Page 203 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
Wyatt combs his hand through his hair, leaving sweat beads on his forehead. “Erika and I were butting heads. All I wanted to do was quit. I hate acting. Everyday on set, I f-felt like my soul was being cr-crushed. Any time I mentioned wanting to leave, they’d hang that fr-freaking contract over my head.”
I rub his back. “I’m sorry.”
“They’d guilt me about all the people who’d lose jobs if I walked out.”
“They’ll all be fine,” Devon says. “If they have to, they’ll replace you with another rising teen star. They’ve done it before. The only people who lose their jobs are those trying to speak out.”
Wyatt sits forward. “How did you get blamed for my accident?”
“I heard you arguing with Erika, but by the time I got into the trailer, you’d left,” Devon explains. “I thought maybe you’d gone to get something to eat, and then found you in Richmond’s grip. He shoved you hard into one of the heavy duty lighting rigs that hadn’t been properly assembled yet.”
“If you saw what happened, why didn’t you say anything?” Dad questions.
“I was pulled out of there so quickly,” Devon replies. “I didn’t know if Wyatt was conscious or not, walking or not, needing medical treatment or not. They kept me at arms length for hours, until eventually my association with the company was wiped and I was forced off set.”
Dad’s skeptical expression doesn’t budge.
Devon slouches in defeat. “It’s a crummy excuse, I know. But, they kept Wyatt’s condition a secret for so long. I didn’t know if there was anything to say.” Devon fidgets, meeting Wyatt’s gaze. “I thought you wanted me out of the picture. It’d make it easier for you to toe the party line. You didn’t need me, reminding you of your misery.”
“I definitely wanted to forget the misery,” Wyatt says quietly. “I remember walking out on Erika and thinking, if I’m stuck here, I want out of my head. Ugh. Man, I think I’d already blacked out before I got into it with Richmond. It’s all such a blur.”
“You remember to keep your psychologist on speed dial,” Mom says anxiously. “This is a lot to process, and you already forced yourself to forget once.”
Wyatt lifts his phone. “I will, Mrs. Bartlett. Thanks.”
“Oh, good,” Devon reacts. “You’ve still got the same phone.”
Wyatt shrugs. “Not that I can do much with it. My eyes still hurt when I read the screen.”
“At least you have access to your money.”
Wyatt blinks at Devon. “I do?”
Devon gestures at the phone. “Yeah, didn’t they tell you? You can pay with your credit card via an app.”
Wyatt turns to me. “Tell Kylie and Parker I can shout next time we go out.”
“You might not want to blow through your money,” Dad warns. “You’ve got some financial things to work through. Might be a good idea to cap any spending.”
Wyatt nods. “Yes, Mr. Bartlett.”
Devon sits back down, looking at both my mom and dad in awe. “Wow, Wyatt, you’ve got some great adults on your side. This is what you’ve been missing.” Devon smirks at Dad. “Especially you, Mr. Bartlett. I appreciate you giving me the third-degree for Wyatt’s sake.”
Dad nods. “He’s been mistreated by Hollywood-types long enough.”
“If only my parents cared as much,” Wyatt mutters.
Devon folds his arms uncomfortably. “Things are still not good?”
Wyatt’s jaw rocks. “I signed eh-emancipation papers.”
Devon goes pale. “You didn’t.”
Wyatt recoils. “Huh?”
“I can’t believe they talked you into it.” Anger swells in Devon. “You didn’t want to cut ties with your parents, but Circle 8 knows how to fan the flames between underaged talent and their parents.”
Wyatt tilts his head. “I didn’t want to sign the papers? Are you sure about that?”
