Opportunity Knocks

by Alison Sweeney

  While waiting for the guys to arrive, I try to act casual, hanging out in the green room. Celebs and up-and-coming talent come and go, their reps grabbing heaping plates from the cheese and fruit trays. There are plenty of sodas and like nine different types of water. I choose a plain Fiji from the selection and even try to subtly photobomb the guest band’s behind-the-scenes selfie they’re talking about posting. It would be ideal if Nick Slants sought me out, but if he doesn’t know I’m here, why would he?

  This is the first time I’ve wished I’d started a public profile the way so many hair and makeup artists have. JLo’s stylist did a workshop at my beauty school and she explained it’s about giving out free tips and insider scoop on products, and if you post a few pictures with your celebrity, it helps build your numbers. But why do I need followers? It just never seemed to make sense to me. Until now. If this whole experience is teaching me anything, it’s that when opportunity knocks, you’d better answer.

  Jared gets there before Billy. I want to make sure Jared isn’t uncomfortable with me, so I do my put-them-at-ease routine involving self-deprecating jokes and an up-front agreement that if there’s anything he doesn’t like, he only has to say so; there’s no ego with me.

  Things go pretty fast. Jared, like Billy, has nice clean skin, but I pull out my clippers to clean up the back of his neck and his sideburns. I’m styling his hair in the spiky way he’s known for when Billy joins us in the dressing room.

  “Sorry I’m late. There was a bigger group of fans out front than usual. Must be spring break!”

  “I should’ve waited for you. The fans would’ve gotten the word out that we’re here tonight faster than anything.”

  “We’ll post a picture in the green room anyway. We need to do it in time for Nick to get down here.”

  “He’s always lurking in this part of town. Maybe because so many studios are here—celebs pass through here all the time.” I add, “Remember, he was at the bar two blocks over every night around this time. He’ll be close by.” I clean my brushes while the guys switch seats. I tuck a few tissues into the collar of Billy’s blue button-down shirt. It matches his eyes perfectly and it’s hard not to get distracted.

  I get through Billy’s makeup quickly, and he’s just taken the brush from me to fix his hair himself when the page knocks on the door and opens it before the words “come in” have been announced.

  “Oh!” It’s more a breath than an exclamation. The page turns a charming beet red, clashing horribly with her maroon uniform. I can’t help but feel for her—even working at Late Night, she’s not immune to Jared and Billy together. It’s a pretty impressive display.

  “Yes? Madison?” Luckily saying her name shakes her out of her stupor.

  “Oh, yes.” She giggles at me, and I smile back, commiserating. “You’re Alex, right? Someone’s waiting for you at downstairs security. Did you have a guest coming here today?”

  My eyes dart to Billy’s. He gives a tiny nod.

  “Yes, actually. I did have a friend coming by. Is that a problem? He can wait downstairs…”

  “Oh, I’m sure we can get him cleared for the green room. I mean, you’re here with Billy Fox, after all.”

  “Thanks. It’s Madison, right?” Billy doesn’t even have to try for charming her, a hint of his Texas drawl doing the work for him.

  “Yes, of course. Come with me, Alex. I’ll show you where to sign your friend in.”

  We go through corridors that all seem identical. I’d be so lost if I hadn’t spent months working on a set that is the mirror image of this one. Quickly, I’m back out in the front lobby looking for the smug, sleazy face of Nick Slants. But he’s not one of the several people waiting amid the modern furniture in the corner of the huge building. I look around, my brows drawn together in consternation. Where could Nick have gone?

  “I kept waiting for you to text me.” The flat California accent stands out amid the New York–based crew.

  “Sean!” I try to plaster a happy-to-see-you look of welcome on my face. “Sean! I’m so sorry, I’ve been so slammed.”

  “Alex, I should have said this two days ago. I don’t blame you for not texting me; I wasn’t being straight with you.” A fresh load of guilt washes over me as he puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me in close to him. “I came to New York to see you. I miss you,” he whispers quietly.

  “Sean…” There are a million things running around in my mind. I want to comfort him, tell him I miss him, too. I want to kick his shin and tell him to beat it, remind him he’s the one who broke up with me. But all of that is taking a backseat to the fact that Nick Slants could show up at any minute and I need to be ready to throw the lure.

  “No, wait. Let me talk first.” Sean looks around the huge lobby area and pulls me toward some aerodynamic, minimalist, pristine white seating arrangement that a small group of Japanese tourists are awkwardly perched on.

  “Sean, this really isn’t a good time for me.” I pull myself out of his gentle grasp before he has me seated next to the brightly dressed guests waiting for an escort.

  “I know—you’re working. And listen, Alex…” He puts his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the eyes. “I’m impressed. You’ve proven your point.” He steps back to gesture to the massive, bustling lobby. “You’ve shown me, your family, everyone that you can make it here in the big city. And you were right. We all underestimated you.”

  It’s not what I expected him to say. Sean was never one for admitting he was wrong. I can’t help but soften a bit toward him for doing it now.

  “Thank you, Sean. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

  “Well, you deserve it… all your hard work, and look where you are. You’re a success!” He looks around the marble-and-glass lobby, clearly impressed. Any good feelings just withered away into a tiny hypocritical ball. My only success to date is creating a debacle that I have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of. Especially if I sit here, chatting with Sean, instead of getting myself into the vicinity of Nick Slants.

  “Come home, Alex.” Sean puts his hand on my cheek, bringing my eyes back to his fierce gray ones. “You’ve made your point. But you can work in LA.” My mind freezes on the words “you made your point.” What is that supposed to mean? But he keeps talking. “Your family misses you. I miss you.”

  “Sean, I wasn’t just making a point. I’m making a career for myself,” I clarify with steely intention.

  “Right, of course. That’s what I mean.” Sean recovers quickly. “Alex, I get it now. This is important to you. And that’s fine. But couldn’t you try to do it back home? I want us to try again. I want you to give me another chance.”

  I look away from his impassioned, sincere face. Am I supposed to believe he’s totally seen the light? Out of the blue? Right when I decide to interrupt him and put an end to this charade, I see Nick Slants walking through the revolving glass doors. He makes a beeline for me.

  “Alex, are you listening? I get it now. And I want the same things you do. So let’s do it. What do you say?” He’s still got my hand in his.

  “Sean, wait a second.” I tug on my hand, but he doesn’t let go. My eyes dart to Nick, who is now hanging back, watching us like we’re his favorite soap opera. “Sean. Just hold on. What are you saying?” I know I should just get rid of him, but I can’t help asking the question.

  “Isn’t it obvious? Alex, I want us to get married. I was an idiot to let you get away. And I want to fix it. I promise. Come home, and we’ll make everything right.” I can feel Nick’s eyes bouncing back and forth between us and it’s making me sick to my stomach.

  “I have to go back to work, Sean. I can’t talk about this now.”

  “Of course. I understand.” He says the words, but the frustration in his voice is hard to miss. “Just promise me you’ll think about it. I’m not going home until we talk about this.”

  “Okay,” I say, wishing I had the time to resolve this now. Sean is staying in Manhat
tan? “I’ll call you. As soon as I can.” Before I can fully step back, Sean leans in and kisses me firmly on the lips. And then he turns and walks out. Right past our audience of one. Nick saunters up to me and disgustingly begins a golf clap.

  “How romantic. You’ll have to tell me how it ends.”

  “Nick?! What the hell are you doing here?” I delay, trying to get myself back on track.

  “Well, I could ask you the same thing. But I’m glad you’re here. I need your help.”

  “Why in God’s name would I help you?” I’d put my death stare up against Hillary’s anytime.

  “What’s happened? You’re angry?” Nick asks in a cocky voice, but it’s undercut by how compulsively he keeps checking his phone.

  “Yeah, I think I have the right to be pretty angry. You tricked me into confiding in you about things, and then used me as your ‘source.’” Nick’s eyes widen as my words start to sink in. “You got me fired, Nick. I wouldn’t pour water on you if you were on fire after what you did. So get lost.” Running the biggest bluff of my life, I turn my back on him. Ignoring my churning stomach and pounding heart, I force myself to walk toward the elevator bank. He’s still back there. I can practically hear him thinking, hopefully trying to work his next angle. My heart is already slamming double time. I don’t know if I will make it up to the Late Night studios floor without losing my lunch, but I just keep putting one foot in front of the other. This has to work.

  “Look, Alex, I’m sorry it all came down the way it did.” Nick oozes sincerity as he catches up with me before I clear the security turnstile. “I meant to tell you who I was, but you gave me those quotes… And let me tell you, after what Hillary’s done to so many people in this industry? The damage she’s caused? You did the right thing speaking out.”

  “I didn’t ‘speak out.’” I have to force every word past my locked jaw. “You tricked me. I would never have said those things on the record. And now you’re acting as if you’re out for the greater good? Spare me.”

  “Fine. How ’bout this? I’ll take your name out of it. Hillary may have fired you, but if I change it to ‘insider source’ you might still be able to work in Hollywood.”

  I look at him suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”

  “Okay, here’s the thing… Alex.” Nick takes a deep breath. “I’ve caught on to this huge… thing. A story. That could be huge. Like, bigger than Brad and Angelina. It’s like if Bill Cosby and Heidi Fleiss had a scandal baby.” I gasp at his grossly callous assessment, but he continues, oblivious. “This thing could explode. I don’t even know how many A-listers are involved. But it’s happening like now. Tonight. And you can help me get into the scene.”

  “And if I help you, you’ll take my name out of the article?” I reiterate slowly, really letting it sink in.

  “More than that… If you want me to keep your name off that article, we have to go now.”

  I’d rather swallow nails than go anywhere with this dirtbag, but I remind myself my entire career, my pride, literally everything I have is at stake here. This is my only option.

  “What would I have to do?”

  He hears the reluctance, the lack of trust in my voice, and dials up the charm. “Okay. Last night I managed to sneak into the after-party of a premiere event on the West Side. There were a bunch of A-list celebs there. I couldn’t really get photos, it was so dark, but I overheard a few conversations and managed to put together that there is some ugly shit going on right now.”

  “Ugly?”

  “Yeah. Some of the guys were talking in code about an invitation-only poker game. But then when I was staking out the bathroom…” I can’t contain my eye roll at that, which of course Nick defends. “Dude, Alex, you wouldn’t believe the stuff guys say at the urinals.” I just shake my head, trying to clear the disgusting visual from my mind as Nick glances at his watch and then continues enthusiastically. “Anyway, in walk two major stars. I recognize both their voices. And they are… legit.”

  “Who?” Because it would look weird if I didn’t ask.

  “It was…” Nick hesitates, looking around to make sure he’s not overheard. “I’m not sure I’m ready to share that information with you yet. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. The point is these two guys were talking about this ‘poker game’ but, like, using air quotes. It’s totally a code for something else. And what I could tell from what they were saying, it’s like—I think it’s…”—I can practically hear the drumroll in his head—“an illegal sex ring. Probably tons of drugs…” Nick trails off, as if it’s manna from the gods. He’s probably imagining the headlines right now.

  I bring him back to earth. “Nick, that’s not a story. Who cares if celebs are having sex? And everyone assumes they’re doing some sort of drugs, right? That’s Hollywood. I don’t think that’s going to be headline news.”

  “You have no idea. This goes so much deeper. I’m not just talking sex. They were talking about any kind of sex you could want. With a sex ring—who knows? Kinky stuff? Minors? Prostitutes? Sex slaves? Human trafficking? I might get a Peabody for this. Oh my God. I bet they’re doing stuff that makes Charlie Sheen look like an amateur.”

  I snort my disbelief.

  “Exactly—me saying it isn’t enough. That’s why you have to get me upstairs. Like, now.” I look at my security pass, then back up at him. “It’s worth it. This is the story of the century. And I’m going to be the face of it.” He sees my distress and goes in for the kill. “I’ll make it worth your while. After this, I could charge double for the Hillary story… everyone will want my byline. But, like I said, I’ll take your quotes out of it.” He pats my shoulder, full of assurances. “I promise.”

  “What studio are we going to?” He can’t help but smirk at the hint of me caving in.

  “The Late Night show’s green room. Hillary P.’s stage is just down the hall, right?”

  “You got me fired, Nick. Now you want me to just waltz in there with a guest?”

  “For God’s sake, Alex. Can you get me in or not? I’ve got other connections if you can’t do it, and then our deal is off. I’ll run the article about Hillary, and with the publicity I’ll have from this epic story, you’ll be the most famous whistle-blower since Monica Lewinsky.” The scope of this is so intimidating. But I can’t chicken out now. I pull out my ID card with a deep breath and head over to the security desk.

  The afternoon guard shift is run by a fabulous diva named Janeé. She always wears full-glam eye makeup and bright red lips that contrast spectacularly with her dark skin. We bonded my second day when I gave her a new lip pencil that has a long-lasting no-smear promise on the packaging. I knew the color was something Hillary couldn’t wear, but would be perfect for Janeé.

  “Hey, Janeé. What’s up?” That’s me, super casual. You never know what mode she’ll be in, and since she’s almost six feet tall, definitely over two hundred pounds, you don’t want to get on Janeé’s bad side. Ever.

  “Alex. What’s up, girl?” Janeé gives Nick the full head-to-toe inspection. “I got to say, I like the other one better.” Nick darts me an angry look and pointedly pulls out his watch again.

  “I know. Me too,” I say, moving up to Janeé’s counter so Nick is behind me. “But I left something of his upstairs. Could you just let me bring him up for a minute?”

  “Honey, you know you’re not on the list anymore. Your card should’ve been confiscated,” she says loudly, clearly for Nick’s benefit. With my back blocking my movement, I quickly shove my day pass for Late Night across the table at her. Let Nick think I’m bribing her.

  “It’ll only take me a second, Janeé. I promise. It’s personal stuff, you know? Nick’s cool. He’s just with me for moral support,” I beg shamelessly.

  Janeé takes her time sizing Nick up again, and I can feel him starting to sweat, which I can’t help but enjoy. Then she raises a darkly lined eyebrow at me and smirks. “Okay, honey. But make it quick. And don’t let your friend touch anything.
”

  “Right, you got it.” As Nick is practically dragging me toward the turnstile into the elevator bank, I shoot back, “You’re the best, Janeé, thank you!”

  HAVING SAFELY MADE IT to the elevator bank, Nick presses the up arrow. He keeps nervously checking our backs as if at any second Janeé is going to come tearing around the corner and bodily force our removal.

  “What’s the plan, once we get there?” I ask as we step on board. Miraculously, the large corporate elevator is empty except us, so I give myself plenty of space opposite him. I wonder how much of this he’s going to tell me. Watching the floors tick by, I’m running out of time. “What are you doing?” I bug him again as he checks his phone. “Posting about this?” So much for subtlety.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” he says smugly. “I’m building anticipation for my big news.”

  “What, to your eight thousand Twitter followers?” I taunt.

  “It just starts there. It’ll go viral, don’t worry.” Worry? Ha. He doesn’t know the half of it.

  “But then it’s not your story, is it? People will forget all about who discovered something this shocking, right? CNN, NBC, they’ll all have their own reporters on it and you’ll be nothing.” He ignores me and keeps flipping through his phone, but my gut is telling me I’ve gotten to him. I can afford to hold out a few more floors, make him come to me.

  “So, what? How do I keep my name attached?” he says casually, but I can see the intensity behind his eyes. I hope it’s enough.

  “Well, I don’t know…” I pause as if thinking it through. “You shouldn’t just write something other people can copy and paste. You have to be on camera. Yourself, you know?”

  “No one knows what I look like. I’ve kept it a mystery. People speculate all the time,” Nick says, clearly proud of his little game. “You wouldn’t believe how much easier it is to get the scoop anonymously.”