Chapter 3 No.3

"The L'Oreal deal is dead."

Alex walked back into the living room, his phone pressed to his ear, his face gray. He didn't even look at Ivy as he ended the call. "They said you're 'brand poison.' Their words."

Kia, who was sitting on the floor with her laptop, looked up with tear-filled eyes. "And the web series... the producer just emailed. They're going in a 'different direction.' They said you look too... mature."

"Mature?" Alex let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "That's code for 'we don't want the slut-shaming mob coming after our show.'"

Ivy felt a physical blow to her chest. That web series was supposed to be her break. It was a gritty drama. She had auditioned four times. She had learned to cry on cue for that role.

"Is there anything left?" Ivy asked, her voice trembling.

Alex scrolled through his tablet, his finger jabbing the screen angrily. "Let's see. The teeth whitening ad? Gone. The cameo in the sitcom? Cancelled. Oh, here's one. The audition for Darius Clark's new movie."

Ivy's head snapped up. "The jazz film?"

"Yeah. Blue Note." Alex sighed, tossing the tablet onto the cushion. "Forget it. Kennedy Gilmore is circling the lead. And Darius is an auteur. He cares about 'artistic integrity.' He won't hire a girl who's famous for grabbing crotches."

Kennedy Gilmore.

Ivy's hands curled into fists under the blanket. Kennedy. The "America's Sweetheart." The girl who smiled like a ray of sunshine and whispered poison in the makeup chair. She had sabotaged Ivy's last two callbacks by spreading rumors that she was difficult to work with.

If Kennedy got that role, she would win. And Ivy would be the joke of the industry forever.

"I want that audition," Ivy said.

Alex looked at her with pity. "Ivy, honey. You can't walk into a room with Darius Clark right now. He'll smell the scandal on you."

"Not if we change the narrative," Ivy said. The idea was forming in her head, reckless and stupid, but it was the only raft in this ocean.

"Change it to what? That you have a balance disorder?"

"No." Ivy stood up, the blanket falling to the floor. "That it wasn't sexual."

"The video shows you grabbing his-"

"It shows a familiar intimacy," Ivy interrupted, her heart pounding so hard she thought they could hear it. "It shows... family."

Alex froze. "Family?"

Ivy took a deep breath. This was it. The point of no return.

"I lied before," she said, her voice steadying. "I do know him. Sort of."

Alex's eyes widened. "You do?"

"He's... my cousin," Ivy lied. "Distant. Second cousin, twice removed. On my mother's side."

The room went dead silent. Kia stopped typing.

"Cousin?" Alex whispered the word like a prayer.

"We don't talk about it," Ivy added quickly, building the lie brick by brick. "He hates nepotism. He made me promise never to use his name. That's why I ignored him on the carpet until I fell. And when I fell... I grabbed him because I knew he would catch me. It was instinct. Familial instinct."

Alex stared at Ivy for three seconds. Then, a slow, manic grin spread across his face.

"Oh my god," he breathed. "Oh my god. This is genius."

"It is?"

"It explains everything!" Alex began to pace again, but this time with energy. "The awkwardness! The lack of a lawsuit! The way he didn't push you away immediately! It's not sexual harassment; it's an awkward family reunion! And the Nicholsons are so notoriously private, so old-money reclusive, that no tabloid could ever disprove it! It's perfect!"

"But," Ivy interjected, "Holt has to confirm it. Or at least not deny it."

Alex stopped. "Right. The Monk. Will he play along?"

"I... I can ask him," Ivy said, feeling sick. "I have a number for his assistant."

"Do it," Alex commanded. "Do it now. If we can leak this 'cousin' angle to TMZ, the narrative flips. You go from 'predator' to 'clumsy little cousin.' It's cute! It's relatable!"

Ivy picked up her phone. Her hands were sweating.

She was digging a grave. She was going to tell the most powerful man in Hollywood that he was now related to the D-list actress who groped him.

But looking at Alex's hopeful face, and thinking of Kennedy Gilmore's smug smile, Ivy knew she had no choice.

She opened the message thread with "Landlord."