Chapter Forty-Five – An Ordinary Tale
"Not interested," Jamie said abruptly, attempting to get up.
"Not so fast," Wencel replied in kind and caught his arm to stop him. "How do you think stars are made, Jamie?"
"I don't know, and I don't care."
Wencel offered him a sly grin. "You might not know, and I agree, but I do think that you do care very much. You wouldn't be on this show if you didn't want to be a star, adored by millions of fans."
"Chill with the millions. Your show," Jamie said through his teeth, "is far from being that popular." Although he wanted to return to his seat and show this strange dude that he couldn't care less about his plans involving the Wicklows, he wanted to put Wencel in his place. "Maybe it's because you have the mentality of a gossip rag, instead of that of people who want to produce a program that's worth watching for a change."
"And what exactly might you mean by that?" Wencel had a peculiar way of talking, reminding Jamie of a hissing snake.
Jamie stood up, shaking off Wencel's hand. It was grating and also ignoring some personal boundaries. For some reason, a simple gesture like that gave him the creeps, although he never felt put off by people touching him.
"You know precisely what I mean," Jamie said, pouring as much aggression as he could into those words. "Did Angus put you up to this? Tell him he should talk directly to me if he has something to say."
"Oh, no, this is all me," Wencel replied, not for one moment losing his composure. "I'm quite the plucky type when it comes to applying myself to my work."
"Plucky, huh?" Jamie closed his fists and towered over Wencel, blocking the view of the rest of the bus. If their conversation was drawing any unwanted attention, Jamie couldn't tell because there was too much noise going on.
Wencel stared up and leaned back. He crossed his arms. "Ah, Jamie, look at you, showing your true colors. This is the sort of stuff that draws an audience."
The way Wencel countered his words and actions unnerved Jamie. The little guy surely had a bit of a devil in him, because he didn't look intimidated one bit.
"I don't give a damn." He pulled back, forcing his face to relax into a smile. "That's not how I want to draw an audience to my content. I'm a musician. I don't do personal drama. Let your boss know. Or not. Better yet, let me do that myself. It would be a pity to have another case where a rogue employee gets fired over some misunderstanding or exaggerated zeal."
For the first time since the start of their conversation, Wencel's smug act dropped a notch. Still, he was a damn hard cookie. Not only didn't he flinch at the veiled threat, he even regained his composure and returned Jamie a willful smirk.
"Angus believes in my instincts. I have free rein to dig into our dear contestants' pasts in order to bring to life vulnerabilities that will show them at their most natural. Our followers appreciate honesty the most, not the masks everyone is wearing in hope of fooling people."
"Is forced drama part of this strategy of yours?"
"Forced? No, no, no," Wencel said, his smile growing larger. "All drama is good drama on TV."
"We're not on TV."
"It's a manner of speaking."
"Are you a sucker for always having the last word in a conversation?"
"At least I'm not another type of sucker."
Jamie narrowed his eyes. This guy was an insufferable prick. In his experience, when dealing with such people, when confrontation led nowhere, it was a good idea to leave them be and go about your life without bothering to understand them or reach an understanding.
Too bad that it wasn't so easy to do that when Wencel was clearly bent on shooting the teary reunion between Jamie and his estranged parents. He had no idea if he would even be able to recognize them, as he had never once visited them in jail, and they weren't interested in writing home, either.
Home, right. He wanted to snort at his own confusion related to the word. They had never had a home, the Wicklows. They moved from place to place, from scam to scam, from one gullible audience to the next. As far as his siblings were concerned, they were just as estranged.
Any teary reunion would be a fake reunion. But Jamie had a hunch that Angus and his little henchman, currently grinning at him as if he knew shit, would love to milk it for all it was worth.
"It's not going to happen. And if you're using any information about my family without my consent, I'm going to sue the hell out of your asses." He had no idea if he could do that, but in movies and whatnot, threatening people with a lawsuit tended to work wonders.
"Sue?" Wencel let out a dry laugh. "You signed those papers, Jamie. Being the baboon that you are, you surely didn't take care to read the fine print--"
Jamie was so fast, Wencel gasped and his eyes went wide. He struggled with Jamie's hand, wrapped around the front of his t-shirt, while trying to save face as soon as he realized that it didn't bode well for him to look scared shitless in front of an audience.
"Hey, let go," Wencel protested.
Jamie didn't follow through; he shook the asshole and only after that dropped him into his seat. "What? Are you scared of a little drama?"
He didn't wait for Wencel's comeback. It did give him some satisfaction that the fucker didn't have one ready for the times when things got physical. A little bit of intimidation didn't hurt anyone, right?
***
Jamie read Cottontail's text and noted the neutral tone. Whatever hatchet they had to bury between them looked like it was getting there. He wanted to text back using some amusing anecdote from life on the road, but that Wencel dude had pissed him off big time, and now he wasn't in the mood to text his bunny boy the way he deserved to be texted. And he wasn't even thinking about sexting! Although that might just take his mind off of that nasty encounter with Mr. Assistant-slash-Asshole.
He'd text Cottontail later, Jamie decided. Now was just the right time to give Angus a call and let him know his intentions.
"What did he say to you?" Anna whispered. "Things looked pretty heated over there for like a few seconds."
"He's an asshole," Jamie grunted as he waited for his call to connect. "Don't let him get under your skin. Actually, if he approaches you, just pretend to be deaf. Let him learn sign language if he wants to speak with you."
Anna nodded thoughtfully. "He does look like a certified asshole."
"And you seem like a great judge of character."
Jamie gave her a reassuring smile, but his expression changed again when Angus finally picked up.
"Do you enjoy hiring assholes to play as assistants around here?" he asked without waiting for a greeting.
"Well, hello to you, too, Jamie," Angus drawled. "Someone's a little cranky. You should have said yes to my proposal of traveling together."
"I have no issues with the traveling conditions. But there's this guy here, who pretends to be called Wencel Smith, and he's a major pain in the ass."
"Wencel, yes," Angus confirmed the asshole's identity and then stopped, as if whatever the matter was, it had to be on Jamie's side.
"Is that his real name? I've never met someone with such a weird name."
"Yes, it is. Why did you call, Jamie?"
"This guy, hired by you, wants to bring my family up. Tell me you don't know what he's talking about, and I'll take it as a free pass to punch him in the face."
"I know what he's talking about, and please, Jamie, don't hit anyone in the face. As amazing as that would be for the ratings, I can't condone any acts of violence."
"Okay, so you know. I guessed as much. Then let me say this to you, since your employee has a brain the size of a pea. I don't have any interest in meeting my family. I especially don't want to indulge your wish to have me 'reunited' with them. It's ancient history, water under the bridge, all that."
"But it would be a good opportunity for you to show them how much you've grown," Angus said with affectation.
"I have no interest in showing anyone that. And why are you bent on this, anyway? There's nothing special about them, what they did, or how they ended up where they've been for the last fifteen years. In this country, I'd say it's a pretty ordinary tale. Definitely not material worthy of being included in your show."
"Are you a producer, Jamie? That's not your call."
Jamie worked his jaw. So, he had tried to play nice, but Angus seemed keen on getting on his nerves.
"News flash, big guy. It is," he replied promptly. "If you're trying to set me up, I'm going to quit your show."
"If you do, you'll have to pay a fee."
"What?" Jamie felt a new rush of adrenaline spiking. Someone really did need a good shaking today.
"Yes. It was all in the contract you signed with us."
"I don't recall anything like that," Jamie countered, but a different sensation, one of dread this time, began clenching his stomach.
"Let me search for your contract for a moment and I'll be reading from it to refresh your memory. Ah, here it is. For your information, it is under the Grant of Rights section. Are you listening, Jamie?"
"I'm all ears," Jamie replied, the blood starting to drain from his face.
"The Contestant – that is you – grants the Producers of LiveFeed – that is us – the exclusive, worldwide, perpetual, and royalty-free right to use, edit, adapt, reproduce, distribute, display, and otherwise exploit any and all information, statements, actions, likeness, and appearances of the Contestant captured during the Production Period, as well as any information the Producers deem relevant, regardless of whether it originates from the Contestant's participation in the Show or otherwise."
"That can't be right," Jamie murmured. Had he even paid any attention to what it said when signing that shady contract?
"I know it's legalese, and sounds dry as fuck, but you get the gist of it, right, Jamie?"
He was getting it, of course he was. "What about that fee?"
"Ah, that's a little lower. There it is. It's aptly placed under the Withdrawal Penalty section. And it goes like this: Should the Contestant voluntarily withdraw, refuse to participate, or otherwise fail to comply with the Producers' directives, the Contestant agrees to pay an early termination fee of--"
Jamie thought he was going to be ill. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?
"Has everyone on the show signed this shit?"
Angus's glee was uncontainable. "Oh, yes, Jamie, yes. Everyone signed this shit. But stop fretting now! What's the matter? Remember: whatever happens, it's going to make you famous. Don't you want to be famous?"
"Not like this. I want to be known as a musician, not as some clown who's washing his family's dirty laundry in public."
Angus's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, Jamie," he said, lamely impersonating a wise witch, "if you wanted to become a famous musician and nothing else, you should've stuck to making music. Am I right, or am I right?"
Jamie didn't even bother to offer a reply. He disconnected the call and remained stiff and unresponsive, his eyes blank. He had flirted with shady and weird situations before, but he had done so as he was driven by his need to survive. The moment he decided to want more, this happened. And wasn't it ironic? He had been born into and escaped from a family of crooks, and now he was becoming the victim of one. Well, not just one. Angus wasn't working alone. They were all a pack of hyenas, Arthur included.
Absent-mindedly, he fiddled with his phone. He looked at Cottontail's carefully-worded text. Hadn't his bunny boy warned him against getting into trouble by accepting to be part of this stupid reality show? No matter which way he looked at this, his goose was cooked.
Anna interrupted his dark train of thought by gently touching his arm. Jamie gave her a confused look.
"What did we sign?" she whispered, her eyes as big as saucers.
"You don't know, either?" Jamie asked, letting out a dry chuckle.
She shook her head. "I should have the contract somewhere." She fiddled with her phone. "But I'm always so disorganized. Ah, here it is."
She angled the phone screen and leaned against Jamie's shoulder so they could read it together.
"Are they nuts?" she whispered. "I'm sure they haven't told me anything about this yet. But," she began to agonize, "I thought I didn't need an expensive lawyer to look over these papers, and they pressured me into signing them so fast! Fuck, Jamie, this is bad, right? They took one look at me and instantly thought I was stupid! Because I am stupid!"
"They did me dirty just the same way. So, if you are stupid, then I'm stupid, too. And not only us. But everyone on this entire freaking bus," Jamie concluded.
Anna blinked hard a few times.
"Don't cry," Jamie advised her, putting one arm gently around her shoulders. It was always easier to put someone else's woes before his own. It made things more manageable, more risk-adverse.
What would Cottontail do under the circumstances? The guy didn't seem like the type who liked staying in school, but he was smart, definitely smarter than Jamie who hadn't bothered to read a bunch of papers put under his nose.
Replying to a cautious text wasn't the right thing to do. He needed to call.
***
It took him a moment or two to realize that his phone was ringing. Yawning loudly, Hearst grabbed his phone, grinning as he noticed who was calling.
"Hey, Jamie," he said, "I can't believe it's you. Aren't you busy being a star?"
"Not so much. Oh, fuck, how do I say this? You were damned right about these fuckers."
"What fuckers?" Hearst rubbed his eyes to chase away the last annoying grains of sleep. He'd have to rely on his contacts for now, because he had lost what he called his second pair of glasses a long time ago, and apparently now he had lost the main pair, too.
"The LiveFeed fuckers. I'm so sorry I didn't believe you when you kept on telling me not to go on their stupid tour. You sound a little sleepy, did I wake you?"
"Yeah, but that's not an issue, don't worry. It's just that I can't find my glasses, and it's like I'm missing something."
"Glasses?"
Jamie's voice suddenly sounded distant.
"Yeah. I usually wear my contacts with my bunny mask," Hearst explained, "but I don't usually--"
"Do you happen to have a brother? Or a cousin? A freaking uncle?"
Hearst felt his knees going a little weak. What had Wencel done?
"What's with you?" Jamie asked, his voice cold and disgusted. "Cat got your tongue? It's your brother, isn't it? Damn, that's why he seemed so familiar. Oh, fuck, just how stupid do you think I am?"
"I--"
--have no idea what you're talking about. That was what he wanted to say, but the proverbial cat had to be out of the bag.
"Your brother is here, scheming about how to screw us over. For a moment, I thought it was you, but he's not on the phone right now, so at least there's that. I just want to know. If Wencel freaking Smith is your brother's name, how the hell are you named to top that? Funny how I remember all sorts of things right now, and one of them is how you told me your name was weird."
"Jamie, listen, I--"
"I'm not in the mood to listen at all. What the fuck, dude?" Jamie's voice dropped to a hurt whisper. "Why the fuck are you and your brother out to get me? Don't tell me your family got scammed by mine. 'Cause that's the only thing I'd understand right now."
"No, that's not what happened." Hearst stopped for a moment. Did he really know that for sure? Wencel seemed to know a great deal more about their family than he knew. Like that detail about how his father had wanted to get them all on a reality show.
Fuck, his research should have included his own family.
"You know what? I don't even care. Were you handing juicy details about our little encounters to your brother? I wonder how the hell you managed to keep a straight face while doing that. Oh, I guess it was easy. You never got rid of that mask, not even for a freaking moment. It was your lifeline as a liar, wasn't it?"
"Jamie, it's nothing like that. I have nothing to do with whatever my brother's doing right now."
"Well, I find that hard to believe. I shouldn't be surprised, though. This isn't my first rodeo, and life has fucked me over before. Only that—whatever. It's not like we've ever been in a relationship for me to cry over it like a stupid shmuck. If that was also part of your long play, sorry to disappoint you, but I don't give a damn. You were a lame fuck, anyway."
Hearst gripped the phone so tightly his hand hurt. "Liar." It didn't come out as an accusation, but as a wounded plea.
"That's funny coming from you, don't you think? You didn't even do a good job of pretending to care. If you'd been good at it, you would've told me your name."
Hearst knew Jamie was no longer at the other end.
"It's Hearst," he said uselessly.
TBC