Esme and Matt can't stand each other, even if they have to play nice for the cameras. As public speculation about their chemistry heats up, they're forced to confront what's real versus what's just for show.
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The wait for the release of the interview feels endless.
I'm trying to convince myself we did a good job with the banter while still keeping things light and entertaining, but I won't know for sure until it's released. Even worse—I won't know for sure until people have reacted to it, which stresses me out beyond belief.
Naomi, one of Sadie's many assistants, has been on 'let's make sure Esme doesn't spontaneously combust' duty, as Sadie has returned to New York for Harley Kane business. I know better than to take it personally, aware I'm not Sadie's only client, and Harley has been with her for longer, whatever their relationship might be.
Harley is dating a theater actor, Nick St. Martin, so I know it's not romantic. It would be a PR nightmare to handle, and Sadie would rather die than get involved in a scandal.
So, with Sadie being preoccupied with more important things and bigger clients, poor Naomi has to pick up where she left off and ensure I don't spiral out of control. Unfortunately for Naomi, Sadie is the only person—besides my mom—who can effectively ground me and call me out when I'm being completely unhinged about . . . well, anything. Here, I'm freaking out over how people who don't know me—and I don't know—will perceive me.
Was it enough? Were we believable? Do people still like us? Do people still like me?
Will this blow up on my face? What will Oakley do? Will he even care, or will his fans rally up against me to protect his good name and his frail ego from big, bad Esme?
"You need to accept that this is simply out of your hands now," Naomi advises. I know she's right, but it's easy for her to say; it's not her career and reputation on the chopping block. I don't make it a habit to be mean to interns or assistants—or anyone—even when the snarky remark is right on the tip of my tongue; I bite it so hard my mouth overflows with blood. "All you can do is wait, unfortunately."
"I know," I grunt, massaging my temples. A nasty migraine has assaulted me, one that has lingered for two whole days, and I don't know how I'm expected to exist in these conditions. At least when this happened while I was shooting Absolutely!, I had something to distract me. "I hate waiting. Waiting is the worst part."
"You tell me, girl."
I've never been a particularly patient person.
It stresses me out having to wait for the microwave to beep. I don't like standing around and waiting for things to happen—I chase after them. I'm proactive, not reactive. I take matters into my own hands.
The fact that it's not up to me is driving me up the wall.
To make it worse, Sadie and Kirk decided Matt and I should meet up for coffee today. We're not being forced to do it—just heavily encouraged to do so—and I decided to bite the bullet and agree to it, knowing there's no use in fighting with them. Matt just shrugged, like it's any regular Tuesday. For all I know, it might be.
