by E V Darcy
‘We know who you are,’ the male officer snapped. ‘Pop the trunk.’
‘What?’
‘Pop the trunk, now!’ the man shouted over the rain and the spray of waves made by passing cars. Heart racing, Casey did as the man asked, and pressed the button on the side of his watch that automatically opened the boot of his car. The officer motioned with his gun for Casey to lift the lid of the compartment, and Casey complied, carefully and slowly walking towards the rear of the car. While it was difficult to keep his eyes open with the rain hitting his face so hard, so often, he was determined to keep his gaze on the firearm aimed at him, and prayed that his knees wouldn’t give way.
What the fuck was going on? If they were pulling him over for his speed, what the hell did they want with the back of his car? He stood to the side of Debbee, hands still up, when the lid lifted and the officer could see inside.
‘Nothing,’ the officer confirmed to his companion. He sounded… disappointed? Surprised?
‘Lock it up, and bring him in,’ the female officer said.
‘What?’ Casey asked, but anything else he might have said was stuck in his throat as the male officer manhandled him into turning around and into a pair of handcuffs; his Miranda Rights were read to him.
The flash of a camera across the road only made him groan, as he was hauled back upright and guided into the back of the waiting police car.
24
‘I need you to do this for me, Casey. None of this is going to look good right now, and unless you do as I say, you could lose everything,’ Mack said as they stepped out of the warm police building and into the cool night air.
Julian was waiting on the steps, ready to ensure they got to the cars safely. Mack paused for a moment to light his cigar. ‘It’s a good job they didn’t find anything, otherwise, it would completely sink you,’ the squat man said around the thick brown smoke as he closed his lighter and slipped it back in to his pocket.
‘They didn’t find anything,’ Casey replied between gritted teeth as they began walking again. ‘Because there wasn’t anything to find. Drugs are one thing I’ve never done. I’m not stupid. Don’t you dare,’ he added to Julian who had opened his mouth to comment. The Australian shrugged his shoulders and refocused on his job.
‘Doesn’t matter if there was or there wasn’t. They got a picture of the arrest, Case, there’s already a report in the paper of why you were arrested—’
‘What? Who the hell—’
‘I’m already looking into it, Mr. McManaman,’ Julian advised as they came to the car.
‘Casey, the head honchos over at the Network are baying for your blood,’ Mack told him seriously. ‘I’m doing everything in my power to stop them firing you right now—’
‘Let them fire me,’ Casey interrupted. ‘I don’t give a flying fuck anymore about the stupid Network or their—’
‘This could sink your Glynn West chances,’ Mack told him with a poke to the stomach to stop his words. ‘But if you get fired, you can definitely kiss that job goodbye.’
And that did the trick. Glynn West was the role Casey desperately wanted. He’d been considered for big roles before, he’d even started talks about Bond before Daniel Craig was announced, but he’d never managed to secure them—mainly because he fucked everything up at the last minute. This time, he’d done everything he possibly could to ensure he stayed favourable to the casting directors. He’d stopped partying, dating—although that was for completely different reasons—kept his head low to stay out of the paps’ sight, done nothing to draw attention to himself, until now.
‘Fine, I won’t leave the house unless I need to,’ he finally agreed to Mack’s earlier request as he climbed into the waiting car. Mack stood beside it, blowing smoke above his head.
‘Work commitments are fine,’ the shorter man said, looking his client in the eye. ‘But anything and everything else is run through Julian. He knows what’s an automatic yes and no. Anything he’s unsure of or hasn’t heard about, he’ll contact me.
‘Don’t blow this, kid.’ His eyes turned from hard to pleading. ‘You can nail this one, I know you can, you just gotta think, Casey, that’s all.’
Casey nodded as the driver closed the door. He sighed as he watched Mack, through the tinted window, turn away from him. A second later, the door on the other side of the car opened and Julian climbed in. They didn’t speak the whole way back to Malibu.
He felt like a fucking child.
Casey pouted as he sat on set with Julian next to him, watching the to-ing and fro-ing of the crew as they set up the next scene. He’d wanted to go back to his trailer and lock himself away to try and nurse his headache from the major bender he’d enjoyed the night before—in the safety of his own home, of course—but Julian wasn’t having it.
The bastard was a hard-arse. A sadistic one. Casey didn’t care if he’d been told to stay sober; he’d needed a drink after dealing with the fallout of the arrest last week—he’d handed the case to his lawyers to deal with after the force had admitted they’d acted a little rashly. Casey was positive that it Tristan who had tried to set him up, giving the police an anonymous tip he was dealing in drugs—not just partaking, but supplying and selling to those on set.
He groaned at the thought. Drugs were one thing he’d never indulged in, after watching his sister waste away to the awful things, during his childhood. However, very few people knew that titbit and Paige was one of them.
He held his face in his hands at the thought of Paige. He hadn’t made it to see her, and with his phone taken from him and a ban on any other access to social media, he didn’t have any way to contact her. Julian wouldn’t let him deviate from his schedule, which meant he couldn’t just pop across the studio to see her.
‘Mr. McManaman,’ Benji’s voice was gentle as he tried to get Casey’s attention, clearly aware that he wasn’t in the best of states.
‘What is it, Benji?’ Caset asked, his voice muffled by his hands.
‘Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but I thought you should know the Network bigwigs are on set—’
‘What?’ he said, his head snapping up and his hands dropping quickly. His head swam for a moment and his stomach protested at the sudden movement. For just a second, he thought he might be sick. That was exactly what he’d need, puking in front of The Powers That Be. There was only one reason the Network higher-ups came down and that was to fire someone’s arse.
‘I came to tell you,’ the young assistant continued. ‘I overheard someone say they’re looking for you. I thought—’
‘Thanks, man,’ Casey said, as his stomach settled once more. He saw where the men and women, who held them all by the short and curlies, were coming from, indicated by the sudden stillness of the crew. ‘Get out of here,’ he said through gritted teeth as he stood up and made himself a little more presentable in the scruffy suit wardrobe had dressed him in for the next scene. ‘You don’t want to be on their radar because of me.’
He felt Benji’s eyes watching him as he stepped towards the impeccably-dressed group of executives, and he felt as if he was making his way towards the gallows. The rest of the cast openly watched the spectacle, all eyes glued to the horrific crash that Casey knew was about to happen and was helpless to stop.
If he wasn’t sure he was about to have his career terminated, he’d have laughed at the whole thing. The way the executives walked towards him was like a scene out of a Tarantino movie. He racked his brain trying to think if any shared their name with a colour.
‘Mr. McManaman,’ the president of the Network addressed him, as he stepped out from behind his executive board.
‘Mr. Bracknell,’ Casey said, holding out his hand. The president looked at his proffered hand fleetingly, before gazing back towards the star. Casey shrugged his shoulders and dropped his hand; he hadn’t actually expected the old dick to shake it. The older man stared down his long thin nose and through the glasses perched on the end of it, to assess Casey.
‘Mr. McManaman, I am disappointed to have to find myself personally coming down here, but I feel that this is the only way to get through to you.’ Wow, didn’t he feel like he had been called into the principal’s office? ‘We have warned you before, that should any further scandals appear, then your contract would be terminated immediately.’
Casey’s heart jumped into his mouth. Could this be the moment? Were they about to tell him to go? Part of him wanted him to fall to his knees, to beg them to let him stay, to not give up on him, to say he’d do better, but the other part—a larger part—wanted them to fire his arse. He wanted them to say get your stuff and go, because then he’d be free, and right now he liked that idea very much. He wouldn’t be beholden to them anymore. They wouldn’t control him, direct him, tell him he was a worthless piece of shit…
‘However,’ the man added with a sniff. ‘It appears that in the wording of that formal warning, it stipulated the particular type of scandals, and as you haven’t stuck your head above the parapet on those kinds of matters in recent times, I do not find myself in the position to give you your leaving orders.
‘Therefore,’ the man continued and held his hand out. Someone behind him hurried forward and slipped an envelope into it. ‘I have made the matter as clear as day within this, your final warning.’ He held the envelope out to the star.
Casey took it, glanced at the neat script on the front of the envelope and handed it to Julian, who tucked it away inside his jacket. Bracknell raised one perfectly-shaped eyebrow at the dismissive gesture. Casey didn’t need to read it; he knew what it said, having received them before—although he’d never had the president of the Network hand them to him directly.
‘Yes, well,’ Bracknell said. ‘Furthermore, I understand that there are problems on this set. Apparently, you and Mr. Swift are acting more like children than adults.’ He walked around Casey as he spoke, analysing him as a drill sergeant would a new recruit.
‘Swift seems to have the problem, sir,’ Casey advised. ‘He’s spread untrue rumours about another network employee, which resulted in him attacking—’
‘Yes, yes,’ Bracknell said with a wave of his hand. ‘I’ve read the complaint Miss Hamilton filed… but I understand that was only at your behest.’ There went that damned eyebrow again.
‘The man struck her,’ Casey said through gritted teeth. ‘He raised his hand to a pregnant woman, a woman under your care on this lot—’
‘Don’t tell me what my job is, Mr. McManaman; Mr. Swift, in turn, filed a complaint against you striking him. As I said, like children, tit-for-tat.’
‘Sir, Swift can do whatever the hell he wants,’ Casey said, ‘I don’t care if he files a hundred complaints against me, Paige should feel safe working here. She shouldn’t have to come to work and worry if someone is saying they shagged her rotten in their car the night before or on the set last week or—’
‘Yes, yes, I get the picture. But, perhaps, Miss Hamilton needs to stop… opening shop, shall we say.’
A small gasp ran through the crew, and Casey saw red. How dare this grade A, older than a dinosaur’s fart, douchebag lay the blame of Tristan’s actions at Paige’s feet! The guy had no right to spread lies about her, to use the friendship she had cultivated with him to his own twisted advantage—although Casey still couldn’t fathom what that was—and then take it out on her when she called him on his bullshit.
‘What the fuck did you just say?’ he asked, stepping towards the older man. ‘Did you just call the mother of my child a slut?’ Another gasp echoed around the room, and he could have sworn he heard Benji whisper a happy yes just behind him. He felt Julian tense up next to him and was certain that the guy was about to haul him over his shoulder and carry him back to his trailer, to lock him up there and refuse to let him out between scenes again.
That was if the man in front of him didn’t fire his arse immediately.
‘Your interpretation is your own,’ Bracknell replied with a sigh.
‘No,’ Casey said with a shake of his head as he took another step towards him, bringing them face to face. The old man didn’t flinch and Casey had to admit he had balls. ‘I know, and everyone else here knows exactly what you’re saying. You’re condoning violence against women. No, screw that, you’re saying it’s okay for men to use women however they want, whenever they want, to their own ends.’
‘Isn’t that how you’ve lived your own life, Mr. McManaman?’ Bracknell asked as he removed his glasses. He started to clean them as if the topic of conversation was as genteel as the weather. ‘The scandals you’ve caused us over the years, the women whose lawyers have contacted us—’
‘The difference between Swift and I, is that it was the women who went to the papers. The women who brought any time I shared with them to public knowledge the moment I left their beds. Paige had no clue Swift was lying about their friendship—’
‘Mr. McManaman. I am quite a busy man.’ The president put his glasses back on. ‘I merely came down here to reiterate the seriousness of your position. And to also remind you that should your contract here end unfavourably, I doubt you’d be able to find anyone else to take you on.’
‘I don’t care if you fire me. I don’t care if I never act again. I won’t see a woman being smacked about by any man, and stand idly by. And I’ll happily tell that to the papers!’
‘Good day, Mr. McManaman,’ the man sighed. It was as if Casey was merely an annoyance, rather than another person, and definitely not someone speaking sense.
Bracknell turned and left, his minions following on his heels, treating him as their king. It wasn’t until the doors to the sound stage swung closed behind them, that the room seemed to give a collective sigh of relief. Casey rubbed his hand over his face as he sat down again, shoulders sagging.
‘Well done, Mr. McManaman,’ Benji said, offering him a bottle of water. ‘That was—’
‘Stupid.’
‘Amazing,’ Benji corrected him. Julian grunted his agreement. ‘Mr. McManaman—’
‘Benji,’ Casey interrupted the young man. He looked up at the young assistant, taking the water from his hands. ‘I think you’ve earned the right to call me Casey.’ He opened the bottle of water and took a deep drink—wishing it was something much stronger.
He wondered how much he could get for his house, and if he could live on it back in England if he chose to move somewhere cheap and quiet. He was going to miss his life because there was no way he’s wasn’t going to get the sack now.
‘He admitted to being the father? In front of everyone?’ Deanna asked down the line. Paige nodded as she scoffed yet another bowl of English trifle. She had no idea why the kid had made her crave such weird things, but every time a dish that wasn’t common to the United States popped up on her Pinterest board, it made her taste buds demand to be satisfied by sampling it. Trifle had become a huge thing and Deanna, bless her, had sourced a place in the city of angels that made it. Paige had been a valued customer there ever since.
‘Ben said—’
‘He’s that assistant from Casey’s show, right?’
Paige nodded as she swallowed a quick spoonful of the custard, cream, sponge, and jelly mix. ‘Yeah, he’s been fantastic these last few weeks in keeping me up-to-date with everything.’
It was true. He’d come over to lot thirteen the day she’d returned to work after Tristan’s assault, and told her he thought the way she’d handled it was brilliant. They’d talked for a while over cokes and chocolate, and he’d been horrified when she told him what had really happened. It had been so nice to have someone to talk to, right there. He’d given her a hug afterwards, and the world had felt a little better.
‘I still can’t get over them fighting over you,’ Deanna said with a dreamy smile, but Paige just rolled
her eyes.
‘You’re approaching forty, woman’—Deanna gasped indignantly—‘you should know it’s not like you’re imagining. It was no gentleman’s duel. And they weren’t fighting over me exactly,’ Paige reminded her friend. ‘I was just the catalyst.’
‘Whatever,’ Deanna dismissed. ‘You say po-tay-to, I say po-tah-toe.’
‘So, you’re coming out for Christmas, right?’ Paige asked eagerly.
‘Yeah, yeah—I still can’t believe they won’t let you fly after twenty-eight weeks.’
‘They do, but—’
‘It’s a hassle, I know, I know. Stupid—’
‘If you say baby, I swear—
‘I was gonna say people!’ Deanna stuck her middle fingers up to the screen and Paige laughed. They may be on the wrong side of thirty-five, but they both still acted like teenagers. ‘Ugh, we got off-track again, but I gotta go—text me tomorrow?’
‘Sure,’ Paige said as she put another mouthful of the dessert in her mouth. Deanna pulled a face before blowing a kiss and closing the application.
‘You’re drunk,’ Benji’s disapproving voice caught Casey off guard.
‘I am not,’ Casey said as he stumbled out of his trailer and hit the floor, hard. ‘Okay, I might be a little drunk,’ he admitted as he tried to push himself up on his hands and knees. When that failed, he managed to flip himself over onto his back.
There were no stars, he realised as he gazed up into the night sky. The city lights blotted them out, and Casey suddenly wanted to move to the countryside, away from all the damn pollution. He wanted to see the stars and liked the idea of Montana. They had cows, right? Maybe he could be a cow farmer?
‘I don’t think you’re right for farming, Casey,’ Benji said as he bent over to try to help the star to his feet. ‘I think cows might be a bit too much for you to handle.’
‘Hey!’ Casey snapped. He pointed his finger at the other man, which Benji batted away easily. ‘If I want to milk some cows, I’ll bloody well milk some cows! Where are the cows?’