I dropped my hand and barged into the argument. "I'm not pressing charges on Emma."
“Holy shit,” Eileen breathed, moving closer to me, her fingers ghosting over my jaw. “You’re going to have a serious bruise.”
“Hold that reaction until we get a camera on you,” Dana shrilled. “Where in jack tar village are my cameras?”
“Ned and Tyler have two, plus the guys out front waiting on the police.”
“Well, get me one,” she snapped. “I don’t care if it’s your iPhone. We need this. In fact,” she looked around. “Every crew member who wants a paycheck this week, pull out your phones and record something.”
“The cops are pulling in,” someone called from the front of the house.
“Dana, I’m not talking to the cops,” I said. “I’m not pressing charges.”
“Oh honey,” her face pinched together in mock sympathy. “Of course you are.”
She was right, but also wrong. As my attorney later explained, pressing charges wasn't even a thing. The police did a report, took the video evidence, and referred the allegations to the district attorney's office, who would issue charges with or without my cooperation. I did my best to help Emma, but she was still charged with assault. Not right away, but later. Initially, they couldn’t charge her because she wasn’t there.
She drove out of those gates in a red bikini and white towel, without her phone or wallet and disappeared.
43
#drinkinggames
CASH
“Okay, never have I ever…” Marissa paused, then looked around the table. “Ate lamb.”
We all groaned in unison, and Eileen pushed up from the table and huffed. "This is bullshit. You can't just name a different meat every time it's your turn."
I took a sip of my beer and glanced toward the front door of the house. “I don’t understand why we’re filming without her here.”
“Yeah, shouldn’t we be out looking for her?” Eileen chimed in.
“She’s not a lost kitten,” Layton drawled, tipping back his eighth beer of the night. “She’s a big girl. She knows where she is.”
"And where is that?" Marissa folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. "They have people at her apartment, and she doesn't have cash, her wallet, or her id. She can't stay anywhere without those things."
“Maybe she’s at a friend’s house,” Eileen offered. “Or her parents.”
"Umm… her parents are like white trash." Marissa looked to me for verification, and I hated myself for saying that. "I think she cut ties with them after they did that Celebrity Star magazine article about her.”
"And she doesn't have friends." Emma's black stylist spoke up from her spot at the table. Dana had decided that she liked the ethnic addition, plus needed the conversational source for moments like this. Emma's disappearance, as much as Dana was screaming and stomping around… was probably great for show fodder. In fact, I had to wonder if the punch, the sprint out… was all on a script I hadn't seen. Though, if Emma had done it by Dana’s orders, she could have gone a little easier on the punch. I tenderly touched my jawline, which was getting puffy.
“What about Bojan?” Eileen countered. “They’re photographed together all the time.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” the stylist said, and I remembered her name. Dion. “I guess he’s her one friend. But he’s in Dubai. They already checked. And his doorman hasn’t heard from him or seen Emma. His condo is at Ludwins, so…”
“Lud-what?” Layton cocked an eyebrow.
“Ludwins,” chimed Eileen. “It’s where, like, the presidents stay. It’s super high security. You need, like, a background check and fingerprints on file just to walk in the door.”
"Emma isn't allowed there," Dion remarked. "We always shoot her and Bojan at her place. They won't approve her for entry when Bojan is in town, so with him out of town…" she shook her head, and her curls bounced off her shoulders. "She's not there."
“She has to have a friend," Marissa countered stubbornly. "Other than Bojan."
I watched as a camera moved closer, focusing on Dion’s face. The girl raised both eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Nah. Seriously. No other friends. Haven’t you watched her videos? You think anyone in the industry wants to be friends with someone who trashes like that?”
This was going to be bad. By the time Emma returned, they were going to dissect her entire life, and all on camera.
The front door finally opened, and I turned, disappointed to see Emma's manager stride in, full of self-importance. “All of the news outlets are aware. Gossip sites have lookout reports posted for her. We put a reward of $250,000 up, and it’s trending. Someone will find her, though I’m hoping we’ll get around eight to ten hours of press before she crawls out of whatever high-thread-count bed she’s curled up in.”
“Ohhh… a guy!” Eileen breathed, her eyes lighting up at the thought. “I bet she hooked up with a random and is hiding out at his place.”
“Again… no.” Dion glared at her. “She’s like, asexual. The only guys she has ever been on dates with were set up by her publicist. And we all know how those have gone.” She looked pointedly at me.
Asexual? That isn’t how I ever pictured Emma, and certainly wasn’t the vibe I’ve ever gotten from her in our face-to-face encounters. Then again, I obviously couldn’t read her well. In the kitchen, when she was screaming at me about her phone—I actually thought there had been some chemistry there. A fire.
Maybe it had been a fire of hatred I had mistaken for heat.
“Dion,” the manager snapped from the sideline. “Shut up unless you’re raving about how wonderful Emma is.” She settled in beside Dana, her arms across her enormous chest, and the two women could have been sisters.
“Maybe she’s been arrested,” Marissa whispered, her gaze darting toward the living room where a dozen people stood, watching and listening. “And they just don’t want to tell us.”
“Maybe she’s trashed and partying,” Johno mused. “That’s what I’d do.”
"If she was partying, someone would catch it on camera and claim the reward." Layton brought a red plastic cup up to his mouth and spat a hunk of brown liquid into it.
"It's pretty genius, you know." Eileen kicked her foot up and rested it on the empty chair that should house Emma. "I mean, look at this. The entire first episode is going to be about her, plus she's trending, you know her numbers are growing, and her sponsors are probably beside themselves in happiness right now.”
"She punched me," I pointed out. "She's probably facing assault charges, and will lose sponsors."
“Yeah, this is Britney circa 2007.” Marissa mused.
“Okay, but this could be a publicity stunt. We have to consider it.”
“I’m laying a bet, right now, that the producers got her in a van, tucked around back.” Layton nodded his head as if it was a guarantee.