“I’ll support you from the sidelines,” Eve says. She smiles, but the expression doesn’t reach her eyes. “But, Penny, as much as I want to, I really can’t. Just talking to Julia about it tore me up. It’s been three years and I still can’t reckon with it.”
She clears her throat. My eyes sting. I shouldn’t be getting emotional. This didn’t happen to me. It happened to someone else, and I don’t want to make this about how I feel. Penny reaches out for her hand. Eve grips it.
“I’m really glad you’re doing this.” She shakes her head, pressing her eyes closed. “Ever since they started running commercials for that documentary, it’s gotten worse.”
God, the documentary. The more I find out about this guy, the more the documentary burns me up.
“I know,” Penny says. “I haven’t been watching TV. The commercials…it’s too much.”
“He definitely knows how to curate his image,” Eve says. “You should’ve seen my contract.”
“Oh God,” Penny says. “I—I can’t believe so many people are helping him cover it up.”
“Wait,” I say. “What was in the contract?”
“A very intense nondisclosure agreement,” Eve says. “Actors sign away their right to mention anything that happens on set or during production. If they do, Lennox will definitely sue for everything they have.”
On the surface, it sounds like a famous director being particular about the way his sets are run. But knowing what I do, I think it sounds sinister.
I ask, “That doesn’t make any of the actors suspicious?”
“Maybe a little,” Penny says. “But it’s Lennox. Everyone wants to work with him. No one’s gonna give up that chance just because of an NDA.”
“But…” I shake my head, pushing away my bowl. “Do they know? About the allegations?”
“If they don’t before they sign on, I’m sure they do after,” Eve says. “Just think about it. If you see that clause in your contract, you’re going to have some questions. But even then, I’m not sure it’s possible to work with him without knowing. It’s one of the biggest open secrets in Hollywood. Everyone knows about it.”
It doesn’t make any sense. How could so many people know and not say anything? Not do anything? How could actors hear about this and decide to keep working with him? What about the members of the crew? Costume designers? Craft service? Is this a massive conspiracy? It’s hard to fathom how many people know and haven’t tried to stop it.
Does Marius know?
“But why hasn’t anyone said anything?” I snap. “It’s just—I don’t understand. How can they just stand by and watch it happen? Or know that it happens? There are other directors. Ones who don’t do this. I can’t— I don’t—”
“We know,” Penny says. “But imagine what you’re up against if you speak out. I’m sure people want to do something. They’re just scared.”
She puts a hand on my knee, but it doesn’t do anything to make me feel better. The fact that she’s trying to comfort me when this happened to her just makes me feel even more useless.
“It’s an ugly machine,” Eve says, locking eyes with me again. “And I’m sure you’ll face resistance by fighting against it. But I promise I’ll help as much as I can. I just can’t talk about what happened to me. Not if I want to maintain any sense of self.”
She smiles again. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to kill someone. If a woman from one of the most powerful families in Hollywood can’t confront this guy, who can?
@JosieTheJournalist: really wish i were in bed right about now
The entire cast is supposed to go to a cocktail party at this fancy hotel today, but I’ve been spending all afternoon thinking of ways to get out of it. I could say that I suddenly caught the flu. Or that I don’t want to be around alcohol because I’m underage—even though I’m sure no one would actually serve me. Or I could just hide in the hotel and hope that Penny doesn’t notice I’m missing. Because Penny is the only one who would notice.
Penny and maybe Marius.
Maybe it isn’t fair that I’m avoiding him right now, but I don’t feel like being fair. I’m angry. Actors who work with Lennox have to sign nondisclosure agreements, but I’m sure there are stories swirling around. There have to be, if Penny and Julia know other women Lennox has hurt. Marius must have heard something.
I want to know why Marius would even consider working with Lennox when there are so many stories. If I got an offer to be in his movie—which I wouldn’t, but still—I would say no. Even if it meant that I didn’t get to be famous.
“That’s not really fair, though,” Alice says after I explain all of this to her. “Because you aren’t an actor. Acting isn’t your big thing, but it is for him. You don’t really care like that.”
“I care!”
“I mean,” Alice says, “not like an actual actor does, though.”
She’s already dressed, wearing this fancy black dress that’s so low-cut you can tell she isn’t wearing a bra. It’s really hard not to be jealous of Alice’s body sometimes. She has curves, but in the right places—her hips and her ass and her boobs look the way they’re supposed to. Or the way girls on TV and in magazines look, anyway.
I, on the other hand, am half dressed—which means I’m sitting on my bed in my underwear and have not actually put any real clothes on—my stomach and boobs and thighs too big for me to ever look like her, unless I dig the Spanx out of my suitcase. I pout.
“I guess,” I say. “But it’s like…if a gigantic magazine gave me the opportunity to write a cover on Ava DuVernay or something, but I knew the editor of the magazine had done horrible things to women, I wouldn’t be able to say yes. I’d feel too shitty about it.”
“But that’s a hypothetical,” Alice says, leaning toward the mirror to put on an earring. “You say that now, but you’d probably say something different if you actually were faced with it.”
“I don’t think it’s that hard to say you won’t work with bad people.”
“It’s not a contest, Josie,” Alice huffs. “I’m just saying that not everything is black and white.”
I stare at the bedspread. Sure, not everything is black and white, but there’s a difference between working with someone who might’ve done something normal bad—like made a nasty comment—and someone who consistently harms other people. Yet I can’t help but wonder whether I’d feel differently if I were in Marius’s shoes. I don’t know. I still think I would choose not to work with them. I still think I can be mad at Marius about it.
Alice tosses a skirt at me, covering my head. I grunt.
“Hurry up,” she says. “I told Savannah we’d get there early.”
* * *
Everyone else at the party looks like they just stepped off the runway—gowns of soft red and black and green paired with elegant high heels. I’m wearing a black skirt, because Alice made me, and a yellow blouse. That’s it. I immediately stick out.
“God, where were you?” Savannah says to Alice, appearing next to her in a cute red dress. “You said you were getting here early.”
I think I’m staring too long at her legs. The hard thing about being attracted to girls is that I’m never sure if I want to be them or be with them.
“Josie took forever,” Alice says, an eye roll in her voice. “It’s whatever. Where’s the open bar?”
“In the other room,” Savannah says, pointing down a dimly lit hall. Everything here is wooden floors and warm, dim lighting and the gentle murmur of polite conversation. “You’re missing a rousing debate about which movie is Cassavetes’s best.”
“Oh,” I say. This I can do. “Obviously A Woman Under the Influence.”
“That’s what you would think!” Savannah says, turning to me. “But then one guy said Faces, and now no one will shut up.”
“Okay.” Alice stares between the two of us. “This is big nerd talk. Savannah, let’s find the bar, and I’ll tell you about this gorgeous guy I saw on the High Line.”
Savannah grins at me and I grin back. I like talking about movies—or films—with other people. I don’t feel like I’m the only one who cares about them.
“Is Josie coming with us?” she asks, looking at me.
“Josie is underage,” Alice points out helpfully.
Savannah shrugs. “So are we.”
“Yeah, but Josie is technically working,” Alice says, already walking toward the next room. “And we are not.”
I wish I had a great comeback prepared, but I don’t. The truth is, I don’t want to hit up the open bar. I don’t even want to be here in general. I smile at Savannah as she follows Alice down the hall, trying to think of things I could include in my article. There will probably be speeches at some point that I can quote from. I’m sure it would be wise to…mingle? The only thing is, I’m not great with small talk, especially with people I don’t know.
At parties, I’m usually the person standing against the wall, watching as everyone else has fun. And it’s pretty much my own fault—after all, I could trail around after my sister and Savannah if I wanted to. But in some ways, it’s easier to be here by myself. It’s something I can handle.
I only recognize a few people in the room—a few New York–based directors of the indie variety, an actor or two. It’s weird to see celebrities in real life. It’s like they aren’t supposed to exist off a screen. There’s one woman in particular who catches my eye. I know her from somewhere. Then she turns her head and I recognize her immediately. She looks perfect: straight blond hair, blue eyes, a movie-star smile. Tallulah Port.
She’s one of the people Penny mentioned reaching out to. One of the people who are rumored to have been one of Roy’s victims. I watch her move around the room, a glass of wine in her hand, stopping to talk with people and flashing smiles.
Would it be ridiculous to approach her? I lick my lips. I can’t ask her about the rumors, not here, not in front of everyone. But maybe I can ask her about Penny. Is that horrible? That’s definitely putting her on the spot, but in a gentle way. Asking about Penny is just asking if she knows someone. That’s normal small talk.
God. Why am I so bad at this?
I close my eyes. It’s okay if she says no. She probably won’t be mean about it. Probably. And I’m doing this for a good reason. I take a deep breath and force myself away from the wall.
Tallulah Port has just plucked a cocktail shrimp from a waiter’s tray when I finally reach her, taking the biggest steps I can muster. She smiles at me in the small, bland way baristas do when you’re about to make an order.
“Um,” I say. “Hi.”
She continues smiling. “Hi.”
I swallow, willing the words to come out. She takes a sip of wine and glances around the room.
“I’m Josie,” I say. “And, um, I’m friends with Penny. Penny Livingstone?”
Her face drops, just for a second, before she regains composure.
“Oh, Penny,” she says. “She’s the sweetest, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” I say. I can’t quite read her expression. “I was just, uh, wondering if you’ve gotten the chance to speak to her lately?”
I’m sweating. Why am I sweating? I clench my arms close to my sides so that no one can see the stains soon to form under them.
“I’m afraid I haven’t,” Tallulah Port says, lifting up her glass of wine. “I’ve been so busy.”
“Sure,” I say. “I just wanted—”
“I’m sorry,” she says, stepping around me. “I’m afraid I see a dear friend I’ve been meaning to catch up with.”
“Oh,” I say. “But—”
“So nice meeting you,” she says, flashing the same barista smile. Then she’s gone.
Well, that couldn’t have gone any worse.
@JosieTheJournalist: i hate everything
It takes about twenty minutes for Penny to find me, during which time I stuff myself full with spinach puffs and shrimp to suppress the guilt.
“I can’t believe you didn’t look for me!” Penny says. She grins so wide, I can smell the wine on her breath. “I was looking for you! So was Marius!”
I try not to frown at his name. Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on him.
“Why do you look so sad?” Penny asks, knocking her elbow with mine. “It’s a party. You’re supposed to have fun. This is maybe the one time we get to have fun this entire trip.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Technically, I’m supposed to be working.”
Penny rolls her eyes. I smile a little.
“I’m technically working, too,” she says. “It’s okay to take a break. You’re so serious all the time. Let me go find Marius, and maybe—”
I grab her arm before she can go. She frowns.
“Maybe not,” I say. “Don’t you—aren’t you weirded out about him doing this movie with Lennox? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Of course.” She sways a bit. “Of course it freaks me out. But I— He doesn’t listen. He never wants to talk about it.”
I glance around, lowering my voice.
“Never wants to talk about the movie or the allegations?”
“Both.” Penny waves a hand. “All of it. He makes me want to scream. He just tells me he can handle himself and knows what he’s doing.”
Penny’s been trying to tell him about the allegations and he just waves her off? I swallow my frustration and decide to change the subject. “I sort of tried to talk to Tallulah Port. About—you know.”
Penny’s eyes go big.
“Here?”
“I wasn’t obvious,” I hiss. “I’m not that stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were,” she says, lowering her voice. “I just—I told you that she didn’t answer any of my emails. Plus, she doesn’t even know you.”
“I know,” I say. “I just—I don’t know. She was here and I figured that I should ask her before the moment was gone. You know?”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Literally nothing. I just asked if she knew you, and she was kind of weird and then said she had to go.”
Penny presses her lips together.
“I don’t know,” I say again. “I guess we can find some other people to ask, right?”
Penny rubs her eyes. Suddenly, she doesn’t look so bubbly anymore.
“I hope so,” she says. “I’ve been asking around since Eve, and it doesn’t seem like anyone wants to talk.”
My stomach squirms. I want to curl into a ball and watch Real Housewives and pretend this isn’t as hard as it is. But I can’t. I have to be strong for Penny.
“We got Julia,” I say. “And we’ll get someone else. Maybe it’ll take a while, but we’ll do it.”
Penny glances at me but doesn’t say anything.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand. “Let’s find some spinach puffs.”
I get Penny to sit with me in the corner and eat spinach puffs while we talk about our favorite members of One Direction (Harry for me and Zayn for her) and our favorite old Disney Channel movies. By the time I finally spot Marius, we’re deep into conversation about our early celebrity crushes. He’s across the room, wearing a dress shirt and black slacks, and he’s looking right at me. Shit.
“Yeah, I know Ryan Gosling is so cliché, but I just couldn’t help it,” Penny is saying. “Everyone was talking about The Notebook and I thought he was just so…”
Her voice fades out as Marius starts walking toward us, excusing himself from a circle of giggling starlets in sparkly dresses and weaving between other groups of people. Someone stops him, smiling, and Marius glances back over here
before engaging in the conversation.
“Anyway, I think it’s really cute how he’s like a family man now,” Penny continues. “Because I never would’ve guessed that when I was little and—”
“Hey,” I say, standing up. “I have to go to the bathroom. Just give me a second, okay?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, brow furrowing. “Sure.”
I don’t even know where the bathroom is, but I rush into the other room before Marius has the chance to come over. The open bar is extremely loud. People are laughing and almost shouting into each other’s ears. I spot Savannah, Alice, and a couple of people who must be other interns dancing in the center of the room. I turn away and head down another hall.
Here it’s much quieter and there are only a few lights. It’s almost eerie. There are various doors—one marked “Staff Only” and another marked “Maintenance.” I finally spot the bathroom symbol and am about to head over when I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder. I scream.
“Oh my God!” a feminine voice says behind me.
A familiar voice. I slowly turn to see Tallulah Port. I’m still shaking.
“Jesus Christ,” I say. “You scared me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she says. “I saw you come here and—”
“You followed me?” I ask. Usually, you’d think this would happen the other way around. “Why?”
The lighting is so dim in this hallway, I can only vaguely make out her expression, but I see her swallow.
“If I talk to you,” she says, “it has to be off the record. All of it.”
I blink probably a million times. I don’t have my notebook. I don’t have a pen or a list of questions. I’m completely unprepared for this. I swallow my anxiety anyway.
“Um,” I say, “okay. I can do that. Can I record you on my phone?”
“Not yet.”
My hand freezes over my pocket.
“You need to know how serious this is,” she says, eyes piercing into mine. “Penny wrote about it in her emails. I understand why she feels like this is important, and I want to help.”
Off the Record Page 15