Chapter Text
Nadine Ross hates working for actors.
As a rule, musicians are more exciting security clients, businessmen equally arrogant but willing to pay more, and politicians at least on occasion require the sophisticated strategy and lightning fast reflexes that had once made her an effective mercenary.
Actors? All ego. No substance.
But considering Nadine is a: woman, person of color, immigrant, and disgraced former private military contractor, she isn’t in any position to be choosy about selecting clients. So when manager-to-the-stars Victor Sullivan calls? She answers.
The situation is this: his client, Chloe Frazer, notorious action star, party girl, and erstwhile homewrecker has fired her security detail, again. And has also coincidentally mouthed off to the press again, in a manner that’s drawn even more rabid right-wing threats than usual both on and offline.
“She can be tough to deal with,” Victor concedes, “but she’s genuinely good once you get below the surface.”
“I don’t care what kind of person she is,” Nadine huffs,”I care that she has a reputation for subverting her own bodyguards and ignoring established security protocol.”
“Which is why I’ve convinced her to pay you double your usual rate if you can keep up. Pull this job off until things die down, hell, stick it out for a year? And you’ll have people knocking down your door wanting to hire your guys. Or girls, as it were.”
Nadine doesn’t like the sound of it one bit. But business is slow, bills are coming due, and if her luck doesn’t change she’ll be moving back home with her mother at the ripe old age of 35.
“Fine. I’ll do it. Reserving the right to walk if she insists on making my job impossible.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news,” Victor laughs, having been prepared to push much harder if he needed to. “She’s insisting on calling you herself, doing her own vetting, but trust me, you’ve got it in the bag. I’ll go ahead and send the contracts over.”
Nadine’s learned well enough not to attach herself to an outcome until the ink has dried and the checks have cleared. But she does like to know what she’s walking into, so she does a bit of researching while waiting for the call that may or may not come.
She searches Frazer on Twitter. Her most recent post:
“the ability to have an abortion at age 19 gave me the opportunity to have my career. Without it, I would’ve been a miserable single mum, all because an asshole lied about using a condom. (1/2)
I feel no guilt for my choice, only peace and gratitude, and I will fight my ass off to make sure no one has to carry an unsafe or unwanted pregnancy. Our bodies, our choice. (2/2)“
Oh. and fwiw, I identify fully as “pro-abortion;” no buts about it.
That explains the uptick in death threats lately, then.
A quick google search through press clippings shows coverage of her affair with co-star Nathan Drake half a dozen years ago, a few high profile rumored flings with other actors, and more recent tabloid cheap shots about how she’s nearly 40 and unmarried, the most tragic fate for any human woman, but especially a celebrity.
Nadine notices a clear difference in her public trajectory since her breakout role 12 years ago– in the past few years, Frazer has become increasingly outspoken about political causes, going so far as to shut down production on her last film when the producers attempted to use non-union labor. Industry exec chatter says she’s an insufferable diva; reddit threads about kind celebrities are filled with stories from fans and crew about her going out of her way to make them feel special.
Her story is the true rags-to-riches Hollywood dream: discovered by an action director while free-climbing a building in Paris and in a matter of months thrust into the international spotlight. She’s insistent on doing her own stunts for all her films, and while she doesn’t speak much to interviewers about her personal background, she curates an active Instagram presence filled with goofy photos that she shares with her fans.
Nadine can’t lie, she’s beginning to understand the appeal.
(Although time will tell the truth on whether she’s actually as self-obsessed as anyone else in show business.)
Nadine’s halfway through an article about Frazer donating her royalties from the latest Lena Crane film to a trans rights organization when her phone rings.
“Nadine Ross.”
“Oh, another expat! G’day mate!”
The exaggerated Aussie accent is a clue as to the caller.
“Is this Chloe Frazer?”
“What, you’re telling me you don’t recognize this voice from my Razzy-winning performance in Antiquity Thief 4: Still More Shit to Steal?”
Nadine’s pretty sure it’s a joke, but she also doesn’t really watch movies.
“Think I saw that one on a plane.”
Frazer barks out a laugh, raucous and bold, and Nadine surmises she’s passed the first test.
“Alright, enough flirting, Sully tells me you’re my new bodyguard.”
“Head of security detail.”
“Sure, same diff, yeah? Tell me, though: why should I hire you?”
Nadine could list her resume and her references, but Frazer doesn’t seem detail-oriented enough to be impressed by that. She opts for simplicity.
“I’m good... And I’m not a condescending man.”
Frazer sighs dreamily.
“Oh, you had me at ‘not condescending’. God, there’s a difference between protective and over protective, you know?”
“Ja.”
(It’s strange, Nadine thinks, how quickly Frazer has made a business call feel so intimate. Maybe that’s the secret to “star quality”, that ability to make strangers feel at ease with you instantly.)
“If Sully recommends you, I’m sure you’re more than qualified. I just want to make sure you understand where I’m coming from, what my absolutes are, so if they’re dealbreakers for you, you can get out now.”
“Try me.”
“One: if someone is waiting in line to speak to me at a convention or public appearance, I make time for them. I don’t give a fuck about the schedule. You can deal. Two: I will never live in a fucking gated mansion. Figure out how to make that work and keep me safe. Three: If anyone on your team leaks anything to the press you’re fucking gone.”
Ah. So here’s the fabled megalomania. The demands are objectively irrational (especially given Frazer’s propensity for drawing targets on her own back), except for the last, but on an emotional level, yeah, Nadine gets where Frazer’s coming from.
And she really needs this fucking contract.
“I can live with that.”
“Good. I’ll text you my address and we can meet Monday morning at the house for the grand tour where you yell at me about the reckless manner in which I live my life. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
“Can’t wait,” Nadine rolls her eyes. “Cats are fine.”
“Well, try to let loose this weekend if that’s your sort of thing; I’ve been told you’ll need the stress relief working with me.”
“I’ll make sure to hit the punching bag extra hard.”
Frazer chuckles, wishing her well and saying goodbye.
Not five minutes after Frazer hangs up, Victor sends the contract to Nadine’s email. She looks it over, not noting any objections, and returns a signed copy.
No turning back now.
_
All things considered, Frazer’s home could be in a worse tactical position. It’s fairly modest in size (considering her box office gross), in a hip part of town, very much true to Frazer’s “hiding in plain sight” dedication to normalcy. It would be great if she could set up a proper security system, but she has a feeling Frazer won’t be keen on the idea.
She parks her SUV on the street and Frazer is opening the front door, welcoming her in before she’s walked halfway up the drive. She recognizes her, from the film posters and the research she’s done in her security assessment, but she looks much more like an ordinary person today, in worn jeans and a v-neck red t-shirt.
(An exceptionally beautiful ordinary person, but that’s par for the course with film actors.)
Frazer must have done her reading as well, because her eyes light up when she sees Nadine, as if to say, “Ah, here’s the one we’ve all been waiting for!”
“Nadine! Can I call you that— Nadine? It’s good to see you.”
Frazer almost comes in for a hug, before Nadine’s standoffish posture deescalates her to a hearty handshake.
“Whatever you want to call me is fine, Ms. Frazer.”
“Don’t suppose I can convince you to call me ‘Chloe,’ huh?”
“No.”
Frazer laughs, and welcomes her inside, locking the door behind her. Nadine can probably at least convince her to upgrade the deadbolt and consider an extra keypad, if she won’t allow a full alarm system.
It’s a nice house, solid wood floors and historical details; probably built in the 20’s, and very much lived in, unlike some of the compounds Nadine’s worked before, with standalone housing for security, helicopter pads, private theaters and outlandish swimming pools.
Frazer may be famous, but she’s not ostentatiously wealthy. Or at least, she doesn’t live like it.
“Right, so, welcome to my humble abode! Now, I’ve kept this place for almost a decade, no issues, neighbors and I know one another and we’ve all lived in relative harmony for that time. I’ve always had an open-door policy where if anyone felt compelled to sell a story on me I’d buy them out double, or help them take care of whatever financial hardship made them want to do that in the first place. Doesn’t happen often, you know most locals don’t give a rat’s ass about celebrity, but it’s been a good system, if I do say so myself.”
“Except now people have found Chloe’s home address, so instead of getting threats at the PO Box, we get them here,” a young woman mutters from the corner of the living room, leafing through a pile of the aforementioned mail.
“That’s Meenu, my assistant,” Frazer explains. “Best in the biz, I swear.”
“My specialty is in social media engagement, but I’ve had to fill in some info-sec gaps while she was searching for… well, you, I guess.”
Meenu crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed with Nadine.
(That’s fine, she’s not here to be impressive.)
“If this address has been compromised, you really should consider moving, Ms. Frazer.”
“Not gonna happen,” Chloe frowns. “I’m not going to give up my home because a bunch of misogynists don’t have a better hobby.”
Best not to start this working relationship with a standoff.
“Well, from now on, mail goes through my team, in case of contaminants. It also gives us a chance to dust for fingerprints and pass on information to the appropriate authorities. Have you pursued charges against any of these people yet?”
“I don’t like cops,” Frazer scowls, and Nadine wonders if there’s a story there.
“When violent people don’t face consequences they escalate.”
“I’m willing to defer to you on this, but I don’t want to directly collaborate with them,” Chloe relents.
“Fair enough,” Nadine shrugs. She has other ways of scaring people off. Sometimes the threat of a charge is enough.
“Okay, mail through you. What else?”
“Myself or one of my team will be present with you at all public appearances, including on-set. A team member will follow you in an unmarked vehicle on all public errands.”
“Oh good, so I’m still allowed to buy groceries like a normal person, thank you so much.”
Nadine narrows her eyes.
“You’ve apparently made a lot of enemies, Ms. Frazer. I’m just trying to keep you safe, without compromising your freedom.”
Frazer sighs, holding up her hands in defeat.
“And I suppose one of you lot is going to travel with me in three months when filming starts on my next project?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to tell me that I’ll have to make do with a meathead jock because you’re too busy running the business to travel?”
“I don’t think of myself as too much of a meathead, but I’ll let you be the judge of that, Ms. Frazer.”
“You know, Frazer isn’t even my legal last name.”
Nadine can’t fight a half-smile. There’s something endearing about Frazer’s petulance, she can’t quite put her finger on it.
“But you’ve hidden that fact well, which helps make your current security situation slightly less of a nightmare. Still not ideal, but I’ll grant you that it could certainly be worse.”
Frazer blows a raspberry, before walking over to the kitchen where a french press is steeping.
“Coffee?”
“Please don’t feel obliged to wait on me.”
“Nonsense. I know I’m giving you a hard time; least I can do is caffeinate you.”
Nadine figures it’s easier to drink the coffee than to make this a sticking point, so she nods yes, signalling that she’ll take it black.
Frazer assumes a faux-American cowboy accent.
“I like my coffee like my women: strong, dark, and bitter.”
“That is… the worst line I’ve heard in a very long time.”
“Shame,” Frazer sighs, “thought I might be able to use my charm to persuade you to let me take unsupervised trips to Trader Joe’s.”
“No such luck, I’m afraid.”
Nadine takes a sip of the coffee. It’s an upgrade to the swill she’d had at campsites in the desert, that’s for damn sure.
“Now, one last thing to run by you. I’d like to have someone stationed outside the house at all times. My team are pros at stakeouts, but you might want to let your neighbors know, so they’re not alarmed.”
“Oh god, I don’t even want to think about how much that’s going to cost.”
“It’s that or security cameras everywhere; you’re paying for your privacy. We work light, so it will still be cheaper than having a big crew of personnel at any other time.”
Frazer nods, accepting that the threats to her are real enough that the manpower is warranted.
“I’m okay with day detail outside. Could nightshift just be in the house with me? Provided it’s not anyone too creepy?”
“We’re all women,” Nadine laughs, “which I think would make you more comfortable.”
“Well I don’t want to keep anyone away from their family. I mean, not that men don’t have families, I just don’t feel guilty about them, most of the time,” Chloe explains.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll be on the night shift most of the time. No babies waiting for me at home, don’t worry.”
At that moment, a sleek grey cat crawls out from under Frazer’s sofa and rubs itself against Nadine’s leg, as if intuiting that she prefers animals to children.
“Oh, that’s Ganesh. He’s every bit as much a prince as his name implies, usually shy, but he has excellent taste in people. If he approves, I reckon you’re all right, then.”
Nadine scratches the top of the cat’s head, rubbing his ears idly as he nuzzles his chin against her ankle.
“Isn’t Ganesh an elephant?”
Frazer scoops up the cat, pulling his lips back to show where he’s missing his left canine.
“Well, our friend here lost a tusk, too, so he earned the name. Besides, if I don’t use my father’s last name professionally, I can still honor his culture in other ways. And Ganesh is quite the celebrity in his own right on my Instagram.”
“Tell me he doesn’t have his own account.”
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear,” Frazer winks, putting the cat down on the ground so he can resume marking Nadine with his scent.
“I trust you’re practicing caution with your social media posts? Not sharing anything with a location, posting photos after the fact so no one can track your whereabouts?”
“Meenu’s trained me well, don’t worry. We run a tight ship over here, eh?”
Meenu giggles, and Nadine can tell there’s more than a little informality in their working relationship, but Nadine hadn’t found anything alarming in her thorough perusal of Frazer’s accounts (inflammatory? sure, but not irresponsible with regard to her physical safety).
Nadine informs Frazer that the day watch shift has already arrived (Ellie, an overly-serious 25 year old with a chip on her shoulder and an honorable discharge from the USMC), and asks if she can take a bit more time to survey the property’s potential weaknesses, make a plan, and give Frazer the shift schedule and contact info for each team member.
It’s a small team—5 in total— which means not a lot of room for vacations or emergencies, but they work smoothly and have each other’s backs. Nadine had started her firm, Ross Private Security, a year ago, recruiting from a circle of similarly disaffected women who were tired of trying to make it in the boys’ club. In addition to Ellie, there’s Maria, a former LAPD officer forced out of the job after exposing her colleagues’ corruption; Constance, a champion MMA fighter looking for a paid segue into retirement; and Tracy, a former bouncer left high and dry after the last of LA’s lesbian bars closed down. Ellie will take the 6-2 shift weekdays, Tracy 2-10, and Nadine will handle overnights. Constance and Maria will split weekends with 12 hour shifts, 7-7, with Nadine on-call at all times in case of emergency. For bigger events that necessitate a larger detail, they share the load, depending on who needs more hours and who has more going on at home.
(Nadine is always free to work the bigger events.)
It’s a daunting amount of responsibility, sometimes, to be available 24/7, on the hook for anything that happens, but Nadine would never throw any of her team under the bus. If her name is on the business cards, her neck is on the line. And after the betrayal that lost her Shoreline… she’s willing to keep things small-scale and manageable for a good long while. It’s been good so far, this scrappy team of women who have never really fit in anywhere else. The sheer relief once they all figured out they didn’t have to prove themselves and could simply collaborate instead of compete had validated Nadine’s choice to strike out on her own.
Nadine finalizes the security upgrade plan, and assures Frazer she’ll be back this evening. Frazer shakes her hand again (although she stands a bit closer this time) and as she says “Thank you,” Nadine sees her shoulders slump, as if the weight of the past month has completely worn her down.
“I think you’ll be able to get some better sleep now, Ms. Frazer.”
_
Frazer invites her to set up camp in the living room of her home for the night shift. It’s got a clear view of the door and windows, but she can still position herself tactically to have the jump on any potential intruder. Frazer’s bedroom is at the very end of the hall; only one way out, but that means only one way in, and that way is past Nadine. Nadine prefers to work smart, preventing the possibility of security breaches, but she keeps her body ready for the possibility, training in the gym and at the range religiously. She’s grateful she’s rarely a hired gun these days, but she knows she could be.
When she arrives tonight, Frazer and Meenu are eating pizza, audibly delighting in the experience.
Nadine can’t remember the last time she’s witnessed an actor eating a carbohydrate. She raises an eyebrow in curiosity at Meenu’s presence.
“She make you work this late every night?”
Meenu smirks, clearly more than familiar with all the horror stories of nightmare assistant gigs.
“This is a special occasion,” Frazer interjects, swallowing her bite hastily, “we’re celebrating.”
“Pizza party for having competent security professionals for the first time in your life?”
“Oh god, I didn’t even think of that, that’s good though,” Chloe mumbles around a mouth of cheese (Nadine feels like she should be disgusted at the sight but she can’t find it in herself to be), “no, I have to start training for the next film tomorrow, so we’re having one last day of hedonism before I can’t do anything fun or delicious for the next year.”
“I thought it only took three months to film?”
“Yeah,” Frazer sighs, “but then I have to stay in shape until we do the press circuit, because god forbid anyone have a normal human body on the red carpet. Maybe I should get you to train me,” Frazer gestures at Nadine. “You’re what? Five percent bodyfat? Tops?”
“Hmmm, maybe, but not exactly a Hollywood bombshell body,” Nadine laughs.
“Their loss,” Frazer shrugs, looking Nadine up and down pointedly. “You want a slice?”
Nadine’s about to protest (Frazer’s right, she does try to take care of her body, even if it’s not for the camera), but Meenu is already shoving a slice into her hands, and she is pretty hungry now, her nerves over the first day of a new job having kept her off her usual eating schedule.
“Just this once.”
“That’s what they all say the first time,” Frazer winks.
They eat together, Nadine mostly listening and humming in response as Meenu and Frazer chat, discussing Meenu’s current run of disastrous Tinder dates.
“I just think a guy should have it on his profile if he lives with his parents! Is that too much to ask?”
“Tell me that he at least had bedsheets.”
“And pillowcases,” Meenu affirms. “Could’ve been worse.”
“I don’t know how your generation does it, meeting so many people online. It scares me. And how do you know if you have chemistry?”
Meenu scoffs.
“Your generation hitchhiked! I don’t want to hear any lectures about safety.”
Frazer raises her hand in defeat.
“No more. But when you find a keeper I would like to meet him, to give my seal of approval.”
“Yes, mom,” Meenu rolls her eyes.
“Alright, kid, get out of here. And take tomorrow off. I’ll be cranky from eating leafy greens and you don’t deserve to bear the brunt of that, at least not on day one.”
Meenu hugs Frazer goodbye, and scampers out the door, waving to Nadine on her way out.
Frazer yawns.
“Well, I better hit the hay if that 8 am appointment with my trainer is going to happen. Make yourself comfortable. Ganesh has a habit of bouncing off the walls around midnight; don’t be alarmed by that.”
Nadine nods, and Chloe walks back to her bedroom. Nadine hears the telltale sounds of someone turning in; faucets running, doors closing, a pillow being gently fluffed. The house falls silent after that, though there’s still the constant hum of a city, never fully still.
Nadine sets out her laptop on the coffee table, and answers emails and runs logistics while staying on high alert for any interruptions. She’s got a few leads on some of Frazer’s more vicious internet trolls, and after cross-referencing certain posts and forums, compiles three dossiers that she passes on to a contact at the FBI. The information isn’t directly related to Frazer— the types of people who threaten women for holding feminist positions publicly tend to also run in violent extremist circles. If Nadine can neutralize threats by getting them sent down for other charges, Frazer doesn’t have to collaborate with cops, or even know that the threats ever existed.
(There was a time when Nadine would’ve bristled at letting some field agent take credit for her investigative work; now she’s a pragmatist. Glory is for suckers.)
Dawn signals the end of her shift, the June sun indistinguishable from any other time of year here, other than a slightly earlier arrival. Frazer is just waking as Nadine packs up her things, and confirms Ellie’s arrival for her shift.
“How are we going?”
“Smooth sailing,” Nadine smiles, aware that managing Frazer’s emotions is as much of the job as the rest of it.
“That’s good.” Frazer plods into the kitchen, turning on the kettle and dumping coffee into her french press. She wears an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. Nadine can’t imagine being so un-self-conscious with a relative stranger ( but then again, Frazer probably has wardrobe and makeup people seeing her naked most days on set). “I think I felt it or something; I haven’t slept so hard in years.”
“Our bodies evolved to sense safety. We’re like any other animal, really, when it comes to our nervous systems.”
“Looks like Ganesh felt safe, too.” Frazer gestures to his perch on the arm of the sofa, snoozing peacefully on top of Nadine’s discarded jacket.
“I don’t want to disturb him,” Nadine laughs.
“You can just pick it up tonight, then,” Frazer offers. “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you and your team are doing for me.”
Her eyes are kind and genuine, so Nadine accepts the gratitude for what it is.
“You’re very welcome.”
_
The routine falls into place quickly and easily; Nadine doesn’t love working nights, but as long as she keeps a routine she can handle it. She leaves Frazer’s house at 6 every morning and heads to the gym for two hours, before returning home for dinner (breakfast? Meals lose their meaning on third shift), chores, and a bit of mindless tv before sleeping from 12-7. Frazer is too busy with her grueling training regimen to give the rest of the team too much trouble, though Maria gets the honor of following along on a bouldering expedition one Saturday.
Frazer remains friendly with Nadine, always chatting for a few minutes when she arrives each evening. Usually, her longterm clients begin to ignore her after a few days (two weeks, tops), which she doesn’t mind at all, but Frazer insists on knowing her, and making herself known.
“Can I take a picture of you? For my instagram?”
Nadine weighs the question. On the one hand, being part of the spectacle doesn’t accomplish any objectives. On the other, making public the knowledge that Frazer has a bodyguard will deter many would-be threats out of fear or laziness.
“Ja, go ahead. But wait a few days to post.”
Frazer agrees to the conditions and instructs Nadine to cross her arms and look intimidating.
(It’s not a difficult pose to assume.)
Frazer looks satisfied with her shot, and bids Nadine goodnight, leaving her to her usual routine of documenting threats, managing payroll, and playing with Ganesh when there’s not anything else to do.
A couple days later, when she’s checking Frazer’s social media posts routinely, she sees the photo Frazer had taken a few days ago, noting the caption:
DON’T CROSS ROSS!
Listen folks, I’m not jazzed about being in a position to need a security team, but I’m grateful for these hardworking women and the tough job they do keeping your favorite overpaid mouthy action heroine safe. If you thought about fucking with me I bet you thought twice once you saw those guns, eh? #IThinkShesMoreBadassThanLenaCrane #andCouldDefinitelyBeatHerInAFight
Nadine feels herself blush, although she’s not sure whether it’s from embarrassment or enjoyment. She’s… not used to public praise like this.
Out of curiosity, she scrolls through the comments and… oh . She’d known Frazer had a pretty passionate gay fanbase but she had never considered the possibility that they’d be commenting about her.
“Nadine!” Frazer greets her enthusiastically when she arrives that night. “You are popular! Half the gals in the comments think you should take my job.”
She pouts, but it’s clearly fake, and a shit-eating grin soon takes its place.
“I don’t suppose I can make you delete the picture?”
Frazer pauses for a moment.
“If you really want me to, of course, love. Although there’s probably plenty of screenshots floating around at this point… sorry.”
To her credit, Frazer looks truly remorseful.
Nadine sighs, running her hand through her hair, before pulling it back into a ponytail.
“It’s fine… I’m just not crazy about being in the spotlight.”
“They’ve got a short attention span, don’t worry. I’ll post a half-naked workout selfie in the morning and all will be forgotten,” Frazer grins. “If I’m going to have to forsake all of life’s pleasures, I might as well get some fucking attention for it.”
Nadine considers which pleasures might be permissible under Frazer’s workout plan, and realizes that she’d asked her to stay in her house at night without any discussion of… other guests.
“Ms. Frazer, if you ever want me to do my shift from the car, so you can have privacy, that’s no issue.”
“If only,” Frazer laughs. “Honey, I know I’m marketed as a sex symbol, but finding someone who’s not a creep or an asshole is hard enough when I don’t have people threatening to kill me. Lucky for me, vibrator technology has improved in leaps and bounds over the past couple years.”
Nadine flushes.
“Still, even if you want privacy for yourself, I’m happy to oblige.”
“I’ll save the loud stuff for the weekend crew. It's more special that way.”
Nadine manages not to choke, and she’s pretty sure her voice doesn’t sound too strained when she responds.
“Nice of you not to deprive Ganesh of his playmate.”
“Being a mother changes you,” Chloe deadpans, “you learn to put your own needs aside.”
“You know, you should sell that testimony to the tabloids, might help repair your image.”
“My image doesn’t need repairing, thank you very much! I’ll have you know being an amoral temptress sells a lot more movie tickets than being a family woman.”
“I believe it,” Nadine laughs.
“Speaking of image, though… there is a potential… complication of which I may have neglected to inform you.”
Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Nadine lets her face say as much.
“Right. So. The next film I’m shooting, you may have noticed my co-star hasn’t been announced. We’ve been keeping it under wraps but the news will leak soon so I thought you should know.” She takes a deep breath, readying herself. “It’s Sam Drake.”
“Sam Drake, as in, convicted felon and destructive alcoholic Sam Drake?”
“That’s the one,” Frazer smiles brightly, hoping to charm her way out of the worst of Nadine’s ire.
“Sam Drake, as in the brother of the Nathan Drake whom you had a very public affair and breakup with?”
“The very same!”
“It’s not going to help with the harassment. It’s going to give us a lot more noise to sort through to identify credible threats.”
“Well, you are good.”
Nadine pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Why are you making this so much harder on yourself? I can’t imagine they chose Drake for the project without you fighting for him. He’s expendable. He’s washed up! No one wants his redemption story.”
Frazer looks at her for a moment, deciding whether to give her the rehearsed answer or the truth.
“Okay, you’ve been adjacent to the business for a minute, yeah?”
Nadine nods.
“So you know that the industry runs on nepotism and favoritism. Sam and Nate are pretty much the only people I’ve ever worked with who earned their place in front of the camera. Which is probably why the critics laugh at us, and no one takes our films seriously, and yeah, maybe Nate gets the chance to pivot into ‘serious’ films, but me and Sam? We’re the wrong’uns of the film world.”
“So, what, you feel like you owe him?”
“He’s my friend . And he’d do the same for me. Look… I’ll be 40 soon. This could very well be the last movie I shoot. Sam’s been through hell, and despite appearances, he’s actually very good at what he does. I’d rather work with him than some pompous asshole trust fund brat.”
Nadine bites the inside of her cheek, holding back her less polite opinions of Drake.
(She’d met him once, working a private party. He’d gotten wasted and attempted to challenge her to a fight. He’d grazed her with a cheap shot before she’d pinned him in a leg lock, after which he’d promptly passed out. She is not overly fond of the man.)
“When do you expect the news to surface online?”
“Wednesday at the latest,” Frazer grimaces.
“Try not to get into any twitter fights about it?”
“Now Nadine, you know I never make a promise I can’t keep.”
“Can’t blame me for trying,” Nadine shrugs.
“And I appreciate your efforts. So very much. Hey, you’ll get to know Sam when we shoot! Might change your opinion of him.”
“Ja, I doubt that.”
“He’s sober now. He’s different.”
“That’s what they all say the first time,” Nadine taunts.
Chloe laughs all the way to her bedroom.