Eli chuckles. “Calm down, Player. I know she’s full of shit. And so do the producers. If you ask me, the most logical explanation is that you said she looks like Laila, which she does, and then, when you said the next thing, she made the mental leap that you’d said the word ‘Laila’ again. My bet? You told her you needed to ‘lay low’ because of your contract.”
Oh, thank God. I feel like he’s just thrown me a lifeline. “Yes!” I shout. “That’s exactly what I said! Lay low! Not Laila! That’s obviously what I said!”
“You use that phrase a lot.”
“I do! I totally do!” I exhale with relief. “I remember everything now. I said I had to ‘lay low’ because of the show. And when she said thanks for being sweet, I said, ‘I’m not being sweet, I made a promise to the show.’ Boom.” Oh, God, I’m so relieved. I sit quietly for a beat, rubbing my forehead, feeling like I’ve dodged a bullet. Until, suddenly, a horrifying thought strikes me—one that makes my blood turn cold. “Oh, fuck. Laila can’t see this video, Eli! Hand me my phone. I’ve got to post a rebuttal video, explaining what I really said, so Laila doesn’t see this bullshit and think—"
“Like hell you will. That video, and the fact that the whole world believes every word of it, is the only thing keeping your job on life support right now.”
“How?”
Eli gestures to the phone in my hand. “Watch the rest.”
With a loud groan, I press play again, and this time, the woman says, “So, guys, I can confidently report the exclusive scoop that Savage and Laila Fitzgerald are, indeed, secretly together, despite their denials.”
“I’ve never denied anything,” I mutter.
She continues, “Am I disappointed about Savage being off the market? Absolutely. But, at least, I’m thrilled to know he’s so happy and devoted to his girlfriend.” She leans into the camera. “Now, don’t you dare break our Savage’s heart, Laila. Or I’m coming for you, bitch.” She snarls comically and the video ends.
I hand Eli his phone, my heart thudding in my ears. “I don’t see how this isn’t a horrific disaster for me. The thought of Laila seeing that and thinking I actually said any of that stuff makes me want to throw myself off a bridge.”
Eli laughs. “Forget Laila’s reaction. That’s a casualty of war. All that matters is what the world thinks. And thanks to that, the producers have given me until five today to pull a rabbit out of my hat.”
“What rabbit? Stop speaking in code and tell me what’s going on.”
Eli grins. “A rabbit called Laila. If we can convince her to be your team’s mentor this season, rather than Aloha’s—and for three episodes, rather than one, and if—”
“Kendrick’s going to be my mentor this season!”
“Not if we can get Laila.”
“She won’t do it. She hates me. Even for a three-episode stint, she’d never agree to it.”
“You didn’t let me finish. There’s something else she’d have to do besides being your mentor for three episodes.” He smiles. “She’d also have to pretend to be your girlfriend.”
My jaw hangs open. My manager has rendered me speechless.
Eli smiles. “Just like the Instagrammer said.”
“That’s . . . the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Maybe so,” Eli says with a shrug. “But it’s the only way for you to stay on the show. The producers don’t believe the Instagrammer’s version of the story, any more than I do. But guess who does believe her? Your fans and Laila’s. You should see the comments online. People are losing their minds. They’re obsessed. And that’s got the producers’ attention. After the debacle with Hugh, they’re desperate to lock in some huge ratings this season. And they think this storyline—a romance between you and Laila, unfolding before the audience’s eyes for three whole weeks—will be a ratings bonanza.”
My mind is racing. “Did they tell Laila about this idea yet?”
Eli nods. “They called her this morning. I’m told her answer was, ‘Hell to the fucking no.’”
I throw up my hands in exasperation. “Then why are we even talking about this?”
“Because it’s your only option, Savage! Because I have to believe Laila’s agent is smart enough to tell Laila that her knee-jerk reaction, if, indeed, that’s truly what it was, was stupid. I have to believe Daria, Laila’s very smart agent, has only conveyed her client’s alleged knee-jerk reaction, if that’s what it was, as a negotiation tactic. Daria is one of the best in the business. She knows this is a massive opportunity for Laila—the kind of exposure that will make her a household name. I have full faith Daria will eventually help us talk some sense into Laila.”
“Good luck with that. Nobody can talk sense into Laila Fitzgerald.”
“Well, we have to do it. And by five o’clock today.”
“So, you’re saying you think Laila’s agent only said Laila flatly refused, to get her more money?”
“Exactly. She’s playing hardball.”
“Okay, then. Cool. Call the producers and tell them to sweeten the pot. What does that have to do with me?”
Eli shakes his head. “I already tried. They were adamant they won’t negotiate against themselves. It’s our job to get Laila to agree to the deal—or, at least, to come to the table to negotiate more money—by five o’clock today. The producers didn’t say this, but I have to believe, if Laila says she’s open to being your mentor and fake girlfriend for the right price, they won’t let this ratings magnet slip through their fingers. They know this would be a win-win-win.”
“The problem still remains, Eli. I can’t convince Laila Fitzgerald to do a damned thing. Trust me on that.”
“Well, you’ve got four million reasons to try. If you want to keep your job—and the fat salary that comes with it—then you’d better do or say whatever it takes to make her say yes.”
I scoff. “If I knew how to make Laila say yes, trust me, I would have done it a long time ago. Plus, this isn’t going to work, regardless. Now that Laila knows I need her to keep my job, she’ll say no, just to spite me.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” He leans back in his armchair. “Laila doesn’t know you need her. I made sure the producers won’t tell her that.”
I flap my lips together. “Fine. I’ll do my best. But I’ll need to call Laila from your phone, because the little psychopath blocked my number during the tour.”
Eli scoffs. “You’re not gonna call Laila, dumbass. You’re gonna do this in person.”
“What?”
He stands. “Come on. Get showered and dressed, Player, while I call room service for some coffee and breakfast for you. And make sure you put on some cologne and make yourself look extra irresistible. Your future fake girlfriend and her agent are expecting us at noon.”
Twenty-Two
Laila