“Did you find what you were looking for, Henry?” I ask him.
“What do you think?” he answers, his voice low.
“How about this time,” I answer, my voice dropping to meet his, “you don’t make me say your feelings for you?”
He takes a deep breath, nods, and says, “This is what I want. You’re what I want. More than this show. More than whatever this show gave me.”
I swallow.
“Is it still too late?” he asks, taking a step back, giving us room to breathe. I reach out for the doorknob behind me, press my palm into the cool brass until it hurts.
“Right now?” I ask, my voice coming out hoarse. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, this isn’t exactly ideal timing.”
He watches me.
I wait a minute, two, before I quietly pull the door open and walk back toward the stage, right past Priya, who hurries along beside me, trying to stop me. Marcus is still talking when I barge back onto the live set. Someone in the audience actually gasps.
“Jac!” Becca says, flustered. “Are you okay?”
“I can’t do this,” I say. “I’m sorry. I don’t want this.” I twist the ring off my finger, place it on the table in front of Marcus, look straight at the camera. “You got your wish, America. Or maybe not, because little did you know, I hated myself long before you all ever started.” I look straight into Marcus’s eyes. “Good luck, Marcus. You make amazing television.” The audience sits in stunned silence, but somewhere, I imagine John Apperson is laughing. Great television.
As I pass by Charlotte on my way offstage, I simply say, “You’re welcome.” She smiles knowingly. Almost instantly, Rikki appears backstage with Sarah; they had come for moral support.
“Holy shit,” Rikki says.
“Are you okay?” Sarah asks.
I laugh, kicking off my heels and unzipping my dress simultaneously. “Let’s go get a drink.”
Page Six: “the 1 lead Marcus Bellamy heartbroken following live breakup”
Following Jacqueline Matthis’s dramatic onstage breakup with Marcus Bellamy during last month’s After the One live show, our sources tell us that Marcus has been focusing on himself, spending time with close friends, and working out. Rumor has it he may have a place on the next season of Dancing with the Stars, and insiders have gone as far as to suggest that we may be in for a second season of Marcus on the 1—America is praying you’ll make the right choice next time, Marcus.
Meanwhile, Jac Matthis has kept a quiet profile, with no more follow-up on the rumors that she carried on a relationship during filming of the 1 with producer Henry Foster. Sources also tell us that Foster appears to have left the show following the dramatic After the One showing. Audience members at the live taping say he pulled Jacqueline Matthis off the stage following an outburst, leading to the subsequent live breakup.
Meanwhile, we prepare for Kendall Dyer’s season of the 1. While Marcus’s finale drove the highest the 1 ratings of the season, overall numbers continue to fall for the once-network hit, and sources say the show could be eyeing a shift to streaming soon.
26
I’m with You—One Year Later
The production studio is in Burbank. An eager assistant in a button-up and pencil skirt offers me water, coffee, soda, and almost desperately as I refuse them all, booze.
“It’s a 4 p.m. meeting after all,” she says, as if she is forgiving me for a sin I have not yet committed. I know she’s seen the show, and she knows it all.
“If I haven’t started drinking by 10 a.m., what’s the point, you know?”
She laughs as if I am perhaps the funniest person she’s ever met, leaving me alone in the glass conference room, her laughter echoing behind her. I glance down at my phone, think of sending a text, and stop myself.
I sit down in the chair facing the window, a speck in the huge conference room, alone in the middle of five chairs. The glass door to my back opens and Charlotte and Priya step into the room. I get up and hug them both, which they are conditioned to receive. No hard feelings. It’s just show biz.
“Jac, look at you!” Charlotte says, pulling me back and holding me at a distance. “You look good! I’m so thrilled you could come in.”
I smile. “Yeah, Rikki had the big opening for her new studio, so I didn’t want to miss it.”
“I saw your first book hit the bestseller list,” Priya says, going to the opposite side of the table and smiling at me as she seats herself in one of the chairs there. The shiny promotion had come through, just like she’d wanted. “End of the Line.”
“Yeah,” I say, like it’s not a big deal, sitting down again as Charlotte makes her way over to the other side. “It’s nice to see some positive momentum. Even starting to leave my house again.”
“There’s our girl,” Charlotte says, thrilling to it. “I was worried you might be up to something, coming in and making all nice, but I can see that you’re recovering.”
I lean back in my seat, watching Charlotte watching me. Put my hands on the table in front of me to show I have nothing to hide. “So, y’all know why I’m here. I know everyone else from our season has gotten assurances they’re free of their NDA. I’ve been a good girl and followed the rules. I want out.” Our contracts had stipulated a one-year NDA that could be extended at the producers’ discretion.
“Jac,” Priya starts, exactly the way she always talked to me on set, as if I were a demon child who must be placated, “you can understand why this is a bit sensitive to us, what with the Marcus and Henry situation.”
I blink, expressionless.
“Don’t patronize her,” Charlotte says, forever the good cop. “Jac, there’s no need to drag this out. We’re extending your NDA another year at least. I’m sure you understand.”
My smile falters ever so slightly as my eyes go between the two of them. Even if it was what I expected, the idea of a never-expiring moratorium on discussing the show makes me feel vaguely sick. “That wasn’t the answer I wanted,” I say. “Feels a bit punitive, doesn’t it? Especially considering none of what happened with Marcus and Henry was really in my control.”
Charlotte’s mouth is a straight line. “That’s not how I remember it,” she says.
I bite my lip, staring down at my pink fingernails against the desk. Then I look up. “Hey,” I say, visibly brightening back up, “y’all got any of those yogurt-covered raisins you had last time I was here?”
I remembered the little bowls they brought out from the kitchen and set in front of me as I interviewed. I had one-two-three and then stopped myself from more, opening night red dress lodged in my mind.
“Yeah,” Priya answers, a bit mystified. “You want some?”
