Page 38 of Hollywood Crush

A minute passed before the door to the room banged open, and Sandra walked into the room like she was walking into a business meeting. She looked up from her phone and straight at me, then groaned.

“My God, I knew it was going to be bad. But did they really need to shave your hair? You look bloody awful.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

“I’ll have to call the sponsors. Tell them that you’ll do some promotions later, but not now. And the photographer I booked, I’ll cancel her too. Can’t have Patrick at your bedside with you looking like this, he’ll completely outshine you.”

“Thank God that’s one less thing to worry about,” I said.

“And how do you expect to get paid without sponsorships or work? No casting director is going to want you looking like this, unless they’re casting forAngels in America.”

I felt my blood begin to boil at the homophobic insinuation. “Sandra, I’d have thought I’d be insured for loss of work through injury? Isn’t that part of your job?”

“Well, yes, but that was…” Sandra tailed off and mumbled something. Something that sounded likeexpensive.

“Did you want to repeat that?” I asked.

Sandra shook her head. I’d rarely seen her look so submissive. She cast her eyes down.

“Just how much do I have saved up for a rainy day?” I asked. I kicked myself mentally for ever allowing someone like Sandra to have so much control and power over every aspect of my life. She had, as far as I knew, been investing my money forme so that I could afford to retire comfortably some day.

She shook her head. “Not enough,” she muttered after a second.

“Not enough for what? To last me my recovery?”

A longer hesitation, then. “Not enough to last a month.”

“What?”I tried hard not to raise my voice. Stacey’s knitting needles had stopped clicking entirely.

“I-I invested your money from most of your jobs. It was for the best, I promise. But then some of the cryptocurrencies crashed and…” I could see Sandra’s old confidence returning. Like now the confession was over and done with she could go back into super agent-manager-financial expert-arsewiper mode. “But with the money coming in fromThrones of Blood, we’ll have a chance to get back in now, whilst the market is low. Ride that upswing and get you back on track. I can see if I can get you some lower paid sponsorships with scar oils, that kind of stuff whilst you recover.”

“You’re insane,” I said. “Perhaps it’s taken me this long to realise that people like you just aren’t normal because I’ve been raised to expect it from a young age, or because you deliberately kept me sheltered, or people like Roland being worshipped…but I’m starting to see now. What you are isn’t right.”

I knew the real reason for my sudden clarity, butI didn’t say it out loud. Sandra didn’t deserve my explanations.

“Anyway, whatever kind of evil you are, you’re fired. I’m done with…all of this,” I gestured around the room lamely.

“You’d be nothing without me. Just another washed up wannabe actor with nothing to show for it.”

“And aren’t I?” I asked. “20 years of working with you and I’m no better off. Leave now.”

Sandra opened her mouth, but I’d no idea what she planned to say next as Stacey stood up, abandoning her scarf to hold one knitting needle aloft and point it at Sandra.

“Get the fuck out. Now.” Stacey took a step closer, and Sandra ran out of the room as fast as her stilettoed heels would carry her.

“That was satisfying,” she said with a grim smile then turned to face me. “You OK love?”

I shook my head quietly, all energy and anger gone. It had been replaced by a loss of hope and lethargy. “I’m just sotired,” I said.

“I know love.” Stacey took one hand and watched on silently as I let a few tears leak out. I was too exhausted to break down, too numb to care.

It was another ten minutes at least before Stacey spoke again. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I…don’t know, actually. I might go home,” I said. “I’ve got a little flat in Manchester. I could rebuild from there. I’m still waiting for my last couple ofpayments fromThrones of Blood, if I can keep Sandra’s hands off them.”

“Is Manchester where you really want to be? You can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather?” Stacey asked.

She knew it, though I’d not said it out loud. Because home had shifted towards Hiraeth a little in the time I’d been there - well, no, not to Hiraeth. But to Tudor.

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