The Reunion by Kayla Olson(84)
If that’s something he still wants.
I can’t bring myself to ask. Not knowing isn’t easy, but it’s easier than it would be to find out that he doesn’t want to try—that he’s considered the risks and decided they aren’t worth it.
That we’re not worth it.
I’m so exhausted, and so in my head, that I don’t notice Sasha-Kate coming around the corner until I slam into her, drenching us both in the frigid iced water I’ve sent sloshing from her glass.
“Hey, watch it!” she says, and just like that I’m pulled right back to the present.
The very cold, very wet present.
“I’m so, so sorry—wait, are you okay?”
Her face is ashen, her impeccable makeup smudged around the eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she sighs. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her look this tired—or this vulnerable.
She glances over her shoulder. No one’s there to overhear. “I think I’ve made a big mess,” she admits quietly, but doesn’t elaborate. “You should maybe go call your agent.”
My mouth falls open, but before I can figure out how to respond—to all of it—she edges past me and slips into her trailer. She shuts the door behind her, and not gently.
Okay, then.
Sure enough, when I check my phone in the privacy of my trailer, I’ve missed two calls from Mars. I call her back immediately.
“Liv,” she says, breathless in the way that tells me she maybe sprinted across a room and/or spilled a cup of coffee to get to my call in time. “It has been a day. Do you have a minute? And by a minute, I really mean ten.”
“I’m here.” I have a break—short, but I should be safe.
“So… we have a situation.” Mars has never been anything but direct, and now is no exception. “Shine Jacobs caught Sasha-Kate with Bob Renfro in his office today. I’ll spare you the explicit details—I trust you can do your best to imagine the worst.”
Wow. Whatever I was expecting, it was not this.
“Isn’t he, like, twice her age?” I manage. Sasha-Kate’s usual type is midtwenties, Gucci-wearing, questionable-hygiene-but-call-it-fashion, usually with some sort of accent—like Nikola, the guy she brought to the Fanline dinner. The furthest thing from Bob Renfro, in other words.
“Almost, but that’s not the problem here,” she says. “Bob’s the one who’s been leading the charge for the restructured reboot, with a more prominent role for Sasha-Kate.”
“Well, that makes more sense now,” I say.
I’m not sure what leaves a more bitter taste: that she tried to pull this at all—sleeping with an exec to advance her career—or that it almost worked.
“It does. But now Shine’s in a tough spot, because the reboot’s already been announced, and due to Fanline’s zero-tolerance policy on relationships involving execs and the cast, Sasha-Kate’s no longer eligible to have a prominent role on the show—that zero-tolerance clause was in her contract just like it was in yours.”
Wow. “So… now what?” I’m not even sure what I’m hoping to hear.
She sucks in a sharp breath.
“Well,” she says, “there are three options. One is to go back with you front and center, and I’ve been pushing for that, but they’re on a budget thanks to the merger, and it feels like creative territory they’ve already covered. Two is to put the entire focus on Millie, which—I don’t think I need to explain why they’re not immediately leaping in that direction. Three is to find a new lead, a brand-new Girl to follow who we haven’t met yet, and give the three of you substantially less-prominent roles, since they’ve already promised fans they’ll see familiar faces in the reboot. So.” She takes a breath, finally giving my mind a chance to stop spinning. “I’ve been trying to give you time to work through all the options we have on the table, but we’re going to have to make some hard and fast decisions. Today, if possible. If you want to be part of the Girl reboot going forward, in any capacity, I need to know so I can fight for the best deal and control over the schedule. I already know you’re set on working with Vienna, so all that’s left to consider after that is the Emily Quinn project.”
“I… wow. Okay.” I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, the face that’s become synonymous with Girl on the Verge for two decades now. Who will I be if I walk away?
“I know,” she says. “Think it over. My best advice is to go with your gut. If you want me to keep pushing for the lead role, say the word and I’ll do it. We might have to make some compromises, but you know I would never let you take a bad deal.”
I feel a deep sense of gratitude for Mars, fiercely in my corner since day one. And then I remember Ransom, who’s never had a team like mine, and I feel heavy all over again.
If we walk, it affects him, too.
Before I give my final answer, I should probably go talk to him. See where he stands.
“Thanks, Mars,” I say. “I’ll get back to you by tonight.”
“The sooner you can let me know, the better.” I’ve known her long enough to translate it into I really need to know by six, which is less than two hours away. “Talk soon, babe.”