Page 56 of Still Her
* * *
JACK
Obviously, we don’t go to the show taping. Instead, the SUVs take all four of us and Ron to a hotel six blocks away where we are discreetly ushered in through a back entrance and onto an elevator that Ron has made sure is clear of any guests. We can’t risk any word getting to Eli that we are somewhere other than where we’re supposed to be.
Once we’re on the thirtieth floor, we get out and keep our heads down until we reach the large Presidential suite at the end of the hall. After Ron gives a knock, we’re let in by one of The Shock Wave’s bodyguards. The whole band is waiting for us in the main room, as well as a woman who sits at the table in the corner, who I assume is Rachel Lawrence, seeming as we asked to meet with her.
After all of us exchange greetings, she stands so that George can introduce us. She’s a tall, thin blonde, not much older than the rest of us, and wears black framed glasses. Her smile is friendly but professional as she shakes hands with all of us and Ron, before turning her full attention to him as he jumps right in with the discussions.
“So, I spoke with the Up All Night producers and…” Ron starts.
“As did I,” Rachel picks up the conversation. “We’re a go. In fact, you guys should get going so you make it on time,” she turns and addresses George and the rest of his band.
I walk up to them all before they head for the door. “Thank you,” is all I can say as I look around at all of them. They all give me encouraging smiles and shoulder slaps, except George, who shakes his head before pulling me in for a tough, manly hug.
“It’ll be alright man,” he murmurs before releasing me.
“I know,” I say as he walks out the door. After it shuts, the five of us and Rachel have business matters to go over.
“That was smart, lining The Shock Wave up to go on the show in your place,” she starts in once we’re all seated around the table. “It made Coleman’s people a lot more amenable to your cancelling on short notice. They just want you to commit to another appearance within the next six weeks.”
“That’s what they told me too,” Ron confirms. “We’re on tour, but we’ll make it work. The guys have a two week break over the holidays, so maybe sometime then will work.”
“Perfect. As for the statements, I drew them up for you. One is from all of you, and one’s just from you, Jack. Why don’t you guys look them over,” she continues, handing one to me and one to Ron. “Since you are still technically with NoLimit PR, I can’t officially take you on as a client, but all of this,” she waves her hands around the table, “I can do pro bono until your contract with them is voided.”
“We appreciate that, Rachel,” Ron says, as he takes a pen from the inside of his jacket and signs the statement before sliding it over to Matt. Rachel shrugs, and I can’t help noticing the smug smile on her face before I look back down at the statement she prepared on my behalf. I add in a couple of lines at the bottom, sign it, and pass it back to her.
“Thank you for meeting with us. I know you’re busy, and this was so last minute…” I shake my head, trying to show my profuse appreciation, and while her smile is still vaguely in place, it’s tight, and a solemn look comes over her eyes.
“NoLimit PR is where I interned,” she interjects. We all stop what we’re doing and look up at her. “I learned a lot from Eli Costa and I worked hard. And when my internship was over, he offered me a job. Take one wild guess why I didn’t take it.”
Un-fucking-believable. Then again, not so much. I can tell by the looks on everyone else’s faces that they share my sentiment. It’s not hard to connect the dots. She’s a woman who was working for him, in a position of vulnerability, and he’s a dog.
She glances around and I notice there’s not even a hint of a smile on her face anymore, and her expression has transformed into one of spite. “Never has one human made me feel so disgusted, insulted, and small.” She then turns to me. “Jack, I’m sorry for what he’s been putting your wife through. I’ve always carried a lot of regret for not being one of the brave ones and standing up to him. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t need to be sitting down with me right now.”
“It’s not your fault. He’s doing this, not you,” I make a feeble attempt at reassuring her. I can tell by the slight shake that is starting to creep into her voice that she is close to getting emotional. I can see she notices it too because she takes a deep breath and blows it out, quickly composing herself. “So. All of this… is the least I can do. Whatever you guys need, I will help.” We all thank her as she stands, and Ron walks her to the door.
I let out a breath and run a hand through my hair before letting it rest on the back of my neck.
“Jack,” Matt glares at me, and there’s an admonishing tone in his voice. “I know that look. Quit worrying about the rest of us. There’s no way we want any of the things that piece of shit has thrown our way.”
“I’m with him,” Chris looks across the table at me. “The song for the film, the Superbowl… who knows how he really got us those deals.” He flops back in his chair.
“Yeah,” Josh chimes in. “I want nothing to do with any of that. I’d rather we get those opportunities the honest way - because we deserve it and it’s really our turn.”
“And all that aside…” Matt assures me, “he’s got to be stopped. Bottom line. We’re doing the right thing.”
I already knew all that, but I’d be lying if I said all of their support and reassurance doesn’t help take some of the weight off.
Without wanting to, I pull up my left sleeve to check my watch. Time to head back and wait for Morris’s call.
* * *
MAYZIE
As I screw the lid back onto my lip gloss and set it down on the vanity, I take a look in the mirror and see… myself. The girl Jack fell in love with. My makeup is my usual soft and subtle colors, pinks and creams on my eyelids and a pale pink gloss on my lips. I look the way I do every day. The way Jack and everyone else I love sees me. I like what I see. In fact, I love it, and I decide on the spot that that douche-waffle doesn’t get to see it. He’s going to see someone else tonight. He doesn’t get the privilege of seeing therealme, the me I show to Jack.
I snatch two makeup removal wipes out of their package and work the shadow off my eyes with one, before wiping my lips with the other. I pull my entire arsenal out of my makeup bag, which isn’t much, and open the small eyeshadow palette I have, the blacks and charcoals completely smooth and untouched by an application brush. Well, they are cashing in their V-cards tonight.