Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 151085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151085 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Camille.
I can’t let what she did go unaddressed. I haven’t bothered to deal directly with her animosity before, and if she hadn’t involved Neevah, I probably wouldn’t bother now.
But she did.
My fingers flex and grip the steering wheel in the struggle to control my anger, which has crouched like a tiger ever since Evan dropped his bombshell news. I strategized with him. I made sure Neevah was okay. I even checked in with Kenneth and Jill to confirm we’re ready for tomorrow. With all of those things handled, now I can deal with Camille.
This was low.
Even for her, the woman who got me fired, not based on my inability, but out of spite and, yes, hurt. I know that. I could have pretended, let things ride until the movie wrapped, but that wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.
Headed home, I pull onto the interstate and select her contact. After half a ring, she answers like she was expecting my call.
“Canon.” Her voice fills the car, but she doesn’t say anything else. She’s almost as good as I am at hiding her feelings. It makes me appreciate Neevah’s openness and generosity even more.
“We need to talk,” I say.
“You could come over.” Her husky voice suggests wicked things. “I still keep Macallan . . . just in case.”
She thinks because she knows what I like to drink she knows me, like that’s intimacy. She has no idea how to burrow into my thoughts, into my system so deeply I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. Neevah did that. What Camille and I had? It’s a shadow of the real thing.
“What you did today was uncalled for,” I say without acknowledging her offer. “Bitchy, even for you.”
“I merely expressed my desire to work with you again and my disappointment at not even being given a chance over some novice. Did you not want people to know you’re fucking yet another actress from one of your movies?”
“I don’t have time for games or to rehash the past. I won’t mislead you that there’s a future for us.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You obviously wanted my attention.” I shrug, even though she can’t see it. “You got it. Now what?”
“I actually think we could put all this behind us and try again,” she says. “It was good. I know you remember.” Her words are a sultry promise, but my dick doesn’t even twitch.
“Now who’s flattering herself?” I scoff.
“You’re saying it wasn’t?”
“I’m saying it wasn’t enough.”
“Oh, and your little piece of ass is?”
My jaw clenches and I force my breaths to flow in even and slow, refusing to reveal my tumultuous emotions. “I called to ask for a truce,” I say. “To ask nicely.”
“And if I don’t?”
“It will be better if we both agree to let this go. To put this behind us. I’ll stay out of your way.” I pause, pouring ice over the small silence. “And you’ll stay the hell away from Neevah Saint.”
“Oh, now we get down to it,” she says, her words like the slash of a knife. “You know what I can’t wait for? I can’t wait for this movie to tank and everyone to know, including your studio and Evan, that you could have had me and you passed. That you could have had a star guarantee this movie succeeded, and you chose some unknown basic bitch with a tight pussy.”
“Tank? You mean the way Primal tanked without me?”
My retort dulls her blade and she goes quiet.
“Leave her alone, Camille.”
“How lucky she is to have a champion, someone who gave her a shot when literally no one in their right mind would.”
“Neevah is more talented on an off day than you are on your best,” I say, my voice not raising. “Is that what you want me to tell you? She’s the best thing about this movie, and there are a million great things about Dessi Blue. It’s the role of a lifetime, and I understand why you resent not getting a shot at it, but it wasn’t a fit for you.”
“No. If you had let me—”
“I tell her things that I tell no one else,” I continue softly, injecting the words with truth so she can hear that I’m not lying. “I want to be with her all the time. It has been torture pretending I don’t want her and hiding that we’re together. I’m proud of her, and because of what you did today, now everyone knows.”
“Son of a bitch,” she hisses, but the hurt slips through. I hear it. What she did was low, but what I just said, though honest, was low in its own way, because when it comes down to it, I know why Camille got me fired. I know why she lashed out publicly. I know why she threw her tantrum today.
Hurt people holler, Mama used to say.