less bad press on Odetta. It was strategic.”
“And at what point were you going to run that ‘strategy’ past me?”
“You said you didn’t want to play dirty.”
“So you decided to play dirty behind my back?”
“I figured it was better if you didn’t know. And then I’d show you the results, and you’d see how great my plan was.”
Carmen made a face. “Odetta asked me to fire you.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t want you working on the movie or anywhere near her.” Carmen lifted her sunglasses. “So you see, I’m in a tricky position.”
Shame sizzled on my skin. I looked around, but no one was listening. We were surrounded by locals, not festival people. No one we knew. That’s why we were here away from the action. So that if I made a scene, it wouldn’t matter.
“What did you tell her?” I asked. “Oh my god. You’re firing me?”
“As far as Odetta knows…yes. She can’t see you anywhere. But I still need you, as long as you can keep quiet and stay far out of the way. And now there’s this business with Ben… I don’t think you want to do anything to hurt his chances.”
“What does Ben have to do with any of this?”
Ben was the last person I wanted to think about. I’d heard nothing—from him or about him—since my exchange with his sister.
Carmen shook her head. “I never thought Golden Boy had it in him. Another one of your secrets.”
“What does he have in him?” I asked, my tone urgent.
“I’m sure your boyfriend told you that Dorian Fisher’s been talking to his agent about buying his screenplay.
Odetta loves it, and she’s keen to lock in her new project before her reputation completely torpedoes.
I don’t know why Dorian Fisher is doing that for her, but anyway, I doubt she knows about your connection to Ben.
So best keep it quiet until the deal is signed. ”
“The deal?” I could barely get the word out.
“It seems they’re going to make Ben an offer.”
My jaw hung slack. Carmen didn’t seem to pick up on the fact that this wasn’t good news to me.
“So you’ll have something to celebrate after all.”
Right. I wouldn’t be getting a promotion, I might be five seconds away from getting fired, and Ben was signing deals with work he’d stolen from me. So much to celebrate.
Carmen finished her coffee, then studied me carefully.
“Promise me you won’t go within ten fucking feet of Odetta Olson. I’m trying to save your ass here, as well as your boyfriend’s career.”
I bit my tongue, fighting back tears.
“I promise,” I said in a whisper.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. The server came, and Carmen motioned for the check. The humiliation burned from the inside out.
“What do I do now?” I asked, when she put her phone in her bag, ready to leave.
Carmen leaned across the table and lowered her voice.
“There’s a very exclusive party tonight.
A prominent friend of Dorian Fisher, a billionaire with the biggest yacht you’ve seen in Cannes, wants to celebrate the movie.
Though it’s probably just an excuse to throw his stupid wealth in everybody’s faces. Don’t ask me who it is.”
“You need me to work the door?” I asked, distracted.
“God no, if Odetta saw you… Definitely not. He has his people for that. But Odetta asked me to look over the guest list to make sure the important players were all on there and no bad seeds, obviously. I finalized it and retyped it because the team doesn’t want it emailed around, for privacy.
I have to run to my next meeting now, so I need you to go back to my hotel and print it out.
I’ll text you where to drop off the copies. ”
“Sure, okay.”
She slid her tablet across the table. “I’ll get this back from you tonight.”
“You’re not going to the party?” I asked.
She let out a sarcastic laugh. “We’re the hired help, honey. We’re just the help. Let’s never forget that.”
On that, she left.
I’d liked to say that I took my time to think about what I would do next, that this conversation had set me back on the right path, that I was dedicated to doing the right thing.
Carmen’s instructions had been crystal clear.
And even though she wasn’t firing me for now, I knew why she’d mentioned Odetta Olson’s request to have me gone.
It was a thinly veiled threat, a sign of how much worse things could be.
But something happened when I spurred her tablet to life and navigated to the document with the guest list. I had done this a dozen times before, so I knew Carmen’s passwords and how she kept things organized.
I didn’t have to read the guest list, but I did. I needed to be sure. And now I knew that Ben would be there. Drinking champagne with Dorian Fisher and Odetta Olson. Toasting over the future success of my work, but without me.
I walked back to Carmen’s hotel and headed to the business center.
The staff knew me; they’d seen me all festival long.
Carmen’s tablet was already connected to the printer there.
It was a simple task. Print three copies, slip them in an envelope, deliver them to the yacht’s manager. The party was starting in two hours.
Like I said, it was a simple task. Carmen had put the final touches on the list. No one would read it again or wonder if anything was wrong with it. Which meant that no one would notice if I made one tiny tweak.