“Welcome back to MKLM 97.5. As many of you know, former child star Noah Sloan was arrested last night—”
The driver immediately turned the radio off.
“Put it back,” I said, and his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
“How dumb can he be? He just got cast in this huge, huge movie, and then he goes and attacks one of Chicago’s most beloved old-school cats. He’s an idiot.”
“Is it wrong that I still love him? Yeah, it was shithead move, especially with the timing of Sinners Like Us, but it’s Noah Sloan, bad boy till he dies. When you have that rap, people do try to test your limits though.”
“Come on, Rachel. It’s Ray Mallory—”
“So the old guy could have made the wrong joke! Plus, with him just coming out of rehab, he could have snapped. Not that it’s an excuse, but you gotta know who you’re messing with.”
“All I know is I hope they throw the book at him. I’m sick of all these stars thinking they can do whatever they want.”
“Former child stars are the worst—”
“Turn it off!” I snapped, wanting to reach through the radio and strangle the morons talking as if they knew him, as if they knew anything.
“Ms. London, we are here. I’ve taken the back way,” the driver said. We were back at the hotel, where a last-minute board meeting was taking place. I had heard Ollie talk about it on the phone before I drifted off. Slipping out while he was out dealing with the press, I called for the driver to bring me here personally.
Stepping out, I put my glasses on, checking both ways before walking toward the service elevator.
Resting against the walls, I thought about the speech I wanted to give them. The very fact that they called a meeting so quickly meant they wanted to clean up shop before things got worse. Production was already on a tight schedule as it was. Each day we missed shooting was money coming out of their pockets.
“Hello,” I answered my phone as the doors opened.
“Amelia, where are you?” Ollie asked on the other side of the phone.
“I’m about to walk into a board meeting. I’ll talk to you later,” I said quickly, hanging up before he could reply.
Without knocking, I opened the door to see a whole bunch of older white-haired men dressed in dark suits and sitting around a long wooden table with water and cookies.
“Ms. London? What are you doing here?” Director Zane sat up from the left corner of the table.
“I heard the board was meeting today. I’m guessing this is about Mr. Sloan?”
“Ms. London—”
“Are you or are you not dropping him?”
They didn’t say anything as they glanced at each other and sat up on the edges of their seats.
“It’s very complicated.”
I walked to the front of the table to see them all perfectly. “Fine, I’ll make it simple. If Noah goes, I go, and I promise you, I will not go quietly. After all the work we’ve done it’s ridiculous you would even hold this meeting.”
“Are you threatening us, Ms. London?” One of them snapped at me.
“Take it as risk assessment. You’ll need to redo everything—promotional shoots, studio times, all the scenes, buy out new actors. The amount of money you think you will be saving by not waiting until Monday, will be null and void.” The only person of color in the room, with a fresh buzz cut and brown eyes, stood up in my corner. “Gentlemen, I understand that you wish to be proactive. However, this is still all premature. I promise you I will get Mr. Sloan bail on Monday, and he will be able to get back to work.”
They huffed, a few of them shifting in their seats.
“Zane, I heard rumors that you were having trouble with both of these actors on set?” someone questioned, and all their heads turned toward the director, who was wearing his favorite round violet shades.
“There are always rumors, but honestly, I haven’t worked with a better, more passionate pair of actors in the last decade. I’m sure that when you see the movie you will agree with me,” he replied. For a brief second, I felt nothing but absolute gratitude and pride.