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“It means I might get boycotted. Shunned. Ostracized by my fans because of…” I waved my hand around. “I wish I could post a fake crying apology video and be done with it.”
“You can’t,” she said, her voice monotone. For the past three years, we have worked together. I have never heard her happy or sad. Only angry, frustrated or disappointed. I was the reason for all of that. “Your video is already trending on Twitter and celebrity meme pages have created a meme template and—”
“I get it.” My headache worsened. “They don’t even know the truth and they’re blaming me…” I sighed, shaking my head. “I should have never signed the stupid ass contract.”
Don’t get me wrong. I was grateful and privileged enough to drop out of my art degree when I was selected for the manic pixie dream girl role. I had practiced before the audition and surprised my friends Mia and Emma, who were both still at university. They were happy for me, but they had warned me to be careful since it was Los Angeles.
The new adult romantic mini-series had done really well on one of the famous entertainment platforms. My character gave relationship advice to the main characters because she had a tragic past and would never find her own partner. Everyone loved my character and so did I. There were rumors of my character being the major role for the next season, but production was being sneaky.
And now… after that video, I could say goodbye to my role. To my short-lived acting career. I’d need to freshen up my resume and look for an actual nine-to-five job. The thought itself made me want to open the door of the car and roll out onto the highway.
“What were you doing there, anyway?” Heather asked me after a while. The weather was gloomy, and there was already traffic on the main highway. “I thought you didn’t like orgy.”
“I don’t!” I defended myself. “Colt invited me to his trailer, and I went. We were drinking, I may have gotten a bit drunk, and talking about the next season one moment, and the next I was passing out and they were—” I furiously stabbed my index finger into the circle I made with my other index and thumb. “I woke up hearing a camera shutter click and opened the door.”
I wished I could go back in time and never open that door.
The paparazzi had made his way into the trailer and found me with the two main male characters of the show. They were the love interests of the love triangle. Yes, they played around with each other in private, but I was so drunk and tired that I didn’t remember what they had done. But I had changed into a tiny tank top (my dress smelled like sex) and shorts, with my hair mussed up since I was asleep. Anyone would think I had a threesome with them since they were both half naked under the sheets. And no one would ‘cancel’ them since they were handsome white men.
“Okay. That’s fair, but you didn’t need to punch him.”
I grimaced. I had punched the paparazzi because he was trying to push his way into the bedroom, and I was sleepy, drunk, and had a headache. I couldn’t take it anymore. He had invaded our privacy, and I couldn’t help myself from throwing a mean punch.
“Yeah, about that. Is he going to sue?” I asked and shook my head. “Don’t tell me. I need to eat, shower, and sleep for a week straight before you tell me what I have to do next.”
I needed to call Emma and Mia, too. They would believe me. They had to.
Someone called me again, and I tossed my phone to Heather. I wasn’t sober enough to have a professional talk, or drunk enough to nod through it.
“It says Mom.”
I snatched it from her hand and picked up the phone. You never miss your mother’s call. Even if you are on a casting call, in the loo, or death row. “Mom!” I said with fake excitement. My own beaming voice made my headache worse. “How are you? Why’d you call?”
For a long time, I didn’t hear a reply. My stomach twisted with nerves, and I pressed my phone closer, avoiding Heather’s stare. “Mom? Is everything okay?”
“We made a mistake, Summer,” I heard her sniffling, and I straightened up. “I…I need your help.”
“What happened?” I demanded. “Did you get hurt? Dad? I told you not to fix the garage by yourself. I was going to come next we—”
“We are fine! But our… your…”
“Mom, what is it?”
“It’s your…” She sighed and my blood ran cold when she said, “It’s my sister.”
My hand clenched. “What about her?”
“She came to our house today.”
“I thought she was in Canada,” I said, my voice harsh. “What did she want this time? More money? A car? Our home?”
“Sweet. I think you should visit us as soon as you can.”
I slumped. Mom never called me anything other than my name. Summer. She named me Summer because I was always smiling and laughing and rarely cried as a child.
“I’ll be there, okay? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”
“I love you, Summer.”
