Page 83 of Pretty Wild

He sighs. “I wanted you to hear it from me, so for that, I apologize.”

“I don’t understand. Why now?”

He clears his throat. I can picture him sitting up tall at his home office desk, just as he would when discussing important issues while I was there. “I couldn’t work with him, Ryan. I know you told me not to let personal affect business, but…I had to. The moment he walked into the pre-production meeting, I wanted to hit him. And you know me, I’m a lover, not a fighter. But I wanted to do things to that man I’ve only seen in a Jason Statham movie.”

I can’t help but giggle.

“And I’ve seen my fair share of action movies, Ryan.”

It’s true. The man’s an action movie producer. He’s seen and worked with the best.

“What now? You broke his contract.”

“I don’t give two shits about his contract. What he did was far worse. Besides, we always have a clause for stuff like this.”

“You have a clause in case the actor uses the producer’s daughter for career clout?” I ask curiously.

“Well, not in so many words, but I can terminate with rightful reason. This was rightful reason, Ryan. And because it was televised, his attorney won’t touch it. He’ll advise him to cut his losses and move on to the next movie. Unfortunately, his name is shit right now. I can’t see him getting work anywhere in this town outside of daytime television or a reoccurring role as Taxi Driver number two.”

I shake my head, feeling slightly freer than before.

He did this—fired his main actor—for me. Because he loves me. Because someone wanted to get in with him, and in doing so, hurt me. Dad didn’t care how perfect Vaughn was for the role. What he did was inexcusable, and he refused to let him keep the coveted role he was aiming for in his duplicity.

“Tell me how you’re doing. Mom saw your post. She tried to call you,” Dad says, clearly done talking about Vaughn and the movie.

I sigh and close my eyes. “I posted a photo of a sunrise and accidentally left the location notification on, so it posted where I am.”

He exhales. “And?”

“And the town is full of people, all looking for me.”

“Ryan,” he says, a hint of a warning. “I think you need security.”

“It’s fine, Dad. No one knows where I am, and I’ll just stay hidden at my cabin until this blows over.” However, even saying the words with conviction, I don’t feel so sure. If one person discovers where I’m staying, I’ll have people descending on my private haven in the woods faster than I’d be able to get away. I’d be stuck, and if anyone knows how relentless the media and fans can be, it’s me.

“Why don’t you let me send someone out there,” he suggests.

“No. The local police chief is aware of what’s going on. He can handle it.” But again, I don’t exactly believe that to be true. From what I’ve been told, TD is the only full-time police officer in town, and anyone else is just as needed to assist. I don’t want to be the reason he has to call in help, because the crowds are out of control with reality TV show fans and the press. “It’ll blow over,” I add cheerfully.

He exhales. “I don’t believe you, but I will respect your decision. For now. If so much as one person steps foot onto the property you’re renting, I want to know. I will send a team of security personnel to ensure your vacation isn’t disrupted.”

The problem is, if it gets to that point, it’s already disrupted. There’s no way I could enjoy the quiet, the solitude, the peace that comes from Pine Village. Not with security escorts. The private bubble would be broken.

If it’s not already.

“Okay,” I appease.

“I’m sorry this is happening, Ryan. I admit, when you said you were going to Wisconsin for a month, I was worried. Not because you can’t take care of yourself, but simply for fear of the unknown. I wouldn’t be a parent if I didn’t worry.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now, tell me about this young man.”

My throat goes dry as I try to swallow. “Young man?”

“Mom and I agree. You seem…happier, and we don’t think it’s entirely because of you recharging your battery on a little vacation. You’ve met someone.”

Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “It’s nothing, really. Just a…” I can’t tell him it’s a fling. Who wants to tell their dad that? “It’s just a friend I’ve made.”

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