Hollywood Parents

by Kristina Adams

  I’d been in my pajamas several days when someone knocked on my front door. Ugh. I hadn’t ordered anything and I’d asked people to leave me alone, so who was it? There were only certain people that the concierge let in unannounced, which meant that it was either my parents, Trinity, Liam, or Camilla. I opened the door and found Trinity on the other side. I was still pissed at her for what had happened, so seeing her really wasn’t something I wanted. I tried to close the door, but she put her foot in the way.

  “I really don’t want to talk right now,” I said.

  “Please? Just hear me out?”

  I owed it to our friendship to let her in, didn’t I? So I stepped aside to let her in even though I really didn’t want to.

  “I overreacted, OK? I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

  “You don’t say.” I crossed my arms. Was this supposed to be an apology?

  “What do you want me to do? Beg?”

  “Honestly? I really just want to be on my own.”

  Trinity switched her bag to the opposite shoulder and rolled her eyes. “You can’t hibernate forever, you know.” I had zero interest in going out and that lack of interest was unlikely to change anytime soon.

  “Try me,” I grumbled.

  “Fine. Mope for a little longer if you need to. Just don’t torture yourself, OK?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean don’t sit there ruminating on every aspect of the conversation you had with that woman. It won’t help.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do? Isn’t that the definition of moping?” I said.

  “Play a dumb computer game or watch a stupid TV show. Anything mindless that distracts your brain enough that you don’t dwell on things that are out of your control.”

  Ah. There it was. The thing that I didn’t like to admit: that what had happened had been out of my control. I liked control. The very fact that I couldn’t control how my birth mother felt about me and nothing I could do would change her mind made me feel worse every time I thought about it. So did the fact that I cared so damn much.

  I’d spent the last week playing through different scenarios in my head where I’d said or done different things, worn different outfits, been more obsequious, warned her before visiting…you name it, I’d tried it.

  But, deep down, I knew that no matter what I said or did, she’d always blame me for what had happened after my conception even though that hadn’t been my fault. The fault lay with her rapist and with her parents for the way they’d treated her. But if her parents hadn’t been so horrible to her, would I have had the life that I did? Would I have had the opportunities that I’d had? That was what jarred me so much. A total stranger’s suffering had led to all of my success.

  And now, there I was, avoiding interviews and audition requests because I was feeling sorry for myself. It made me hate myself even more, but at the same time, I was so deep into a pit of despair that I didn’t particularly care, either. I just wanted my duvet to swallow me up so that I was never seen again. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with the conflicting emotions running through my head. Then, I would finally have peace.

  “Tate? You still there?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I said. “I’m fine. I’m just really tired. I think I’m going to go catch up on some sleep.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Just don’t sleep too much. It’ll make you worse.”

  I rolled my eyes. I was so not in the mood for unsolicited advice.

  *

  “Hey, you,” said Camilla. “Someone came to see you.”

  I peered into the pet crate she was holding. Her cat Merlin’s big, golden eyes stared up at me. I put my fingers through the grate and stroked the back of his neck. He meowed happily.

  Camilla closed the door behind her. “He hasn’t been out of the apartment for a while, so he might be a bit skittish.”

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  She put the crate down and opened the door to let him out. He didn’t move, so we left him to settle in and went to sit on the sofa.

  “I’d ask how you’ve been, but it feels like a dumb question,” said Camilla. I’d already told her everything that had happened a few weeks ago, including about the argument with Trinity. She was the only person that knew about it, but, in typical Camilla fashion, she didn’t judge.

  “What is there to say?” I said.

  Merlin finally decided to join us. He jumped up onto the sofa and lay beside me, then rolled on to his back with his arms out.

  Camilla laughed. “He wants a belly rub.”

  I looked into his big golden eyes. It was hard to say no to a face that cute. I reached over and rubbed his belly. He purred happily. Petting him seemed to ease my mood, putting a smile on my face when I wasn’t sure I’d ever smile again.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s cool,” said Camilla. “I’m not here to judge or listen.”

  “Damn, you’re smart,” I said. “I was never as smart as you at your age.”

  Camilla laughed. “You’re only a couple of years older than me. It isn’t that much.”

  “No, but it feels it sometimes. I think back to how little I knew about the world when I was your age.” I sighed. “I was so naive and spoiled. The last few months have made me see that.”

  “With your birth mom?”

  “Yeah. And Jack. Adoption or no adoption, I got the lucky upbringing.”

  “But?”

  “But what?”

  “Well, if there wasn’t a but, you wouldn’t be hiding in your apartment in your pajamas,” said Camilla with a raised eyebrow.

  I stopped rubbing Merlin’s belly to wipe at my face with my fist. Stupid crying. Merlin didn’t care that I was crying. He nudged my elbow with his paw. Apparently I wasn’t done giving him attention.

  “You’re right,” I said, resuming giving him belly rubs. “It’s more than that. I wouldn’t exist if my birth mom hadn’t been raped. How do I deal with that? How do I process that?”

  “Honestly?” said Camilla. “I have no fucking idea.”

  18

  Tate

  I know what I like

  I won’t apologize for it

  We’re living in my time

  And this is how I want it.

  — “My Time,” Tate Gardener

  “Hey Tate, it’s so good to finally meet you!” said Elijah, the director. He stroked his curly mustache. It made him look like a cartoon character. Then again, he was directing a kids’ film.

  “You too,” I said. I was only there because I couldn’t get out of it. If I’d known things with my birth mother were going to go so badly I wouldn’t have met her right before filming. Or, you know, at all.

  “Hair and makeup are all ready for you. Is there anything we can get you to help you settle in?”

  “Just a coffee, please.” I hadn’t had my morning coffee yet as I’d been running late. That’s what happens when you don’t want to go to work. I’d never had that feeling before, but the last few months had made dealing with people difficult.

  Elijah ushered over a runner.

  “Hi!” she beamed. “How are you?” she asked in an Irish accent.

  “I’m OK thanks,” I lied. “You?”

  She nodded. “Grand. Grand. How can I help?”

  “Can you do a coffee run please?” said Elijah.

  “Of course. What would you like?”

  “A half-caf extra-hot hazelnut latte with coconut milk please.”

  “I’ll have mine black, please,” said Elijah.

  “Two coffees coming up,” said the runner.

  *

  The runner reappeared with my coffee as I left my costume fitting and headed to hair and makeup. I took it from her and smelled it. It smelled like milk…

  “What’s this?” I said, wrinkling my nose at the coffee.

  “It’s a half-caf extra-hot hazelnut latte,” said the runner.

  “It has dairy in it!”

  “Yes?”


  “I’m vegan! That’s the most important part of the whole damn order!” I stamped my foot. Why were people so stupid? “Is it really that hard to get a coffee order right?”

  The runner recoiled into herself. “I’m sorry Ms. Gardener, I’ll get you another one.”

  “Damn right you will. Do you want me to write my order down for you? Would that help?”

  “Um, yes, actually. It would.”

  I rolled my eyes. Some people were just so damn lazy. No wonder the country was going downhill. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’ll go find one.”

  I tapped my foot while she ran around the soundstage to find a pen and paper. A few of the people nearby were clearly watching but didn’t want to say anything. Good. It was none of their business anyway.

  “Got one,” said the runner, reappearing and panting.

  “Catch your breath a minute,” I said, feeling a pang of sympathy for her. I knew all too well what it was like to be out of breath. While I hadn’t had an asthma attack in years, it was still a possibility that followed me around on a daily basis. People died every day all around the world because they couldn’t afford inhalers. I narrowed my eyes at the runner. “Are you asthmatic?”

  She nodded.

  Dammit.

  “Do you have your inhaler with you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  “Money,” was all she managed to say.

  Well, damn.

  I reached into my pocket and handed her my reliever inhaler. There was no way I was letting someone have an asthma attack on my watch, let alone because of me. She took it from me and inhaled a puff. Once she’d had it, I guided her to a chair by the food table.

  “Can we get someone over to check her out please?” I said to a bald guy walking past. I had no idea who he was.

  “Um, sure,” he said, clearly having no idea what was going on.

  “She’s having an asthma attack,” I said.

  “Oh,” he said. He immediately ran off in the opposite direction. There’s nothing like the threat of someone dying to motivate people.

  I turned back to the runner. “I’m sorry for throwing a fit.”

  “I’m sorry for getting your order wrong,” she said. Good. She was getting her breath back.

  “It happens. It is a ridiculously long order,” I said with a laugh. “I guess I was projecting onto you. That’s not fair of me.”

  She shrugged. “It happens.” She took another puff of the inhaler, then tried to give it back to me.

  I shook my head. “Keep it. I’ve got a spare.”

  “Are you sure? What if you need it?”

  “It’s a lot easier for me to get a new one,” I said.

  She reached over and hugged me. “Thank you.”

  *

  Tate Gardener Melts Down on Set—See the Video!

  While filming a bit-part in the new Rapid Detective kids’ franchise, Tate Gardener lost it at one of the runners. And over a coffee order at that! It gets worse, too—the runner went on to have an asthma attack from trying to fix the problem! Has the crown started to fall from America’s Princess?

  Great. Just great. They couldn’t mention that I’d given her my inhaler and she was fine now, could they? No. They had to focus on the part that made me look like a diva. It fitted their narrative better.

  Ever since they’d found the video of Astin and me kissing—AKA me “cheating” on Jack—the media were hating on me more and more. I hadn’t done anything to deserve it, but I’d become the perfect target for them. I’d gone from being their golden girl to their cartoon villain in just about every story that involved me. And there was nothing I could do about it.

  19

  Tate

  Memories cling to my brain

  like red nail polish embedded in my cuticles

  that no amount of acetone

  can remove.

  — “Stain,” Tate Gardener

  Is Tate Gardener Over?

  First it was cheating on her beau, then it was tantrums on set. Now, according to a source, the actor/singer’s latest album has been delayed again because of “production issues.” What does that even mean? We think it means she’s in a funk and can’t get out of it. Or maybe she’s disagreeing on the direction the album is going in. Maybe one day we’ll find out.

  Ugh, did they have to dissect everything? The album was delayed because I’d been busy. Busy hiding, but still. What did it matter? I needed some alone time for my mental health to recover. Was that really so bad?

  I turned on the TV to find my face all over it. Part one of Jack’s guest stint was airing. What timing.

  “Asshole!” I shouted, throwing my teddy bear at the TV. It hit the cabinet beneath it and fell to the floor. Why had I thought putting my own TV show on was a good idea? Especially since it was the night when Jack’s cameo started to air.

  So much had changed since we’d filmed that. And it could’ve turned out very differently if my daddy hadn’t stepped in and replaced the director.

  Jack had been so nervous about acting but he’d turned out to be great, especially when it came to improv. But then, he did it all the time. He did it to hide his drinking.

  How was he? Was he still drinking? Was he still refusing to admit why he drank?

  Not that I’d ever gotten to the bottom of why he drank. He was too closed off for that. But it definitely had something to do with his childhood. He had lost both parents before he was a teenager. That was a lot for anyone to deal with.

  Liam came into my room carrying two hot chocolates. He’d come over to check up on me since I was replying to his messages less than usual. It was cute that he cared but also annoying. “Are you sure watching that is a good idea?” He handed me my drink.

  “Bite me,” I growled.

  “Later,” he said, laughing as he turned the TV off. Was everything a joke to him?

  I stared into my drink. “Have you heard anything about him?” I asked before I could stop myself. They didn’t run in exactly the same circles, but Liam had been going out more than I had lately.

  “Trinity said she’s seen him out a couple of times,” he said. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  I sunk further into the bed, still clutching my drink. “I guess I just miss what we had.”

  “That’s understandable, but you’ll find it again.”

  “I guess, but what if I messed up and I was meant to have it with him?”

  “Then you’ll have it with him again. Anyway. What are we having for dinner?”

  “Dinner? Didn’t we just have lunch?”

  “It’s almost nine at night. You should know that because of your show.”

  Damn. Playing dumb hadn’t worked. I’d hoped he’d think I was just an idiot and let me get away with not eating something. I decided to change tact.

  “I’m really not sure I can eat anything,” I said. Every time I tried to swallow, my throat would close up and I’d start to gag. Even a child-sized chocolate bar was too much for me. But everyone around me kept trying to force me to eat.

  I supposed I couldn’t blame them. I’d gone to rehab for an eating disorder that had been triggered by the stress of fame. Was it any wonder that, after being rejected by my birth mom, breaking up with Jack, my parents divorcing, and the press turning against me, I wouldn’t have an appetite?

  Liam put his hand on my leg. “I know you don’t want to, but you really need to. You know what happened last time.”

  “What food did you have in mind?”

  He took his phone from his pocket. “Pizza?”

  *

  A whole pizza would’ve been too much for me, so I had a quinoa salad instead. It took me most of Legally Blonde to finish it. Luckily it still tasted good cold.

  I looked over at Liam, whose signature dark hair had flopped over his face. He ran his hands through it, causing it to stick up at different angles. I suppressed a laugh. He
was off to film the second Highwater movie, New Dawn, soon, with Trinity. They’d be in the middle of some rainforest, then holed up in a studio for the next few months. I wasn’t sure if I could cope without Liam’s moral support—the daily dog memes he sent me cheered me up—but a part of me was glad Trinity was leaving soon. Was that bad of me? I didn’t want Liam getting closer to her when she was annoying me, but I couldn’t stop them from getting inevitably closer any more than I could stop them from going away to film.

  Could I?

  No. They were tied to contracts. And anyway, I’d never expect them to ask me to do that. There was no way I could ask that of them. I still had my parents and Camilla. Not that it mattered who was around. None of them really got it. I wanted both to be on my own and never have to speak to anyone again, and to have people running around after me 24/7 so that I wasn’t on my own because I was scared to be. That was when my birth mother’s words haunted me. That was when I saw the hatred in her eyes. And they were two things I just couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

  *

  A couple of weeks after my so-called meltdown, the concierge called my intercom. Even though I wasn’t expecting anyone, I answered it. “Hello?”

  “Your manager is here. Would you like to speak to him?”

  “Please.”

  There was a pause as he passed the intercom to Mike.

  “Let me in,” said Mike.

  “Why?” I said.

  “Because we’ve only heard from you to cancel things lately. People are worried about you.”