Page 46 of Heavy Shot

While she couldn't believe she was entrusting herself to Thad, of all people, as a confidante, Rhiannon didn't know anyone else to talk to, so she spilled out all her upset over Jill and Kline, angrier at herself than anything else.

When she finished, Thad gave her a wry look. "They used to date," he said. "I don't know how much of this is actually my business, but what the hell, huh? Kline dumped her rather nastily when he moved out here. He had the sitcom, you know? They were together and he moved without telling her he was moving. Too yellow to say anything. He told me about it, and he wanted to fix it, but it was done.

“I know they emailed each other a few times, but he just put the kibosh on it. He jonesed on her for a long time, especially when he’d get drunk, but he was living the life out here, and by the time he was ready to make real amends, he'd knocked up Nina. That was that. So, there's your sordid history and that's why he doesn't talk about it. Makes him look like an arse. And what chick likes to talk about something like that?"

Rhiannon's eyes had gone slightly round. "Oh… Oh, well she has told me about it. Just never told me who."

"Yeah. Well, there you go. So, I wouldn't worry about those two. And Roland's all about appearances. He probably sent Kline in so that Jill could be seen trumping her ex. Kline's a much bigger fish. Makes Jill look better. And him sweeping in on his white horse to rescue her--well, that's good press for Knight. It's business, baby. It's this business."

She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "I hate it."

"Then sell your house and move to North Dakota, because it isn't going to change. This is Hollyweird."

"He asked me to the Oscars–to be his date when he’s presenting," she said a bit sullenly.

"Good. Go with him. Be beautiful."

"Are you kidding? There's no way I'm going now!"

"Why not? You get out there on his arm on the red carpet and you are automatically legitimized in the eyes of the media. You're not just some sex romp in the pages of Star. You get out there and be seen as his partner and you'll find out that you have a better leg to stand on. You have the power. You take the control.

“Don't let some anonymous coward with a zoom lens steal your power. So, you got caught having sex. Everyone does it." Thad shrugged dismissively, "You were doing it with the guy the whole world wants to have. You've got street cred you don't even know about. It happened. It's over. Now you've got a choice. Do you let someone else profit from it, or are you going to stand up, own it, and make it work for you? It's got legs, but you have to be the one to tell it where to walk."

Rhiannon stared at him and his earnest blue eyes. "When did you become my life coach?"

"Look, early on in my grown-up career, back when I was coming up in Sydney, photos surfaced of me in a photoshoot I did in my late teens when I was trying to break out of the kiddie tv mold. It was for good money, and I needed money. I had to make a choice, so I decided to just come out and say, 'Hell yeah, I did it. And I got paid, too.' The other guy, yeah guy," he muttered at her expression, "went underground over it. He was twice the actor I am. I just got on top of the problem and made everyone see what I wanted them to see.

“He got steamrolled by it. I don't want to see you get steamrolled by this, because you've got more talent in your little finger than that photographer's got in his whole body, or those gossip sites have got in their entire catalogs. You nailed Kline Scott," Thad said, "and you looked damn good doing it. Tell 'em how great it was. Don't let them make you ashamed."

After she sat there in stunned silence, Thad asked, "So he's called you?"

"Yeah. I didn't answer his calls this morning. I pretty much hung up on him last night."

"You know, it hurts him, too. He's a human being, Rhi. And he's got a kid he'd sell his own soul to protect. This hurts his kid. He'll do everything he can to protect both of you from this. But you've got to trust that he means well."

There was a knock at the door and Rhiannon said to come in. "Hello," a handsome, dark-haired man said, poking his head inside. "I was told Thad was in here."

"Rick!" Thad yelped jumping to his feet.

"Thad!" Rick mimicked the excitement with a laugh.

The men hugged and Thad chattered for a moment, then turned, "Rhiannon, this is Rick Sanders--producer extraordinaire. Rick, this is Rhiannon Charles, brilliant writer and shagger of Kline Scott. Get used to that," he said as an aside to Rhiannon, "it's going to be your title for years."

"Only if you keep bringing it up," she said, through clenched teeth before smiling and extending a hand to Rick. "Good to meet you. Please ignore him."

"Oh, no need to tell me to," Rick chuckled, shaking her hand. "I've been ignoring him for years."

"Ha Ha," Thad said, giving Rhiannon a nudge. "Just see if I name my next daughter after you."

"Your next daughter? Isn't six enough?" she said, glancing down, "In fact, don't stand so close to me. You're freakishly fertile."

Thad cackled. "Want to go for a hot tub, honey?"

Rhiannon punched him in the arm and he made a face. "She's feisty, Rick. But she's got a great rack. Want to see?"

"Thad!" Rhiannon yowled.

"Ignore him," Rick suggested amiably. "He goes away if ignored. But then you know this--that was your advice. Listen, you don't mind if I steal him away for a while, do you?"

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