“I don’t even have a Twitter,” I point out.
“Well, get one, Firestone. For god’s sake, we’re living in a millennial age. Even the goddamned President tweets — no matter how much we might wish otherwise.”
Grayson snorts.
“Now, there’s one more thing I wanted to discuss with you before we pop that bottle.” Sloan gestures at the expensive champagne chilling in a nearby ice bucket. “Trey, do you have them?”
“What? Oh, the tabloids. Yes, they’re right here.” Trey looks up from his phone long enough to locate a thick stack of magazines on the countertop behind him. He transfers them onto the kitchen island, so they’re on full display for me, Grayson, and Sloan to peruse.
I’ve been avoiding this very moment for more than a month, much to Harper’s chagrin. There’s no avoiding it, anymore — Sloan has forced my hand. My eyes scan the headlines. As expected, almost every one of them features a story about Grayson and his ex-girlfriend.
HELENA HOSPITALIZED! HER DOWNWARD SPIRAL OF DRUGS AND DEPRESSION…
GRAYSON’S GONE: INSIDERS DISCUSS THE DOOMED LOVE AFFAIR
GOODBYE BABY — DID HELENA MISCARRY? EXCLUSIVE!
“HE COULDN’T SAVE HER” — DUNN’S CLOSEST FRIENDS TELL ALL
My mouth gets dry, my spine stiffens. I sense Grayson looking at me, but I keep my eyes on the glossy covers. So,thisis what Harper’s been trying to tell me.
Whatever Grayson and Helena had is officially over. From the looks of it, it’s been over for a while now.
“Sloan, why are we looking at this bullshit?” Grayson asks, pushing away a particularly offensive headline about drugs and drama.
“Because, my boy, thisbullshitis exactly the kind of press we are trying to avoid. What do you see here?” Sloan jabs a finger from one cover to the next. “Grayson and Helena. Grayson and Helena. Grayson and Helena.Helena, Helena, Helena.”
“Your point?” Grayson sounds bored, as though he’s seen it all before. “I’m not dating her — I was never dating her. All I did was try to be the good guy for once when she hit a rough patch a few weeks back, and as an added thank you for my chivalry, I got lambasted as a villain by the press.”
Questions bubble up inside me; I shove them to the back of my mind.
Grayson sighs heavily. “The truth is, it doesn’t matter what I do. They still print this shit every week. I can’t control what they say and neither can you, Sloan.”
“True enough,” the director concedes, expression animated. “We can’t stop them from writing about you. But wecanchange the narrative.”
Grayson’s eyes narrow. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“They’re focused on the wrong love story, don’t you see?” Sloan’s eyes dart from me to Grayson and back again. “We don’t want them talking about you and Helena. We want them talking about you andKat.”
“W-what?” I stutter. “I don’t have anything to do with this. Leave me out of it.”
“I’m sorry, Kat, that’s simply not an option.” Sloan sounds entirely serious. “We have a movie to promote. And no one will want to see a movie about Grayson’s character falling in love with yours if they think he’s a rotten bastard who’s sent his potentially pregnant ex-girlfriend to rehab — no offense, Dunn.”
“None taken,” Grayson says dryly. “I still don’t see what you mean, though.”
“The press are like children. If you want them to relinquish one toy, you have to give them something else to play with. Something better.”
I’m not sure I like the sound of that — not at all.
“Elaborate,” I suggest through clenched teeth.
“It’s like this…” Sloan walks to the cabinet and pulls out several champagne flutes, setting them against the countertop with a gentle clink. “The public loves to root for co-stars falling in love off-screen as well as onscreen. So, if we’re going to successfully sell you two as Violet and Beck inUncharted…” He cocks his head at me. “Well, we’re also going to have to sell you as an item when the camerasaren’trolling.”
“What?” I hiss, blood pressure leaping. “You mean… pretend to be together? Me and Grayson, fake being a couple for the cameras?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”
I scoff. “You cannot be serious.”