Absolutely True Lies (20 page)

“I don’t know,” I said. “But we’re being really selfish here. Our jobs may be in jeopardy, but we can get new ones. Daisy may not be so lucky.”

“How can you possibly feel sorry for her?”

“Because she’s eighteen years old with an unlimited bank account and no one to teach her right from wrong,” I replied.

Vaughn shook his head and began tearing up little pieces of pastry and dropping them back on the plate. He wasn’t interested in Daisy’s problems right now, only that he’d have to be the one to clean them up. Or at least, try. This debacle had very likely already gone past the point of no return.

“What a town without pity can do . . .” I needed to go back to sleep. The world was starting to take on a hazy, unreal quality, and I knew that no decision I made under these circumstances would be the right one. “I’m going to head back to the hotel to take a nap. And you should take a shower before work, you smell like sweaty boy.”

I’ve personally never minded that odor, but I figured the rest of the crew might. Not to mention, it was probably unprofessional to show up to work unkempt. Then again, Vaughn appeared to be right—a film set really is a lot like a monkey house. . . . This one seemed to be a place where pretty much anything went.

Vaughn turned and stared at me for a few seconds, with that strange, blank expression I still hadn’t figured out. He was so social and, well, talkative that I couldn’t imagine what was going on inside his head that couldn’t be readily translated into words. This was one of his main differences from Ben; Vaughn talked constantly but often said little, while Ben used words sparingly and to much greater effect. It was like Vaughn lacked the ability to be straightforward. It was maddening. “You’re right,” he said finally.

He took out a wad of euros and threw a few down on the table
without counting, then stood up. I followed along behind him and noticed that Vaughn didn’t say another word, even out on the street.

We still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room—my new “association” (or whatever it was) with Ben. I’d seen the look on Vaughn’s face when he saw the two of us holding hands, and I’d been waiting for him to say something. Anything. He had every right to, given our time together over the last couple of weeks. As we walked back toward the InterContinental, I thought perhaps this would be the moment it would all come out.

As usual, I was completely wrong.

“I think I still owe you lunch,” he said finally. “And since we’re a dead show walking, I don’t think anyone will care if I just walk off set for a little while.”

The fact that he still hadn’t brought up Ben made me crazy. “Wouldn’t that be dinner?” I asked. The call time for the crew had been pushed to 11:00
A.M.
, and meals always happened six hours later. Five
P.M.
was hardly lunchtime.

Vaughn groaned. “You’re right. And it’s a terrible time for dinner, too.” He made a face, thinking this over. “How about tomorrow, then? We don’t really have that much to shoot today; we should be back to normal by tomorrow morning.” He paused, breaking into a wry little grin. “Well, not normal. You know what I mean.”

“Tomorrow,” I agreed. “I may be asleep until then, anyway.”

“Listen, tell Ben I’m sorry for calling and waking you guys up this morning.”

I may be dense, but I saw this comment for exactly what it was—fishing. Vaughn wasn’t really apologizing, nor would he have cared if he’d woken Ben up with a punch to the face. He was asking if Ben had been there with me this morning when he called. Ben wasn’t, of course, but I considered lying. I wasn’t sure if the impulse was because I wanted to make Vaughn jealous or simply because I didn’t want him to think a negative answer implied doubts about Ben. But as I said, I’m a terrible liar, so I usually end up telling the truth.

“Don’t worry, I was the only one in that room for you to wake up and annoy,” I said. He didn’t respond.

After that, we walked largely in silence, probably because we were both too tired to think. I’d at least gotten a catnap—Vaughn had been up since yesterday morning. As we approached the InterContinental, I noticed that the police barricades were still set up and the little girls (now accompanied by quite a few mothers) were sobbing and holding up signs. Among those I had Ben translate for me later were “vai a casa” (or “go home”), “traditore” (“traitor”), and “Daisy é una butana” (“Daisy is a whore”). I felt that the last one, though true, was unnecessarily harsh considering she’d been caught doing drugs, not participating in a sex club orgy or giving a blow job on a street corner.

And I knew that school didn’t start for another several weeks, giving these girls a plethora of free time, but if they suddenly hated her so much, why bother wasting their precious summer vacation on an idol they felt had betrayed them? There was no doubt in my mind that most of these girls were the same ones who had been cheering for Daisy so intensely just twenty-four hours before—I recognized a number of them. I’m sure they were shocked by her arrest, but to take this all so personally—fame really is a fickle bitch.

When we had finally navigated the melee and were safe inside the hotel, Vaughn deliberately stopped at the front desk and gave me a hug. It was sweet, but much too long. I tried to ignore the fact that I really do love sweaty boy smell. Especially his particular vintage. I may have broken off the hug a little too quickly before dashing to the elevator. I still felt guilty about kissing Ben, even if I wasn’t sure whether I’d done anything to feel guilty for.

Vaughn wasn’t my boyfriend. If he wanted to be, then he needed to step up and say something. If not, there was a lovely and sweet man somewhere in this very hotel who appeared to want the job. I’m not a player—I never have been. But I was also starting to see
that in the past, I didn’t take enough care of myself. My job or my heart. Those days were over.

•  •  •

I
did sleep most of the day, my dreams interrupted at one point by a strange ripple of noise from below my balcony. I registered the noise, decided it was probably ex-fans booing Daisy and I didn’t care, and slipped back into unconsciousness.

I finally woke up around seven, when there was a light knock at my door. It was so faint, in fact, that I still can’t believe I heard it. I practically tripped over the covers trying to get out of bed, and then hip-checked myself on the wardrobe just before I reached the door.

My side was aching from what would soon be a spectacular bruise, but I promptly forgot about that when I found Faith on the other side of my door. “Hi,” I said in surprise. I waited for her to speak, but she just glanced at her feet, then cast a nervous look down the hall. “Um . . . do you want to come in?”

Faith shook her head slightly. “Could you come up to our suite?” she asked. “I’d really like to talk to you about something.”

“Of course.” I glanced down at myself, realizing that I was wearing pajamas. I didn’t want to be fired while wearing Care Bears shorts, as it would only serve to increase my humiliation. I really needed to start sleeping in my work clothes, the way people kept barging into my hotel rooms. “I should change first.”

“Oh, I don’t care what you have on,” Faith drawled. “Could you come up now?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to talk in my room?” I asked. My room wasn’t the penthouse, to be sure, but it was a suite at a five-star hotel. If she had an objection, I wanted to know what it was.

“It’s not a good idea,” she whispered, peeking into my room like there might be photographers behind the bed. “Please? Can you come upstairs?”

“Sure.” I was irritated, but I figured it would be more trouble
to argue than just to go and get this over with. “Just give me one second.” I put on the hotel slippers and grabbed my room key and a sweater. At least I had fallen asleep with my bra on.

No sooner had we walked to the bank of elevators than Ben emerged from one, surprised to see me. Partly, I’m certain, because of my attire. He looked down at Funshine Bear in astonishment, then back up to my face.

“I was just coming to find you,” he said.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him. “I’ll call your room when I’m done.”

Like the respectful man he is, Ben just nodded and allowed Faith and me to enter the elevator alone, even though he probably needed to use it to get back to his own room. If I were him, I wouldn’t have wanted to be in that elevator, either. Hell,
I
didn’t even want to be there.

Faith didn’t say another word until we reached the suite, ushering me in ahead of her. Jamie and Daisy were sitting on couches opposite each other, Daisy curled up and biting her nails. If I had to guess, I’d have said she was coming down from all the drugs. She somehow looked even more tired than that morning, sallow and peaked. Though for the first time, I noticed that she’d put on a few pounds just in the short time we’d been in Italy. I wondered how much you had to eat to gain weight in three days.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk in your room, but the police found three recording devices in our suite this afternoon,” Faith told me. “This is the only room we can be completely sure is safe.”

Call me crazy, but if they already found three microphones in the room, wouldn’t it stand to reason that any
other
room would be safer than their own? And who the hell was recording them, anyway?

“Deacon, our publicist, and our lawyer will be here by tomorrow morning. We tried to hire a private jet, but there were customs issues.” Faith took a seat next to Daisy, then gestured me toward Jamie’s couch. I desperately looked around the room for another open
seat, determined not to sit next to the degenerate most responsible for this crisis. I finally dragged a chair over from the little dining table and placed it between the sofas. I knew it was conspicuous, but I didn’t care.

The room fell silent, and I waited for someone to tell me why I was here. I thought I knew, but I wasn’t going to fire myself. If they wanted to get rid of me, they were damn well going to have to do it themselves.

It was quiet for at least two more minutes, which felt like an eternity. Everyone seemed to be staring at the ceiling or playing with their hair. I found myself getting angry. All three of them were cowards, and no one wanted to be the first to talk. Finally, it was Daisy—the last one I would have thought—who spoke up. “Just tell Holly what we want already.”

Jamie glared across the room at Daisy. “I told you, as far as the world is concerned, you’ve gone fucking deaf and dumb. Keep your mouth
shut
.”

To her credit, sweet little Daisy Mae Dixson glared right back at Jamie, her nostrils even flaring a bit. She looked like a horse ready to trample a crowd. “I’m done listening to you. Fuck off.”

Rather than respond, Jamie just flipped her off, turning his head away like he couldn’t bear to look at her. I’m sure every glimpse of her face was just another reminder of how much money they were losing by the hour. As sad as it was, that’s probably what most people were thinking.

“Well, as Daisy said, we were hoping you could help us,” Faith asked meekly, staring at me through lowered and nervously fluttering lashes.

My mind instantly went blank. What could these people possibly want from me? I thought back over the club debacle and my public humiliation at the hands of Perez Hilton, and wondered if they were about to ask me to try something ridiculous to pull attention away from Daisy’s arrest. How I could possibly compete with one of the world’s biggest celebrities snorting her future up her nose with a
bunch of teenage miscreants on a public corner, I had no idea. And I really didn’t want to find out. One more appearance on the news and my mother would send me to rehab. And not one of the good rehabs; all we could afford were those places with scratchy hospital sheets and a lot of people handcuffed to their beds.

“In what way?” I kept my voice cool and nonchalant, even though it was exactly the opposite of how I felt. I knew that the second I showed weakness in front of these people, they would pounce on it.

“The tone of the book will obviously have to change now,” Faith replied.

The tone of the book? They didn’t even know what the tone was. In the last month, no one had asked to read a single word of what I’d written. For all they knew, I was writing a tell-all detailing Daisy’s sexual escapades. In fact, the further I’d gotten, the more I was convinced that this entire project was just a useless exercise that no one had any intention of getting published. Jamie hadn’t mentioned a Random House or a Simon & Schuster, and there was no one checking up on my progress. If I’d spent their money and wasted the rest of my time gallivanting around town, they had no way of knowing.

“Mama means that we need to use the book as damage control,” Daisy explained, yawning.

“Stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard. . . .” Jamie mumbled.

“Do you have a better idea?” I couldn’t believe my own brazenness. But considering the direction this was all headed, none of us had a lot left to lose. And Jamie was the manager, after all. It was his job to handle her career and public persona. I couldn’t believe that he was trying to wash his hands of the disaster he’d created.

Jamie stood up, towering over all of us like a really tan, really vicious dinosaur. “It’s too goddamn late,” he roared, causing Faith to flinch. “Our prized show dog went and got herself knocked up by a mutt. She’s dirty—nobody wants her anymore.”

“I have never gotten knocked up.”

“Good for you! It’s a fucking metaphor,” he shot back. Jamie began pacing back and forth in front of the couch. He still wouldn’t look at Daisy. “We all just need to admit that we’re circling the drain here. We ride out the rest of the TV season and then give it up. Let’s be honest with ourselves.”

On the opposite couch, Faith began to sob. Daisy reassuringly reached out and smoothed back her mother’s hair, but Jamie just sighed loudly and dramatically.

“Aw, Jesus. Here we go again. . . .” He walked into the small kitchen and opened a cupboard, pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

“I am so sick of you,” Faith said haltingly, hyperventilating after each word. I’d never heard her say anything mean to or even about Jamie. “This is my child, I’m not just going to give up on her.”