Page 58 of Fake Out

“Wait a minute,” I say. “This has something to do with Marissa, doesn’t it?”

“Charlie, this is a business decision,” he replies, his voice cold and detached.

It doesn’t take long for the pieces to come together. Marissa warned me that Isaac wouldn’t approve if he found out our fake relationship had turned into something real.

“Isaac, I don’t understand. What happened?”

“None of your concern,” he snaps, clearly unwilling to divulge any details. “You’ll meet your new agent tomorrow. Thank you for your cooperation, Charlie.” And with that, he hangs up, leaving me with more questions than answers.

“Damn it,” I mutter, my fingers tightening around my phone.

Marissa must be in trouble, and it’s all because of me. I should have been more careful, should have listened to her concerns about keeping our relationship a secret.

The anger boils inside me, hot and relentless. I can’t let Isaac do this to us, to Marissa. My fingers tap furiously on the screen as I call him back.

“Charlie, we’ve already discussed this,” he snaps as soon as he answers.

“Listen, man. I won’t work with anyone else but Marissa,” I say firmly, my voice steady despite my racing heartbeat. “She’s the one who knows me best, who understands how to guide my career.”

Isaac scoffs. “You owe the agency a lot, you know. You think you can just make demands like this?”

“Actually, I owe Marissa,” I retort, gritting my teeth. “She’s the one who’s been by my side from the beginning, not Abernathy.”

“Fine,” Isaac spits out, venom dripping from his words. “But don’t come crawling back when things go south.” He hangs up before I can respond, leaving me staring at my phone in frustration.

I shove the phone back into my pocket and pace the room, my mind racing. The sun has set, casting long shadows across my living room floor. Dinner time has come and gone, and still no word from Marissa. My worry for her grows with each passing minute.

“Damn it, where are you?” I say, feeling powerless. My fingers hover over the screen again, hesitating before hitting the call button.

“Please, please, pick up,” I whisper, holding my breath as the phone rings and rings. But once again, there’s no answer. The cold silence of her voicemail greeting chills me to the bone.

“Marissa, please call me back,” I plead into the phone. “I need to know you’re okay. I talked to Isaac. I’m sorry about… what happened.”

As I end the call, the weight of the unknown presses down on me. Did Isaac fire her?

Grabbing my car keys, I jog out the door, every breath, every footstep pushing me forward with only one goal in mind. I have to get to Marissa’s side.

Thirty minutes later, I pull my car to a stop outside her apartment, the engine purring into silence as I take a deep breath. The worry gnawing at me all night doesn’t subside, and I can’t shake the feeling that something is horribly wrong.

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter as I step out of the car and make my way up the front steps.

With each knock on Marissa’s door, my heart pounds harder in my chest. Finally, after what feels like eons, the door creaks open.

“Charlie?” Her voice is weary, and her eyes are red-rimmed. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been worried sick about you,” I blurt out, my concern pouring through every word. “You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and after talking to Isaac…”

“Isaac?” She flinches at his name, averting her gaze. “He figured it out, Charlie. He knows we’re really dating.”

My blood runs cold, and I grit my teeth. “What happened?”

“He said he was going to give you to another junior agent,” she explains, her voice cracking. “So I quit.”

“Quit?” I stare at her in shock, but instead of looking liberated or triumphant, she just seems upset.

She shrugs, avoiding my eyes. “Yep. That’s it.” Her laugh is dry. “My career is over.”

“Why would you say that?” I glance past her, into her apartment. “Can I come in?”

---