‘She told you I was broken?’ Sam couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. ‘Why did she say that?’ He leaned forward, slamming his hand down on the desk. ‘What the hell did she tell you?’
‘It all makes sense now,’ Charles continued. ‘I never could work out why you didn’t want to talk about your dad, or use his connections. But now I know . . . Jeez, you should have told me this before. There’s nothing like a scandal to send your career to the next level.’
It was almost impossible to think straight. He’d never imagined she’d use his secrets against him. ‘I told her about my family in confidence. It’s private, I don’t want everybody knowing.’
‘Well that’s women for you.’ Charles was still smiling, oblivious. ‘They sleep with you, spend your money, and then when the chips are down they kick you in the teeth. Ask my three ex-wives.’
A vein twitched in his neck at the thought of his messed up family becoming common knowledge. ‘She promised she wouldn’t say anything.’ He breathed in, but the air wouldn’t get past the lump in his throat. ‘Fuck, this is awful. The sex stuff was bad enough, but this . . . ’
‘You’re overreacting,’ Charles said. ‘Look, this is g
oing to be great for you, and great for Serena. You asked me to work on your image, and that’s what I’m doing. Relax, enjoy the ride.’
‘How long have you known for?’ Sam had the bit between his teeth now. He wasn’t about to let go.
‘What do you mean?’
He should have known it was going to end like this. Six years in Hollywood had taught him to watch his back. But Serena was a famous actress, and for some reason Sam had thought there was honour among thieves. They’d only dated a handful of times, and yes, some of those times they’d ended up in bed together. But as far as Sam was concerned they were good friends. Or at least, they had been.
‘Did you set me up?’
Charles looked surprised. ‘What makes you think that?’
Sam could feel the adrenalin building in his body. ‘This is all a little too convenient. You and I had a meeting only a few days before your party, and we talked about ways to get some different roles. Some meatier ones. I can remember you telling me I needed to get rid of my wholesome image.’ The more Sam talked, the more plausible it all was. ‘Jesus, you did arrange it, didn’t you?’
Charles smiled. ‘Now come on, Sam—’
‘Did you set me up?’ Sam was almost out of his chair. ‘I knew this town was rotten, but I didn’t think you were, too.’
Charles threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. ‘All right! Yes, I did suggest to Serena that you might enjoy some more time together. That it could be good for both of your careers. She’s desperately trying to get some publicity, and you’re attempting to redefine yourself. Why not use this to both your advantages?’
‘What the hell gives you the right to agree this without talking to me? You don’t get to make these decisions without my go-ahead.’
‘It’s how this town works, you know that. I’m your agent, Sam, and in many ways I’m your manager, too. If you want to change direction you need to make some difficult choices and I’m wasn’t sure you had it in you. I was doing you a favour. When the offers come rolling in I can guarantee you won’t be so goddamn puritanical about it.’
Was Charles for real? Sam might have wanted to stop playing the good guy all the time, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be set up. He could guarantee by now that Sam Carlton’s fall from grace was the topic-du-jour.
‘You asshole. You’re supposed to be working for me, I pay you pretty damn well for the privilege. I trusted you, Charles, and you’ve fucked me over.’
‘That’s not true, and you know it. I’ve just made your career for you. A juicy little scandal is box office magic.’
The pounding in Sam’s head increased, until it felt like it was about to explode. There was no arguing with Charles. From his self-satisfied smile and smug demeanour, he felt he’d done a good job.
‘That’s not the career I want,’ Sam said. ‘And it’s not the career I’m going to have. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. If that article about my family is printed, I’ll sue you and Serena for everything you’ve got.’ He straightened up. ‘As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over. And so is our working relationship.’ He threw the magazine onto Charles’s messy desk. ‘You’re fired.’
Sam managed to lose the paparazzi when he swung his Lexus hybrid through the entrance to the gated community. The security guard beckoned him through with a wave, used to the caravan of media that followed Sam around. He wasn’t the only resident who attracted this kind of attention. The community was high-end, with twenty-four hour protection, and it sheltered the rich and famous.
Letting himself into the apartment he shared with his fellow actor and friend Will Allen, Sam threw his keys onto the marble side table and walked into the kitchen. Pulling the refrigerator open, he grabbed a beer from the otherwise-empty ice compartment. As the door closed, he got a glimpse of himself in the shiny chrome, and stepped back, squeezing his eyes shut.
It came to something when he couldn’t even look himself in the face. The same face that had made his fame and fortune. But now it was plastered across every tabloid and gossip website, he couldn’t stand the sight of it.
Slumping on the sofa, he looked out of the glass doors that led onto the steel balcony. The view from here was stunning, capturing the Hollywood Hills in their full glory. If he leaned to the left he could get a glimpse of the white ‘D’ that formed the end of the Hollywood sign.
It looked tarnished.
A mouthful of beer did nothing to calm his nerves. Nor did the incessant red flash of his landline voicemail, and the vibrating of his mobile phone in his pocket. No matter where he turned, his life was totally connected; he couldn’t escape the enquiring journalists even if he tried. And the thought of what Serena might have said about his father . . .
‘Hey! What are you doing home? I thought you would be in crisis meetings all day.’ Will threw his jacket across the back of an easy chair, then leaned down to slide off his shoes. ‘Did your agent have any bright ideas?’