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  “I notice you never use his name,” Vicky said.

  “You both know who I’m talking about.”

  “How quickly did it go from candy to touching?” John asked.

  “That happened fast.” Sloane swallowed, hating the question. “The touching wasn’t too bad when it began, but it did make me uncomfortable, and it started happening right away.”

  “What kind of touching was it, at first?” Vicky asked, compassion in her eyes.

  “Small things. He would start rubbing my shoulder or try to hold my hand. But I didn’t like any of it, and either nobody noticed or they pretended not to.”

  “Do you mean the crew?” John tried to clarify.

  “I mean everyone.” That part especially hurt. “The cast, the crew, my mom. Everyone.”

  Vicky nodded. “How about Nicole? When did the two of you start discussing this?”

  “Right away. Or at least I tried. But she never wanted to talk about it.”

  John said, “So, the cast and crew, your mom, and the only other person who could have understood how you felt.”

  “Right,” Sloane agreed. “Nicole liked all the extra attention. She thought it made her special. And my mom …”

  “Go ahead,” Vicky prompted. “Finish the thought.”

  “There’s nothing to say. I was her paycheck until I wasn’t. Things between us progressively deteriorated after that. These days, we don’t talk.”

  Vicky nodded, understanding that Sloane didn’t wanted to discuss her mother even less than she wanted to talk about him, so she leaned forward, and the slight movement somehow matched the compassion Sloane could still see in her eyes. “Can you tell us about the day with the necklace?”

  Sloane nodded. She hated talking about that day. “There isn’t much to say. We were about a month into shooting the movie and—“

  “It was a two-month shoot?” John interrupted.

  “That’s right.” Sloane nodded again. “So about halfway through. He wasn’t on set all the time, or even every day, but it was noticeable whenever he was. On that particular day he invited me inside his trailer, right after we broke for lunch. I actually didn’t think anything of it at the time, even though I’d never been alone with him in his trailer before. I still feel bad for going, even though I know it wasn’t my fault, and no one was around to stop or even warn me away from what I was about to do. But that’s the thing about being a child actor. You spend so much of your time alone, you just …”

  She didn’t finish her thought, instead rewinding back to the more relevant reply the Treadwells were waiting for her to deliver.

  “We were sitting on his couch, and he gave me a piece of jewelry … a necklace.”

  “What did it look like?”

  She wanted to hate John for asking. But this wasn’t his fault. So she shook her anger away. “It was white gold, both the chain and the letters.”

  “And what did it say?” Vicky asked, but she knew, too.

  “Big girl.” She shoved the words out of her mouth, then finished that part of the story. “He put it around my neck and told me I was years past my age. Then he said I had an ‘unbelievable career ahead of me’ and felt ‘especially proud to be giving the world such an extraordinary talent.’”

  Sloane chewed her bottom lip to keep from crying. After a long moment, she continued. “That’s when he started touching me.”

  “Where was he touching you?” Vicky’s tone was feather light.

  “Everywhere.” Her voice cracked. “He went under my shirt … but it wasn’t like I … then he tried going down my pants … but I …”

  Sloane stopped. She couldn’t get the words out for several long seconds. Then she drew a deep breath and finished. “I freaked out and ran away from him.”

  “Did you tell anyone what had happened?” John asked.

  Sloane hated admitting this part, but she shook her head like she always did when responding to that ugly little question. “He yelled at me as I was running out of the trailer that I was in big trouble if I breathed a word about what happened in there to anyone.”

  “And you believed him?” Another unnecessary question from Vicky.

  “Of course I believed him!” She needed to calm down, so her next words came softer. “He could even be scary when he was trying to be nice. But when he issued an overt threat? I’ve never seen anyone so menacing. His yelling has given me nightmares for twenty years.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” John said, sounding like he meant it. “Can you tell us what happened the following day?”

  “We broke at lunch like we always did, but this time he took Nicole into his trailer. I knew what he was going to do, so—”

  “You knew, or you imagined?” Then Vicky crammed a qualifying explanation into the end of her thought. “I don’t doubt your instincts at all, we’re just looking for a timeline.”

  Whatever her reason, Sloane still resented the question. “Then I guess I imagined it when she went in and knew it when she came out.”

  “Fair enough.” Vicky nodded.

  “What did you know when you came out?” John asked.

  “I tried warning Nicole before she even went into his trailer, but she didn’t want to talk about it. I told her what happened to me and said I thought he would probably do the same thing to her and make her do stuff she didn’t want to — I think that’s how I put it — but she just said something like, ‘He told me I was his special girl.’ She swore he’d never do anything to hurt her. But then, like an hour later, after she left his trailer, I knew he had.”

  “What happened next?” John asked, after another pregnant moment. “Is that when you went to the Shellys?”

  She nodded. “I trusted them more than anyone else.”

  “Including your mom?” Vicky asked the question Sloane had answered so many times before.

  The answer hurt every time. “She really wanted me to be famous. Mom was always saying, ’This is the dream!’ And I was so afraid of killing her dream.”

  “Her dream,” Vicky repeated.

  “What happened when you told your story to the Shellys?”

  Sloane said, “They were professional.”

  “In what way?” John pressed her.

  “Melinda promised they would take care of it, then Dominic went and talked to … him. Of course he denied everything, so the Shellys filed a complaint, but they told me before they did that it would have little chance of going anywhere.”

  “Did they give you a reason?” Vicky asked.

  “Not that I really understood at the time, though it makes sense now. Dominic and Melinda have always been honest with me, and as direct as they could be at the time.”

  “Tell us about the relationship between you and Nicole. What happened after you brought your concerns to the Shellys?”

  “He—” She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Started again, this time mustering tremendous effort to get out that one vile word. “Wentz spoke to Nicole’s mother and claimed I was trying to ruin my rival’s career by tarnishing her reputation.”

  “And why would you do that?” Then probably because she could either see or sense Sloane’s irritation, Vicky added, “I know it seems like we’re asking a lot of obvious questions, but every little bit of insight will really help us with this book.”

  “It’s fine.” But really it wasn’t. “That’s what men like that do. He’s a ruthless, sadistic sexual predator who likes his victims prepubescent and insists on their silence. He’ll do whatever he can to make both of those things happen. I don’t think Nicole’s mother is a bad person. She just did the easy thing by crucifying me.”

  “And how did she do that?”

  Sloane turned from Vicky to John. “She went to the tabloids and said whatever she could to discredit me.”

  “That must have really hurt.”

  She turned back to Vicky. “The Shellys shielded me from the worst of it, but I did see most of her comments years later, after therapy.”<
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  “In London?” John clarified.

  “Yes, in London.” Sloane nodded. “We moved right after filming wrapped.”

  “And whose idea was that?” Vicky asked.

  “The Shellys talked my mom into it. They said that since Wentz had blackballed me, my career in the States was essentially over. We had two choices, so far as they were concerned — file a lawsuit that I almost for sure couldn’t win and try to salvage a career that had little chance of surviving, or cut our losses and move to the UK where I could play an American adolescent for the remainder of my teenage years.”

  John wanted to know how her career played out on the other side of the pond.

  “It fizzled. Almost immediately. I had a contract with the studio, and the Shellys managed to make sure they didn’t demand the termination payment for getting out of it. Whether the blackball hit the BBC or I’d been convicted in the court of public opinion, I’ll never know. But that was it, my career as an actress was over. The media hated me and most of my fans had turned against me overnight.”

  “Did you ever hear anything else from Wentz?” John asked.

  “Once.” She drew a deep breath and tried not to shudder. “I saw him at an awards show for The Good Daughter. I didn’t want to go, but the Shellys said it was important and so did my mom. I was so afraid of running into him, but everyone promised me I wouldn’t.”

  “But you did?” It sounded like Vicky really didn’t know this part of the story.

  Sloane nodded. “He cornered me and …”

  “It’s okay,” John reassured her. “Take your time.”

  She did. A long time. But eventually, she was composed enough to finish. “He said if I ever said anything bad about him again, he’d kill me.”

  The Treadwells traded a glance.

  Then Vicky gave her a decisive nod and a change of subject. “Tell me about therapy.”

  “There was a lot of it.” Sloane gave them an uncomfortable laugh. “I went a few times a week for years.”

  “Do you still go?” John asked.

  “I’m okay now.”

  He nodded and scribbled.

  Vicky said, “Did the therapy help?”

  “Absolutely.” Sloane sighed and reset herself, sitting up after realizing how deeply she had sunk down into the seat. “Retiring from the business did more than anything, but the talk therapy was what really made all the difference.”

  “What did it help with most?” John asked.

  The answer left her like a reflex. “Dealing with the psychological aftermath of being hated and treated like a liar who would say anything to get what she wanted.”

  Vicky nodded. “Did you miss the business?”

  “Yes, but not acting. I still loved film and ended up going to the London Film School where I got my MA in filmmaking.”

  “Is that where you met Miles?” he asked.

  “It is.” She nodded. “We loved each other right away, but neither of us wanted to get married. He’s a wonderful father.”

  Vicky said, “You’re friends?”

  “Best friends, yeah.”

  She changed the subject. “So, what brings you back to the states?”

  “West Hollywood Sunset.”

  “How many movies did you make in Europe?” he asked.

  “Three. But all together they had about the same budget as a day or so of West Hollywood.”

  “Impressive.” Vicky smiled.

  “Hard,” Sloane countered. “But worth it.”

  “Did you ever ask the Shellys to help you with any of those first three movies?” John asked.

  “No.” She shook her head.

  Vicky looked surprised. “Why not?”

  “I needed to prove myself first. Dominic and Melinda had done enough for me already.”

  She asked a follow-up question. “What made you change your mind?”

  “I was ready to tell my story.”

  “You mean West Hollywood Sunset,” John said.

  Sloane took a second to consider her wording. “The story about how a powerful man tried to rape me, and how there were no consequences for his actions.”

  A long silence was felt by all three of them. Sloane almost enjoyed it, instead, she chased the quiet away.

  “The budget for West Hollywood Sunset is more than it should be, but that’s because the Shellys expect great things.”

  “The film is autobiographical?” John prompted her.

  “It’s about a child star who successfully takes down a Hollywood producer. Does that sound autobiographical to you?”

  Vicky answered. “It sounds like maybe you’d like for it to be.”

  “All that therapy has helped me move past my trauma. This movie is proof to myself and the world that I’m no longer a victim.”

  “Do you think it’s your message or your storytelling voice that the Shellys are most interested in?” Vicky asked.

  “Or do you think this is personal for Dominic and Melinda?” added John.

  “Of course it’s personal. And I think the Shellys are interested in the message and my voice. They’re not just investing in the film. They’re making it high profile for their upcoming streaming platform.”

  “What’s next?” John asked. “If the movie does what everyone wants it to, then you’ll have a lot of open doors. But are you protected if it bombs?”

  “I’m making a trilogy of films after we’re finished shooting Hollywood.”

  Vicky raised her eyebrows. “About?”

  “Whatever Dominic and Melinda want. We haven’t discussed anything specific. They want me to focus only on Hollywood for now. There’s also this.”

  “This,” Vicky repeated.

  “This interview. Your memoir.” Sloane looked at them both.

  “Your memoir,” John corrected her.

  “Sure. My memoir.”

  Vicky looked her straight in the eyes. “So, the memoir wasn’t your idea and you don’t want to do it, is that correct?”

  “I’m fine with it,” Sloane said.

  “You sound uneasy.” Vicky still hadn’t blinked.

  Sloane did. Then she looked away before turning back to meet Vicky’s gaze again. “Yes, I’m uneasy about the memoir. But Dominic and Melinda both promise this is the best move. Especially Melinda. She really believes in it. So, I guess I do, too.”

  “But it sucks talking about it,” John said flatly.

  “The movie is great. I’m hoping it will open people’s eyes to the ways people like him get away with the terrible shit they do and that my work will help future child actors while being an entertaining piece of art the Shellys are proud of. And good enough to help the Juke brand when they finally go public with it.”

  For the first time, Sloane wanted to talk. It felt good to be opening up and venting emotions. So, she kept right on going. “I’m happier behind the camera than I ever was in front of it. I’m in a great place, really. It’s just that I’ve dealt with all of this trauma already, and the movie is my response. This feels like additional distress that I don’t need or want to be dragged through. Especially while I’m shooting Hollywood.”

  “Maybe that’s the point,” John said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Vicky explained. “Don’t the Shellys always have a way of—“

  “Getting the best out of the people working for them, no matter the means,” Sloane finished. “Yeah. They sure do.”

  “We appreciate your candor and promise you’re in excellent hands,” Vicky said.

  She nodded. “I believe you.”

  John smiled at her. “Mind if we ask you a few more questions?”

  “Whatever you need,” she said.

  But the Treadwells never got a chance. Someone pounded on the door.

  “Sorry,” Sloane said to the Treadwells before turning toward the door. “Who is it?”

  The door opened. Lila entered the trailer looking panicked. “You better come outside. Right now.”

 
Sloane

  Sloane felt like she had fallen off her water skis and was now being dragged behind a boat in its wake. Lila was marching three feet ahead of her, on the phone and yelling at someone who was apparently barking right back, loud enough for Sloane to hear, though no specific words.

  She hung up and made a sort of growling sound before turning toward her boss with a heavy sigh and a forced but genuine smile.

  “Where is everyone?” Sloane asked, looking around at a ghost town of her set. “Please don’t tell me there’s been a fire.”

  “The story tells itself outside.” Lila clutched the phone in her white-knuckled fist. “I’ll be right out there. I need to make another call before—”

  “Can’t you just take one minute to—”

  “I’ve got it,” said Miles, coming up behind them, apparently relieving Lila so she could douse another fire.

  “Thank you!” Lila looked both grateful and relieved as she spun around and started marching back toward the trailers.

  “Where is everyone?” Sloane repeated her question for a new set of ears and saw for the first time the sorrow in his eyes.

  “Union strike,” Miles said. “We can’t film with all of our workers picketing outside.”

  “A strike?” She couldn’t believe it. “All of our workers?”

  She was already marching toward the door. Miles kept pace beside her.

  She threw it open and yelped. Even knowing what she was about to see, the sight was still surprising. The picketing would have been hurtful under any circumstances, but seeing the line filled with people Sloane had been starting to think of as maybe friends just yesterday was like an acid rain on her heart.

  But there they were, waving signs and shouting about the working conditions at Shellter Productions.

  FOLLOW THE MONEY!

  GOOD ENOUGH ISN’T!!

  SHAME ON YOU, SHELLTER!!

  “What are they bitching about? Those signs aren’t even saying anything!” Sloane exclaimed.

  This was infuriating. Not just that she had to be dealing with this, but that she had been yanked from an old trauma right into a new one, without so much as a second of rest between an emotional frying pan and a professional fire.

  Miles put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t have the words for how hard this sucks, but I’m sorry.”