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“Now she understands.” Orson took the pipe then a hit of his own.

  “What do I understand?”

  “That cannabis is the remedy,” Ellis answered, pulling a hit before passing to Sloane.

  “To what?” Sloane asked, taking the pipe.

  Ellis grinned. “What’dya got?”

  She considered her answer while holding the smoke in her lungs, then used the prompt to recover their earlier, and much more pertinent, conversation. “Is it the remedy to pedophile predators in Hollywood?”

  Ellis took the pipe from her then set it on the coffee table with a sad little shake of his head. “No. Alas, it is not. But fortunately, we do have a few ways to hit back. Thanks to Cary Grant here.”

  “I see myself as more of a Paul Newman,” Orson said.

  “You wish.” Ellis snorted.

  “Liam Wentz.” Sloane returning them to center again, though she wanted to laugh, long and completely out of control. “Ways to hit back?”

  Ellis abruptly guffawed, and given what he’d said a few minutes earlier regarding his tolerance, she didn’t think it had anything to do with the weed. “It’s sort of an embarrassment of riches.”

  “I’ve never smoked before, so maybe I’m missing something obvious, but I don’t understand.”

  Ellis glanced at the coffee table and Sloane felt sure he would reache for the pipe, but then he laughed again. “I’ve been after that creep as long as I’ve worked on Hunted. But I’ve never had enough to nail the guy. And with his resources, it’s best to stay invisible until—”

  “Oh, I understand.” Then she laughed, even though it wasn’t remotely funny.

  “I did have a little, though,” he continued, “and when combined with the what I got after talking to Melinda, then her friend, Elle, we now have a lot.”

  He laughed again, this time with a self-satisfied shake of his head.

  “Is he always such a cock tease?” Sloane asked her new boyfriend.

  Was he her new boyfriend?

  Orson exploded with laughter, but only partly from the weed. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you swear!”

  “I swear.” Sloane said damn every once in a while but never included a deity.

  “I don’t know anything about Elle, or even if she was using her real name. But I believed everything she said, and—”

  “What makes you believe her?” Orson asked.

  “We talked about this. I—”

  “Not for me.” Orson tipped his head at Sloane. “For her.”

  “Oh. Well, you talk to enough people and you get a sixth sense for bullshit, but it’s more that the lead came from Melinda Shelly. I’m getting pulled into an enemy of my enemy is my friend situation here, so I’d be an idiot to not ride this gift horse as hard as I can.”

  “You don’t have to convince me. I’ve known Melinda for most of my life.”

  Ellis looked at Sloane like he had something to say, then opened his mouth and quite obviously said something else. “Elle, or whatever her name was, put me in touch with three different women, all with distinct yet echoing stories about Liam Wentz from when they were little girls.”

  “No way,” Sloane said in awe.

  “A swearer would’ve said no shit,” Orson told her.

  Ellis kept going. “Way. None of them will go on record yet, but I’m sure that at least two of the three will once the appropriate protections are in place. And the third …” He gave it a moment’s thought then eventually nodded, “Yeah, I’m gonna say she’s an eventual lock as well.”

  “If there are three, there’s probably thirty,” Orson added.

  “Agreed.” Ellis nodded then finally reached for the pipe. “We just need the dam to burst.” He took a hit, passed it to Sloane, then blew a plume of smoke into the air. “One of Elle’s three girls ended up leading me to a fourth that I don’t even think Elle knows about.”

  “Have you told her?” Sloane asked, passing to Orson. “Or Melinda?”

  “Not yet.” Ellis shook his head.

  Sloane laughed, in euphoria and delight. “I’m not sure I’ve ever known anything before the Shellys, except for maybe when I might need to use the restroom.”

  “Seriously.” His face turned sober before Ellis continued. “I spoke to that fourth girl’s mother.”

  “Oh, no …” Sloane could feel something terrible lurking on the other side of his thought. “What happened to the girl?”

  Ellis glanced at the carpet before looking at Sloane. “She killed herself. A few months ago.”

  “Eight years after Wentz paid her mother off,” Orson said, apparently having heard the story already. He returned the pipe to the coffee table.

  “Shit.” Sloane sank down into the couch. “I guess you can’t tell me who it is?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Sorry. But I’m sure you’ll know eventually. This story is coming out. The mom was just … that was a rough conversation, man. The girl never made it as an actress. Her mom thinks she didn’t have a chance. Wentz never even intended to give her a role. He just wanted something to play with. She did what he asked, but nothing ever happened for her.”

  “Shit,” Sloane said again.

  “Much better.” Orson nodded approval.

  “The layers of guilt in her voice were hard to handle. It’s possible she had a hand in things, not directly, but sin of omission stuff. I’m not really sure, people are capable of telling themselves all sorts of stories as a means to live with their mistakes. She did explain her guilt, though, saying she ignored all the signs, even the ones that seemed so obvious in retrospect. Even worse, she didn’t speak out on her daughter’s behalf when she found out what was happening. Not until it already happened. This was about a year before your story hit the tabloids. She saw that and it made her wonder how many other girls there were.”

  “So that’s when she contacted Wentz and got the payout?”

  “Right.” Ellis nodded. “According to Mom, the money never helped. Her daughter never got better. The depression came and went, but mostly stuck around until she couldn’t take it anymore. Now, all of that is terrible, but there is some great news.”

  “She’s willing to tell her story on the record?” Sloane guessed.

  “She’s willing to tell her story on the record,” Ellis confirmed with a satisfied shake of his head. “Best of all, she’s believable. I really think this is all just the first bellow to bring down the avalanche.” He shook his head. “I seriously can’t believe we have the Shellys to thank for it.”

  Sloane said, “The Shellys aren’t who you think they are.”

  “The Shellys are exactly who I think they are,” Ellis replied.

  “Orson?” She said, expecting him to defend them.

  He shrugged. “He’s harsher than we are about the Shellys, but not unfair.”

  “You act like they’re terrible people, and yet they’re helping to put an end—”

  “They’re doing whatever it takes to protect, preserve, and promote their empire.” Ellis glanced at the coffee table, but ignored his impulse. “Look, I get it, and I swear, there’s no judgment coming from me. The Shellys are morally flexible. They’ve been responsible for some terrible shit, including things done to friends of mine, like that smug looking Paul Newman wannabe sitting right beside you, but they all benefit from what the Shellys have done for them, and I suppose the same is true for you.”

  Ellis gave her a shrug, looking seriously confused about his feelings on the topic, then went on with his rant. “They are also geniuses who have done some remarkable things, and the more I learn about them, the more interested I am in what their future holds, not just for them, but for all of us.” Another shrug. “In an industry as dirty and corrupt as this one, I guess the Shellys understand that they have to live their lives in battle, and never lower their sword or shield. Not my life, but like I said, I get it.”

  “Enough of your monologuing about the Shellys.” Orson looked from Sloane to Ellis. “Maybe she hasn�
��t heard your tirades on repeat, but I have. We’ve been sitting too long, I’m going to need a walk soon. Can we please get back to—”

  “Sorry Newman. I forgot how much my sedentary lifestyle offended you.” Ellis turned from Orson to Sloane. “We put these new leads with the ones I already had, and now have a half-dozen girls who’ve been victimized by Wentz in the past and are now willing to come forward, so long as they’re not alone. Considering the issue, we’ll need a surgical level of media manipulation. And that is something I’d trust the Shellys on, more than just about anyone else in the world.”

  “You do realize that’s not a compliment, right?” Orson asked.

  Sloane was apparently still laughing at things that weren’t funny. She looked at Ellis, trying to decipher his strange expression, then turned to Orson and saw that he was doing the same thing thing.

  “What is it?” Orson asked. “Why do you look like that?”

  “Because I said, ‘We now have a half-dozen girls who have been victimized in the past.’ But we also have two girls he’s currently molesting. One of them even has a video of ‘Wentz at his worst.’ I’ve not seen the recording yet, but the evidence has just started coming in, and there’s already enough that there’s no way he’ll never be able to bury it al.”

  “You might be surprised,” Sloane said.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be.”

  “He wouldn’t be,” Orson agreed.

  “But you are right that even if the evidence is enough to finish him off in court, doing so will take years, and he’s a master at manipulating public opinion. For this all to work, Hollywood needs to turn against Wentz in a way that would will make it impossible for him to fight back with money. People need to see the suffering he’s caused in these girls’ lives. Again, that’s where your Shellys come in.”

  “They’re not our Shellys,” Orson said.

  Sloane’s head was swimming.

  And it had nothing to do with the Green Unicorn.

  But everything to do with what was surely the best idea of her entire life.

  Orson pointed to her. “Now it’s on her face.”

  She barked laughter. Again, nothing to do with the Unicorn.

  “What is it?” Ellis asked.

  So she told them.

  Chapter Thirty

  Sloane

  The Shellys kept looking at Sloane, but so far neither had spoken.

  That was fine, she could wait. For the first time in her entire history with the Shellys, she wasn’t going to break. She presented her idea and dropped the mic. Now it was their turn to talk, however long that might take them.

  They traded a glance, and in their mostly masked expressions Sloane could see the faintest trace of a smile on each of their faces. Melinda and Dominic both liked her new idea, so far as she could tell, and they might even love it. She was surely seeing a lot of mental math and writing on the backs of imaginary napkins happening without any words passed between husband and wife.

  It was surreal to see the Shellys communicating with only a glance, or a brushed knuckle against an arm, like Dominic was doing to Melinda right now.

  She looked up at her husband. Nodded and smiled with the tiniest shake of her head. But still, neither of them said a word.

  The anticipation filled Sloane with a new kind of anxiety. But this one she didn’t mind. The temptation was ever-present, but she managed to stay in front of it.

  So … thoughts?

  But she wouldn’t — she couldn’t — ask.

  She folded her hands and crossed her legs instead.

  “It’s an excellent idea,” Dominic finally said.

  “There are a few particulars to work out, but I agree, this is very interesting,” Melinda added.

  “I’m surprised we didn’t think of it our—”

  “We couldn’t have, darling. The pieces wouldn’t have fit if we were forcing them together. This only works because it’s Sloane’s idea.”

  “True.” He nodded, looking from Melinda to Sloane, still apparently over the moon.

  She was flooded with relief. Of course there would be particulars to work out — there were always particulars to work out. It only mattered that the Shellys appreciated what she wanted to do.

  Now that she knew they did, everything else could finally fall into place.

  And so much simpler than ever before.

  “It’s a big shift, even if it’s the right one,” Dominic said.

  “Mind if we ask what made you want to change directions?”

  Sloane nodded. “I guess I finally saw West Hollywood Sunset for what it really was.”

  “And what’s that?” Melinda asked.

  “Something that’s all about me.”

  Dominic nodded. “Go on …”

  “It’s a fantasy. A film about how I wished things had ended up after Liam Wentz flipped my life upside down and turned what felt like the entire world against me. But that makes the movie about me, which means it can’t really affect change the way we all want it to.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to shoot a film that focuses on the past, or even the present. I want to make a movie that works for a better future instead.”

  “And thus,” Melinda said, “a documentary.”

  “Exactly. If we make a movie about the current generation of Liam Wentz’s victims then we’ll be giving them a voice, and talking about something that’s happening instead of something that’s already happened.”

  “It’s an excellent idea,” Dominic repeated, wrapping a bow around his earlier thought.

  “So, what now? What should I be doing next?”

  “There’s a lot for us to work out,” Melinda replied.

  “But we no longer have to worry about being over budget with either time or money, right?” Sloane asked.

  “Right.” Melinda nodded. “This is a more straightforward project in every way. Let’s get Lila in here and the four of us can cut our crew to the essentials.”

  “I’m not sure we even need that,” Sloane said. “We’ll need a few locations and a basic setup. But I’d prefer to interview the girls myself.”

  “That’s a non-negotiable,” Dominic said.

  “The kill fees will be substantial,” Melinda seemed to be talking mostly to herself, “but this is still a much more cost-efficient film all of a sudden.”

  Orson already knew, having been present at the birth of her idea, but Sloane couldn’t wait to tell Miles or dig into the details.

  She didn’t have to wait long. The Shellys were hammered for the rest of the day, but they told Sloane not to worry about a thing. They would take care of communicating everything to the cast and crew, then everyone could reconvene in the morning to make a plan.

  Three days later, Sloane was working on an entirely new project and over the moon to be doing so. Miles was relieved at the change in direction but still wanted to take Jolie to Belgium until the project was finished and was planning to leave in a week or so.

  Orson was on set, but only because he wanted to be, sticking around for emotional support and probably to feed his own sense of curiosity.

  John and Vicky were there as well. When not the subject of their well-meaning interrogations, Sloane found that she liked them a lot. They were full of storytelling insights, always taking notes or making suggestions, telling her which questions to ask each interviewee, along with those to avoid. She was using her own story as a general framing device, and her experience to deliver a sympathetic interview with each and every girl.

  Individual accounts were full of expected yet devastating narratives, even hearing a fraction of each story was enough to flood her with chills.

  Adrianna Womak: “I was auditioning for a role and Liam Wentz asked me to pose for him, promising that the pictures would never go anywhere. He said that Pierre, the director, needed to see more of me. It was only a small job, but I was on the way to having my dream career. But then Liam wanted more, threatening to send those pics aro
und or release them on the web to destroy my reputation. I didn’t know what to do, so I said okay, and that’s when things went from photos to sex. When I finally stood up to him and told Liam I was going to the police, he told me my parents had some tax issues that could get them into big trouble. I have no idea how he knew that, but he was right. He told me my parents would either be going to jail or not, it all depended on me. So I stayed quiet and did everything he asked until he finally lost interest.”

  Cori Long: “Liam Wentz brought me to a party to meet a director that supposedly thought I was perfect for a role. But I never got to meet Reginald Mank. That didn’t matter all that much, at first. Liam was still charming and made me look like a star to everybody there. Then someone handed me a drink. I woke up naked in a bed and knew something bad had happened, but I didn’t know who did it. I went to Liam, upset as I’m sure you can imagine, but he said I got drunk and kept coming onto a bunch of guys at the party. Liam also said he was pretty sure they had filmed it, and that it would be in my best interests to ‘drop it immediately and never think about it again.’ Things got worse after that. I still don’t even know if that supposed movie ever existed, but I was scared enough to do whatever he wanted me to for a while. I should have just gone to the authorities, but I’d heard the old stories, of course, and figured everyone would think I was lying. Besides, and believe me, I know how stupid this sounds, Liam convinced me he actually cared for me.”

  Eva Bankes: “It started innocently enough. I had a drunk mother who was your typical stage mom monster, and I had zero freedom in my life. As my career took off, she kept more and more of my money. Liam Wentz was the only one who listened to me. He offered me ways to keep my money and reclaim control over my life. He helped me to get emancipated, and then he put me up in a nice place. I finally had freedom and was living my dream, even though I was still just a little girl. But then Liam also offered me escape, in the form of drugs. Which of course I got addicted to. He used that addiction to get me in bed. He made me fuck him and his friends until I wound up overdosing one night and waking up in rehab two days later. I told the people there, but they were all scared of him. Even the ones who believed me said it was best just to drop it, especially since he didn’t “technically” force me into anything. I always had a choice, an option. I know that was bullshit, and that regardless of my emancipation I still wasn’t old enough to consent, but I sure as hell felt like an adult, and was scared that if I did anything, Liam would destroy all that I had. He threatened to do exactly that, every single day.”