far as my brilliant and conniving agent is concerned, everything is going exactly according to plan.
Savage leans into me. “Sorry it didn’t work out for you, Fitzy. Honestly, I was pulling for you.”
“Thanks for trying,” I say. And it’s all I can do not to smile wickedly as I say it. I don’t know what Daria is up to, exactly. But whatever it is, I’m here for it.
After much shouting on the phone call, Nadine says to Eli, “I told you, quite clearly this morning, we don’t have another cent in the budget to add to Laila’s salary. We offered her a deal where she’d be Savage’s mentor for three episodes, and that’s all the money we’ve got at our disposal. Any compensation Laila requires in order to be promoted to a full-fledged judge this season—which, by the way, would give her the kind of publicity money simply can’t buy—would need to come out of Savage’s pocket, not ours.”
Well, that gets Savage’s attention. He jolts to standing and barks, “There’s no way I’m paying Laila a dime of my salary. I was willing to support her crazy idea, as a favor to her, as long as it didn’t affect me, but—"
I jump up, matching Savage’s angry body language. “As a favor to me, my ass. You did it to save yourself! If anyone is doing a favor here, it’s me doing one for you!”
“Bullshit,” he grits out. “You know you’ve got me between a rock and a hard place, and you’re shamelessly exploiting me.”
“Exploiting you?” I retort. “You’re the one who breached his morality clause, not me. You’re the one who needs a fake girlfriend to ‘redeem’ your stupid fuckboy ass this season. You’d already be fired right now, if it weren’t for me and the world’s bizarre obsession with us being a couple.”
Savage scoffs. “Gee, Laila. I wonder how the world got obsessed with that idea? Could it be you purposely fanned the flames of that rumor on Sylvia, for your own benefit?”
“I did not!” I shout. “I tried to put the fire out on Sylvia! I literally denied we’re a couple!”
His tone dripping with sarcasm, Savage says, “Yeah, and you did it sooo convincingly.” He rolls his eyes. “Ninety percent of all human communication is nonverbal, Laila. And guess what your nonverbal communication screamed on Sylvia? ‘Hell, yes, we’re totally fucking!’”
I gasp like this is news to me, even though countless friends texted me after that interview to razz me about that very thing. But good friends can tease me about that—not assholes I hate! Assholes who texted me their room number, begging me to show up so they could finally taste me, so they could “eat me from every angle,” and then, minutes later, brought yet another groupie to their room.
“People were already obsessed with us being a couple before my interview,” I insist. “That’s why Sylvia brought up your name. And you should be grateful she did, because that interview going viral is what convinced Nadine to hire you as Hugh’s replacement in the first place. Right, Nadine?”
“No comment.”
“So let me get this straight,” Savage says. “You shamelessly used me as click-bait on Sylvia to further your own career, and you want me to thank you for doing it?”
“Oh, you mean, kinda like how you used my name as click-bait last night, with that Instagrammer?”
Savage pulls a face like I’ve just barfed straight into his mouth. “I didn’t even mention your name to that Instagrammer last night! I said I needed to ‘lay low’ because of the show.”
“Sure, Jan,” I say, invoking a famous meme from The Brady Bunch.
Savage says, “If you think a single word of what that Instagrammer said was true, then you’re either crazy or projecting, or both.”
“Projecting what?”
“Your obsession with me onto me!”
I roll my entire head, not only my eyes. “Oh, please. I haven’t given you a moment’s thought since the tour ended.”
“Sure, Jan,” he says, throwing my comment back to me.
“Was last night some kind of a staged set-up?” I ask.
Savage’s features contort with disdain. “You’re asking if I conspired with a random Instagrammer I’d just met at a party to post a crazy story about you and me . . . for publicity?”
It sounds even crazier when he says it back to me. But I persist. “Maybe. You had to know she’s got a huge following.”
“I didn’t, actually.”
“And you also had to know she constantly posts about her infatuation with you. She’s practically president of your fan club! So,