Chapters (51)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Acknowledgments
- P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
- About the Author
- About the Book
- Also by Alison Gaylin
- About the Publisher
“I’m just saying. You’ve got a great chance to set the record straight.”
She put her glass down. “Are you seriously asking me to go on Anger Management?”
“It isn’t such a bad idea, is it? And it wouldn’t be you. It would be your mom. She’s the one everyone wants to hear from.”
She stood up. “You’d better be joking.”
He gave her a tight smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. I’m just kidding around.”
“Seriously?”
“I am. Yeah.”
“Why would you even joke about something like that?”
“It was just a dumb joke, Robin. Let it go.”
ONCE THE THREE of them had finished dinner, Renee and Robin and Eric headed to their rooms to pack up, Eric unusually quiet all the while. Robin waited till she heard the door to the guest room close before she turned to Eric. “Hey,” she said. “What’s going on with you?”
He sat down on the bed, motioned for her to sit next to him. Beneath his clean soap scent, she smelled sweat. Fear. “I didn’t want you or your mother to come on Anger Management,” he said. “I hope you believe me on that.”
She looked at him. “You said you were joking.”
“I wasn’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
He stared at his hands. “Look, if I don’t tell you this now, you’re going to hear it from somebody else.”
“Tell me what?”
“One of Shawn’s producers. A new girl. Young. Her name is Ginny.”
Robin’s eyes widened. Proud Mama to My Furbabies, Yoga Is Life, God Bless the USA. “GinnyMarie?” she said.
“Yeah. How did you . . .”
“I don’t want to know.”
“If I don’t tell you, she will.”
“Why? Does she think I’ll leave you?”
“Probably.” He took a deep breath, in and out. “Look, she’s a big fan of yours. She reads your column. She loves it when you get the hate tweets. She thinks it’s awesome you can so routinely stir up controversy over something as safe and benign as films.”
She glared at him. “Are you trying to get me to be friends with your mistress?”
“What? No. She’s not my mistress.” He sighed. “She’s fucking trying to blackmail me.”
“What?”
“She wants you on the show. She always has. But now more than ever. Obviously.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Right. So . . . if I can’t get you, which I can’t . . . She’s going to tell the whole world about me. Page 6. The Cut. But worst of all . . . you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My job.”
“I know about your job.”
“No,” he said. “Listen.” He took another deep breath. “About a year ago, I was contacted by a woman. She worked at a fancy restaurant in Midtown. One of Shawn’s favorites, and the type of place he would like.”
She nodded. “Yeah?”