“You’d better watch your back when you’re out in public.”
The comments on social media were so fast and furious, emphasis on the furious, that Lee considered shutting down all of his socials entirely. The levels of hatred that complete strangers had spewed at him from the moment the story broke throughout the following days was breathtaking. He tried not to take any of it seriously, but it was hard not to when those comments turned into review bombs.
“This is something we can manage,” Jerry told him over the phone, when Lee called him the morning after his heartrending parting from Drew. “Even situations like this can be managed with the right PR team. We’ll find a way to spin this that works to our advantage.”
“I’m not interested in spinning anything,” Lee replied, a ball of anger burning a hole in his gut. “I’m done with deceiving the public. None of this was supposed to turn out this way.”
“That’s the thing about this business,” Jerry said, not sounding perturbed by any of the same things that had the potential to destroy Lee’s life at all. “People get weird sometimes. Drew Oberlin’s rise to fame was so meteoric that even his own fans don’t know how to handle things. They’ll calm down in time, or else they’ll completely turn on him, and suddenly you’ll be the hero and the victim.”
“But that’s the point,” Lee said through clenched teeth. “I don’t want to be the victim or the hero. I just want my life back the way it was, even-keeled and maybe a little boring. I only ever wanted to write books and enjoy my friends.”
“But hey! Now you’ve got fame, and I’m working on putting together that juicy contract for you,” Jerry said, far too cavalierly.
“I never wanted fame,” Lee said. “I only ever wanted to be an author and make a living from my art.”
Deep in his gut, he felt an echo of that sentiment as it related to Drew. Despite what the world thought, Drew wasn’t a superstar, he was a talented actor and creative soul who had only ever wanted to find a place in the industry he loved so he could spend his life creating. He didn’t have the ego Lee would have expected a star of his caliber to have. He was just a guy, a charismatic, kind, beautiful man, who was trying to figure life out like everyone else.
“I can get you so much more than that,” Jerry went on. “I can open all sorts of doors for you. And hey, maybe someday Drew will star in a series made from one of your books, you never know. Now, let’s talk about the terms of the contract for this tell-all?—”
“No.” Lee cut him off before he could say another slimy word. He’d had it. There were limits to everything, and he’d just hit his so hard it gave him whiplash.
“Excuse me?” Jerry asked.
“No,” Lee repeated. “I’m not going to write a tell-all book about Drew. I’m not going to say another word about Drew to anyone anywhere without his permission.”
“Lee.” Jerry’s tone was flat and impatient, like he was dealing with a stubborn child.
“No,” Lee repeated. “I care about Drew.” He loved him, but that was a whole other can of emotional worms he didn’t know how to sort, especially after the way they parted the other day. “I’m not going to treat him, his life, and our relationship like it’s some cash cow opportunity.”
Jerry paused for a moment before saying, “You do realize that the deal to publish your fiction is contingent upon writing the book about Drew.”
“Then I don’t want it,” Lee said, ready to throw his phone across the room and scream. It was more than just that, though. It wasn’t the contract, the tell-all, or his novels. It was everything. He was done with it all. “I don’t think this is a good partnership,” he said at last, a strange calm coming over him.
“I don’t understand,” Jerry said.
“We still haven’t signed a contract yet,” Lee pointed out, gladder than ever that he’d dragged his feet on actually signing the document Jerry had sent over the week before. Diana had insisted on reading it first, and she’d been busy with her niece’s summer camp. “I haven’t signed anything, and I’m not going to.”
“Come on, Lee,” Jerry said in that condescending way of his again. “Don’t throw your entire career away because of some dick. Lovers come and go, especially the made-up kind.”
“What Drew and I have is real,” Lee said, a frustrated sort of confidence coming over him. “I care about him. Enough so thatI don’t want to engage in anything that would ultimately hurt him.”
“Not engaging in it will hurt you,” Jerry said, not even a hint of nicety left in his voice. “You’re not only throwing away a lot of money here, you’re destroying your chances of ever being published.”
“Of ever being publishedtraditionally,” Lee agreed. “But I’ve been publishing on my own for over half a decade now, and I’ve done pretty well for myself.”
Jerry snorted. “Self-publishing is for hacks who aren’t good enough to make it in the real publishing market.”
That was a big old lie that legacy publishing kept telling itself to feel better about losing a sizable chunk of the market share, but Lee didn’t feel like getting into the whole argument about how the really successful self-published authors made more money than most authors who were published traditionally. Jerry would probably have some counterargument anyhow. And it wasn’t about the money, it was about agency and being able to work on his own terms at his own pace.
It was about being the man he wanted to be, for Drew’s sake and for his own, and doing things the way he knew was best.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I’ve made up my mind. I no longer want to work with you. We’re not a good fit. I won’t be signing your contract. Thanks for your consideration, but it’s a no.”
That wasn’t the end of the conversation. At least, not from Jerry’s perspective. He spent a few more minutes trying to say anything and everything to get Lee to change his mind. But it wasn’t going to change. He’d meant everything he’d said when he’d expressed his loyalty to Drew and to himself. He wouldn’t compromise who he was, end of story.
Eventually, it was the end of the call, too. Jerry gave up, said a few grumbling words of goodbye, and ended the call. Lee had never been so relieved to be hung up on in his life.
That relief only lasted a few minutes, though. As soon as he’d gotten up and made himself a cup of tea, the aching gloom of the way he’d left things with Drew gripped him, making the tea taste sour no matter how much sugar he put in it.