Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Bennett gave a sharp, humorless laugh. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I’ve already paid you.”
“You paid half, for a different job.” A second man spoke this time, quieter than the first but just as gruff. “The kid doesn’t have studio rent-a-cops around him anymore. He has new muscle.”
“So what?”
“Maybe do your goddamn homework before you start throwing money at troubles you don’t understand,” the first man snapped. “These guys are professionals. Whoever Vale has around him now, they’re fuckin’ tactical cops. They’re not gonna let us just walk up on him.”
“That’s your problem.” Bennett’s voice shifted from left to right, as if he were pacing. “You said you could handle this.”
“And now I’m telling you what handling it costs,” the second man said. “We need more men. More eyes. And a sharpshooter.”
River’s breath stopped.
Shooter.
“Whoa. I didn’t say I wanted Xander Vale dead,” Bennett said sharply.
“I didn’t say dead either. I said a shooter. A marksman can take him out of commission without a kill shot. Leg. Shoulder. Something crippling that’ll shut down the filming and scare him away.”
River pressed his palm against the wall, nausea stirring in his gut.
He’d known Bennett was stressed. Spiraling, even. But he never thought he was capable of this.
Real violence. Criminal stuff.
There were actual men in his stepfather’s office talking about hurting Xander Vale as if it was their day job.
Since Xander’s film had overtaken his mom’s, their house had been falling apart.
Celestine Ashford was Hollywood royalty, the kind of star whose films would go down in the history books as the greatest of all time, a class act younger actresses bowed to.
She’d survived a childhood River only knew pieces of.
A predatory first manager. An absentee father and a mother who’d spent most of her money before she was emancipated at sixteen. Two abusive marriages until she’d met Bennett. Years of addiction and public humiliation before clawing her way back to respect one role at a time.
Her film, Where the Sea Ends, was her legacy piece.
She’d written, directed, and put up her own money to produce it when every financier in town told her it was too intimate, too feminine and private. Too late in her career.
Then it had hit theaters and turned into a film the critics worshipped. Audiences raved over it, and awards predictors were calling it unbeatable.
Bennett had been so proud, he’d immediately purchased a thirty-thousand-dollar marble and crystal cabinet for all the awards she’d win.
Then What Breaks in Silence dropped a week later and swallowed her dream.
Xander Vale’s film hadn’t just overtaken it, it had stolen all momentum and one award after another.
Every time his mother had smiled and applauded Xander’s name with each win, River had watched another small part of her collapse behind the mask.
Bennett was everywhere but at home, trying to stop the hemorrhaging of her brand, but nothing he did was working.
It wasn’t long after that she’d relapsed, breaking nineteen years of sobriety.
The drinking came first. Silently. A glass of champagne here, a couple of glasses of Merlot there. Then the pills she swore were vitamins. Finally, River found cocaine dusted along the vanity in her bathroom.
It wasn’t a month later he’d found her passed out on her bedroom floor. He’d sat with her until she came to, lying to the house staff, her assistants, and to Bennett, telling himself that it wasn’t as bad as it looked.
Though his mother was heartbroken and barely coping, there was no way she knew about this.
If word got out about what Bennett was doing, it wouldn’t just ruin him, it’d end his mother’s career. People would say she’d ordered it. Headlines would infest every media outlet, reporting the aging starlet couldn’t stand being beaten by a younger actor. Even if she knew nothing, the scandal would attach itself to her like a plague and never go away.
If his mother believed people thought she was responsible for hurting someone, no amount of rehab would save her.
Bennett’s voice jerked him back to the shady meeting.
“Just make sure you’re shooter doesn’t miss,” Bennett snapped. “Killing him will involve too many people. Cops, lawyers, media, family. It will never die down.”
“My guy won’t miss,” the second man said.
“I hate to resort to this, but I am sick,” Bennett hissed, “of actors using liberal politics and sexuality as marketing strategies. If Xander Vale hadn’t come out, his movie wouldn’t have beaten my wife’s. The academy didn’t vote on performance. They voted on a cause.”
River stared at the office door in disbelief.
He’d seen What Breaks in Silence three times. Once because his mother wanted them to “know the competition,” and twice alone because he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The film had nothing to do with Xander Vale’s sexuality as a marketing tool. It was just good. Brutal and beautiful and difficult to shake off. And Xander’s performance had been extraordinary.