by Marie Garner
“Well, that went well,” she said sarcastically when they left the building.
“Brea, look,” Max started.
“Please, not you, too. I can’t take this. It’s not as if I’ve done anything to warrant the bad press. They’re just upset because they think it affects their ratings.”
“And with good reason. This is not a movie where you are needed for a limited time but if you have one which doesn’t do as well, there is a potential to have a hit with the next one. This is television, and they live and breathe by their ratings. I hope you were listening, Brea, because you need to get it together or you’re going to find yourself out of a job.” He left her standing on the sidewalk, mulling over the shit-storm she just experienced. How could she go from being on a relationship high to a relationship low in a matter of hours? She called Lance, wanting to tell him about what happened, but his phone went to voicemail. She needed to talk to someone about what just happened, and if Lance wasn’t available there were only two other people she would turn to.
“Raquel? You busy tonight?”
“Are you fucking serious?” Raquel asked after Brea relayed what happened in the meeting.
“I can’t make this up. They all sat there, so prim and proper, trying to tell me I was somehow to blame for the bad ratings.”
“That’s bullshit; you don’t have anything to do with that. Heartland just has a better storyline this year. They knew they were holding on by a string last year when we barely maintained the top spot, which is why they brought Lance in to shake stuff up. He shook stuff up, just not the stuff they wanted shaken.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Brea mumbled. “The problem is once this contract is over, I have no legal recourse if they choose not to renew my contract.”
“But do you really think they would do that?” asked Clare, who sat quietly during the previous exchanged. “You are one of the stars. There is no Maggie Beach without you.”
“Max said they could do whatever they wanted. And on top of that, I had a REALLY pleasant conversation with Henry this afternoon when I asked him why he wasn’t on top of the press.”
“What did that asshole have to say?” Raquel had never liked him, something she made obvious whenever he came up in conversation.
Brea shrugged. “He told me I wasn’t the same client he had three months ago and it was getting harder to manage me. I can’t blame him because in a way, he’s right. I have changed recently. The problem is he’s refusing to adapt.”
“I hate to break it to you, Brea, but he was never on your side,” Clare said sympathetically. “I mean, he was able to keep your reputation pristine, but anyone could have done that because you weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Are you telling me I’m doing something wrong now?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Clare replied diplomatically. “What I’m saying is you were a dream to work with, and people didn’t bother you because you kept to yourself. When you hooked up with Lance, you automatically became a target for media fodder, and Henry doesn’t know how to handle it.”
“I guess you’re right. Lance has been on me to reconsider working with Henry anyway. He doesn’t like the way he talks to me when he’s mad at something I’ve done.”
“A few things,” Raquel interrupted. “Number one, he has no damn business approving or disapproving of what you do. His job is to handle your press, not judge your behavior. Number two, I know you pay him a shitload of money, so it doesn’t matter if you suddenly became more work, because you compensate him for any inconvenience. Third thing, I would have fired his ass years ago. You shouldn’t be berated for acting like an adult when people get offended.”
“Now I know why I called you,” Brea smirked. Raquel had a valid point, and she would needed to consider getting someone new to represent her, especially if she found herself without a job in the next couple months. As it was, they had already threatened not to renew her contract, but they may do so anyway if they truly believe she’s the reason they were having bad press.
“Hey, I have my uses. And as far as the stuff going on with your contract, I would cross that bridge when you get there. At this point, they’re just threatening you because they can. It should all work out in the end, but you may want to lay low for the next little bit just to be on the safe side.”
“I know.” Brea chose to believe everything would work itself out; she had experience and reputation on her side, although the reputation was crumbling faster than she could put the pieces back together. She just needed to cool it for a while and hope everyone would forget about her. Or maybe pigs would fly.
Raquel stood up from the table. “Now, what do you say we get stinking drunk and forget everything happened this afternoon?” True to what Raquel said, they got completely intoxicated and tried to forget everything going on with Brea. She found comfort in her friends, lounging around her house where they could have some much-needed privacy and a girls’ night. She was able to catch up with the girls, who she hadn’t seen in the last week or so with all the traveling she had been doing. She didn’t hear from Lance, despite texting him a couple times. She chose not to read too much into it, but given the events which unfolded this afternoon, she couldn’t stop the doubts that crept in. He won’t ruin my reputation, she thought before she finally passed out in her bed in the early morning hours.
“So, what are you going to do with all your free time?” Lance asked over their celebratory dinner a week later. They had finished all the promo for Maggie Beach, so they were truly on a hiatus from work. Thank goodness, Brea thought. To say the last week had been strained was an understatement. Her relationship with Garrett was awkward. When she talked to Lance about the meeting the following day, he had been very supportive and told her he would do whatever he could to make sure she kept her job.
“Torture you,” she said matter-of-factly.
“I can’t wait,” he smirked. “But just remember, I can withhold the P.”
“The P? Hold old are you again? Because an adult would be able to say the word penis.”
He cocked his eyebrow. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about my penis, smarty.”
“What would you be talking about then?”
“Pleasure. Which means no orgasms for you.
“There’s just one problem with your plan, hot shot!”
“What’s that?”
She leaned in and put her elbows on the table, making her breasts push together and out of her dress, watching his green eyes flare with desire. “If I’m not getting any orgasms, neither are you.”
“So you say.”
She narrowed his eyes at the implication he would be having sex with someone else.
“So I know. If you want to keep that equipment you feel so proud of, you better watch yourself.” She pointed toward the edge of the table where he sat. Lance fidgeted nervously.
“You’re so blood-thirsty.”
“You love it.”
“Unfortunately, for me. How did we even get on this topic?”
“You asked me what I was doing for break.”
“Which you deflected, but I really want to know.”
“Fine,” she said dramatically. “If you must know, I’m going home for a bit,” she told him hesitantly. He looked shocked, which didn’t surprise her. Given the fact she hardly ever went home before, it stood to reason it wouldn’t be the first place she went.
“Really?”
“Well, I talked to Alex the other day, and they worked out the plea. The only thing left is for the judge to sign off on it.” Lance waited until the waiter set their food down before he questioned her.
“What is the deal going to be?”
“Well, he has to do another two weeks because they gave him credit for time served. After that, they will transfer him to a private rehab facility where he will have court-ordered, thirty-day in-house rehab. Then he will be on probation for the next year and a half. When he gets done with his probation, he’ll be free to
leave the state, and hopefully—” she crossed her fingers “—he will move here.”
“Well, at least one issue’s been resolved.”
“I know. Now if only I can stay out of the news because of anything crazy, it’ll be all good.”
“Have they said anything about it?” Lance didn’t believe they would let her go. Shows tended to hang onto their stars, so he figured they were just trying to scare her into doing what they wanted her to do.
“No, and I haven’t asked. I guess I’ll see in the coming weeks when they start talking about contract negotiations.”
“I still don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“But I still need to watch what I do.” It was an old argument. He refused to come right out and say it, but Brea knew he thought she was overreacting. But it wasn’t his job on the line; it was hers and she loved her job. She didn’t want to have to look for new work or join the ambiguity of movie acting, where you were constantly auditioning or trying to find work. She liked the stability of Maggie Beach, probably because she lacked it while living with her mother.
“I agree completely. Which is why getting out of LA for a while might be good for you. I’m thinking about it myself.” This was news to her, and he usually kept her abreast of what he had going on.
“Where you going?”
“I was thinking the Dominican Republic.”
Her eyes widened; she thought he was going to say somewhere like Oklahoma. “Really?”
“Why not? We have the time. But the thing is I don’t want to go by myself.” He ran his hand up and down his glass slowly, reminding her of how he would stroke her skin.
“Who do you want to go with you?”
“Well, if you’re not doing anything, I’m dragging your ass.”
“Romance is never dead when you’re around.”
He scoffed, “You don’t want romance, darlin’. You want it hot and raw, exactly how I give it to you. And admit it; you’d be bored if I didn’t spar with you.”
“Why do I still sleep with you?”
“Because I give you orgasms.” He jerked up when he first felt her foot. He looked at her with confusion, and then smirked when she ran her foot up his leg. He widened his stance to let her rub him with her foot.
“Speaking of orgasms,” she said when he got the half-lidded look he did if he was ready to take her to bed.
“Check.” He held up his hand for the waitress so they could leave.
“What the hell does he want?” Lance glanced in the rearview mirror at the flashing blue lights.
“Who knows?” Brea continued to apply her lip-gloss in the rearview mirror. Lance pulled over, putting his hands on the wheel to get ready for the officer.
“How are you guys tonight?”
“Good,” Lance answered.
“I pulled you over because your taillight’s out.” He pointed toward the left corner of the car with his flashlight.
“Oh, okay. I didn’t realize.” Lance handed his license and registration over when asked. The officer tapped the license, taking in the name.
“Mr. Holder, can you step out of the car please?” Lance glanced at Brea before reluctantly getting out of the car.
“Is there a problem, sir?”
“No problem, I just smell alcohol in the car. Have you been drinking tonight?”
Lance held up one finger. “I had one beer.” Lance noticed another police car pulled up behind the first one. “Oh, great,” he muttered, leaning against his car.
“What was that, sir?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head ruefully. This wasn’t going to end well; he could feel it.
“What’s going on?” Brea asked from the car. Both Lance and the officer ignored her; the two officers had begun to issue the field sobriety test. Lance had no problem completing the various tasks, having only drunk one beer, but Brea was getting increasingly antsy in the car because she didn’t know what was happening.
“What’s going on?” Brea got out and shouted again from the other side of the car.
“Ma’am, get back in the car,” the first officer on the scene commanded.
“He only drank one beer; he’s not even close to the legal limit!” she pointed out.
“Brea,” Lance started, trying to explain to her he was about to be released, but she was too pissed.
“No, this is ridiculous!” She rounded the front of the car. “They shouldn’t be bothering you! Why the hell do we even have to deal with this?” The first cop approached her, hand on his hip where his gun holster rested.
“Ma’am, I am only going to tell you one more time, you need to get back into the car. You are about to make the situation worse if you don’t turn around.” She had widened her stance and put her hands on her hips, ready to argue her point.
“Get back in the car,” Lance said forcefully, his tone booking no argument. She glared at the officer for another minute before getting back in the car. She sat, one leg resting over the other and arms crossed over her chest. Lance was able to finish up with the officer, who gave him a warning for the taillight and sent him on his way. Brea was quiet when he got in the car, which was perfectly fine with him. He didn’t trust himself to speak with her; he was pissed about what she did in her misguided attempt at assistance.
“What is Henry doing here?” Lance wondered when they pulled up to her house fifteen minutes later.
“I called him,” she stated as though it was a common occurrence.
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said sarcastically. “My boyfriend got pulled over by a police officer, where he had to go through a field sobriety test, and I am on a short leash with my job right now.”
“You sound like I knew my taillight was out and I just didn’t fix it.”
“Whatever. I’m going to go in. You’re welcome to follow me if you want, or you can go home.” She stomped out of the car and marched past Henry into her house. Lance sat, key in the car while he debated going in. She was in a mood and he wanted no part of it, but he also didn’t trust Henry to be alone with her. Henry disrespected her at every turn, and Lance couldn’t face himself if he left and Henry was rude to her. Brea was his, whether she was pissed at him or not. He heard the yelling before he reached the living room. Brea and Henry were in a faceoff on either side of the couch, screaming at each other.
“Ever since you’ve been with him it has been one pile of shit after another! I’m sick of dealing with it! Now you went and did exactly what they told you NOT to do, because I can guaran-damn-tee you somebody had a camera, and your ass will be all over the news! Again!” Henry shouted.
“I know! But I need you to fix it! I pay you to fix stuff!” she screamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. “I didn’t even do anything!”
“It doesn’t fucking matter! Perception is reality and the public perception of you right now fucking sucks!” Lance saw red and moved so fast Henry didn’t see it coming. Lance grabbed him by his coat and slammed him against the wall where he banged his head.
“You really need to shut the fuck up right now. You don’t get to spew your shit at her like any of this is her fault. You got a problem, you address me. If not, you can get the fuck out because last I checked, SHE pays YOU.” Lance was in Henry’s face, but Henry wisely didn’t move. Brea had on seen Lance unleashed once before, and both times it was a bit frightening. He spoke so calmly it was scary. This was not an emotional shout; it was calm and calculated.
“Well…” Henry blustered, some of his earlier anger dissipating in the face of a very pissed-off Lance. Henry put his hands up in defeat. “Look, all I was doing was looking after her best interest.”
Lance cocked his head, studying him. “No, you mean YOUR best interest. Don’t get this shit twisted; we know all you want is to get paid. And just because you have to do a little more work now than you did before, you’re pissed, you lazy ass.”
“It’s my JOB to make sure she’s portraye
d in the best possible light.”
“Don’t bullshit me. You have been riding her coattails for years. You found her when she was just starting out, and she’s been too nice to fire you. Well, I’m not, and if you think she won’t listen to me, you need to think again. She can find a new agent who isn’t an asshole.”
Henry flicked his eyes at Brea before looking at Lance, figuring out real quick who was running this show. Brea wasn’t about to say shit.
“I have a contract.” Really? Brea thought. That’s all he can come up with about why I should keep him?
Lance laughed softly, still in Henry’s face. “I can buy your contract out with less than two month’s work. Don’t insult my intelligence. What I suggest, because I am done with talking to you about this today, is that you leave. Now. Don’t call me, DEFINITELY don’t call and harass her, or her lawyer will contact you in a couple of days.” Brea could see Henry’s jaw working, and Brea knew he was getting pissed off, but what could he say? Lance had him, and he knew it.
“This isn’t fucking done,” Henry said before he walked out the door, slamming it. Lance looked at her as though daring her to speak.
“Uh….” Brea didn’t know what to say. What the hell DO you say after something like that?
“What? Don’t tell me you got a problem with what I just said to Henry.
Brea was shocked, not certain why he was getting pissed at her. “I didn’t say that…” she started, but he clearly saw something he didn’t like because he laid into Brea.
Lance punched the wall, causing Brea to flinch instinctively. “Don’t fucking flinch away from me; you have NOTHING to be scared of when it comes to me. Don’t you know I would die for you? So if you think I’m going to let that asshole talk to you like you have lost your mind, then understand this. You need to get rid of his ass now because all he does is spout shit and get pissed at you.”
Brea wanted to lash out, angry and embarrassed because he was right. “You know what, Lance? Henry may be an asshole, but he has a point when it comes to you.”
“What point?”