“Fuck me!”
She giggled.
I sorted the pens on the counter by color and shape, the yellow vintage phone cradled between my ear and shoulder.
“Any good ones?” I asked.
“The usual assortment. Hah! That one’s good. It says, ‘My peaches. Let me show you them.’"
“People suck! They suck so hard right now.”
“Did he call you back?”
“No,” I said, then I caught her up on my run-in with Alexis at Java Jones before work.
She said, “That girl needs to leave town, and find a new career.”
A male customer in a business suit came in, so I quickly said goodbye to Shayla and hung up the phone.
The man came right up to the counter and lay a folder on the surface between us.
“I have something for you to sign,” he said.
“Get out!” I pointed to the front door. “I’m not signing some skeevy printed-out photo of me in my bra, you molestor. Those photos were taken without my consent. Actually, give me your name, and I’ll eventually get around to suing you, as well.”
He chuckled, as amused as I was annoyed. “I work for Dalton Deangelo, and I’ve come to collect your signature for an NDA. That’s a non-disclosure agreement. This is a very common and completely normal protocol with actors.”
My jaw dropped open with shock. I was half-naked on the internet, and now this?”
“Oh, hell, no,” I said. “There’s the door. Don’t let it hit you too hard on the ass on your way out.”
“I also come bearing…” He shoved an open envelope full of crisp bills—a money sandwich—my way. “Incentive,” he finished.
“You brought a bribe, to get me to sign a piece of paper to not say whatever, when I was already preparing to not say a word, for no additional fee?”
“Good! You’re a smart girl. We won’t have to spend long going over the terms.”
“Is this happening because my tits are all over the internet now? Plus that badly-edited video where it seems like I’m admitting to sleeping with Dalton? Because I’m afraid the horses have left the barn.”
“Horses and barns notwithstanding, we would prefer things do not escalate.”
I sighed and looked around me, at all the books lovingly stacked on bookshelves all the way up to the ceiling. So many words, so much wisdom, and what did I know? Nothing.
I thought of phoning my father, who was just down the street. He’d negotiated plenty of contracts, and he’d know what to do.
The man opened the folder to show me the NDA was a “short” three pages, and “not too scary.”
“You’re shushing me,” I said. “I don’t like being shushed. I can’t believe Dalton would do this to me.”
The man didn’t reply.
“Was this all his idea?” I asked. “Does he want me to sign this? Is that why he hasn’t called me back?”
The man withdrew a fancy pen from within his suit jacket and handed it to me.
“This need be but a simple matter,” he said.
My blood was rushing into my head, making it harder for me to think straight. I certainly wasn’t going to blab about Dalton to anyone, so what difference did it make if I signed the paper?
I took the pen and initialed the boxes on each page, then signed and dated the back page.
He handed me the envelope of cash, a satisfied smile on his face. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” he said.
“I don’t want the money. I signed that for Dalton’s peace of mind. You’ll tell him that, won’t you?” I pushed the envelope across the counter, back his way. “I really don’t want this cash.”
“Then give it to charity.” He handed me a copy for my own records, and walked back out the door. He was so smooth, the bells didn’t even jingle.
For the rest of the morning, I organized the shelves and helped book customers in the regular fashion, but nothing felt regular. At every moment, I was sure if I turned around, there’d be people watching me, and people with cameras just outside the window.
They say when you shiver for no reason, it’s because someone’s walking over your future grave. What do they call that unsettling shivery feeling you have, when you know the world is talking about you on the internet? Besides paranoia?
Whatever it was, the only cure was to keep myself busy.
I probably would have gone completely bonkers by the end of the day, if Dalton hadn’t phoned me around lunch time.
“Are you through with me?” I asked.
“That depends on how angry you are, and if you’re through with me.”
I sighed. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“The NDA was not my idea, but it is standard. And I wanted to be sure everything was taken care of for tonight.”
“Tonight?” A warm feeling was creeping through my body, which was a welcome relief from all the crazy.
“Vanity Fair is doing a photo shoot with me tonight. It’s all happening around sunset, after we wrap shooting for the day. It’s going to be a long day for us, but I was hoping you’d come along and be my girl.”
I didn’t say anything in response, because I was too busy smiling. Be his girl?
He continued, “I’d love you to meet the director. He’s a great guy, plus the rest of the crew. It’s a small production, but full of talent.”
“Are they all standing around you now?”
He laughed. “Actually, I’m alone. And I have another favor to ask you, but I’ll wait until you’re here, because I’m more convincing in person.”
“You sure are.”
“But when I turn my back, you disappear.”
“About Saturday,” I said. “I’m sorry I ran off like that after you told me your secret. You took me by surprise.”
“I’d rather not discuss that matter,” he said curtly.
“Oh.” Now I felt like a jerkbag for bringing it up.
Gently, he said, “Vern showed me a bit of what’s going around with your pictures today. I’m really sorry that’s your first taste of the spotlight. It hurts like a motherfucker punching you in the guts with a knuckle full of rings, but you get used to it.”
“I guess the money helps.” As soon as I uttered the phrase, I regretted it. I hadn’t meant the money I got for signing the NDA, but earnings in general, from being a star. I opened my mouth to explain, but he cut me off.