The Scene Stealer: A Hollywood Romance
“Dammit, Elena.” I angrily walk off set, looking for a clean towel to press against my cheek. The scrape is deeper than I initially thought, and it burns like hell.
I walk over to the makeup trailer to see if we can get it cleaned and covered up before I leave. Amber, the studio’s artist, is able to put some antibiotic liquid on the cut so that it doesn’t get infected. Just as she’s finishing up the door to the trailer opens and in the reflection of the mirror, I watch Tessa walk in, her face masked in horror. “Hey, what’s going on?” I ask her.
She ignores my question at first and asks Amber to excuse us. The artist hurriedly scurries away.
Cutting the shit, Tessa walks up to me and hands me her phone. “Have you seen this? Did you know?”
“I’m sorry, you’re being awfully vague. What is it I’m looking at?”
She taps her screen, hitting play on the live stream, and then I realize that she’s viewing an entertainment channel.
“Is this about the movie?”
“No.”
That’s when Larsen’s face appears on the screen and I realize how bad this really is.
“Is this airing now? When did you learn about it?”
“Only about five minutes ago when I received the full transcript in an email. I had to wait for you to finish filming. There is nothing I can do to get this taken down.”
“How terrible do they paint her?”
“It’s not just that. It’s about you too, Devyn. There are interviews. In-depth interviews with your parents, so-called friends, and Larsen. They’re saying she did an exclusive.”
“But she wouldn’t. . .” I say just as Elena and her lackey Michael enter the trailer.
“You need to leave,” Tessa says in a no-bullshit tone, but Elena is not deterred.
“I am sorry. I came to see how your face is faring. I hope that you are not upset with me.” She steps over to my chair and leans down to look at my cheek, but her gaze flickers down to the phone in my hand playing the video. “Oh, yes. I heard about this from Michael. Tsk tsk,” she points out as if that should give her reason to stay after being asked to leave.
Speaking again, Tessa tells her, “This doesn’t concern you, Elena.”
“Yet, it does. Devyn is my boyfriend, for all intents and purposes. And this woman was using him.”
“What?”
“Devyn, no.” I can hear Tessa’s voice, but it’s muffled from my pounding heart.
“Explain,” I growl, looking up at Elena.
“Michael showed me the transcript. It talks about her accident, they tried to find her mother, but couldn’t. They interviewed some of the people that know her. It really was a gruesome thing to read, about the car and the burning flesh smell.”
“Try living through it,” I bellow in Larsen’s defense.
Elena has the decency to look apologetic, but just for a moment. “Yes. . .well. . . it seems that she used you to her advantage. They have quotes from her saying that once she figured out you paid her hospital bill, which, by the way, is very kind of you, that she knew that she could figure out a way to get you to help save her family’s diner without you knowing.
“From what it said she was the one leaking the pictures and stories to the tabloids to get people to visit. The mysterious ploy worked, I suppose.”
“Devyn, you know that’s not what happened,” Tessa argues, but I’m not sure what I believe anymore. My mind is swirling with conflicts and as I look around the room, not one thing offers me a resolution. Because how else would they have learned about the medical bills being paid off or the struggle her uncle is having?
“Oh,” Elena says as she takes another look at the phone. “Are those your parents? I should like to meet them one day.”
“What?” I shout. Leaning closer, I turn up the volume on the phone wondering what the hell my parents have to do with Larsen.
Then, front and center, a picture flashes on the screen of the three of them together.
“Fuck. Fuck!” I roar, my voice shaking the loose objects in the room.