Mia's POV
Why must I be the subject of all Lana's meltdowns lately?
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM? YOU'VE RUINED MY LIFE, YOU FREAK! ARE YOU HAPPY?"
The strange thing is…I'm not!
I'd really love to take pleasure in Lana's pain, but I feel awful already for doing this to Michael's career. I bet he didn't even quit! He was probably forced to leave after all the backlash from "my" article.
Now, all around the country—the world even!—girls are not-so-secretly hating me. They're probably burning pictures of me, or playing darts with my image.
I don't wanna be despised!
I used to be one of them! And now I'm their anti-Christ.
Some girl SPIT on me in the hall today! Can you believe that! I never spit on Michael and I have good reason to hate him!
Except I don't much any more, ever since I ruined his career and all.
Oh, God. I feel terrible. How did I get caught up in all this?
I mean, even though the article hadn't been my doing, it was still my fault. And I hadn't taken it back.
But you know what? It might not be too late to do a little repair work.
After all this is over, I never want to look at another newspaper again.
Michael's POV
I walked onto the set of the stupid princess movie the next morning, a renewed bounce in my step.
It was made all the better by the fact that I met up with Jacques while getting my morning latte.
"What are you so happy about?" he asked suspiciously.
"Oh, nothing," I said airily, taking a sip of my drink and smiling. I'd done the screen test. I was a shoo-in. George said they were auditioning the others merely as a courtesy, but that I had it in the bag.
IN THE BAG.
WAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Should I really be drinking caffeine when I'm already at an all-time high?
Jacques looked anxious, which only added to my pleasure. He's probably worried about my impending departure from the movie world. After all, I've been like the man in his life for years now.
It's scary 'cuz it's true.
"Listen, Michael, I need to talk to you."
I arched an eyebrow, eagerly awaiting the sobbing and groveling that was sure to follow. Jacques ushered me into his office, beads of sweat already gathering on his forehead.
This should be good.
"I need a favor," he said in a strangled voice, plunking down in his leather swively chair.
"Hmm." I was no longer under his control. Come on, hadn't I just proved that I could get a starring role in a major movie without his help? Plus, Jacques' actions as of late hadn't exactly been in my best interest.
"Could you make a formal apology to the Genovian royal family? I might just have a word with Mr. Lucas if you do."
I stood up slowly, smoothing down my shirt and giving Jacques a rather patronizing grin. "George and I already shared some words. I've got the role, and you're an idiot if you think I wanna do another 'favor' for you. Fuck off, Mr. Dulles."
Swallowing, I whirled around and sped out of there.
Oh, God. I just told Jacques to fuck off. He's gonna kill me. I'm gonna get fired! I'm—
I'm not going to care.
Taking several deep breaths, I walked back to my trailer with an eerie sense of calm coming over me.
I wasn't greeted by the same peaceful atmosphere in my trailer, though.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" cried Beverly, her entire face a rather magenta hue.
Seeing as how I hadn't exactly talked over my decision to leave Hollywood with Bev, I could see where the distress was stemming from.
"It's all right," I said soothingly. "I'm doing one last movie and then I'm out."
"But why?" she wailed, sinking onto my couch with her head in her hands. I guess it is quite the blow when your star client announces he's leaving the biz.
The answer was simple. "Because I hate it."
"It's not because of the princess, then? I could completely fix that up for you."
Could she!
No, no, no! I'm leaving and they can't stop me.
And it would take more than one bloodthirsty agent to get Mia to speak to me again.
"Bev, I'm tired of acting, okay? End of discussion."
She sniffled, pulling a tissue out of her bag. "W-well, what's the movie then?"
A huge grin spread across my face, the same that appears any time I'm reminded of it.
"It's worth it," I assured her.
Mia's POV
I did it.
I called up the paper and got them to print a retraction. They didn't sound too pleased about it, but you can't refuse the princess of Genovia. Not unless you enjoy a Nordic bodyguard bashing in your skull.
Would Lars do that? I don't think I was ever briefed on just what Lars' boundaries are. Could he, say, accidentally trip Lana in the hallway? Or lock Josh Richter in a custodian's closet?
I'll have to look into this.
Anyway, the other thing I did—which took a lot more nerve than calling up the paper, let me tell you—was call up the Moscovitz household.
Not Michael…nooooooo. I apologized to his mom.
And she was WAY nicer than she should've been about the whole situation. She let me ramble on for five minutes about how I had told everything to my friend, who had gone to the press, but that it was all my fault and I never meant to tarnish her reputation or make this all so public.
"Don't worry about it, Mia," she said when I had run out of fuel. "I'm just sorry things didn't work out between you and Michael. I don't think I've ever seen him open up to another person like that."
Okay—maybe that wasn't so nice. But I deserved it.
Now, I just want to make things all right with Michael. Not necessarily back to the way we were—but I'm tired of having him as my arch-nemesis. At least I don't have conflicting feelings about Lana.
