Page 99 of Filthy Rich

“We need a new name for him,” Octavia says. “Because I’m not calling him that anymore.”

“We can call him my uncle,” I say. “That’s what I usually do, when I remember.”

“He doesn’t deserve that,” Octavia mutters.

“I think he cared about me in his own twisted way,” I say. “I’m not sure he knew how to do any better.”

“He’s a good looking, smart guy, but he’s a manipulative and vengeful one, too,” Seren says. “I say we call him your uncle. It’ll honor that he tried, possibly, but that he’s not your dad and he was never honest in the way he treated you or the things he told you.”

“Sure.” I nod. “He can be my crazy uncle.”

“Wait,” Dave says. “You already have a few of those.”

“Bentley,” Seren says, “is definitely already your crazy uncle.”

“I don’t think he likes me much,” I admit.

Dave shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “For an intuitive guy, you struggle at reading honest people. Bentley loves you for just who you are.”

“You should hear him brag about you,” Seren says. “He’s always going on about his famous nephew.”

“Actually, that gives me an idea,” Dave says, “of how we can deal with your uncle.”

His smile makes me nervous, but not as nervous as Octavia’s. “I wonder if we have the same idea.”

Chapter 23

Jake

If you poll a kindergarten classroom, most kids want to be the President, or a movie star, or a rock singer. Not me. All I wanted to be was a dad. I thought my dad knew everything. He was the closest thing I’d ever met to a real superhero.

Of course, that was largely because of all the lies he told me.

I thought, obviously, about reporting my dad’s past crimes and plans to defame the Fansees and getting him sent back to prison. At the end of the day, I don’t feel good about it. It’s using my dad’s own playbook against him, and I’d rather throw it away.

The problem is that I do actually like my job, and the only other way I can think to defuse the situation is to drop a bomb on my career and walk away. If I didn’t care about acting ever again, that would be fine. That was what I did for years and years—walked away.

But I don’t want to do that anymore.

Thankfully, it turns out Dave and Octavia did have the same idea.

While risky, their idea was intended to try and preserve my ability to work as an actor. Their suggestion sent me to the internet, researching extensively. It turns out, the key to managing bad information if you’re a celebrity is twofold.

First, it’s important to be honest. When it came out that Hugh Grant had hired a prostitute, he didn’t prevaricate. He didn’t make up excuses. He apologized on primetime television, and he said he’d made a terrible mistake. No excuses. No story. Just a confession and an apology. I found countless other examples of celebrities who actually fessed up to bad things they’d done, and the public outcry was cut much shorter.

But secondly, when you can control the narrative, you can often almost eliminate the pushback. Not all the bad things a celebrity deals with are scandalous. Sometimes, our biggest hurdle is choosing a film or series that bombs. When Ryan Reynolds did the Green Lantern, one of the most epic flops ever, it could have spelled disaster for him, but he didn’t let it. He mocked himself and the franchise freely, and he used it to push his other stuff.

Most relevant to me, David Letterman was being blackmailed by someone just like my uncle for having an affair. Instead of paying the blackmailers off, he went on his own late-night show to confess to what he’d done. He apologized to everyone involved and to the public for what he’d done and begged for forgiveness. Another similar incident happened in 1991, when Magic Johnson chose not to hide his HIV diagnosis. He announced it right away and asked people to support him.

Which is why I’ve called a press conference for this morning.

“Why, hello.” I force a smile, but I really miss facing something bad without Octavia’s hand on my knee. “Thank you for coming to hear me out today.”

“What’s going on?” one reporter shouts. “Did you have an affair with a married woman?”

“I wish,” I say.

They freeze, and then they laugh.

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