beginning of the new episode and hit play.
Five minutes in, I know we’re screwed. They’ve re-cut it, and not in the way I’d requested. No effort has been made to have Cynthia appear competent and intelligent. If anything, they’ve made her appear worse.
Uh-oh.
Thirty-Five
Cynthia
I watch the cut in silence, ignoring Stephen’s looks.
He promised.
I look like a fucking buffoon, somehow worse than the last one, if that was even possible. I look incompetent. I look undeserving. I look spoiled and sheltered, and like I didn’t build this fucking business from the ground up.
I watch my failure over and over again like my own personal hell. Only it’s about to be broadcast to televisions around the world.
And there’s Nadia. Gleaming like a hero. She was right, this is her show.
She even has private interviews with the crew telling them the real stories behind all my blunders, lying through her teeth about how inept I am, and how sorry she is I’m not putting my best foot forward. Her stupid face fills the screen.
“It’s really a shame. She had a lot of promise when we went to school together, but she was always one click off from really making it, you know?” She sighs sadly. I’ll kill her.
When the fuck did she do this? I certainly wasn’t privy to it, and I certainly didn’t get my own fucking special interview time to explain myself. But, there she is, in my own fucking restaurant, talking shit about me to the world.
He said he’d fix it. He said it was fixed.
I feel a hot tear stream down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away. I am so sick of crying over men. I mean, I’m so sick of crying in general, but especially over men.
Oh God, why did I believe him? I feel so fucking confused. Why would he come all the way out to Connecticut, pretend to like me, say all those stupid, beautiful things… if this is what he wanted?
Stephen mutters angrily and walks over to the editing booth to shut the damn thing off. I make a move to stop him, but I realize it doesn’t really matter what’s on the last few minutes. The damage is done.
I sit there, maintaining my silence. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to budge. I lock my jaw and stare at the blank screen. The hurt and anger is radiating off me and the room feels hotter. How am I going to make it out of this one?
“Cynthia.”
“Save it,” I snap and keep my eyes forward.
“Hey,” he says, his voice rising in frustration. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, who the fuck did? This is your show, isn’t it?”
He’s not going to weasel out of this. This whole thing was his idea, his baby, and he said he had it handled.
“If I’m not mistaken, I’ve been off in a Connecticut estate, making nice with parents, masquerading as your boyfriend, so when exactly was I supposed to approve this cut?” His words slice right fucking through me. I finally turn to face him.
“I’m so sorry it was such a fucking burden to ‘masquerade’ as someone who cares about me, but I didn’t ask you to come! You’re the one who called me. ‘I’ll pick you up!’ God, I’m so fucking stupid!” Stephen registers the hurt in my voice and starts to walk back.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I had a nice time. I had a great time, actually.”
“Stop,” I say, unable to keep my voice from shaking. “You said… you said this wouldn’t happen again. And I’m a fucking idiot for believing you.”
“Cynthia, I didn’t ask them to cut it like this!”
“I fucking trusted you! I trusted you to do this goddamn show! I’ve been dealing with Nadia’s shit, your crew’s shit, and these episodes, my God!” I feel unhinged, but I can’t stop myself.
“Can you fucking calm down and listen to me.”
Famous last words. My eyes must be ablaze because he takes a step backwards. Now he’s fucking done it.
“Don’t you dare fucking tell me to calm down!” I seethe, my fists clenched in anger. “This is just another show to you. Just another episode. Go ahead, rake in the viewers, the money, the intrigue! Fuck, you probably called the press yourself!”
“It’s all good for you, right?” I ask, my eyes welling up. “But this is my life you’re fucking with. My career, my everything. You’ve met my family, for God’s sake! You know I built this place all