The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,38

it, and I couldn’t look away. And there was this long awkward moment where we just stared at each other.

It was… it was almost nice, a calm before the storm.

And the punch was the wrong thing to do, I know that. It was unplanned and completely impulsive, but trust me when I say that I had to do it. Which sounds crazy, right? I mean, who has to punch someone? Especially when they aren't doing anything other than laughing. But uggggh, that laugh was obnoxious. And he was laughing at me—that was the painful part of it. Whether we were playing a part or not, the mockery was real. He was laughing at the thought that he could ever be threatened by me. And it wasn't just a quiet chuckle. He was intentionally cruel about it, and in a moment that was being captured on film and would be broadcast to the entire nation—or at least the subset that watched MTV.

But the embarrassment and humiliation weren't why I punched him. I did it—and damn, that iron jaw hurt—because I had felt myself preparing to kiss him. Feet inching forward. Hands twitching to grab onto his shirt and tug him to me. Lips trembling with the realization that they wanted to press against his.

I was going to try to kiss him, and I was terrified of how he would react, and everyone was staring at us. Watching. Recording.

So I punched him. And yes, I realize how insane that sounds.

42

#findemma

CASH

She punched me and ran. Like, literally ran out of the kitchen in her towel, pushed through the pile of crew and assistants, past the craft service bar, and out of the front door. It slammed against the frame, and there was a moment of total silence in the house before Dana screamed at everyone to chase her.

You’ve probably seen the footage of the chase. Everyone has. It's like a shaky Jerry Springer clip where the camera guy is wheezing as he jostles after her, and Emma flicks him off as she's getting into the car, and you see a production assistant tugging at the exit gate, but it's useless because Emma was already halfway down the drive, her windows down, wet hair blowing in the wind, and then she was gone.

Within fifteen minutes, everyone was back inside, huddled in the kitchen, an emergency production meeting underway. I was offered an ice pack that was quickly snatched away by Dana, who muttered something about preserving the injury.

“We need to get Cash into an interview asap, but let’s get legal out of the way first. Suits from the network are on their way, and I’ll need signed statements from everyone who saw what happened or caught any of it on camera. We also need the daily’s to show them that this wasn’t planned.

“Police are on their way,” a brunette in coveralls piped up.

“Get cameras outside and record them pulling in. Cash, try to look more wounded, okay? We want video of him with the cops and a closeup on the charges, so do it discreetly, but zoom in on the paperwork whenever you can.” She surveyed the room and ignored my hand, which I raised in question. “Who is following Emma?”

“Ned and Tyler took the van. But she doesn’t have her phone, so we don’t have tracking.”

Dana cursed.

“Are you guys tracking our phones?” Marissa pushed into the kitchen. “That’s a complete violation of our personal rights.”

“That you all agreed to in your contracts,” Dana snapped. “We can’t record you if we don’t know where you are.”

I looked to the sidelines where Eileen’s manager spoke up. “She’s right.”

Marissa sputtered through an argument and I tuned out. I’d never had privacy. I wasn’t sure I even fully understood the concept. I’d been followed, photographed, and recorded since I was a child. There wasn’t an inch of our home that hadn’t been watched by security cams, and I never went anywhere that escaped paparazzi or follower cameras.

I dropped my hand and barged into the argument. "I'm not pressing charges on Emma."

“Holy shit,” Eileen breathed, moving closer to me, her fingers ghosting over my jaw. “You’re going to have a serious bruise.”

“Hold that reaction until we get a camera on you,” Dana shrilled. “Where in jack tar village are my cameras?”

“Ned and Tyler have two, plus the guys out front waiting on the police.”

“Well, get me one,” she snapped. “I don’t care if it’s your iPhone. We need this. In fact,” she looked around. “Every crew member who