✅ My Cousin's Keeper [NaNoWriMo 2021]

107. My Scoop

"It's not what it looks like!"

I wanted to think of this guy as some kind of deviant, a predator who constituted a real danger to all of his fans. He was a pervert, just like all men, and the sooner the world stopped treating him like a role model the better it would be for all the impressionable teen girls who liked to swoon over him. But it was hard to feel like that when I actually caught him in the act.

I might have wondered where he got all that paraphernalia from, but I had learned long ago that you can get anything you want on the Internet, if you're prepared to dig through the dodgiest of dodgy sites. I might have been impressed by the obvious care with which all those things were arranged around him; it showed a clear sign that this was something he really cared about, even an obsession.

"You can't say anything!" he said again, desperately trying to pull the sheets up to hide what he had been doing; but it must have been obvious there was way too much to hide. "Hey, who are you? What are you doing here? This is my trailer, you can't come in here! You're going to be in so much trouble, and I–"

"Listen, Mr Walthamstone," I answered, shutting him down right away. "I work for SYL, contracted to Claughton Innovative. They wanted to make a movie, and they hired us to do the logistics, among other things. Right now my job is to organise a conference and to make sure that everything is in the right place when they need it. And right now, the resource out of place is you. Maybe you're some kind of bigshot who thinks he can do whatever he wants, but you're holding up production now. They're doing auditions for your character's girlfriend or something, and you demanded to be there. There are a lot of people there, many of whom are richer or more famous than you, and you're keeping them all waiting. So perhaps you need to buck your ideas up. To be honest, I think this movie would be better without your grandstanding, but I don't make those kinds of decisions. I'm being paid to get you to that meeting room as quickly as possible, and that's what I'm going to do. So lose the frills and the unicorns, they don't suit you. I want you dressed in ten minutes, and at the audition in fifteen. Right?"

"You can't talk to me like this! I'll have you fired, they want me for this movie and they'll give me everything I ask for. Why don't you–"

"No!" I snapped back. "They wanted your fans. And they're already getting sick of you being this prima donna who wants everything his own way. They've given you a lot of what you wanted, but you're on thin ice already. You asked for too much, baby. They won't put up with you throwing a tantrum and stalling a production process they've already spent millions on. And they'll be a lot less willing to humour your outrageous demands once your legions of adoring fans find out what you've been getting up to in private. So I strongly suggest that you get to that audition and show them why you're worth all those concessions they made. You might even get to keep some of your dignity. Got it? Ten minutes."

I slammed the bedroom door closed behind me, although it didn't make much of a sound. Once I was out of the room I was back on the radio, telling them that they would have their peacock in fifteen minutes. One of the directors seemed grateful, and more than a little surprised. It was only then that I started to think properly about what I had said. I'd just wanted to do my job, to put him in his place and make sure he got to where he was needed. But as the adrenaline rush faded, I felt a strange kind of euphoria flooding my body. Being able to take control like that was somehow intoxicating, and I briefly wondered if that was how a domme might feel.

No way. I was just good at my job, and proud of it. But it was still a good feeling. And it was even better when a sheepish movie star came out of his room only three minutes later, looking kind of nervous. I grabbed his shoulder and quick-marched him all the way across the camping field, into one of the surrounding office buildings so our access cards would show movement, and across to one of the meeting rooms that adjoined my regular office. The auditions were ready to start, with several executive production types glaring angrily at Walthamstone as we appeared.