CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Closed for a Private Event
We drove to Craig’s in Nick’s Tesla. It was the first time I’d ever been in it and the ride was thrilling. He drove as if he owned the road, surprisingly aggressive for such a mild-mannered guy. I had the window down, enjoying the feel of the fresh air, or what passed for fresh air on the streets of L.A. We hadn’t been out in the world together since that night at the taco stand and it was a nice change of pace. I hadn’t felt like we were missing anything by secluding ourselves indoors, but now it occurred to me that there were other aspects of being a couple I was anxious to explore. At the first stoplight he reached out, grabbed my hand, and kissed the back of it. Then the light turned green and we were moving again.
When we got to the restaurant it appeared closed, but Nick assured me it was open for us. He wasn’t the type to flaunt his wealth or status, but the fact that he could pick up the phone and effectively close down a place like Craig’s — which was always busy and attracted its share of high-wattage patrons — spoke volumes. We parked right out front in a space usually designated for valet service, but with no cars to park, they had the night off. There weren’t any photographers around that I could see, so I figured we were in the clear.
Inside, the restaurant was warmly lit and had an old-school Mad Men feel to it. We sat close together in a wide, black leather booth in the center of the dining room. The servers very attentive, naturally, since we were the only customers in the place. I couldn’t get halfway through my water glass without someone at my elbow filling it up. They kept calling Nick “Mr. Archer” and he corrected them every time, insisting he was just “Nick.” We started with wine and oysters and meatballs, then moved on to wedge salads and lobster bisque.
Nick entertained me with stories from various sets over the years. I asked him about his Night Bus co-star, Emily Rockwell. She was a cute redhead known for romantic comedies. I liked her spunk and quirkiness, but I didn’t like the idea of her kissing my boyfriend for days on end. He insisted they were both professionals and I had nothing to worry about. “Besides, she’s still with Ryan, as far as I know.” Ryan Andrews had co-starred with her in her last film and they’d been an item ever since. If anything, that made me feel worse. I didn’t want to come off as possessive or controlling, so I dropped the subject and tried to keep my burning jealousy in check.
A few bites into my filet mignon, my phone buzzed in my purse, so loud Nick heard it too. I reached inside and glanced at the screen. Madison’s name appeared on the display. It also showed that I’d missed five texts. “It’s Madison. I’ll let it go to voice mail.”
I didn’t want to interrupt our romantic dinner, but Nick encouraged me to answer. “I don’t mind,” he said, taking a bite of salmon.
“Are you sure? It’s probably just girlfriend drama.” When Madison fell, she fell hard. And when it didn’t work out, she tended to spiral. I had been through it with her many times before.
“It’s okay. Be there for your friend,” he said, nudging my arm.
As soon as I answered she jumped in, her panic slicing through the line. “Kate, why didn’t you text me back? Have you seen it yet?”
“Seen what?” I sat up straighter in my chair. The hairs on the back of my neck became a thousand tiny wires.
“You need to go online. Right now. Check your social media feeds and call me back.”
Sensing something was wrong, Nick put his fork down and mouthed “What is it?”
I shrugged and focused my attention on Madison’s words. “I’m here for you, okay? It’s going to be fine.” She kept trying to sound reassuring, but that only worried me more.
“It sounds bad,” I said.
“Just look and call me back.”
I ended the call and opened Twitter. My mentions had exploded. Same with Instagram. Facebook was showing more than 200 notifications.
“What’s going on?” Nick asked, his concern adding to my increasing feeling of dread.
“I don’t know. Madison said there was something online I needed to see.” I scrolled through post after post. A pattern began to emerge. They all linked back to the same video.
”Oh my god.”
The video was a clip of me and Adam. Having sex. He must have filmed us while we were dating and never told me. And now he’d released the footage on his site for everyone to see. All of the gossip sites had picked it up too, and were running it with headlines like “Could Sex Video Scandal Threaten Nick Archer’s New Romance?” The corresponding articles contained a mixture of truth, speculation, and flat-out lies. So this was Adam’s payback. Revenge porn.
“Kate? Are you okay?” Through a haze I registered Nick’s voice, trying to reach me with increasing urgency. I couldn’t respond; I’d been sucked into a digital hell.
“He can’t do this.” I felt separated from my body, as if I were watching all of this unfold from a distance “I didn’t consent to this. How can he do this? Wow, that is a terrible angle. Oh, look, here’s someone calling me a whore. That’s nice. My mom’s going to love that. This one says: ‘Nick Archer is dating her? Your kidding me.’ Well at least I know the difference between ‘your’ and ‘you’re,’ bitch.”
Nick interrupted my rambling monologue, throwing his napkin on the table. “Okay, we’re leaving.”
I stood without taking my eyes off my phone. I was vaguely aware of Nick paying the check and leading me out of the restaurant. If any of the servers were staring at us, I didn’t notice.
There were a dozen paparazzi outside now, swarming like gnats on the sidewalk across the street. They whistled and called “Katie! Katie!” as we walked to the car. His steadying hand on my lower back was the only thing holding me up. I’ve been on the other side of the rope before, but those situations were planned, coordinated, controlled. This was chaos.
I voiced one of the many questions swirling in my head. “How did they find us?”
He scanned the crowd. “I made a reservation. Word gets around.”
“What do I do?” I was holding onto his arm so tightly I was probably cutting off the circulation. He didn’t complain.
“Don’t look at them,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t react. They’re trying to provoke you into giving them something they can sell. Don’t even smile. Just look at me.”
His eyes, full of fire, found mine. The outside world became a dull clamor as I focused all of my attention on Nick. He held my hands and spoke in soothing tones. “That’s it. Now breathe.”
I tried, but all I could produce were ragged puffs of air. My eyes burned. Nick gave me a long, slow kiss, blocking my face from view. Flashbulbs lit up the night. I knew he was thinking it was better they caught us kissing than me crying.
“I can revisit that memory anytime I want.”
Adam’s words the morning after the S.A.G. Awards came rushing back to me.
“There might be some things lover boy doesn’t want getting out there.”
I thought he’d been talking about Nick, but it had been me all along. I’d pushed him too far when I lost my temper at the restaurant. This was all my fault.
When we broke apart I whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“Let’s just get out of here,” he said.
The car was steps away, but each step felt like a mile. He opened the passenger door and I fell into the seat, not bothering to buckle myself in. He did it for me. Then he got into the driver’s seat and we made our getaway.
As Nick peeled out onto Melrose I noticed a familiar car parked near the paparazzi mob. The blue Taurus. This time I caught a glimpse of the driver, an older man with receding silver hair and a thick mustache. I didn’t recognize him. He met my eyes for a second as we passed. I turned away. Nick missed the exchange; he was watching the road with an impassive expression, though his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel betrayed his tense mental state.
I remembered that Madison was expecting me to call her back. I couldn’t handle talking to her, so I texted instead: “Saw it. Going to change my name and move somewhere without electricity. Kidding (sorta). Nick’s here. I’m ok.”
Then I shut my phone down completely and shoved it to the bottom of my bag.