Page 67 of The Actor: Harrison

“There is a lot to say,” he counters.

“Oh, now you have a lot to say. Not when you betrayed me by putting money in a project I openly asked you not to.” I see red. If he comes closer, I’m going to punch him. I swear.

I feel so betrayed I can’t even breath.

“It was before I even knew you. I didn’t know you didn’t want me to,” he tries to explain.

Technically, he’s right. He couldn’t know I didn’t want him to save my movie, but it doesn’t justify him going behind my back. He forced me to fire the lead actor to make space for his massive ego.

“And you didn’t think it was something you should have told me after?Four days ago, I told you what happened with my ex and you didn’t think that was a good moment to come clean?” Damn. Four days ago he told me he loved me. What a fool I am.

He says nothing. He stands there with guilt all over his face. He knew exactly what he was doing and he chose the easy way.

“You know what hurts most, Harrison? That you are the most honest person I know. You are always straightforward, candid in everything you do. But I’m not worthy of your honesty. I’m so low on your priority list you don’t even bother to tell me the truth. I had to find out from a complete stranger that you betrayed me in the worst possible way.” I’m so spent that my words come out in a whisper.

“I didn’t want to lose you. I knew if I told you you’d walk away and I couldn’t do it. I love you, Sienna. And the thought of you disappearing from my life was scary enough to make me do something stupid.” His voice cracks and my heart bleeds with every sound.

“You want to know the irony in all of this? You didn’t lose me because of the money, you lost me because of the lie. If you had talked to me, I would have probably freaked out and yelled at you, but I would have gotten over it. But now, Harrison, I can’t trust you. And that is something I can’t get over.” I turn around and walk down the empty street.

I don’t look back once. I don’t know what he’s doing but I can’t hear his car or any other sound. And maybe that’s what breaks my heart even more. No matter how angry I am with him, what guts me most is his absence.

“I fucked up!” I blurt out when Leonard opens his front door.

He frowns, stares at me for a long moment, then shakes his head. Why do my friends look like disappointed fathers whenever I talk to them lately?

“Sienna found out I paid for the movie when we first started and she’s furious.”

He steps aside to let me in. He leads me to his office and I sit down on the leather couch while he pours a couple of whiskeys from the wet bar in the corner. He hands me one and it’s my turn to frown.

“It’s ten in the morning,” I point out, grabbing the glass.

“Considering you’re interrupting my work day, I say I have a good reason to start drinking so early.” He raises an eyebrow, challenging me.

“It’s Sunday,” I remind him.

“So what?” He appears genuinely confused about my statement. Does he ever stop working?

I shake my head and drop the topic. We stay silent for a while, Leonard staring at me like there’s a movie playing on my face, showing all of my thoughts.

“So, we’re not going through the ‘I told you so’ argument, right?” He hides his smug smile behind his glass.

I give him the stink eye and the traitor chuckles. I need support, not someone kicking me while I’m already down.

“How did it happen?” he asks when I don’t elaborate.

“We got an interview for a podcast on Friday and the guy dropped the bomb, asking me if I believed in the project, considering I invested money with my company,” I summarize.

He chuckles and I flip him off. “I don’t know what’s worse, you finding the only journalist doing his job well or her discovering you lied to her on the camera.”

“Tell me about it,” I groan.

Hearing it out loud from my friend’s mouth sounds even more horrible than I thought. I acted like a hideous pick. I snuck into her movie exactly like her ex did, and then betrayed her in the same way. It doesn’t matter that I did it with good intentions. At first, I was thinking only of myself and what I needed and I completely disregarded her project. She chose another person for that job and I don’t even know his name.

Another layer of shame dawns on me. Since when have I become so self-centered that I stab my colleagues in the back to get what I want?

“So, are you going to do something about that?” he asks, dragging me out of my self-pity.

I shake my head. “I don’t know what to do, honestly,” I admit.

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