Page 35 of The Singapore Stunt

He thinks his words provide comfort. They don’t. “So, this is about the movie? About this sequence?”

His voice rises with uncertainty. “Kinda… yeah.”

“That’s what’s important, huh? How are you any different from the execs in the tent?” I don’t wait for a response. I spin on my heels and turn. All this time, I thought I screwed up. That he had been caught in the fallout of the horrible plan the studio was attempting to spin. He didn’t agree with their methods. But his concern is the same. The movie.

A tug on my elbow halts me, and I spin to face the offending party. Mattias. “It’s you.” Two words, and I feel my shoulders relax.

“It’s you. You are what matters, Kimberly. You know that. I’m sorry for being so focused on avoiding the spotlight. That’s where you live. I didn’t see the sacrifices you have made. I should have talked to you at the Gardens.” I hear voices behind me and the sound of movement. He glances over my shoulder, and I know our time is limited. “Check Arlene’s phone. I tagged you on a post. Take a look.”

“Five minutes to positions,” Wesley shouts from somewhere behind me.

“Wesley—make it ten. I have to reset some of the props,” Mattias shouts at him before blowing a kiss in my direction and rushing off. He’s bought me an additional five minutes. Why?

I turn and pace directly to Arlene. “Give me your phone.”

***

I secure the AirPods and plop down onto a plush poolside cushion two levels away from the chaos around the pool. I barely acknowledge Arlene, who stands next to me, looking over my shoulder.

I twist away from her, raising a finger to give me a minute. I swipe the dashboard my PR team created for me to track engagement. The numbers are off the charts, the spike aligned with the post from Entertainment Insider. I hit the magnifying glass and enter Mattias’ name on the search bar.

There it is. An Instagram live post from fifteen minutes ago. He tagged me, and my first thought is he has no clue what he’s doing. By tagging me, he didn’t just send a notification to me, but it went out to my 8.3 million followers.

I lower my head to hide from the announcement being broadcast around me.

My lips part, and I exhale as his video starts. He’s dressed in the suit he’s currently wearing. He’s holding the phone an arm’s length away from his face.

“Hello, internet. My name is Mattias Wilkins, better known to you as the Beast.” He pulls the camera closer, the scar across his face that he tries to hide from the camera on full display. “Take a good look. Drop your comments, your memes below. Get it all out of your system.” He’s not talking to me; he’s directly addressing the internet trolls. He tagged me to reach them. I fear for him. He’s out of his element. There is no reasoning with certain parts of the internet. “Post the comments. I’m not going to read them. I barely use social media. But the woman who I hope may become my girlfriend one day does. She lives in this world. This is important to her, so it’s important to me.”

Mattias lowers the camera, and I see the wheels turning in his head. This is totally unscripted. A daring move to make, but especially for this audience. “Please know nothing you say will make a difference to us. For some insane reason, she likes me. I can’t explain it either. I doubted it and looked for any reason to believe that it wasn’t the case. Ran to the hills at the first sign that she didn’t. But I’m wrong. She cares.” He purses his lips and gathers his thoughts. “And that’s all that matters to me. So call me Beast—I’ve been called worse. Waste your energy creating memes that have a shelf life of seven seconds. I don’t care. While you are stewing in negativity, I will focus every bit of my energy on caring for Kimberly Conrad. I think I made the better choice.”

He takes a step forward, his phone placed on a stand of some sort. He steps back, the frame now of him from the waist up. “Kimberly, if you are watching this, please know I’m not going anywhere.” He forms a fist with his hand and twists it to pound on his chest. Three taps knock on his chest. “I’m coming for you. Let me in.”

He blows a kiss to the camera before it cuts off. The post already has over a hundred thousand views. I squeeze the phone and let his words marinate. A year ago, I would have obsessively scrolled through every comment. I’d dissect it and focus on the negative comments and try to wonder why everyone didn’t love me all the time. Standing here today, I realize how ridiculous it sounds. But half the country lives like this, seeking validation in posts made by anonymous people.

Mattias is right—it doesn’t matter what they say. They don’t get a voice or a vote in our relationship. Only we do.

I hop to my feet, and Arlene does the same. She’s holding her second phone. “I just watched it too. Do you want to do a stitch? A response video?”

I return her phone to her. “Why would I do a video response when he’s standing fifty feet away?”

She laughs. “I get that. But it’s for the fans. It’s not really for him.”

I shake my head. How did we create this upside-down world? “No response video. Nothing. I’m going to do something radical. I’m going to have a private conversation one-on-one with him.”

Wesley shouts for the principals to return to the set.

“Private, ma’am? The fans demand—”

I raise a hand and whip off my coverlet. “I’m wearing a two-piece that has less than six inches of material. I think I’m giving enough of me to them already. I think they’ll be fine.”

I make my way through the organized madness of a Hollywood set. I spot Mattias on the other side of the pool. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud, and the entire roof lights up as if it’s golden.

His gaze meets mine, and we share a look that says we’re back on the same page. He hides in the shadows, yet for me, he stepped into the white-hot spotlight to tell the world that the only opinion that matters to him is mine.

I’ve delivered the same message to the studio. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t feed the insatiable appetite of the internet. I can’t control what they post and fabricate, but I can recuse myself from the conversation. I’d much rather use that energy on getting to know Mattias more.

I lift my hand and pantomime knocking on his chest. His hands press to his heart, and he blows me a kiss from the other side of the pool.

---