Page 127 of The Sun and Her Star

Rage

Graham

Apollo hasn’t said a word since I finished my story. Well, she did say “Don’t,” when I tried to hold her hands as we got off the plane. When we got in the car after we landed at Teterboro, she pulled her phone out. She sent a few texts, then put it away. She didn’t even look at me. Her face is toward the window.

“Apollo, please. Saysomething.Anything,” I say, my nerves on edge. I’ve got two disasters on my hands, and one of them is sitting less than ten feet from me. I can’t take the silence.

She turns her head slowly. Her eyes are so flat that I flinch. “I need to use the bathroom.” She turns to face the driver and in a much warmer tone, says, “Can we stop at the McDonald’s, please?” she asks.

“We’re so close to your house.” That’s the last thing I expected her to say. We’ve just exited the West Side Highway at 125th Street. Her apartment is only eight blocks away.

“I can’t hold it,” she says blankly and then turns back to the window. He pulls into the McDonald’s on our right, and she starts to open the door. “Apollo, talk to me,” I ask her with as much control as I can muster.

“Later. I promise,” she says, and for the first time since we left Florida, she looks me in the eye. I wish she hadn’t. her eyes are red and wet with unshed tears and rage.

“Okay.” I say and she steps out without another word.

I pull out my phone and send Amber a text to tell her we’re here. I text Dean and ask him to call me. I scroll through some emails from Darren.

Five minutes go by, and I look up at the driver.

“Hey, she hasn’t come out, has she?” I ask him.

“Nope,” he says, but his eyes are on his phone, and I know he has no clue what he’s talking about.

I climb out and walk over to the McDonald’s. Just as I reach for the handle of the door, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s with a terrible foreboding that I pull it out my pocket and open the text from Apollo.

“I’m going to find her. I’m going to kill her.”

“Then, I’m going to kill you. Dead.”

My stomach churns. She’d listened intently as I told her all of the sordid details. When I told her why I’dreallygone to LA, she had looked at her lap and hadn’t looked at me again. I knew she was angry. I just wasn’t sure which of my offenses she had considered the most egregious.

My phone rings again. This time, Dean’s name pops up, and I answer immediately.

“Man, you havegotto stop keeping secrets from me. This shit is very,verybad.” Dean is the most unflappable man I’ve ever met. The only time he looks like his blood isn’t actually ice water is when he’s talking to or about his wife. He sounds shaken, and that makes my stomach churn.

“You’re my agent. Why would I tell you what my old job used to be?” I say defensively.

“I’m not just youragent,”hechides. “I’m your fucking fixer. You havegotto trust me, or I can’t work with you. In every single aspect of your career, you pay me to negotiate, pitch, and act for you. How can I do that when I only know what you want to tell me? If I had known about this, I would have pushed back on the morality clauses in your fucking contracts.”

“I didn’t think she would be crazy enough to do this. I was paying her every month to keep her quiet.” I cover my face with my elbow and lean back in the cab.

“It isn’t your fucking job to calculate risks like that. It’s why you pay me a retainerandpercentage.Imake those decisions. Your life isn’t your own. You are abrand.If you didn’t understand that before, you’reaboutto understand it now.Intimately.”

My stomach drops. I groan but can’t think of a thing to say in my defense.

“Voltic didn’t pay you a hundred million dollars because they liked your smile. They liked yourbrand.Loves his mama, loves his ladies. A bad boy with the charms of a Southern gentleman.Thatis what they’re paying for. They will not pay if your entire existence doesn’t align withthatbrand. And, I hate to break it to you, but not even the loosest definitions of ladies’ man include fucking half of the married women in Hollywood for five grand a pop.”

“I know.” I flinch. I can hear the hurt in his voice and I’d rather he was angry. I hate knowing that I’ve disappointed him. His esteem will be a bitter loss. But, it’s nothing compared to what it will mean if I can’t make things right with Apollo.

“Graham, why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you. You’ve got so much potential. You’re squandering it.”

“I don’t give a fuck about my potential. I give a fuck that my woman is going to see that and know that I’m not the man she thinks I am.”

“Oh, she knowswhoyou are already. Do you think that doing what you did so that you could take care of your mother makes you a bad person? There are people all over the world who are trading sex for money so that their kids can go to school. Those strippers in those clubs you and your friends used to visit, do you think they’re doing that because they like it? I fucking get it. For the people we love, we would do anything. But, you don’t keep people who you care about in the dark because you’re more worried about looking bad than you are about violating their trust.”

I’m stunned listening to him bat away the fact that I slept with women for money like it’s a bothersome fly.

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