Sam turned to the audience as images continued to play out behind him, an estate that looked straight out of Downton Abbey, a college campus that screamed Ivy League, and then, the man at the center of it all, Heath, in his shirtless glory.
“He’s tucked away in this nothing town in the middle of nowhere. And we’re the ones who can expose all of it. He’s our in. We can scoop Ash Black, find out what really went on behind the scenes last year when he dropped out of the public eye. We can lift the lid on the Kavanaugh fortune. Was Richard Kavanaugh’s death due to natural causes? We want to know!” The headline news of the magnate’s passing flashed up on screen: “Investor, Pioneer, Billionaire, Dead at 67.”
“When we first went to Siberia…I mean Watson, Vermont—” The room laughed at his joke. “I was bored out of my mind. But then I started getting curious. And I found us a goldmine in Heath. I think we can even get a series out of this. We can grow it as big as we want.”
Sam pointed at me, giving me a wink, like we were in on this together. I sat there pale faced and so shocked I couldn’t manage a single word. “And this one here. You know what Violet went and did? She got him to sign off on it.”
He held up paperwork, the sheets of paper I’d handed Heath a couple of days ago. To get camera crew access to the shop. “We’ve got it here in writing. His permission to film. We’re in!”
The room erupted in raucous applause.
“Amazing!” The woman sitting next to me grasped my wrist and exclaimed with excitement. “Great work!”
“I love it!” our boss declared, his hands coming together in big, hearty claps. “Let’s get the ball rolling!”
“You won’t be sorry! We’re going to hit a bullseye with this one!” Sam gave him the double gun salute with his index fingers, firing away with a wink.
“Pull in Nance and Claire. I want a full team on this.” He rose, having officially given us the green light. “Good idea, going with the one-two like that,” he added, straightening out his already iron-pressed shirt, tucked into his perfectly neat and tidy pants. “Violet bores us to tears so Sam can come in and knock us right out of our seats. Clever way to pitch. That’s what I like to see around here.”
The people around me filtered out of the room, buzzing and talking amongst themselves. I sat stone still, practically gasping for air like someone had punched me hard in the stomach.
Sam lingered. He fiddled with a pen. “Well, they sure loved the pitch, didn’t they?”
“Is that all true?” Many, many questions fought for space in my brain, questions about what he’d been hiding from me for how many weeks and how and when he’d decided to throw me under the bus and what the fuck was in the paperwork I had Heath sign? But I asked the question that struck me right at the heart.
“What, all that about Heathcliff?” Sam said the full name like he relished doing it, using it to mock him in some way. “You bet. Your fuck buddy’s a diamond mine.”
This wasn’t happening. “No.” I shook my head. It wasn’t true. I knew as well as anyone in the business of photographing or filming celebrities—you could doctor up a photo to make anything look real. I could show you a picture of Kim Kardashian shaking hands with an alien looking so real you’d swear it really happened.
“You made it up, Sam. You didn’t have to do that. We had enough to go with.”
He laughed, hollow and humorless. “Yeah, you really won them over with your pitch, Violet.” He shook his head and seemed to think better of sticking around to talk to me. But as he started walking toward the door, I stopped him.
“What did you just do, Sam?”
“I pitched a great story, Violet.” His words had a razor-sharp edge.
“What did you get Heath to sign?”
“You got him to sign, sweetie. It’s your own fault you didn’t look them over.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I shook my head, stupefied.
“You’ve been a little preoccupied lately. The polite way of saying it would be your head’s been in the clouds. But you know I’m not polite. Between you and me, I can say you were fucking around instead of doing your job.”
I rubbed my face with my hands, still so shocked I lacked words.
Sam filled the silence. “It’s not my fault you fell for all that hokey small town crap. I did my job. I found us a story out in that frozen hell. Now if you’re smart you’ll pick your jaw up off the table and thank me for saving your ass. Because you were just about to get shot down real hard and fast.”
“I should thank you? For what?” Now I stood up, anger sweeping through me with powerful force. “For lying to me? For tricking me? For getting Heath to sign papers that…” The thought of the signed consent form nearly knocked the wind right out of me again, how I’d handed Heath the exact legal documents that were now going to subject him to the prying eyes of Hollywood. No one did exposés like the Fame! Network. They let nothing stand in their way of getting a good story—not truth, not decency, nothing.
What had I done? I sank back into my chair, my knees literally buckling underneath me. Heath, tucked away in his mountain cabin, thriving on his solitude and independence. About to have the Hollywood Hounds of Hell unleashed on him.
“Here’s the thing, Violet.” Sam stood, hands on his hips at the door. “You’ve got two choices. You can keep your job and thank me for landing us this show. Or you can get all huffy and pissy and pack up your shit this afternoon. Because here’s the thing.”
His voice went all quiet and menacing as he told me, “I went easy on you just now. Because I like you. And I think you might be able to convince Heath to play ball. But if you want to pick a fight, I have no problem with that. It’ll take me less than five minutes to have everyone in this office talking about what a little slut you were in that Vermont town, fucking around with your man candy instead of doing your job. They all know this exposé’s my idea. I can have you out on your ass in seconds flat.”
I looked up at him, wishing I weren’t so shocked. Wishing I wasn’t the stupidest human being on the planet.
“You think about it.” He nodded at me. “But don’t take too long.” He closed the door behind him.
I sat there, the only one remaining in the conference room, one woman at a long, empty table. Our building had been given an environmental upgrade over the past year, and all the lights now worked on motion sensors. I sat so still for so long that the lights turned off. It seemed like the room was empty.
And empty was how I felt, like my insides had been scooped right out and thrown out the 15th story window.
How had I been so blindsided? How had I worked alongside Sam for the past few weeks with no idea what he was doing? How had I been blind and stupid and so off base, actually getting caught up and excited like the Fame! Network would want to do a corney smalltown Hallmark channel series?
And Heath. Was any of what Sam said even true? I’d been in this industry long enough to suspect at least part of it was. That was the genius behind all the hype—find a kernel of truth to pop into a big balloon of scandal. Sam wouldn’t have been so excited if he’d made up the entire thing. He had to know that his facts, at least some of them, checked out.
Which meant Heath wasn’t who he said he was. He wasn’t a mou
ntain man living a life of independence and solitude, carving his own destiny out of wood and metal. He was Little Lord Fauntleroy, Richie Rich, heir to one of the greatest fortunes in the United States. He wasn’t an honest, straight-shooting, small town guy introducing me to life’s simple pleasures.
I’d been duped, by both of them. I’d thought I was falling in love, the star of a Lifetime Channel movie about a city girl who lets her hair down and ends up with the country boy she never dreamed she’d fall for. Turned out I was in another movie entirely. This was one of the kinds I didn’t like, where one of the main characters rips off a mask halfway through and reveals himself to be an evil villain. This was a social satire, not a romance, where everyone was laughing at the main character instead of rooting for her. I was in an indie flick brimming with ridicule and satire.
And worst, maybe worst of all was the way Sam had used me to get exactly what he wanted. He’d gotten me to get Heath to sign the paperwork, agreeing to be the center of an exposé.
At some point, I’d have to stand up. Eventually, I’d regain the feeling in my legs and I’d then be able to use them to move myself out of the dark conference room. But until then, I sat there, silent and still, hoping for another crazy plot twist. Maybe Sam would run in with his pants on fire and reveal he was a schizophrenic pyromaniac? Maybe a Marvel Comic hero would burst through the window, explaining we were under attack?
But the longer I sat there, the more clear it became: nothing was as it had seemed. And any way I looked at it, the reality I now faced was all kinds of ugly.
CHAPTER 18
Heath
When I stepped out of my cabin and the flash of a camera bulb burned my eyes, at first I didn’t know what was happening. It didn’t even register that it was a camera flash. I’d thought it was the sunlight hitting me strong, or maybe a heavy-duty flashlight someone was shining in broad daylight.
But then a guy stepped out from behind a tree, snapping away.
“What the fuck?” I roared, throwing an arm across my face, turning back to head inside. I hadn’t had a lot of experience with paparazzi—that was my rockstar brother Ash’s cross to bear—but I’d had a little. You didn’t get away with being billionaire Richard Kavanaugh’s son without getting hounded by cameras from time to time. In my experience, it had always been at exactly the wrong time.