Free Beginnings and Ends (Short Story) by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

on his desk before giving up and waking up his computer, finding the file and reading from his monitor. “From the offices of Richard West and Associates, for immediate release, June twenty-fourth—”
    “For the love of Jesus God,” I say.
    Richie bristles. “If I hadn’t started there, you would’ve shouted about
that
. And, for the record, it’s already done. I sent it out this morning.”
    The world shifts beneath my feet
.
    “Without showing me?” I stumble back to the chair, because my legs won’t hold me. “Without
asking
me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
    “I didn’t see that you had a choice after last weekend’s antics,” Richie informs me, a tad sanctimoniously. “It’s my job to protect you—”
    “Just read. The fucking. Thing.” The voice that comes out of me is from between clenched teeth.
    Richie sniffs and makes an overly dramatic
I’m in pain so you’re an asshole for being mean to me
face as he shifts his injured foot to a more comfortable position and then reads, “Academy Award winner and current nominee Joseph Laughlin announces his engagement to Irene Anderson. The couple will be married, immediately, in a short, private ceremony in Las Vegas.”
    I stare at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief.
    A roar fills my ears, drowning out Richie’s words as I realize the motherfucker didn’t out me after all. Instead he has me getting married
.
    To Irene. Who is also one of his clients. Who’d been the candy on my arm for the past few weeks of this relentlessly dull and still ongoing awards season
.
    Jesus, I’m so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I actually thought Richie West was going to guide my coming out, like a Sherpa leading me to a higher plain where honesty and truth prevailed. I can’t believe that I didn’t know—instantly—
that if I did come out, he would drop me like a stone. He’d be certain that I would never again open a picture in this town
.
    And he’d be right
.
    Richie leans toward me, and I force myself to hear what he’s telling me.
    “Here’s the prenup.” He hands me a hefty document that’s covered with brightly colored Post-it note tabs and arrows. “Have Irene sign it exactly where it’s marked. And here’s the confirmation number for your flight to Vegas. You’ll be staying at the Grande, in their honeymoon suite. My driver just picked her up, they’ll be here momentarily. You don’t need to go home to pack—you can get whatever clothes and shit you need when you get to the hotel.”
    I like Irene—she’s beautiful in a quirky way. She’s also funny and smart. She’d be my fag hag if she knew. Fuck me, does she know …?
    Richie reads my mind. “She doesn’t know anything. But I tipped her off to the fact that you’re madly in love with her. Pop the question in the car to the airport, and after she swoons, she’ll say yes.” His phone rings and he picks it up. “Okay, great,” he says to whoever’s on the other end. “He’ll be right down.” He hangs up the phone and looks back at me. “She’s here.
Bong, bong, bong, bong
.” He makes wedding bell sounds, which is a really dickish thing to do.
    I don’t move. I just sit there, clutching that bottle.
    “If you’re going to make this work,” he tells me, speaking slowly as if talking to an imbecile as he reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a small paper packet that he then tosses to me, “you’re going to have to fuck her. Regularly. Often enough so that she glows when she’s in public.”
    I open the packet and the little blue pills are unmistakable. Viagra. “I don’t need that,” I tell him, tossing it back.
    What I don’t tell him is that I already have some of my own. I carry it with me, in case of emergency. But somehow he already knows that
.
    “Let me know if you run out.” He puts the packet back. “Oh, and while you’re gone, I’m gonna hammer out a deal with Ventura Studios. For
Awaken the Dawn
, that costume drama that you