Page 10 of Faking It

Ryan touches my knee, and I hear his deep sigh. “Look, I understand why you’re angry. What happened to you was so fucking unfair. This self-destructing path is not the answer, though. It’s hard, but you gotta pick yourself back up. This is not the end.”

I open my mouth to assure him that I’m quite aware of that, but Cynthia beats me. “Right now, you’re still untouchable. Your fans think the world of you, and they’re still in your corner, but how long before they get sick of your destructive ways?” she says.

“It’s not just the fans that are protecting him, Cyn,” Craig speaks up. “His father’s legacy makes him untouchable. For now.” He directs his attention to me. “James’ protection won’t last long if you keep this up.”

I hold back my scoff. Dad’s not protecting me. He’s protecting his own image. Little do the public know that my actions are quite tame compared to what he’s been up to. He’s only worried that the spotlight may get turned on him if I keep losing control.

“Enough of this impromptu therapy session. Let’s discuss why your father sent us here. Gideon, you’re getting a golden opportunity,” Ryan announces, and my head snaps up.

“What opportunity?” I ask suspiciously.

“Your aunt recently bought the rights for a new film, as you already know.” I nod in acknowledgement, my eyes narrowing at him. “Well, your father spoke to her, and she agreed to offer you the lead male role.”

“No.”

“Let me finish—”

“I said, no.” My reply comes firmer and harsher this time.

“For God’s sake, Gideon,” Ryan hisses. “You’re broke. You need the goddamn money. Why the hell would you even refuse a guaranteed deal like this?”

I flinch. It’s a reflex move, a definite reaction whenever there’s any mention of how far I’ve fallen. Ryan sees my face and sighs. “I’m sorry for hitting below the belt, dude, but it needed to be said. You can’t afford to refuse any gigs right now.”

He’s right. I can’t afford it, not when my net worth is now a little over zero. Yet, I hate being another of my father’s puppets. I hate not being in control. Besides, I need more time to get my project off the ground.

Cynthia’s cell phone rings, cutting off my snarky reply. She stares at the screen with a sigh. “Speak of the devil.”

I shake my head at her.

She narrows her eyes, then shoves the phone toward me.

Muttering a curse word in my head, I press the answer button. “Daddy dearest. What’s happening?”

“Don’t you use that cocky tone of voice with me, junior. Why haven’t you been answering my calls? I noticed you read my messages.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what? Not working, that’s for sure since your little series wrapped three months ago. Destroying bars and fucking everything that wears a skirt, those don’t count as work.”

You would know about fucking everything that wears a skirt, Dad. I learned from the best, that’s for sure.

“Did Cynthia tell you about the role, the one your aunt sacrificed for you?”

Oh, please. I hardly call it a sacrifice. I might hate acting, but I’m damn well good at it. Aunt Cheryl knows she’ll get a return on her investment with me. “Yes, she did.”

“And?”

“Can I take a rain check while I think about it?”

“The hell you will,” Dad growls. “Do you understand what ‘sacrificed’ means? There were more talented actors considered for the role, including Mike.”

Yeah, it took him two minutes before mentioning Michael Galanos, his best friend’s son and my rival. Two minutes. That’s a record. Give him another minute, and he’ll start comparing us. I brace myself for it.

“Don’t embarrass me more than you already have, junior. You are going to take that role, so help me God. Did you know that Mike got nominated for an Oscar? What awards have you earned, huh?”

Yep. There it is.

I glance at the others, noticing their discomfort. Stupid me for putting the call on speaker.

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