I turn, walking on shaking legs to the door. “You’re out of your damn mind, Brad. Go home. Sleep it off. I’ll accept your apology in the morning.”

chapter twenty-four

carter

After leaving Brad’s office, Evie walked calmly back to her own, disappeared inside for a moment, and then slammed the door so hard the pictures in the hallway rattled against the walls.

I knock on her door and peek in. Her head is down, but she looks up at my entrance, cheeks tear-streaked. “This is bullshit, Carter.”

Stepping in, I close the door behind me. “Of course it is. It’s unconscionable.”

She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes.

“What can I do?” I ask.

“You have your own mess to clean up,” she says, voice nasal from crying. “I just need to get my shit together so I can walk out of here and go home.”

I always thought Evie and I were two complementary halves of a whole, different strengths, a perfect team. But now I realize that in most ways, we’re the same. Of course she doesn’t want to lick her wounds with witnesses around.

“Call me later?” I say.

She nods, wiping her face. “And tell me if you need me to do anything. I’ll get over this crying shit in a minute and be back in action.”

I kiss her clammy cheek. “I know you will.”

On my way home, I make some calls. Dan doesn’t answer his phone, Caleb either. I text Evie my address, then I pace, and pace, and pace until the doorman sends her up. Stepping out into the hall, I find her loaded up with bags of takeout.

“I have no idea why I brought food,” she says, and hands me a bag of what smells like Indian. She inhales deeply. “That’s not true. I’m going to eat it all.”

I set it on the table and pull her to me, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Feeling better?”

She sinks into me, her cheek pressed to my chest and arms wrapped around my waist. “I feel gross. You?”

“Waiting to hear back from Dan or Caleb.” I rest my chin on the top of her head. “Do you want to talk about what happened with Brad?” I ask. “Eat our feelings? Watch a movie? Fuck like teenagers who don’t have to worry about things like jobs or food or rent?”

She looks up at me with a smile, the first one I’ve seen since the Variety article went live. “My default answer is always going to be food, but now that I’m having sex with someone besides myself, I might have to reorganize my priorities.”

I take her hand and lead us both to the kitchen. “How about if we talk a little first, and then we can eat while we have sex?”

“If we could have the TV on at the same time I might never leave this apartment.” She eyes me while I get down a couple of plates. “Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of hunkered-in-for-sex commitment?”

Evie dishes up our food and I grab two beers from the fridge. I remember she doesn’t love beer, and grab her a glass for water instead.

“I’ve never been to your place before.” She looks around. “It’s a lot cleaner than your office.”

“I think outside of Michael Christopher and Steph, you might be the only person who’s been here.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Let’s just say that up until recently my social life was decidedly less active.”

She takes a deep breath and smiles, like it was exactly what she needed to hear. “Well, I like it.”

“I have my own parking spot. Oh, and granite countertops.” I rap my knuckle on the surface in front of me. “Stainless steel appliances, one bedroom, recently updated floors, and a six-setting showerhead in the modern-yet-sizable bathroom. I tell you all this not to brag, but as a warning that you may have to take over my lease if I lose my job.”

Evie frowns, pushing her food around on her plate. “I don’t think you’re the one who needs to worry. Brad is having a hard time letting Field Day go.”

“I gathered that,” I say simply. “It just seems so . . .”

“Petty?” she finishes for me.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like P&D lost money. Obviously we made our commission. So why is Brad so obsessed with it? That’s what I don’t get.”

“I think it’s because he knew he had something to use against me. It tanked Mark Marsh’s career, so it’s like this little IOU Brad can pull out whenever he needs to feel superior.”

“That’s a lame IOU,” I say. “That’s like giving someone a homemade book of Free Back Rub coupons.”

She gives me an amused you’re crazy smile. “It’s not really anything like that.”

“But everyone has flops. Between everyone on your list, how many movies do you think you’ve been involved in?”

She blows out a breath, looking past me out the window. “Over a hundred, easily.”

“Exactly. Statistics tell us that at least one of those is going to be a bomb.”

“So?”

“So,” I say, reaching across to finish her half-eaten samosa, “that’s why I think there’s something else going on with Brad and you. It doesn’t add up.”

“I have no idea what else it could be,” she says, shrugging helplessly. “Field Day is what he always mentions.” She wipes her mouth with her napkin and pushes her plate away. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. All it will take is for Brad to hint that I had something to do with this Variety leak, and that’ll be it. Nobody will hire me.”

“But you’re not even mentioned in the article,” I say.

“It doesn’t matter. It might have been your name, but Dave came to me first, and I sent him on to you. Everyone knows Dave and I go way back. No matter what happens, I look like I had an ulterior motive.” She presses her hands to her eyes. “God, this sucks. And you come out looking like a snake. It’s unreal.”

“I know,” I say, pulling her closer. “But what I still don’t understand is who could have given Variety the story to begin with. I only told Brad.”

“Dan is surrounded by idiots,” she says. “His manager is a nice enough guy, but the rest of his little entourage are world-class mooches; I wouldn’t put it past any of them to mention it in passing to someone whose skirt they were trying to get into. Maybe they told the wrong person.”