Page 42 of Bad Reputation

Bernard had impressed upon Maggie that her main concern had to be what was good for the production, but it was impossible not to see someone in as much pain as Tasha and not worry about her on a human level.

It’s what Cole would have done.

“I’ve been injured on sets a lot,” she said, wryly. “Black eyes, broken toes, cracked ribs, a concussion once. It was easier to treat all of those. To feel as if Ineededto treat them.”

A pause.

Then Tasha rushed into it. “When they brought the script forCosa Nostrato me, they were upfront that it was going to be ‘edgy.’ I mean, I can’t say I didn’t know what the part was going to be. And I fuckingwantedto play her. Here was this woman who had so little power in a world that doesn’t respect women, and she was using her body and sex to challenge that shitty system. Something about that seemed ... radical. But I didn’t understand that, sure, she acts out of desperation and survives—but to portray that, I’d have to be pushed to my limits. Experience humiliation. It isn’t a revolution when the caged animal bites, you know?” She drew a sharp breath, her first as she’d delivered the monologue.

“No, it isn’t.” Maggie understood what it was like to be powerless and face down a bully.

When she’d been fired, she’d realized that all too often, it was the worst people in the world who were making the decisions. It wasn’t that she’d been ignorant about those people existing. It was that she’d thought we all knew better than to listen to them. It had been shocking to realize they were actually in charge. That when we’d all been distracted, they’d seized the levers of control.

“I don’t know why they bothered to have wardrobe for me on that fucking movie.” Tasha rolled her eyes. “Most of my costumes were lingerie. I was on screen with, like, half a dozen different men, most who were fine.” She paused, and Maggie had trouble not spitting out that an adult man who was appearing in intimate scenes with a literal child was not actually “fine” until Tasha added “But.”

“But?” Maggie echoed.

If the first part had come out almost in a rush, now her story was a series of choppy spurts. “The real issue was Vincent, that fucking bastard. He and my mother had a relationship—a complex, messy relationship. It was professional, at the start. Then came the sex. They fucked and used each other for decades. Now, it’s whatever these things turn into when you despise each other but you still work together sometimes and sleep together when you’re drunk or desperate. Vincent has the most obnoxious I’ve-seen-you-naked shit-eating grin. It’s astonishing no one has knocked his teeth out.”

There was a largeness to this world Maggie was only just now coming to understand. The amounts of capital, the number of people, the sheer size of the entertainment industry was more expansive than Maggie had realized—and she’d spent her life working in the theatre. What Tasha was saying, and the fact that it was an open secret in Hollywood that Zoya could speculate about even while still working with him ... it made her dizzy.

This was dangerous. For Tasha to have experienced. For Maggie to know.

Maggie addedfearto the list of swirling emotions she was feeling.

“Did he hurt you?” Maggie’s question was painfully bald but still euphemistic.Hurtcovered all kinds of crimes.

“Not like you’re thinking. He was on set constantly. All the fucking time. He loves to give back rubs to his stressed-out stars, and it turns out I must have been very stressed.”

“How . . . thoughtful.” How disgusting.

“Remember, I went into this movie calling him ‘Uncle Vince.’ Of all the goddamn names, it wasuncle.”

“And now he’s watching you act naked and giving you back rubs.”

“Yup. And bringing along the other producers, too, the douche. It was ... I wanted that part, I really did. But I didn’t know how it would feel.”

Maggie had a lot of suggestions, but she didn’t want to name Tasha’s emotions for her. What the actress needed right now was unconditional support.

“You were a child, Tasha. This isn’t your fault. There was an entire industry that should’ve responded to this and stopped it.” Stopped him.

“My mom, my own fucking mom, was on set when some of it went down, Maggie. And she and I and my agent signed whatever they put in front of me without blinking. The press ... they’ve picked up the tension between my lovely mother and me, but they’ve never connected it toCosa Nostra.”

Of course Tasha was livid about it.

“She should’ve protected you.”

“Maybe. She could have fucking warned me at the very least. I feel like everyone assumed I knew the score because she’s my mom, but I honestly had less information than anyone else about what he was, what this industry is. My mom told me jack shit.”

Maggie wanted to scream on Tasha’s behalf. She wanted to burn down the fucking room and kick Vincent Minna’s ass. But Tasha was watching her, waiting for that exact response. It would’ve been expected, and in some ways, not enough.

What Tasha, and probably so many other women, had experienced was soul destroying. What did justice even mean? What would Maggie’s ragedo, beyond making Maggie feel better?

What Maggie could actually provide to Tasha was validation. During those moments when Maggie had been at her lowest, the way Savannah had simply told her over and over again that she hadn’t done anything wrong and put the blame where it belonged, that had been the only thing that had helped.

“Tasha, if this was a Reddit AITA post, the answer would be that everyone in this story except you sucks. They all suck so much.” Comic understatement wasn’t enough, but in this moment, it was what Maggie could give.

There was an extended pause. Then Tasha laughed, hard and long. A laugh that was a sob.

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