Page 44

Kat

Jocelyn arrived at six the next morning. She threw open the door to Kat’s bedroom, letting it hit the wall with a loud bang that startled Kat awake.

“Get up,” she said.

Kat groaned and clutched her head.

“Oh, are you hungover?” Jocelyn said in a sickly-sweet tone. “Have you tried not getting drunk and yelling at your old coworkers in public?”

Kat lowered her hands. Her brain flashed through images from the night before: Calling Madelyn a bitch. Jude smashing her boot down on some guy’s phone. The cold eyes of half a dozen phone cameras staring Kat down as she turned and fled the restaurant.

“You have fifteen minutes to shower,” Jocelyn said. “Then we’re doing damage control.

Kat nodded. Then she stumbled into the bathroom and threw up. Whether it was from alcohol or shame she couldn’t tell. Either way, she didn’t feel any better afterward.

She got in the shower, closing her eyes as the water drummed down on her.

She didn’t want to get out. She didn’t want to see what people were saying.

The night before, she’d run out of the restaurant and taken a cab home, where she’d collapsed into bed and cried until she fell asleep.

She’d been too scared to look at her phone, but she could only imagine how bad it must be.

When she left the bathroom, Jocelyn had taken over the dining table. She was typing furiously on a laptop, two cellphones open to different news articles at her side. Kat sat down across from her, and Jocelyn pushed an iced coffee toward her without speaking.

Kat took it but didn’t drink. She didn’t deserve coffee.

“I am so, so sorry,” she said.

Jocelyn made a hmmph noise but didn’t respond.

“How bad is it?”

Jocelyn slid one of the phones across the table. Kat picked itup.

“Former Child Star Causes Commotion,” proclaimed the New York Host, with a photo of an adorable eleven-year-old Kat in Spy Pigs positioned next to a blurry still of Kat screaming at Madelyn the night before.

In the photo Kat’s face was red, and her hair was messy.

She looked like she was having a full-blown meltdown.

The reporter, Ned Edwards, had included a helpful timeline, with photos of Kat at various stages of her life.

The beginning was filled with cute childhood stills, transitioning into polished glamour shots from P.R.O.M.

The last four years were bleak: Kat’s stay at the Serenity Center, the subsequent cancellation of the show, the few direct-to-streaming projects she’d done afterward.

A year and a half of not working. Then a sudden flurry of activity.

Kat, shopping in a big box store and nearly getting crushed by fans.

Kat caught mid-kiss by paparazzi. Kat getting drunk and screaming at an old coworker in a crowded restaurant.

Ned Edwards didn’t need to add much embellishment to paint a vivid picture—one of a former child star doing what former child stars do: imploding.

Could Kat even say he was wrong?

She closed her eyes, but she could still see the stark facts on the timeline looming behind her eyelids. The heavy weight of them pressed down against her, pinning her to her chair, making it impossible to move.

How could she have messed everything up so badly?

Kat dug her teeth into her cheek, hard. She deserved the pain. She deserved the light trickle of blood filming over her tongue. Stupid fucking idiot, her brain screamed. You deserve all of this.

“What do we do?” she asked Jocelyn, her voice shaky.

Jocelyn tsk ed. “There’s not much we can do,” she said.

“We let the news die down. We release a joint statement with Madelyn saying things got out of hand. We organize a few interviews with reporters who agree to paint you in a positive light. Get you photographed doing some community service. Mostly, we cross our fingers and fucking hope that Gottlieb doesn’t kick you out of the play. ”

Kat winced. “I quit the play,” she said in a very small voice.

“You what ?”

“Last night. Before the party. That’s why I was acting so…that’s why I was upset.”

Jocelyn dug both hands into her hair. “And why, exactly, did you decide to quit the show we spent the last two months getting you into?”

The words got stuck in Kat’s throat. It sounded so silly now. “He’s been criticizing me constantly in every rehearsal. And then yesterday he said that I…that I should stop deluding myself into thinking I can act. That I was just a pretty face there to sell tickets.”

Jocelyn’s mouth twitched with barely concealed rage. “So you quit.”

Kat nodded.

“You quit the show that was supposed to save your career because the director was mean to you.”

Kat huddled miserably over the iced coffee she hadn’t drunk, unable to meet Jocelyn’s eyes.

“This is all that girl’s fault,” Jocelyn said.

She pushed her chair back and started pacing.

“Ever since you met her, you’ve been out of control.

Questioning all of my decisions. Not wanting to do what fucking needs to be done.

But guess what? This is the job. And there are a million other people out there who would happily take your place. ”

Jocelyn pointed a finger at Kat from the far side of the room.

“I told you this would happen,” she said.

“I told you that playing house with this girl would mess up your career. The rules are different for you, Kat. Normal people don’t understand what it takes to make it in this business.

So you start running around with this retail worker, and she tells you, ‘Oh, listen to your feelings, follow your heart.’ Well, guess what? That’s not how it works in Hollywood.”

Kat thought she might throw up again. She had thought she was growing.

She’d thought she was getting in touch with her emotions.

She’d tricked herself into thinking that she was finally taking control of her own life.

But in reality, Kat had been spiraling through a months-long breakdown.

And now she was exactly where she always feared she’d be.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered. “I want to fix this. I’ll do anything. Please.”

Jocelyn paced back to her side of the table and braced her arms on it, leaning over toward Kat. “Are you going to listen to me this time?” she demanded. “Are you going to stop questioning me and actually do what needs to be done?”

Kat nodded. “I promise.”

“Fine,” Jocelyn said. “Then you know what you need to do first.”