BLIND ITEM #396: PETTY & SPOILED
Posted 08/09/2021 4:19 AM PST by Gossip Hound
A couple of weeks ago - when a certain gaggle of Hollywood new-bloods decided to hit the town - a certain actress had a new short to promote.
Hotel press events are par for the course for any seasoned reporter, familiar with queuing to gawk at the up-and-coming talent.
Reader, have you ever seen the movie Notting Hill? Hugh Grant's unexpected interview on behalf of Horse and Hound has nothing on this actress' latest documented drama.
Sure, her publicity team are responsible for forwarding an advance copy of the short - and we're not at liberty to disclose whether that happened - but, as you could imagine, we're all busy people in this big city.
How hard could it be to sit back and let the artist tell their own story?
This actress is getting paid the medium bucks - the least she could do is smile and wave, even if it's clear that the reporter is hopelessly uninformed.
To promote her flick, she was scheduled for a series of interviews in a comfortable suite in Westlake. Her last interview for the day was scheduled with our reporter, who clinched a fifteen-minute slot for an on-camera interview about the short. Whether the journalist had received the short is unclear, but the team were ready and willing to seal the deal.
It was a nice first impression. She made everyone feel very welcome, standing to greet us all as we walked into the suite. She even had her publicist fix us all some water.
Sounds like they were off to a good start.
About five minutes into the interview, she asked our reporter if they had seen the short.
The reporter made the mistake of admitting that they had not.
That's when the warmth ended.
Her attitude immediately changed.
She said, "Oh, really?"
She sat back, folded her arms, and glared!
From that point forward, whenever the reporter asked a question, the actress would reply with a one or two word answer.
Q: So, did you enjoy making the short?
A: Yes.
Q:Would you care to elaborate?
A: No.
And on it went!
It was a disaster - none of the shots were usable, and the entire team knew it. I've attended hundreds upon hundreds of interviews, and I've never seen anything like it - she was being spiteful simply because he hadn't seen her movie!
After a few minutes, the reporter paused to check a detail with production, and the actress got up and stormed out!
No goodbyes.
It was easily the most uncomfortable interview I've ever been involved with - it's got me scratching my head. Why was the actress so curt? Is she always like this?
Something tells me our actress won't enjoy looking for her next interview.
"Lee, when I said I wanted you in the press with Jacob, I didn't mean for you to trend at the same time," Embry groans, pulling down to refresh his Twitter timeline.
Jacob's somehow managed to maintain the ire of the internet for the past few days, reinvigorated by Nessa's timely posting of a particularly impassioned rendition of Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats" on every possible platform.
She's got an amazing voice, and an even better eye for the media machine.
Leah, on the other hand, had managed to keep her nose clean for a grand total of five days. Quil had jokingly mailed him a sign for his office when he started managing her, one of those health-and-safety "days since incident" flip-charts, and it's getting a real workout lately.
Embry glumly flips it back to zero.
"Look, you were there for the interview. It wasn't that bad," she stresses, scowling at her phone. "It's not even confirmed to be me. It's only speculation."
"Speculation is bad enough! Do you really want #CrybabyClearwater to stick?"
She snorts. "I'm pretty sure someone called Seth that in elementary."
"You suck. I'm stepping out to Facetime Bella so we can tee something up - keep the attitude to a minimum in the meantime, please and thank you."
Leah rolls her eyes, continuing to scroll on her phone.
Lonnie the Great lonztweets
how hard is it to be a decent person. like jesus christ it's an interview, not the end of the world. grow up.
Her finger hovers over the reply button, knowing Embry would have her hide for starting public fights, but itching to smash out a rebuttal anyway. What would she even say?
That's not how it happened.
Delete.
How would you feel if someone shit all over your hard work.
Delete.
Being a celebrity sucks.
She closes the app before temptation can get the better of her, resolving to take the day off of social media. Constant posturing for a sea of invasive fans is a dystopian hellscape - Smile like this! Pose like that! Put your best foot forward!
Quitting the public eye would be easier if she didn't genuinely adore filming, she muses, slumping to rest her head on the table. Life could be so much easier.
Embry swans back into the room, rapping his knuckles beside her cheek. "Time to get up! We're dropping by GoldenEye for styling, and then you can meet Jake over in Pasadena for a quick pap shot."
She peels her sticky face off the mahogany table. "Today?"
He stares at her. "Yes, today. We've already signed the contract, remember. Plus, this will drown out the speculation. It's a no-brainer."
So much for a social media free day.
Leah's not sure which one she hates more - the overly-peppy midget make-up artist, or the stone-faced wardrobe consultant. Embry's reminded her of their names a billion times over, but it's far easier to hate people when they're forgettable.
Relationships just make everything that much harder.
The little one gets to work immediately, coating Leah's face in a jaw-dropping variety of creams and powders and sprays. She tries to protest, but after a couple of suspiciously directed mists end up in her mouth, she gives up.
Human barbie doll it is.
By the time she's finished and the bitchy one has stuffed her into a pair of tight jeans and a form-fitting band tee, Leah looks completely different.
"Nice," she says, twisting to look at her ass in the mirror. "I feel like a whole new person already."
"A nicer person," Embry prompts, repeatedly flicking his gaze between her and the women. "Right, Lee?"
She rolls her eyes. "Mmhm. Thanks for your help," she says, briefly looking at the pair.
The taller one scoffs, but the little one elbows her in the ribs before that can go any further. "Of course, Leah! It's a partnership, after all - we're happy to help."
Leah's ninety-nine percent positive that the other one says speak for yourself, but she's on her very best behaviour (mainly so Embry will treat her to Froyo on the way home) and so she says nothing.
Being good is hard work.
The drive to Pasadena - a typical twenty-minute journey in the dead of night, which is her absolute favourite time to explore L.A. - manages to stretch into a fifty-five-minute bumper-to-bumper ordeal. Embry's a stressy driver, and she's got half a mind to make them switch seats.
By the time they finally draw close to the agreed spot, thirty minutes behind schedule, Jake's been forced to move on after an impromptu fan sighting caused minor chaos.
The possibility of Froyo is looking increasingly slim.
Bella calls Embry, sounding increasingly wound-up as she rapidly scouts for a new location for the over-planned meet cute. It was meant to be a ridiculously romantic thing, the two of them appearing to get brunch together, huddling over matching lattes, and somehow it's ended with Jacob hiding in an Aeropostale fitting room.
Leah leans over Embry to grab his phone, clicking the speakerphone on. "Tell him to go to Whole Foods. He can meet me by the spinach in ten and we can bond over vegetables."
It's part sarcasm, part pragmatism, but Bella loves the idea.
"Leah, you're a genius! I'll call him right now. Make sure you get spotted going in, okay? Pause for a moment by the door to check that someone sees."
Embry circles the block twice before pulling into the lot, parallel parking a short walk away from the door. He turns to her, mouth set in a firm line, and she's never seen him so grave. He even grips her hands between his before he speaks.
"Lee, I know you couldn't care less about this stunt, but it has to work. Bella needs it to work. I don't care what you have to do, but I need you to look absolutely smitten with him. Please."
"Will you buy me Froyo after?"
He blinks. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"It doesn't. Will you?"
"Okay, fine, whatever. Try hard, okay? Once you've been spotted, buy a juice or something and circle the building. I'll pick you up on the east side."
"Got it," she says, saluting his serious expression. "I'll give you some work to do."
He leans across the passenger seat to call out to her as she slams the door, yelling something about make sure it's good work!, but she's already striding to the building with that stupid superstar swagger that Quil's always mocking her about. It's the sort of pathetic posturing that she despises, but she knows the press adore the ridiculous swing of her hips. That's the only thing the media get right, after all: she has a fantastic ass. Having that on the front page of the internet wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.
Leah feels a twinge of nervousness as she approaches the glass doors, heels clicking on the pavement, but she squashes it down.
It's just business. Get in, get out, get paid. Same as always.
She pauses by the door like Bella instructed, furrowing her brow as she pretends to stare at something on her phone. She ruffles her hair, shaking it loose from the claw clip to make the strands glimmer in the sunlight.
Showtime.
Leah turns on her stiletto and strides into the store, instantly relaxing as the icy air-conditioning wafts across her sun-warmed face. One of the better draws of becoming a celebrity was the ability to shop at ridiculously fancy places, dropping ten dollars on a gross-coloured kelp smoothie without a care in the world.
It almost made these sorts of headaches tolerable.
She purposely does a lap of the grains section, pausing to peer at a peculiarly coloured loaf of bread, hoping to drum up some attention. If the stunt doesn't work - if nobody sees them together - it would all be for nothing, and Embry would surely send her out again in the evening.
When Leah's sure it's been long enough, she purses her lips into her trademark pout and sashays into the produce section. The store's quieter than usual, which would hopefully make for a great picture (and a less embarrassing charade).
They only needed one picture.
She makes a beeline for the spinach, hoping and praying that he'll be in position, ready to swan out of the wings and bump into her. She carefully bends over to survey the produce, tilting her head just so, making sure that her profile can be easily identified from a distance. Leah compares two bags, pretending to be deep in thought (because vegetables were really that deserving of her undivided attention) while she waits. There was only so long she could stare at the spinach before someone mistook her for a crazy person, and she'd definitely prefer to avoid that headline -
A sudden nudge from behind sends her falling forward towards the loose beans.
"Oh!" she cries, stumbling to steady herself.
A warm hand grips her waist, tugging her upright.
"Sorry," he murmurs, allowing his hands to linger on her hips. "I didn't see you there."
Leah stares up at him - even with three-inch heels, he somehow manages to tower over her - and finds herself impressed with his dedication to the act. He was gazing down at her with all of the affection of the newly-minted heterosexual couples that lingered in every upscale bar on the north side, and the way he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear was far too natural.
"Maybe we should ask Bella for some glasses," she purred, grinning at the frown that spread across his face. "Aw, don't ruin the picture. I'd hate to have to do a round two."
"Sweetheart, by the time we're done here, you'll be begging for more," he teases, smirking at her surprised expression. "Two can play at that game."
"I think you can let go of me now, asshole," she says through a forced smile, wishing she could tell him to fuck off as she ordinarily would.
He grins, squeezing her hip. "And if I don't?"
"I'll send in a blind item that you have a small dick."
"Bitch," he hisses, dropping his hands. "At least let me pay for your juice. Make me look chivalrous."
She snorts. "Chivalrous? Anything but. I suppose you can buy something for Em. How about…" she trails off, studying the shelves. "Ooh! Pomegranate juice. Let's get that."
Jake frowns at the bottle, and she half-expects him to complain about the price. "Sixty-four ounces? He won't drink that."
"Doesn't matter. Not my wallet," she taunts, linking her fingers in his to drag him towards the checkout.
It was a habitual move, something she'd typically do with Embry, and it somehow came naturally with Jake. He'd tensed a little when she grabbed his hand, but he didn't pull away - surely because of the optics - and she wasn't one to chicken out.
He paid for her juice without complaint, handing it to her with a flourish. "My lady?"
Leah rolls her eyes, snatching it from his hand. "Thanks."
"Oh, you guys are adorable!" the cashier exclaims, grinning excitedly between the two of them. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something further, but the stern look from the clerk beside her clearly sparks a change of mind. "Um, have a good day! Thanks for shopping at Whole Foods."
They complete a loop of the building in silence, hands still entwined.
"There's no one back here," she grumbles, trying to pull her hand free.
"Nuh-uh," he scolds, gripping her palm tightly. "You never know when there's going to be a surprise shot."
Jake delivers her to Embry without another word, making sure to grin broadly as he opens her door.
It's only optics, she tells herself.
Leah reminds herself of the same thing when she scrolls through her timeline later that evening, Froyo in hand. Whether she scrolls through her feed, her mentions, or the trending page, she can't escape variations of her and Jake, snapped from all angles at the supermarket.
Their closeness, his broad grin - it's pretty freaking convincing, even for someone who knows the truth.
She hits like on one of the more popular posts, a photoset of the two of them parading around the aisles, hand-in-hand, and makes sure to follow Jake before switching her phone off.
Leah will never admit to it, but she has to remind herself before she falls asleep. It's only optics.