Page 24 of Catch Me (Townsend Legacy #4)
A ndreas
Kyle:
You’re coming to Mom’s birthday, right.
I chuckle as I peer down at Kyle, my oldest brother’s, message to me in our ‘siblings’ group chat. He phrased it as a question but intentionally left off the question mark, because it’s not a request.
It’s not even a question of whether I’m returning to Williamsport to celebrate our mother’s birthday. It’s a given. But because I refuse to allow my brother to think he has any damn control of me, I have to respond in kind.
Andreas:
I’ll think about it. What time did you say it was?
While I sit behind the wheel of my car, I notice the bubble to indicate typing pop up a couple of times. A grin I can’t wipe away passes over my lips.
Kyle:
Have your ass back home or I swear I’ll be on the next flight to L.A. And you know I fucking hate that damn city.
Andreas:
You really should learn how to speak more kindly to your younger brother. Where’s the ‘please’ and ‘thank you’? Mom would have a fit if she saw these messages.
Kyle:
I crack up imagining the anger on my brother’s face.
Kennedy:
Kyle, you know Andreas is just pulling your chain since you’re so damn easy to piss off. See you soon, little brother. Can’t wait!
Andreas:
See, big sis, this is why you’re my favorite out of you two. Love you.
Stasi:
What about me?
Stasi is the youngest out of the five of us and she’s definitely the most spoiled.
Andreas:
You’re decent, little sis.
Stasi:
That’s why Kennedy’s my favorite, too. Oh, and Thiers. And he’s more handsome than you.
Andreas:
Ouch! That stung. But I know it’s a lie since I’m the best looking out of the entire Townsend clan.
Stasi:
Kennedy sends a crying laughing emoji while Kyle sends one indicating his anger. Through my laughter, I assure him that I will definitely be in attendance for our mom’s birthday celebration, just like I am every year.
What I don’t tell them is that I don’t plan on attending alone this time. There’s still about six weeks between now and my intended trip back home. In that time, I’ll wrap up filming Late Nights and a number of other work obligations.
If all goes according to my plan, I’ll get to have at least one week back home. During which, I plan to show Ivy where I come from.
The honking horn behind me reminds me that I’m still in traffic. I pull through the green light, spotting the restaurant that I’m going to on the right.
Instead of the front, I turn down a side street to avoid the vulturous photographers who hang out in front of Lagoons to get pictures of the celebrities who come in and out.
Which is the main reason why I despise this restaurant. The food isn’t that great, but it stays open because it’s known as the place to go to spot celebrities.
I turn into a back, secret parking lot that connects to the underground parking lot. There’s a valet to meet me here.
“Right this way, Mr. Knight,” the young hostess greets me as I enter the main dining area.
I barely take in the marble flooring and gold accents as we pass through the dining area filled with A, B, C, and even D list Hollywood stars and social media influencers with their managers, PR people, and attorneys.
Though I send a few nods to the people I know, I remain steadfast in my aim to get this meeting over as soon as possible.
“Ms. Jones, your plus-one has arrived,” the hostess says.
Amber Jones lowers her menu with an effervescent smile on her face. “Thank you, Sheila,” she says to the hostesses.
As soon as our hostess walks away, a male waiter is there, filling both of our glasses with water.
“Drinks to get you started?” he asks, offering us both a drink menu.
I don’t bother looking. “Unsweetened iced tea for me.”
“I’ll have a sex on the beach,” Amber practically purrs as she hands the menu back to the waiter with a wink, of course.
“You made it,” she says once we’re alone.
“You said you had some news to share.” I stare at her over the edge of my glass of water.
“Does everything have to be about business? We just sat down. How’s filming going?”
I knew this would happen. Amber is the type to hold on to whatever advantage she has until the very last moment.
“Great. What did you need to tell me?”
Her shoulders slump. “Andreas, you’re not playing fairly here. Just because we’re exes doesn’t mean we can’t be cordial to one another.”
I cock my head to the side, giving her a glare that has her sitting back a little in her seat.
“Don’t play that BS with me, Amber. When have I ever been anything but cordial and considerate with you?”
We dated for two years and broke up because we both grew out of the relationship. We didn’t split with any hard feelings, so the fact that she’d bring up our past relationship like it’s something I’m holding onto just pissed me off.
Before she can reply, the waiter returns with our drinks. I stop him from leaving to give us time to look over the menus. There’s no need for all of that. I choose the steak and goat cheese salad while Amber opts for the salmon.
“Back to the point,” I start as soon as our waiter leaves.
Amber huffs. “Have you given more consideration to what my team proposed? You know this would benefit us both.”
She’s referring to the proposal of our fake relationship contract. It wasn’t Stan who brought it to my attention this time. This was brought to me by my public relations team.
“The fact that you set this luncheon up, tells me you already know what response I told my team to send your way.”
She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “Yes, I got your not a chance in hell . Did you have to be so harsh?”
“When someone doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”
She cracks a small grin. “You were always a tough nut to crack.”
“I’m not that difficult to read,” I reply. “I say what it is I mean.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” she replies as if I just proved her point. “You know damn well most people in this town aren’t anything like that. We’re constantly walking a tightrope, deciphering what someone says versus what they actually mean.
“One wrong move and you step on a landmine. Before you know it, you’ve detonated a bomb on your entire career.”
Her gaze sinks to the table, and it’s the first time I get the sense she’s letting her guard down. Just slightly.
Amber looks back at me.
“That’s not you, though,” she says. “Even when it may have gotten you into trouble or thrown a wrench into your career opportunities, you’ve always said exactly what you’re thinking. How do you do that? Don’t you fear being blacklisted?”
Amber, like so many others, is riddled with the self-doubt that’s brought on by the uncertainties of this industry.
The upside of what we do is amazing. Yes, it can come with significant financial reward, fame, and prestige, but the downside can be fucking relentless.
“I don’t,” I admit.
Her eyes widen, as if she wasn’t expecting that answer.
“My career is mine to make or break,” I tell her honestly. “If it came down to it, I would act in local community centers if that’s the only place I could get work. My job is between me and the role I’m playing, not anyone else.
“My duty is to live by the principles my family raised me with. That is to whom I owe my success. Fuck everyone else.”
Shock registers on her face, which gives way to laughter.
Our waiter brings out our plates while Amber is busy dabbing at her eyes to stem the tears from her laughter.
“You do know that’s an extremely privileged approach to take, right?” she asks while covering her lap with the cloth napkin.
“I’m aware,” I answer without a hint of shame or guilt. I’ll be the first one to admit that my perspective is born out of privilege. I don’t need the income I make from my career to survive.
Despite our relationship, and having worked closely with one another, Amber knows some but not the full extent of my family’s reach. Mostly because she doesn’t know my real last name nor has she met my family for an extended amount of time.
“Well, I guess I have my answer,” she says, sighing.
I watch as she pushes the salad around her plate.
“You had your answer before I sat down at this table.” I take a bite of my steak, enjoying the taste.
Laughter from across the room reaches my ears, grating on my nerves. I glance past Amber’s shoulders, and my body goes stiff when I see the man laughing like a clown.
Dennis James.
That motherfucker from YouTube is sitting in the same restaurant as me. All I can think of is the cackling he did in that video, making fun of Ivy. I know my Uncle Brutus’ security team has been handling Dennis James behind the scenes since I called him a few weeks ago.
“Andreas? Did you hear me?”
I cut my attention back to Amber. “What did you say?”
Her eyebrows perk up. “The producers finally cut a deal with ShowMore. It’ll run for three years, and we’ll each get a cut,” she says, referring to our former teen drama.
ShowMore is the leading streaming service in the world right now. The creator of the show, Alan Guiles, has been in discussions for close to a year attempting to score a deal with them. The holdout was over residuals.
“We’ll receive ongoing residuals?” I ask for clarification.
Amber’s smile widens. “Alan did it.”
I pull out my phone and sure enough there’s an email from Stan. He’s just found out about my meeting with Amber and the new deal.
“This is one step toward better pay for actors, writers, and crew by these streaming services,” Amber points out.
It’s a very good thing to celebrate, but more guffaws from across the dining area distract me. Dennis James sits at a table with three women and two men. I recognize one of the women as a popular influencer who’s requested interviews with me from my PR team.
The two men are the cohosts on his show.
My fist tightens around the fork in my hands.
I’ve watched a few more of James’ videos since that first night Scott showed me his channel. He makes a habit out of degrading women, but because he’s also interviewed D-list and C-list actors, social media influencers, and artists, he’s gained an audience.
Not for long.
“Don’t be upset with Alan when you see him,” Amber continues, obviously not noticing the rage building up inside of me. “I wanted to be the one to share the good news with you during today’s lunch. To my knowledge, the deal was just signed yesterday. The statement will go out later today.”
She leans in. “But it’s true. We’ll receive ongoing residuals instead of just the upfront residuals like other streaming deals.”
This is a major win.
“I don’t suppose you want to make this a doubly great day for me by agreeing to the contract?” She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.
“Not a chance in hell,” I answer.
She grins, then shrugs. “Didn’t think so but I had to take a shot.”
Not long after that Amber and I finish our lunch. She rises from her seat and captures my hands.
“Good luck on the film, honestly.” Her words are sincere.
“Same to you.”
I watch Amber walk away, then I turn back to the table where Dennis James and the others are sitting. I’ve started in his direction before I’ve even realized what I’m doing.
“Andreas Knight?” one of the women at the table says as I come up beside them.
I don’t pay her any attention as I glare at Dennis.
“Wow, it’s an honor to mee?—”
“Save it, motherfucker,” I tell him through gritted teeth.
He has the fucking nerve to look shocked.
Disgust rolls through me just being this close to him. I glance over his shoulder at his co-hosts.
“All three of you disgusting pieces of human waste will be out of a fucking job soon. Is the rest of your table aware that your channel has already dried up?”
The woman who recognized me gasps. “What’s he?—”
“That was you—” Dennis James stands up, but he’s cut off by the contact my fist makes with his face.
“Fuck,” he yelps, holding the side of his face.
Though it was only a quick jab, it was enough to send him back to his seat.
He peers up at me with wide eyes. I glare at his co-hosts, daring either one of them to do something. Neither one does.
When I lean over Dennis, he sinks farther into his seat like the bitch he is.
“If I were you, I would stay the fuck off of the internet. You will never see another cent come out of that fucking YouTube channel, and if I ever hear you utter another word about my woman again, I will find you and fucking end you.”
“Is there a problem, Mr. Knight?”
I stand and roll my shoulders, releasing the tension. Then I turn to the security who’s just approached. “I was just leaving.”