Harry Percy hugged his knees, curled up tightly like a shrimp, trembling uncontrollably despite using all his strength.
It was midsummer—why did he feel like he was in a freezer?
Damn New York.
He hated New York. He missed Los Angeles.
Wait, what was that noise hidden in the darkness? The rustling? Harry opened his eyes, searching the shadows intently.
Then—
"Harry..."
That voice made him snap his eyes shut again, his body frozen with fear, every hair on his body standing on end.
Gods above, anyone, please, save this lost lamb. If someone could rescue him from this nightmare, he'd give anything—anything just to make it end.
"Harry..."
The voice was getting closer, transforming into a thunderous roar in his ears.
"Harry! Bang, bang, bang! Harry, it's Colin! Open the door!"
Harry opened his eyes, stunned. He scrambled towards the door, crawling and stumbling. Peering through the peephole, he saw—
Colin Jones was outside.
A partner at TMZ, Colin specialized in gossip from the music world and was responsible for most of the "Bennifer" photos circulating on the TMZ website.
Harry exhaled a long sigh of relief. "God…"
He flung the door open, but at that moment, countless camera lenses swarmed in from both sides, and a barrage of flashbulbs exploded in his face.
Harry felt like he was going blind.
He had expected this and squeezed his eyes shut just in time, but the searing heat from the flash still crashed over him like a relentless storm. The sharp light pierced through his eyelids, stabbing his pupils. In the blackness behind his closed eyes, countless spots of light danced and flickered.
And that wasn't all.
The rapid-fire shutter clicks were accompanied by a cacophony of voices, their noise battering Harry's eardrums. The words fought to be heard, drilling into his brain. The world spun faster and faster, like an out-of-control spaceship.
But there was no time to complain.
Harry grabbed Colin's arm and yanked him inside, slamming the door shut, blocking the storm outside.
Bang, bang, bang. Bang, bang, bang.
The pounding on the door didn't stop. It felt like the thin door might break at any moment.
But what could Harry do?
All he could do was press his back against the door and use all his strength to hold it in place.
Then, he waited—waited until those demons finally began to quiet down.
Click.
The lights came on.
Harry reflexively shut his eyes and covered his face with his hands, as though he were a vampire afraid of the light. He muttered through gritted teeth, "Damn it, Colin, they'll see us."
Colin looked at the disheveled Harry before him—his wrinkled T-shirt soaked in sweat, his hair a tangled mess like a bird's nest, stubble stubbornly poking out from beneath his hands. Colin couldn't hold back his comment, "God, even a homeless man living under the Brooklyn Bridge for a month would look better than you."
Colin couldn't believe his eyes. "Even without the lights, they know you're inside."
"And by the way, hiding yourself away in this room like a sauna, turning yourself into a mess, they're still not going to leave you alone."
"Come on, Harry. This is our job—you should understand this better than anyone. Remember how we used to laugh at those people? They had no idea what they were doing, hiding in their shells like snails, only for us to mock them. Their misery was our entertainment."
"And look at you now. What are you doing?"
Harry froze, his hands slowly dropping as he stared blankly, his sunken eyes devoid of any light. His lips were so dry they had begun to peel, and he stood there, stiff and lost.
Colin, unbothered, continued to taunt, "I really should've taken a picture of this and posted it on our site. I bet the traffic would skyrocket."
That jab seemed to snap Harry back to reality. "Yeah, maybe we should film it. Who else could have exclusive footage like we do?"
Ah, the instincts of a paparazzo never die.
Colin knew Harry wasn't down for the count. Paparazzi were like cockroaches, always surviving. "I brought you some supplies."
Harry finally noticed Colin's backpack. It was like he'd been wandering in a desert for ten days and had just spotted an oasis. "God, I knew it…"
Harry was about to open the bag when Colin added, "There's not much, because I also brought you a bargaining chip. I think you won't need to keep hiding anymore."
Harry was ready to complain about the meager supplies, but he stopped, looking up. "What? I don't see how this gets resolved."
Colin shrugged lightly. "Until this morning, neither did I."
Harry paused. "What happened this morning?"
Colin said, "Sony Columbia issued a statement. Blah blah blah, they harshly condemned Us Weekly for fabricating stories, blah blah blah, they're innocent, all the accusations are based on circumstantial evidence, pure gossip. They're sending a legal letter and preparing a formal lawsuit."
"In short, just the usual PR nonsense. They're playing the victim."
No surprise. That was standard protocol for big corporations.
"Us Weekly jumped the gun. They gathered a bunch of circumstantial evidence and rushed to point the finger at Sony Columbia, unlike Entertainment Weekly, which handled it more cleverly."
As Colin spoke, he noticed Harry's death stare—the victim of Entertainment Weekly's earlier takedown was standing right in front of him.
Colin grinned, "Which explains why you're in this state, while Sony Columbia gets to spout lies without a care."
"Before releasing that official statement, Sony Columbia held an emergency board meeting. This incident might damage the company's reputation, so they had to tread carefully. After some deliberation, they issued that nonsense."
"But honestly, if they had nothing to hide, why the emergency meeting? There's definitely more to this."
Harry wasn't interested in corporate intrigue. "So? What does Sony Columbia's drama have to do with me? I can't make them take the fall for me, can I?"
Colin simply smiled.
Harry stared at Colin, his jaw slowly dropping. "…No way."
Colin didn't answer directly. Instead, he pulled out an envelope and pushed it toward Harry.
Harry opened it, pulling out a sheet of A4 paper. Seven names were listed, all male actors—and all young ones.
Harry didn't get it. He looked back at Colin for clarification.
Colin finally revealed the punchline. "This came from Eve Wilson. You know her, right?"
Harry cut in, "Yeah, I know. Anson's PR. But why would Eve Wilson give you this?"
Colin said, "She didn't say a word, just handed me this list. But think about it—at a time like this, do you really think Eve gave us this list to throw a party?"
"So, I did some digging and contacted everyone on this list."
"Guess what I found?"