Yeah, don’t roll your eyes, hun. What I’m trying to say is that there are options.
I should be happy. Walter's right. I will have made more money than I've made with a single client before, and I'll be safe from Robert. This is just one job of many. You'd think these facts alone would have me finding Simon and throwing the I.E. data straight into the palm of his hand and calling it a day.
But that's not how I'm feeling. That's not exactly what I want to do. Are you following?
This is new territory for me. I've always been able to handle any job. But I may have just met my match. Maybe I bit off more than I can handle with this one. But did I have a choice? Simon basically threatened my life if I didn't take this on.
How can I explain any of this to Walter? He'd just say that I'm overanalyzing things.
He's known me forever. He'd just keep telling me to relax.
He'd also say I'm not thinking clearly. That I need to take a deep breath and steady my thoughts. Get my head screwed back on straight. To stop being a 'negative Nancy' in that off English accent of his.
The car stops outside the Illicit Entertainment offices in Times Square and Walter gets out to open my door.
"Okay, here you are darling," Walter s
ays. We are both standing outside the Illicit Entertainment headquarters. "While you're in your shoot, I'll make my way to Ethan's office and plant the bugs; I have three—one underneath his desk, one behind a wall socket, and one buried in this potted plant here. I added a nice note from you, for a bit of realism. He'll never suspect a thing."
I look at the plant in Walter's arm. It's a potted plant with a pink ribbon around its pot and a card that reads simply, "Love Brittney." Shit. That makes me feel awful.
"Do we really have to plant these bugs?" I ask.
"To get this job done, yes," he says. "I could potentially install a shotgun mic outside of his office window, and it's very good at recording conversations, but given the fact that his office isn't on the ground floor, that wouldn't be practical. In fact, I'm not even sure that's possible."
I nod to Walter. My insides are in knots. Literal knots that make me want to curl up in a ball, or maybe under a rock. I feel sick. How did I end up in this situation?
I feel like one of the worst possible people on the planet for what I'm about to do to Ethan. I know he has this bad boy image, but underneath it all, he's a good guy. It's true. He doesn't deserve this. All of these thoughts are going through my mind as I stand here in the Illicit Entertainment lobby and wait for the elevator.
Can I actually go through with this? Should I tell Ethan what I've been up to? Sure, he may refuse to talk to me ever again after he finds out—I may never see him again, and I wouldn't blame him. And that's the price I'd have to pay. But maybe he wouldn't react that way. Maybe he'd respect me for coming clean. For realizing the whole thing was wrong. Maybe if he knew how I ended up here, he'd understand.
Suddenly, the elevator opens. I turn my body, facing forward, and I see Cheryl. Her wavy brown hair seems to have a shine to it now; it seems more golden. Is it the lighting down here? She looks over at me and smiles. I smile back.
What kind of a smile was that? I wonder. One minute, she's giving me an icy stare and is interrogating me in the computer room—her eyes gazing at me like they could burn a hole right through me, and now this? She smiled at me as if she has received some sort of validation. Has she come to some sort of realization? My brain is working in overdrive trying to figure out what exactly that smile was all about.
Then, she speaks. "See you at tomorrow's shoot."
It was all so cordial and happy. Where did all of her icy unease disappear to?
"Wait… actually, can I ask a big favor?" she says, looking at Walter and I.
We both look at each other and back at her, and I say, "Sure."
"Is there any way Walter could take me home?" Cheryl asks. "It would really save me from having to get a cab. I'd really appreciate it."
I look at Walter and he looks at me.
"I don't see why not," I say.
"It's no problem, just tell me where to go," Walter says. "I'm assuming you live nearby?"
Cheryl smiles again. "It's not too far. Thank you so much; you're saving me quite a bit of hassle today."
We all walk out of the lobby and to the limo. Walter holds the door open for us and Cheryl and I both scoot into the long, black leather seat. "I could get used to sitting in this every day," she jokes.
Walter drives her to her apartment and I notice that she lives close to Ethan. When she leaves, I'm struck with a thought and I turn to Walter.
I say, "Drive me to Ethan's apartment."