Page 5 of The Producer: Aaron

I turn my head toward the door and find Tracy, the big boss’s assistant, studying me with a disgusted look on her face and her arms crossed at her chest. If it weren’t for the fact her presence here means trouble, I would be annoyed by how she is judgingme, as if she’s never had a social life.

“What the hell are you doing here? And how did you get in?” I ask her, trying to get up despite my head spinning, my stomach twisting, and my legs almost collapsing underneath me.

“Ady left the keys in the office when she resigned and emptied her room,” she tells me without moving a muscle to help me stand. Not that I need her help, but she could at least make sure I don’t end up lying on the ground like a sack of potatoes instead of standing there looking at me as if I were a worm trying to crawl out of the mud.

I look into the mirror, and the view appearing in front of me is almost gruesome. I’m pale enough to look dead, and my eyes are injected with blood. But the thing that makes me shudder is the sight of my red bikini. I got dressed before I got home, right? Or did I leave Lionel’s house with only this on?

The thought escapes my mind as soon as Tracy’s words make their way into my foggy brain.

“Ady left? When? Why?” The questions come out one after another, but the woman’s face doesn’t reveal an answer.

I never put up with Ady, not so much because she was a bad person but because she lived in this house just to keep an eye on me. Like a babysitter for a little girl who doesn’t know how to take care of herself. The studio forced me to take her in as my mother hen because of my inexperience here in Hollywood, and you could see a mile away she hated me. But in a way, I had become accustomed to her cumbersome presence.

Tracy watches me as I try to figure out what the hell is going on. Her pity smile makes me angry, as few things can do, but I remain silent. This woman scares me.

“She was tired of being the babysitter to a problematic toddler. A few days ago, she resigned and came to take away her stuff, but you didn’t even notice it, did you? Too busy getting drunk to realize that half of the apartment is empty. However, I don’tblame her. She was wasted being the babysitter of an actress with a diva complex.”

Her words stab straight into my chest. I have never been a diva, and my private life has never interfered with my work. What I do in my spare time should not interest anyone but me. The problem is that everyone seems obsessed with my private life, especially the paparazzi, who can’t wait to find some outrageous photos to go viral. I didn’t notice Ady had left because I was too busy working on set sixteen hours per day.

“How serious is the situation?” If she is here, the photos are at least embarrassing, if not worse.

“Enough to think about firing you.”

I snap my attention toward her, and the dizziness almost makes me end up on the floor. My heart pumps into my chest, but I’m not sure if it’s because of the alcohol or the news she just dropped. Did she come here to fire me? Now I can explain the presence of Aaron Steel’s assistant. I am sure that the sense of nausea that grips my stomach is not only because of the alcohol. I love this job, and the very thought of being fired is enough to make me vomit.

“They haven’t kicked you out.” The terror must be evident on my face because her tone becomes almost sweet. “But consider this as the last warning. The next bullshit stunt, you’re out.”

I nod and inhale thoroughly. The mixture of relief and nausea that overlaps in my stomach is enough to make me cling to the sink to not end up lying on the floor.

“Take a shower and pack a bag for tonight. Tomorrow someone will come and get your stuff to take it to your new accommodation,” she orders, and, once again, I find myself confused.

“New accommodation? I have a lease for this apartment until the end of the year,” I say, stunned by the news she is dumping on me.

“That will be taken care of by the studio. Until you finish filming the third season in six months, you’ll live in Aaron Steel’s house,” she announces, as if she were offering me a vacation in a maximum-security prison.

I feel the blood leaving my face.

“I beg your pardon?”

She smiles at me. “You got it right. You will live with the big boss. He’ll take care of you when you vomit lying drunk in his bathroom.”

The anger that grows inside me is violent.

“You decided my life without saying anything to me? What if I don’t want to go to live withThe Butcher? Has it never occurred to you that I might have something to say about this agreement?”

Tracy looks at me with a half-smile, perhaps because of the nickname I used for her boss, then shakes her head.

“Of course, we thought about your opinion. In fact, you have two choices: live with him and act like an adult or be fired. You royally messed up, and we found a way to save your ass. We thought you would prefer the first solution.”

I am so furious that I have no words to retort.

“Are you blackmailing me?” My voice comes out shrill and petulant like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and I immediately regret my lack of control. I’m not like that. I don’t get caught up in my emotions and react over the top.

Tracy nails me with a stern look.

“We’re giving you the chance to save your career because you’re incapable of making mature decisions. You are free to leave whenever you want, you are not under arrest, but this involves losing your job. No one forces you to do anything, let alone live with someone you don’t want, but every decision has consequences, and, trust me, you have screwed up all the second chances you got until now with this stunt.”

Her words make me feel small and inadequate. I know I’ve been wrong many times, know I ended up on the front pages of the magazines for my lack of willpower, but that doesn’t mean her words hurt any less. Because it’s true. They have given me many chances to act like an adult, but I constantly let them down.

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