Escorting the Actress by Leigh James
Lowell
My stomach was pittedwith dread as I headed into the meeting. Cristina, Lucas's habitually unfriendly assistant, was waiting outside the conference room. She crossed her arms in disapproval when she saw me.
"Hey there," she said, as if I'd come all the way from Echo Park just to ruin her day. "They're waiting for you. They're totally pissed about what you did, obviously."
"Obviously," I said.
"Good luck," she said sourly.
"Gee… thanks."
My palms were slick with sweat as I went through the door, but I straightened my back and took a deep breath. I composed my face so that I looked calm and collected. I was a famous actress for a reason, dammit. I could look calm for a meeting. I wasn't gonna let a little tequila—okay, a lot of tequila—come between my dreams and me.
But the little voice in the back of my head kept asking, Am I on my way up? Or am I on my way back down?
Eight men were sitting at the table, waiting. Eight of the mansplainers I'd been complaining about. They collectively frowned at me. Lucas was at the head of the table, wearing the biggest frown of all. His grey hair stood up in a wild, artfully crafted swirl. His tortoiseshell glasses made him look intelligent, which he was, and easy-going, which he was not.
"Lowell." He nodded curtly. "Take a seat."
I felt as though he was the principal and I was about to get a ruler across my knuckles. Or my ass.
"As you might imagine, we were all very surprised and displeased with your little performance on XYZ. None of us expected you to be a problem. Or a party girl, for that matter." Lucas rubbed his face. "That's one of the reasons why we hired you. We thought you were trustworthy and reliable. Instead, you've shown us that you're immature and capable of a wicked temper tantrum. Not what I was expecting, Lowell. Not what I was expecting, and nothing I find acceptable."
"Lucas, you've got to give me a chance to explain—"
"I have to do nothing of the kind." He looked at me from across the table, and my heart sank. "You're lucky we've decided not to fire you. Not yet, anyway."
I looked around the table and saw nothing but blank or disapproving looks from the other producers. "What do I have to do?"
"First of all, you need to apologize the right way. Your behavior has been very damaging to this film's prospects. We want you to do a contrite sit-down interview with one of the major networks. Second of all, you need to keep this guy Kyle around. I'm guessing keeping men around isn't your strong suit," Lucas said, a bit meanly.
I gulped. They had no idea what they were really asking. "Why is that? Not the part about me being unable to keep a guy around—but the part where I have to keep this particular guy around?"
Lucas gave me a tight smile. "Because he's the only reason you still have a job right now. You're lucky the press is eating this story up. We ran some market tests, and your approval ratings are higher than they've ever been. Which is really saying something because you threw up on a cop. After spewing a feminist rant. You know the public doesn't like that shit."
"It wasn't a feminist rant," I said, desperately trying to control my anger. "I was upset about the fact that you said I needed to lose weight."
"I didn't tell you that you had to lose weight," Lucas said, his tone a warning. "I told you that you need to be in better shape for our upcoming action sequences. As per your contract. You knew what you were getting into, Lowell. We talked about this before you came on board. There's no room for excuses now. You're supposed to conduct yourself like a professional. You're being paid enough to do at least that."
He sounded absolutely disgusted with me, and my face flamed. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I said, "I'm sorry about what happened, but it was a one-off. I'll be on my best behavior for the rest of the shoot."
"That's a relief," Lucas said. "I need you to shoot a few scenes this morning. Without any drama. After that, we need the following: You need to be in better shape for the action scenes. We're pushing the schedule back six weeks so you have more time to train, and also more time to put this incident behind us. Keep it up with the new boyfriend. Keep him in front of the press. Do the one-on-one interview. We want you to generate some excitement, some curiosity during filming. People want to see movies they're personally invested in, so if they feel like they know you and they know you were falling in love while we filmed Renegades Forever, we might have a chance to turn this thing around."
I nodded mutely. My head was spinning.
"I want exercise. A healthy diet. Lots of pictures of you with the boyfriend, smiling and holding hands. Do you copy?"
"Of course," I said, trying to be brave. I nodded calmly and met each producer's eyes. "I won't let you down. I want this movie, and I know it'll do very well at the box office." It'll do well, and I'll make enough money to start my own company and never work with you mansplainers again.
"I really hope so, Lowell," Lucas said.
"I really hope so too, Lucas," I said contritely. You prick.
Dismissed, I hustled through the door. Cristina jumped back as though she'd been eavesdropping.
"They're all yours, Cristina. Good luck with that."
I calledShirley before I went to hair and makeup, and I told her everything that had happened in the meeting.
"That's the plan then," she agreed.
My heart sank. I was stuck with Kyle for the foreseeable future. No one knew the trouble that could cause me. I was pretty sure I wasn't even being honest with myself about all the trouble that could call me.
"I wanna see lots of pictures of you two going to the gym. I'll have Gigi work on getting that exclusive interview scheduled." She was quiet for a moment. "You're doing a good job, Lo. You pulled a rabbit out of a hat, just like I said. I gotta thank Tori for finding him—she might just get back in my good graces after all."
I winced. If Shirley knew the truth, I was the one who would never get back in her good graces.
"Hold his hand," she ordered. "Smile! Have fun!"
"I'm not having fun," I said through gritted teeth.
"Well, you better act like you are," she retorted. "It's better than cleaning up puke—literally and figuratively."
"Thanks for the pep talk," I mumbled, but she'd already hung up.
Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, my phone buzzed again. My mother was calling. I sighed and answered.
"Darling," she said, breathlessly, "I've been thinking about our talk. I think you need your mother. I'm cutting my trip short. I'll be home soon."
"No!" I wailed, then I tried to calm myself down. "I mean, please, don't cut your trip short for my sake! I'm fine. I talked to Lucas this morning—everything's fine."
"You aren't fired?" she asked hopefully.
"No! Everything's fine... I just got out of a great meeting with Lucas. I was just being silly," I lied. "Don't come home yet. Enjoy your trip. I'd feel so guilty if you came back just for me." And trust me, you wouldn't like what you'd find.
"Well… maybe I'll stay for a few more weeks then. We're supposed to visit some amazing temples…"
"Visit them!" I practically shrieked. The literal last thing I needed right now was my mother back in town. "Please!"
"Are you sure everything's okay?" she asked.
"Yes. I promise," I said, steeling myself for the road ahead. "I want this job just as much as you want me to keep it, Mother. So I'm doing everything I need to do."
God help me.
