The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,39

wants a paycheck this week, pull out your phones and record something.”

“The cops are pulling in,” someone called from the front of the house.

“Dana, I’m not talking to the cops,” I said. “I’m not pressing charges.”

“Oh honey,” her face pinched together in mock sympathy. “Of course you are.”

She was right, but also wrong. As my attorney later explained, pressing charges wasn't even a thing. The police did a report, took the video evidence, and referred the allegations to the district attorney's office, who would issue charges with or without my cooperation. I did my best to help Emma, but she was still charged with assault. Not right away, but later. Initially, they couldn’t charge her because she wasn’t there.

She drove out of those gates in a red bikini and white towel, without her phone or wallet and disappeared.

43

#drinkinggames

CASH

“Okay, never have I ever…” Marissa paused, then looked around the table. “Ate lamb.”

We all groaned in unison, and Eileen pushed up from the table and huffed. "This is bullshit. You can't just name a different meat every time it's your turn."

I took a sip of my beer and glanced toward the front door of the house. “I don’t understand why we’re filming without her here.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t we be out looking for her?” Eileen chimed in.

“She’s not a lost kitten,” Layton drawled, tipping back his eighth beer of the night. “She’s a big girl. She knows where she is.”

"And where is that?" Marissa folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. "They have people at her apartment, and she doesn't have cash, her wallet, or her id. She can't stay anywhere without those things."

“Maybe she’s at a friend’s house,” Eileen offered. “Or her parents.”

"Umm… her parents are like white trash." Marissa looked to me for verification, and I hated myself for saying that. "I think she cut ties with them after they did that Celebrity Star magazine article about her.”

"And she doesn't have friends." Emma's black stylist spoke up from her spot at the table. Dana had decided that she liked the ethnic addition, plus needed the conversational source for moments like this. Emma's disappearance, as much as Dana was screaming and stomping around… was probably great for show fodder. In fact, I had to wonder if the punch, the sprint out… was all on a script I hadn't seen. Though, if Emma had done it by Dana’s orders, she could have gone a little easier on the punch. I tenderly touched my jawline, which was getting puffy.

“What about Bojan?” Eileen countered. “They’re photographed together all the time.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” the stylist said, and I remembered her name. Dion. “I guess he’s her one friend. But he’s in Dubai. They already checked. And his doorman hasn’t heard from him or seen Emma. His condo is at Ludwins, so…”

“Lud-what?” Layton cocked an eyebrow.

“Ludwins,” chimed Eileen. “It’s where, like, the presidents stay. It’s super high security. You need, like, a background check and fingerprints on file just to walk in the door.”

"Emma isn't allowed there," Dion remarked. "We always shoot her and Bojan at her place. They won't approve her for entry when Bojan is in town, so with him out of town…" she shook her head, and her curls bounced off her shoulders. "She's not there."

“She has to have a friend," Marissa countered stubbornly. "Other than Bojan."

I watched as a camera moved closer, focusing on Dion’s face. The girl raised both eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Nah. Seriously. No other friends. Haven’t you watched her videos? You think anyone in the industry wants to be friends with someone who trashes like that?”

This was going to be bad. By the time Emma returned, they were going to dissect her entire life, and all on camera.

The front door finally opened, and I turned, disappointed to see Emma's manager stride in, full of self-importance. “All of the news outlets are aware. Gossip sites have lookout reports posted for her. We put a reward of $250,000 up, and it’s trending. Someone will find her, though I’m hoping we’ll get around eight to ten hours of press before she crawls out of whatever high-thread-count bed she’s curled up in.”

“Ohhh… a guy!” Eileen breathed, her eyes lighting up at the thought. “I bet she hooked up with a random and is hiding out at his place.”

“Again… no.” Dion glared at her. “She’s like, asexual. The only guys she has ever been on dates with were set up by her publicist. And we all know how those have gone.” She