Page 20 of Tempting as Sin
Alan ordered a fried-egg bowl, an order the waitress took with an air of complete abstraction, maybe because she was still half-looking at Rafe.
When she finally moved off, Rafe said, “Ten bucks says you end up with the wrong thing. Also, I thought you had high cholesterol.”
“I’m not taking that bet,” Alan said. “She must be right off the plane, or she’d know that nobody in LA eats toast and potatoes. And eggs are good for you again. Did you have to smile at her?”
“Sorry. I wanted mushrooms. Make it quick. She’ll be back. What’s up, pard?”
“Stop it. Nobody says ‘pard.’ The southern accent’s just about too much as it is. All right. Listen. Kylie’s doing publicity for her new movie. She’s going to be talking about you.”
“Old news.” Rafe focused on watching Alan take a sip of his cappuccino. On being right here, not dragged back into past mistakes.
“Not what I’m hearing,” Alan said. She’s working on rehabbing her image with the studios. Not unreliable because of her little pill problem, unreliable because of the abuse she’s suffered. She’s got a video of you. I’ve heard it’s pretty bad.”
“I didn’t…What?”
The waitress chose this moment to come back with his coffee. “Americano,” she announced. “I brought extra hot water, and steamed milk in case you change your mind. I’m Jennifer. If you need anything else.”
“Got it. Thanks, Jennifer,” he said. The second she moved reluctantly off, he asked, “What video?”
“That was what I was going to ask you.” Alan never looked nervous, and he wasn’t doing it now. Alan had seen it all, and spun it, too.
“The only time I even yelled at her to speak of,” Rafe said, “was when I found out she was using again. Or still using. The night I broke it off and moved out. Which you know about.”
“Right, then,” Alan said. “That night. What exactly did you say? More importantly—what did you do? I can’t help unless I know the truth, and I can’t get the video out of anybody. They’re holding it close.”
“If you mean, did I hit her, shove her, whatever—of course I didn’t. I don’t even like to hit a woman in a film. I’m sure as hell not doing it in my life. I raised my voice and used some language, she started crying, and I called her mum. And she…” He stopped.
“What? Tell me. Every piece of it.”
“She came at me,” Rafe said. “Tried to claw the phone away. Hitting me. Screaming.”
Alan sighed. “And then what.” Resignation in his tone.
“And then I held her off me. Walked her over to the couch and sat her down. Held her arms. Told her to stop, while she screamed and thrashed around and told me to let go of her. I told her she was going to hurt herself.When it didn’t work, I left and called her mum. Which was when Kylie did…whatever she did. Overdose, or whatever it actually was.” Something that still sent the guilt-tendrils through him. He should have stayed until her mum had come, however sick he’d become of the roller-coaster that was Kylie, of trying to fix what wasn’t fixable, at least from the outside. Not by him.
He didn’t say that. Alan didn’t care.
His agent exhaled. “That’ll be it. How would she have video of that?”
“God knows, mate. She recorded things sometimes. Talked to the camera. Stream of consciousness thing. She said it helped her be more real with the acting.”
“She could use the help,” Alan said, and Rafe privately agreed. Kylie’s on-screen breakdowns had never been as convincing as the off-screen ones. “But wait. What about sex tapes?”
The cold settled low in Rafe’s belly. “I don’t make sex tapes.”
“But did she? I don’t have a good feeling. I’m hearing whispers.”
“If she did,” Rafe said, “and she releases it, that’s revenge porn. And I don’t care that it’s meant to go the other way. I might be a bloke—a guy—” The southern accent was slipping. He restored it. “But it’d be revenge all the same.”
“What’s it going to show? How bad?”
“Who knows?” He was still aiming for “cool,” but it wasn’t getting any easier. “We had a lot of sex in eighteen months. I’m bloody careful that I’ve got consent, and I don’t hurt anybody. Beyond that? What the lady wants.”
Alan’s tone was infuriatingly patient. “How long have I been your agent?”
“Six years.”
“That’s right. And I’ve been doing this for twenty-six. You can’t shock me, and I seriously doubt you can even surprise me. Rafe. Listen to me. If you were snorting coke off her body or smacking her around, that’s a problem. If she brought a friend, or, worse, if you did…it depends. On how old the girl was, if there was one, on the power imbalance, and on exactly what happened. I can probably work with it, but I need to know. Exactly.”
