Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I tapped on the notification and my stomach plummeted.
FANS OUTRAGED AT ACTOR EILIDH ADAIR
“What the fuck?” I muttered, my stomach turning, my cheeks hot as I scrolled through the article. “Oh my God.” I tapped on a social media icon and started scrolling through the comments on my last post.
I’d shared a photo from our night out last week. The cast of the movie had been invited to attend a charity benefit hosted by a politician. It was a children’s charity that provided water, food, and emergency response to children in many countries across the globe, including a country caught up in an international political crisis. I was a villain for giving my support to the charity because they were providing aid to innocent children from a country whose government was the problem.
The comments were disgusting.
I’d betrayed them. I was fucking stupid. Ignorant. They were done with me. They wished I’d rot in hell. They were canceling their subscription to the streaming service in protest to my affiliation. Calling for the streaming service to drop me. I was a talentless hack, anyway. My uncles had gotten my foot in the door. I didn’t deserve my success.
On and on.
Hundreds upon hundreds of nasty comments.
Fingers shaking, I tapped on Jasper’s profile. He hadn’t shared a photo from the benefit, but he’d been there too and was in my photos. No one had commented on his Instagram, though.
My phone rang in my hand. It was my publicist. I stared at the screen in shock, so overwhelmed I wanted the world to bloody disappear. The ringing stopped and then started again. My agent. The room spun. I couldn’t breathe. I ducked my head between my legs, sobbing between trying to catch my breath.
“Fuck, shit, fuck.” Jasper was there, his hands on my face, his thumbs wiping away tears. “Danny just called. Everyone’s talking about it on set. Are you okay?”
“I … it was only a photo,” I whispered numbly.
“I know, I know. Look, call Greta back.” Jasper tapped my phone. “She’ll help take care of this. It’ll all blow over.”
Numbly, I hit the Call button.
“Oh, thank God.” Greta’s familiar posh accent filled my ear. “Right, my darling. First thing you’re going to do is delete that photo. We’ve already put together an apology statement for you to share. We’ve emailed it over. Take a look. If there’s anything you want to tweak, let me know.”
“Apology?” I croaked out. “Apology for what? I supported a charity that provides aid to children.”
“I know, darling. The world’s gone crazy. But best to just say you’re sorry and they’ll forget about it within a week.”
“And if I don’t?”
There was a moment of silence. “Danny’s already had a conversation with the PR team on the show, and they feel this is what’s best for everyone.”
“Will they fire me if I don’t apologize?” At that moment, I hoped she’d say yes.
Because I couldn’t take this.
This hate and vitriol. Living online in a world where you had to choose sides, where you weren’t allowed to see both sides of an argument, where nuance had died several years ago, and we were all treating each other like we were the worst dregs of society if we showed even an ounce of common sense during a discussion.
There were hundreds and hundreds of vile comments on my social media.
And not only from that post.
So many people thought I was worthless and stupid and had gotten this far ahead in the business out of nepotism.
Maybe I wasn’t cut out to be an actor.
“They won’t fire you, but they won’t be happy if you don’t do this.”
Jasper squeezed my hand. His expression was pleading. “Just post the apology,” he offered quietly, “and this will all blow over.”
Until the next time I did something I thought was innocuous but the world took offense to.
Feeling totally disconnected from the moment, I deleted the post that had started the furor and shared the apology statement. I switched off the comments for that post and then turned off my phone just as Dad called. I couldn’t talk to him. I knew he would be calling to check if I was okay, but he was the most principled man I knew, and he wouldn’t have apologized for something he didn’t believe he needed to apologize for.
I’d never felt like a bigger coward.
“Let’s get you back into makeup.” Jasper took my hand and led me out of the trailer.
Suze fussed over me as I took a seat before her.
As I stared past my reflection in the mirror to my friends who hovered over me worriedly, it was the first time in my short career that I thought “I hate this job, I hate being here, I wish I wasn’t this, I wish no one knew me, I wish I was home.”
Unfortunately for me, it wouldn’t be the last time those wishes escaped my heart.