“I GOT TO GO ,” I moaned.
Standing, I lurched toward the stairs. Steph followed.
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded, but my head spun. I moved ahead of her into the lobby. I felt dozens of faces turn, eyes boring into me. I put a hand up, waving Stephanie off. As I did, my stomach cramped, causing my eyes to water. Through a glassy blur, I searched for the restrooms. When I saw the sign for the elevators, I hurried in that direction.
“Theo?” she called out behind me.
“I’ll call you,” I managed to answer.
From there, I lost track of her. Despite the continued feeling of being watched, everyone around me disappeared, as if they’d slipped behind a rising curtain. All I could see was that sign.
“Excuse me,” someone said.
Maybe I’d bumped them. I have no idea. Luckily, the bathrooms were back there. I broke into a sprint, hitting the door hard as I stormed into the men’s room. The stall was open. Sliding to my knees, I was sick, horribly. Sweat stung my eyes and rolled down my sides, under my clothes. I moaned, then heard the bathroom door swing open and close again.
When it was done, I couldn’t get up off the cold tile. With effort, I swung a heavy hand up and managed to flush the toilet. Then I rolled to the side, my shoulder resting against the shining metal divider.
“She won’t do it,” I muttered.
I wanted to cry. Or scream. But I had the energy for neither. Instead, my eyes still watering, all I could think about was Bender. And his sister.
After the instant success of The Basement, I was supposed to be living the dream. It had been released to shocking fanfare. Everyone was talking about it, in the business and across the country. In the blink of an eye, I went from obscurity to fame. My dream had come true.
On top of that, I had what I thought at the time was an amazing start for my next project. I was waist-deep in the story of Joseph Bender, a man accused of a murder I believed he hadn’t committed.
One second I was on top of the world. The next, I sat across from my film’s producer, calmly watching her view dailies from the past week. I felt excited, untouchable. Until she stopped the reel.
“You can’t use any of this,” she said.
Pepper was a friend of Kent and his father. She’d been producing films for only about five years before that day. But she’d outbid everyone else for the chance to support my film.
“Excuse me?” I asked, shocked.
Pepper leaned forward, the Italian leather of her desk chair making the softest, smoothest hiss. Though a blush rose on her cheeks, her eyes pierced mine.
“Maybe I’m missing something.” She tented her hands. “Maybe, over the last six months, you’ve amassed hours of film, mountains of proof. But … I hear that’s not really the case.”
If that meeting had taken place prior to The Basement, I would have been appropriately nervous at that point. More importantly, I wouldn’t have kept my financier in the dark for so long. I certainly would have given her thoughts and opinions the proper consideration. Instead, my hackles lifted.
“You hear, huh? And who might you be hearing from?”
Pepper took a deep breath. She was younger than me. But her tone hid any hint of that fact.
“Theo,” she said softly. “It’s a small town. I thought you’d know that by now. Look, you have some cachet. This isn’t a disaster. In fact, I understand you have the foundation of another winner. But this stuff with his sister. What she’s saying about the police. It’s great. But I don’t think there is even a touch of truth to it. Did you vet her at all?”
“Are you serious?” I snapped. “Geri is amazing. Better, she’s right. The cops basically tortured Bender. They held him for almost two days in a shitty little interview room. Pumped him full of sugar and nicotine to keep him awake. Pressed him, mercilessly, until he finally said what they wanted.”
“I’ve seen the police video. That’s not really how it looks.”
“They put that out!”
“Don’t raise your voice,” she said.
“I didn’t—”
“You did. I’m not your sister. Or your girlfriend. And I’m certainly not Geri Bender.”
When she said that, the first hint of doubt tickled the back of my throat. The hubris of my fame, however, immediately coated it. I leaned forward.
“Is this about what she does? How she looks? I’d expect better of you, Pepper. That’s pretty catty.”
I shouldn’t have said that. When it came out later that I had called Pepper Thompson catty, it didn’t look good at all. In the moment, I truly believed it. But that faith lasted no longer than a second. With a sharp smirk on her face, Pepper slid her iPad across the desk.
“Hit play, Theo,” she said, her words rock hard.
“What’s—”
“Hit play, please.”
I didn’t want to do what she said. I even thought it might be some kind of power play, her ordering me around. Curiosity, however, is a powerful motivator. My finger seemed to move of its own accord. I pressed the white triangle and could only stare. The shot was dark and grainy, obviously from a security camera. It took me only a second to recognize where it had been taken. The Wild Orchid on Hollywood Boulevard.
“Really …” I stammered, incensed.
Pepper didn’t say anything. She just motioned toward the screen. And I watched Geri Bender step up onto the stage, gripping the shining pole as she did.
“So what, Pepper. She’s a dancer.”
That smirk stayed on her face. “Just watch.”
That’s when I knew. I slapped my hand on the screen, trying to stop the video before I showed up, bills in hand. Before Geri sauntered over to me. Before …
“This is how you treat the people you work with.”
“This is how I protect my investments,” she answered.
“I’m out of here!”
I got up so quickly that the chair almost tipped over. Before I could open the office door, Pepper barked out an order.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said.
My fingers wrapping around the handle, I looked over my shoulder.
“You’re going to stop me?”
“Sit back down, please. This is getting out of hand.”
“You mean the part about you illegally videotaping me?”
“No, I mean the part about you having an affair with your subject’s sister. Using her one-sided story to accuse the Tulsa Police Department of grossly mishandling her brother’s case.”
“Fuck you, Pepper,” I snapped.
Her eyes slowly closed. “That was my last warning, Theo.”
“Kiss my ass,” I said, and stormed out.
Minutes after that meeting, I sat in traffic. The rage boiled up, escaping in random shouts and curses. I could not believe what had happened. That Pepper had somehow gotten video of Geri and me together. In the moment, I didn’t question my behavior. Or my decisions. Maybe it was my meteoric rise, the effect fame had on me, but I saw myself as untouchable.
If you’ve never hit it big in Hollywood, if you’ve never walked into the swankest nightclub through the VIP entrance or if a bunch of rich people have never bid on your work, you might judge me. Certainly, a few people who fit that bill did. But looking back, after everything that’s happened since, I still can’t understand how I handled that situation. It was like I had gotten high on some drug, but the rush lasted weeks, maybe months. Worse, I’d become addicted to it.
I opened up my phone and posted the clip from my Bender film, the one I’d shown Pepper, to Twitter. As I inched up the ramp of a cloverleaf, I watched the number of likes racing upward. I hadn’t traveled more than a mile before it had over a thousand retweets. I laughed. I felt vindicated. Until, as I scrolled through the comments, I saw someone had posted another video, the one Pepper had shown me. As my clip went viral, so did Pepper’s. A messy lawsuit followed. She won, and I was told to return the advance her company had paid, most of which I’d already spent. Life after fame is expensive in so many ways.