And then I tell him the rest, word for word, as far as I can remember it. About Fantasia, and the pictures, and his assessment that since I'd had sex with Peter that I owed sex to him too. Peter's hands don't tighten on mine. They're soft and soothing, but I can see the way the rest of his body goes tense with anger and that he's clenching his teeth.
The waitress brings the pie and I have to let him go to eat it. I finish telling him how Clay followed me out of the house and I came here, not wanting to be sick on the side of the road. "What are we going to do?" I ask, fighting off the welling up of emotion that comes with telling him all of that. "It's Clay Markham. He says he took pictures. It doesn't matter how careful we are because of who he is. If he says he's going to make sure I never work again, then he is. It's going to happen. I'm so sorry, Peter."
Peter looks at me, eyes blazing. "Don't you ever apologize. None of that is your fault. I had no idea that Clay would do something like that, and the fact that I almost worked with him without knowing that he's that kind of monster makes me sick." He slips out of his side of the booth and comes around to mine. He slips a hand around my waist and kisses me on the forehead. "Are you okay to stay here for a few minutes? Because I'm going to talk to him."
"What are you going to say?"
He shakes his head, hand tightening on my hip. "I don't know yet, but I'm going to fix it. Eat your pie. Order yourself another piece, and don't leave. I'll be back soon."
There's a lump in my throat, but it's okay. I know that he means it when he says he's going to fix it. There's a warmth in my gut, the sense of relief that being taken care of brings. Peter doesn't lie. He's going to fix it. I find a smile somewhere inside me. "Try not to kill him."
Peter doesn't return that smile. "I'll try." And then he's up and striding out of the restaurant. I see him send a text before he gets in his car, and then he's driving away.
I order another slice of pie.
19
Peter
Present
I can't remember a time in my life when I've been this angry. Before I turn on my car, I send a text to Michael telling him where to meet me, because I'm going to need someone there to remind me not to kill this bastard, and Michael is a pretty good choice for that. We haven't spoken since I had him kicked out of Fantasia, but he'll have my back. I know he will.
I've been to Clay's house once before, when he was courting me for the show. It looks different to me now that I know who he really is. I only have a half-formed plan, but I don't even care. This has to be dealt with, and now, before Clay has a chance to ruin everything that Amber has worked for.
Banging on the door, I wait until I hear shuffling footsteps on the other side. The door opens, and Clay is there. No shirt, hair disheveled, he's practically drooling. And I notice something that Amber didn't tell me about. His eyes are so bloodshot that they're red. I push past him, because like hell am I going to let him shut me out of the house. "I heard you threatened Amber."
Clay starts laughing. Not a normal laugh, it's maniacal and piercing. "I didn't threaten her, I told her that she needed to pay her debt. You already got paid you pretty little pansy. She sucked your cock and now she needs to suck mine. It's only fair."
It takes everything I've got not to put his head through a wall. I do shove him into it though, and I put myself as far into his space as I dare. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you ever say that to a woman that you work with, let alone one that I thought you respected?"
His body is limp, and he lets his head loll on his shoulders while rolling his eyes. "Perer. Perter. Peter. You're young. You don't know how this works yet. Sure, Amber is fine. She's not brilliant. But people like it when you mentor girls like that. They call you sensitive and give you more jobs and you get all the other women dying to fuck you. But Amber, she's not just a decent director, she's hot. You know. And I made her. The least she can do is give me what I need as a thank you. You know. You fucked her."
I throw him up against the wall again. "You piece of shit." My fist is raised and I'm about to throw the punch when the door opens.
"Woah!" Michael jumps in front of me, "What the hell are you doing, Peter?"
Lowering my arm, I have to take a breath before I speak. "You're high, aren't you, Clay?"
"What the fuck does that matter?"
"It matters a lot you dickhole."
Michael puts his hands on my shoulders and shoves me back. "Peter, what is happening."
I glance at him before looking back at Clay. Not willing to take my eyes off him. "This fucker lured Amber here with a lie about the show and then proceeded to blackmail her into sex and who knows what else. She barely got out of the house."
Michael goes pale. "What?" He turns to Clay too.
"She's going to fuck me, or everyone is going to know what a little whore she is," Clay says viciously, holding out his phone. It's a blurry picture, and the angle is clear that it's under a bathroom stall, but it's clear enough that it's Amber and me. My cock is in her mouth, just like those pictures that made the papers that made her freak out in the first place. Michael glances over at me, and I know that I'm going to get an earful later about Amber, but he's smart enough to know that this isn't the right time.
I have to think. Because I honestly have no leverage. It hits me. I can't give him anything that he wants, but I can take something away.
"If you ever go near her again," I say, "I'll release the story about your drug use. You're famous for your killer parties, but you're also famous for being clean. It will ruin your reputation."
Clay laughs again, that high pitched laugh that makes me sick to my stomach because I used to hear it all the time from my mother. She would never see reason either. All of this is like déjà vu, and I hate it. I swear to God I'll never touch anything harder than Tylenol in my life.
"Who would believe you?" he asks. "You're just a little rising star. Undercover hasn't even premiered yet. If it's my word against yours, I win, and you're a liar."
I don't even think about the next words before I say them. "Then I'll tell them it was both of us. I'll say that you and I took drugs together, and that I'm deeply sorry. The press loves a good mea culpa. And since I'll then go to rehab and show that my blood tests are clean, I'll come out like yet another reformed Hollywood boy. I'll deal with the fallout for the rest of my career if that's what it takes. But people are going to know about you."
Michael is frozen beside me, and I know that he must be dying inside, but this is the only way. I'm not going to let him do this. Not to Amber, not to anyone. The look that Clay gives me is pure poison. "Fine. I'll stay away from your precious little Amber."
"Good. But not enough. You will remove your name from any remaining contracts affiliated with Undercover so that Amber has complete creative control. And you will sign an agreement not to speak about Amber publicly in any way and to not visit the set while the show is being filmed, and you will delete all copies of that photo and any other ones you have."