Page 2 of Exrated
“The producer called me about this earlier today.” Exhaling, he places his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers over his nose. “The company is not happy about this, of course.”
“That was six months ago,” I argue. “We’ve been broken up for five months!” I pace in front of his desk. “Where did that come from?” I swear to God, Stone can be a dick, but he’s not that big of an asshole.
“Hell if I know, but it’s on fucking YouTube, and about an hour ago Rush Wilder tweeted about it. I’m sure before long the entire Pandemic Sorrow community will be retweeting that shit, so those four-hundred thousand likes are about to shoot through the goddamn roof.”
“Shit.” All I can think about is how many people are going to see that. “Shit!”
“It doesn’t matter how long ago that was. That video is about to be every-fucking-where.” There’s a ding on his phone. He grabs it from the desk, reads over a text, then tosses his hands into the air. “Well, fuck. They just terminated your contract.”
“What? They can’t do that…”
“They can, and they just did.”
“Oh, my God.” I bury my hands in my face, fighting tears. For the past two years, I’ve played Elsa in some spin off sitcom series of thatFrozenmovie. The thing is…I work for a kid’s station, and they have this thing about morals and well, dating Stone was a big enough issue, this—this takes it to a whole new level. Image. It’s all about the image. “This cannot be happening,” I say in a groan.
“What the hell possessed you to do that?”
I shrug. “I don’t fucking know. I mean, who hasn’t made a sex tape with their boyfriend before?”
“You don’t make sex tapes with slutty rock stars.” He shakes his head. “Well…we just have to find a new market for you.” He sighs. “Maybe HBO or something, I don’t know, but until then you’re shit out of luck.”
I fall back in the chair, fighting the tears that want to break out. Not only am I embarrassed, but I'm also fucking pissed. Angry to the point of bawling. Three years of auditions, of call backs and “you’re not right for the role”. Three years of starving myself and busting my ass in a gym to look the part of the girl next door because as far as Hollywood is concerned even the girl next door looks like a fucking glamour queen. And after all that, I end up settling for some kids show. I didn’t want to do a kids show, but shit, it’s a start. I’m making money. I am—wasactually a television actress.And ONE blow job to a rock star has ruined it all. I push up from the chair.
“Where are you going?”
“Home. Where else? I don’t have a fucking job anymore.”
“We’ll get you some new headshots. Go for a sluttier look. It’s fine. Hell, this may help…who knows? I mean really, why would you want to get stuck in that good girl genre anyway.”
“Thanks, David,” I say, reaching for the door.
“Jemma,” Stone says, his deep, swoon-worthy voice rattling over the phone. “I swear to fucking God, I have no idea.”
“Stone, how do you not know?”
“Fuck. It was on the cloud. I don’t know, but I’m not that big of an ass. Shit just didn’t work out with us, I have no reason to be a dick to you.”
Sighing into the phone, I stare out of the window of my apartment. “Well, Rush sharing it all over social media didn’t help at all.”
“Yeah…” He groans. “He’s a shithead. Sorry, but at least you looked hot.”
“Really? Stone, really?”
“Yeah, not gonna lie, I had to stroke one out every time I got tagged on Instagram.”
“Fuck off. I got fired over it, and you’re over there beating one out to it.”
“I’m just a dude, Jemma.” He laughs for a second, then clears his throat. “Look, want me to make a few calls? See what I can do about getting your job back?”
“No.” I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “I don’t. It won’t do any good. Thanks, I’m just… I don’t even know what I am.”
“Look, I really am sorry. I never would do something to intentionally hurt you. You meant the world to me and had the fucking tour and all that shit not been going on, well…”
“Stone, I don’t want to rehash shit with you, I just, I just…”
“Wanted to bitch me out? Rightfully so.” I hear Rush in the background shouting about pussy and beer followed by the manager, Jules, cussing at him and yelling that they have ten minutes. “Hey, I gotta go,” he says. “If you need anything, just call.”
“Thanks…”
