Page 34 of All That Glitters

“Don’t tell me you’re doubting the abilities of my starlet here.”

Marcus shakes his head. “Never. She’s the only one I trust implicitly, after all. I have full confidence in her abilities.”

“You better be. This is my movie we’re talking about.” Parker laughs, his hands sliding into his pockets.

I gulp, the audible sound overshadowed by another round of clicking from the cameras.

His starlet.

His movie.

It might be easier to handle the way he speaks, the way he looks, the way he acts, if I actually liked the man. As it is, Parker comes across as a douchebag with the first words out of his mouth, and it cements the idea I formed of him at the audition. Reading for him had been easy despite it all. Working for him?

My gut tells me it won’t be nearly as simple and immediately, regret filters into my system. I force it all aside as Marcus drops his hand to mine and squeezes. Hard.

A warning for me to watch my mouth and play the part, whether I like it or not.

A completely different part than the one of Alicia, if I’m reading the situation correctly, but at least I’m used to wearing this mask. It never used to be one for me. I used to be the one who commanded the red carpet and the spotlight, who walked through these premieres easily, naturally.

Things changed.

“Mr. Heath!” One of the reporters shoulders their way toward us, their smile fanatic. “Tell us more about your upcoming film. Word has it you’ve tapped Miss Stone here as your lead.”

“Miss Stone, Miss Stone, how do you feel about getting involved with Mr. Heath so soon after the plane crash?” another reporter comments loudly.

“Mr. Ortega, as your client’s first legitimate role, what can you tell us about the terms you’ve negotiated?” This one comes from a third party, and soon, all the voices mingle together in one needle sharp, piercing drone.

“I’m thrilled Mr. Ortega is excited about my movie.” Parker speaks loudly to gather the attention on him, a king holding court.

“Of course we’re talking about the movie,” Marcus cuts in, although it’s almost impossible to hear him. “It’s all the reports want to know about, beyond the macabre.”

Yes, I’ve heard too many questions about it. Everyone wants to know how I feel, how I’m adjusting. Or worse: they want to know details of the crime scene and if it really was a simple equipment malfunction, or something far more sinister.

“Not to mention, it’s Empire’s first real part.” Parker looks smug and sounds smugger. It’s not really a good image for him, but I have a feeling it’s his favorite image. He takes a step in front of me and turns to look out over the crowd. “The sooner she gets used to commanding this type of media attention, the easier it will be for all of us.”

“Thank you again for the opportunity,” I tell him, trying to be nice and polite, even when his gaze leaves a stain on me. He just plain creeps me out.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, Empire. My pleasure. Why don’t you come over here, and we’ll do a couple of press interviews? The two of us, to get you used to what you’ll be going through once filming commences?”

I don’t like the way he says my name, either. The entitlement of those two syllables. The way he scours me from head to toe, lingering on my breasts and the bare skin at my stomach where the straps crisscross.

“We’re about to head inside,” Marcus says. “We don’t have time for interviews.”

“So soon? Not before we pose for a few pictures together.” Parker, without saying so, won’t let me go until he’s done with me. Marcus and I realize that at the same time and, judging from his put-out groan, he’s just as unhappy about it. “Can’t squander the photo ops, you know?”

Parker no sooner finishes speaking before he grabs me, hauling me to his side and away from Marcus. His palm lands hot and proprietary on my bare waist. He angles me to show me off to the cameras, and I barely have time to compose myself before what feels like a thousand flashes go off at the same time.

The media eats it up, exactly as he’d wanted, exactly as I knew would happen, and still, it startles me as black dots dance in front of my eyes from so many flashes.

“Mr. Heath, tell us about your latest production. Early buzz says this will be a surefire contender for the Oscars,” one reporter calls out. “Do you care to expound on it?”

“Oscar buzz already, and we haven’t released the title for the project!” Parker lets out a booming laugh. “I must be doing something right.”

I pull slightly away from Parker when his fingers dig a little too deeply into my skin. He draws his hand off my waist, down to my hip, his index and middle fingers tickling the bone before he settles again.

There's no good way for me to get out of this, not when the crowds press closer and Parker crows in front of them, not when he laps up the attention and holds me tighter. I’m stuck, torn between having to cling to him to remain steady and pulling at his hold to get him to loosen his grip.

I want out.

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