Chapter 13

The Manager

One thing became crystal clear after dealing with Christian and his manager: I needed a manager of my own.

Wednesday morning, I received a text message from an unknown number. Hey, Frank and I need to talk to you.

I wasn't friends with anyone named Frank so I told them they had the wrong number. In the end, it turned out to be Christian. How did he have my number? Was that just a staff thing or had he kept my number from that stupid phone call I won?

Who is Frank?

I watched the bubbles pop up on iMessage, indicating Christian was typing. This ought to be good. Frank Renaldo. My manager? Come on, Hastings. Get it together.

I scrunched up my nose. That sounded like the last meeting I wanted to have today. How did you get my number? I never gave it to you.

More bubbles, more waiting. Seemed like he was taking too long to think of an excuse. Blake gave it to me. I figured you already had my number.

Goddamit, Blake. He had insisted we were alike enough to be good friends now that I was a part of this new world and talked me into giving him my phone number so he could send me memes. I told him I had one condition: do not give this to Christian. And what did he do? Exactly that.

I'd deal with Blake later. Instead of focusing on that, I focused on the second part of his message. Why would I already have your number?

I apparently made him lose the little patience he had, by the looks of his next and last message. Just meet us at my trailer in 30 mins.

I let the conversation die with that. I was wary but still went over, mostly because I'd never actually met his manager and was curious. I figured he wasn't going to be the most pleasant person, but I still wasn't expecting the pile of sopping garbage that turned out to be Frank Renaldo.

I walked over to his trailer, which was regrettably right next to mine. After obnoxiously knocking on the door for not even a few seconds, Christian opened the door. Why he was shirtless, I didn't know.

I wrinkled my nose at him as he reluctantly let me in. "Dude. Go put on a shirt. No one needs to see your moobs."

"I don't have moobs!"

I guess I touched a soft spot.

"Sure you don't. Seriously, though, cover that shit up."

He still looked a little too affected by my comment, but he did what I said and grabbed a shirt from a rack, throwing it on.

While my eyes were busy doing a look through to see what the hell I'd just walked into, I was met with Frank's frowning face. He was an older guy with short, nearly buzzed dark hair, a bristly, graying mustache and goatee, and a constantly displeased look. Although he was dressed professionally, professionalism wasn't what I was expecting from him, given that look he was giving me. "Well, this is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

"What is? Christian's moobs?"

"I don't have moobs!"

"No. The problem lies in your unnecessarily unpleasant comments. You're well aware Christian doesn't have 'moobs,' as you call them. You need to stop. Now. All of it needs to stop, because it always gets out."

"All of it?" I tried not to make a face but could feel myself failing miserably. "You might as well be asking a pig to fly."

"Well, then fly, little piggy," he said, standing up and making his way over to me.

While his request hadn't caught me off guard at all, that comment had. It was just so ridiculous you almost had to laugh. I was torn between that and the urge to hit him and whack that gross, little hairy mole off of the side of his chin. "Did you just call me a pig?"

He didn't answer my question. He went on a rant instead. My eyes started scanning the room for an escape plan. I needed more coffee before I listened to this. "You can't keep making comments like that. Renee Brown wants you two on her show next week, and you're not going with that attitude. You're not even going to the pre-interview with that attitude."

"Interview? Why am I learning about this interview just now?"

No one told me anything around here.

"Because you don't have a manager," Frank responded impatiently.

"That doesn't make you my manager. You can't just plan appearances for me."

"Well, it's already done. And I'm telling you right now that you're not making a fool out of Christian on national television again. I couldn't stop you the first time, but this time will be different."

As serious as he seemed, I wasn't taking him too seriously. I just rolled my eyes.

"Those videos went viral. Christian was ridiculed for a week after that little stunt of yours. It isn't going to happen again."

"I thought there was no such thing as bad publicity," I said.

"This isn't a joke." Frank's expression was unreadable at this point. It wasn't even unpleasant anymore. Just cold, which was kind of worse. "Don't test me, Hastings. You're not going to be out of line this time."

I looked over at Christian, waiting for him to grow a pair and see if he had a say in the matter. Nothing. Radio silence. I turned my attention back to his manager. "I'm sorry, but who exactly do you think you are? You have no say in anything I choose to do or choose not to do. You can make requests. You can voice your opinion. But you can't control what I do."

"When your actions involve Christian, you're damn right I have a say in what you do or don't do. As his manager, it's my job to look out for his best interests and along with his publicist, control the publicity he gets or doesn't get. And I'm telling you now – he doesn't need this kind of publicity."

"He might let you control him rather than manage him, but you're not my manager. You can't control me."

He'd had enough at that point, or so I assumed when he latched onto my arm. "Do you really think I couldn't use you as a puppet if I really wanted to? Do you really think --"

"Frank, that's enough." They were the first words Christian had spoken that weren't his moob denial. "Let go of her."

"I'm not hurting her."

"Let go of me," I said, trying to wiggle out of his grip.

Instead of letting go, he tightened his grip. "Not so fast. Are you going to listen to me now?"

"Of course I'm not going to listen to you now, you ass." What the hell was wrong with him? I knew I shouldn't have come. "Let. Go. Of. Me."

Christian started to step in, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of being the "hero." Using a trick my father taught me a few years ago, I bent Frank's arm, twisting it around until I was out of his grip and he was yelping in pain, rubbing his arm in between curses.

I wanted to rub my own arm, but I didn't want him to know he'd hurt me.

"Are you okay?" Christian asked me.

"I'm fine." I didn't divert my gaze on Frank. "If you think this is the way to get me to behave the way you would like, you're delusional."

I shook my head in disbelief and walked out.

***

"I think you're supposed to go in first," Christian whispered. "You should stand in front of me."

We were in place already, just waiting for the signal to enter. I'd had my mind set on skipping this interview, but after talking it over with a few trusted people – i.e. Nora and my acting teacher who helped me get this gig – I decided to go and try to be on my best behavior.

Try being the key word.

"No, you're supposed to go in first," I said in a low voice.

"No, they specifically said —"'

"No, they didn't, they –"

"Would you let me finish a sentence?"

"Would you let me finish a sentence?"

We were seconds away from going on Renee Brown, and we were already fighting like cats and dogs. It was strange because the pre-interview had gone fine. More than fine, actually. Christian and I only bickered a little, but it was to be expected, and even Frank was relatively okay with it.

"I hate it when you do that. Why are you so rude to me?"

"Why are you so ugly?"

Not my finest insult but effective nonetheless.

"Why do you keep saying that? I'm not even ugly," he said. I was starting to think I made him self-conscious. The thought almost made me laugh, given the size of his ego.

"Because it's true. Do you need me to say it differently?"

"No."

"Here," I began, ignoring his response. "If ugliness were a crime... you'd definitely get the death penalty."

"You can't honestly believe I'm ugly." He seemed to notice his voice had gotten a little too loud, because he lowered it for what followed. "I mean, look at me." He gestured towards himself like that would finally spark a moment of recognition in me.

If I was being completely honest, I knew Christian wasn't ugly. I wasn't blind. He hadn't become one of Hollywood's biggest heartthrobs for his stunning personality. But he was ugly on the inside. And that was what mattered the most, even if no one else could see it but me. How could I be impressed by his outward appearance when I knew what he was hiding inside?

I blankly stared at him for a few more seconds before that bit about a moment of recognition gave me an idea. "Oh, my God!"

He sighed. "What now?"

"I get it now, Christian. I understand what people mean when they say you're dark and handsome."

He gave me a smug look, like he was about to pop his collar. "I knew you would eventually."

"They mean that when it's dark, you're handsome!"

The smug look on his face disappeared. "I hate you."

We were interrupted by a man wearing a headset. He whispered something in Christian's ear that made his eyes widen. "We're what?"

"What?" I looked between the two of them. "What's wrong?"

"We've been on air for the past minute or so," he said dryly, no longer making the effort to keep his voice down.

"Oh." Only then, after glancing around, did I notice the camera that was pointed at us. I waved at it and said, "Hi, mom."

Our signal did end up coming – a minute late. I got the feeling this had been a trap to see what we talked about when we didn't think anyone was watching.

Renee Brown perkily announced from her seat, "Joining us tonight are the stars of the upcoming teen rom-com Kidnap My Heart! Let's welcome the smoking hot tamale that is Christian Ryder and the feisty Sophia Hastings!"

"There's our cue finally," Christian mumbled. "Let's go." He grabbed me by the waist, urging me forward.

I jumped and slapped his hand away on instinct. "Don't touch me."

He gave me an exasperated look. "I was just –"

"I don't care. Now go," I said, stopping just short of entering the set.

"Ladies first," he said.

"Then which one of us is supposed to go first?"

He exhaled. "I'm going to be the sensible one here and go before we screw this up even more."

"Be my guest, miss."

He gave me one last dirty look before walking out into the public eye, shooting his trademark, cookie-cutter smile at the studio audience. I followed his lead, although I'd never admit I used his example as something to follow.

He sat down on the large, beige-colored leather couch by Renee's individual seat of the same make and color. I took the seat next to him, making sure to keep some space between us.

Frank, who was standing off to the side of the set, shot me a look. I ignored him. It's not like I had known they were filming us backstage.

"Okay, I gotta come out with this. I think we're all dying to know. How handsome is Christian in the dark?"

Initially, I laughed at her question to lighten the mood and distract from my insult, but when I recognized its double meaning, my laughter quickly died down. "I wouldn't know. I'm only stuck with him during the day."

"I'll have you know I'm beautiful in the dark," Christian interjected with a lopsided grin. I'd never thank him for it personally, but I was grateful for the break in the awkward tension Renee had brought on with her double-sided question.

"And you're definitely not bad on the eyes in the light, either," she said with a wink. Gross. "Now, Christian. Christian, Christian, Christian. How excited are you for this new movie? It's kind of going back to what you started your career with. Teeny-bopper romantic comedies that make you bring out the tissues and the ice cream and the squash. You know."

The squash? What?

I'd never watched her show before this. Was she one of those hosts who said weird things to try to be funny or stand out?

He hesitated a little before answering. "These films are always fun. Besides, I like my character and the story, and that's always the most important thing."

Was I the only one who heard her say squash?

"Would you say you're a lot like your character, William Knight? You've definitely got the handsome part down," she said with another wink.

I doubted he'd read enough of the story to know.

"We definitely have a lot in common, personality wise and situation wise," he said. He glanced over at me. "I can relate to being stuck in a less than ideal situation with someone you don't exactly get along with."

Subtle, Christian. He may have skirted around it with his words, but he wasn't fooling anyone. I looked right at him as I voiced my agreement. "What a coincidence. So can I."

Renee glanced at me, then at Christian, and back and forth until I thought her eyes were going to get whiplash. "It looks like we got a little drama on set, folks. Now, I heard you got pretty into your audition, Sophia. Even took one for the team and bit Christian over here. I heard you even left a mark. That's wild. Rough living."

"Yeah, I got the taste of his grimy hand out of my mouth eventually," I said with a laugh.

Renee cackled rambunctiously before moving on to her next question. This was too much for one interview. I needed a break from this lady. "Soph – can I call you Soph? Yeah? Okay. You went from being a normal girl to living in the limelight so suddenly. Is there anything you miss about your old life?"

"Of course," I said. "It's a big change. I miss my family and my friends every day. I'm lucky to have my best friend Tori with me, but everyone else I know is back home." I shrugged. "But I can't really complain. I'm living my dream."

"I hear things are going pretty good for you, too, Chris," Renee said. "You've got a few new movies coming out and a new cologne, which by the way, smells divine." She sang the word in a loud opera voice, making me jump in my seat. "My husband has it and I love it. Makes me want to jump his bones all the time."

Okay. TMI.

"I hope this one comes with instructions. I swear Christian bathes in his cologne some days."

"You're such a drama queen. Clearly you have some sort of medical problem if your nose is really that sensitive." 

"I don't have a medical problem. If anyone would know, it's me. I'm the one who's stuck with you all day."

"And you never let me forget it."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't act like you're such a ray of sunshine yourself. You're the poster boy for manstruation."

He wrinkled his nose at me. "Quit saying that. It's weird."

"Why? Is it that time of the month for you? Do you need a manpon?" I sniggered at my own joke. I didn't mean for any of this to come out of my mouth. Sometimes it just did before I realized what was happening – mostly when I was around Christian.

"Okay, I hate to interrupt this, but I'm gonna go ahead and do it anyway," Renee said. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. "I think this question is on everyone's mind, not just mine. As a newly freed man, you're probably out there searching the market for something new, right, Chris? So is there something going on between the two of you? Because I, uh, sense a little, uh, something-something here. You get what I'm saying?"

I grimaced at the thought as her words fully sank in. How could anyone think there was something going on between us? Last I heard, flirting didn't involve asking guys if they needed a manpon.

Then I started to realize it was actually kind of funny how ridiculous that question was. To me, the answer was obvious. I assumed it was to everyone else, too. I started giggling and once I started, I couldn't stop. It wasn't as funny as my mind seemed to think it was, but there was no stopping me once I got started.

Christian looked ready to get us both out of that room when he answered for the both of us. "There's absolutely nothing going on between us."