by Andrea Joan
“Okay, then. Let’s start from the top, shall we?” Steve says. “You are aware that Jeff Roberts is threatening to sue you for wrongful termination?”
“Yeah, but it’s bullshit. He was terminated for very real reasons.”
“I’m aware of what you told me, but Jeff and his attorney approached me a few weeks ago, and they are spouting a very different story than the one you gave me. I’m not saying I believe Jeff over you—clearly I must take what you say as truth, but you have to be aware he’s ready to start talking to the media.”
“Talk to the media about what exactly, Steve?” I ask cautiously.
Steve glances quickly to Carl and then back to me, and I know I’m not going to like what he’s about to say. “About you, Skylar. He says he’ll go to the media with stories about the nonstop partying he witnessed, the constant drug abuse, and he’s also claiming that the real reason you fired him was because you came on to him and he refused your advances. Then you fired him in retaliation.”
“WHAT THE FUCK, STEVE!” The sudden burst of anger has me shooting out of my chair. “None of that is fucking true! Jeff is out of his damn mind. This is ridiculous!” I can’t even believe this is how Jeff is going to play it. I should believe it; this is what my life usually entails, but it still destroys little pieces of me each time I’m betrayed.
“Skylar, sit down, you’re acting like a drama queen,” Carl says so nonchalantly, as if nothing of importance is happening.
I sit back down, but not because he told me to. I sit because I know I’m starting to spiral. The thoughts in my head are running rampant and I can’t make heads or tails of what I should do, what I need to say to make this all go away. I can’t focus. My breath is coming in short gasps, anxiety taking the fast track to full-blown panic. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
I wish Liam was here. Normally I prefer to fly solo on the one-way shit plane that is my life; no one should be brought into this mess. Liam being here wouldn’t help me. He can’t save me. Only I can, and I need to remember this. Relying on Liam, becoming comfortable with his presence, would be a mistake because eventually he’ll leave. But my mind doesn’t seem to want to come to an agreement with my heart and body’s reaction to Liam O’Connor. It’s two against one, and though I suck at math, I’m pretty sure the odds are stacked against me.
“Skylar, I believe you,” Steve reassures me. “But Jeff claims he has proof. I haven’t seen it and he refuses to show his hand until we all sit down for a meeting.”
“He’s refusing to show his hand because he has no hand. He is handless!” That doesn’t sound quite right, but I’m free falling down an indignant spiral right now so I don’t really care.
Steve leans back on his desk, adapting a more relaxed pose in a worthless attempt to try and get me to calm down. “To be honest, Skylar, I believe what Jeff is looking for is a settlement offer. I think he’s bluffing in the hopes you’ll pay him off to avoid the bad publicity, money, and time involved in a trial,” Steve says as if this is supposed to make me feel better.
Carl remains eerily silent during this whole exchange, so silent that I dare to glance his way to make sure he is still awake. He is. He’s just sitting in his chair, casual as can be, looking like he has not one care in the world. I keep staring at him, waiting, hoping that he will come to my defense or offer me some kind of fatherly advice. I will him to get angry in my defense, to fight for my truth, to tell me I should rain fire down on Jeff until all of his lies are exposed and I am fully vindicated, but he just continues to stare at Steve in silence. Avoiding me, willfully ignoring my silent pleas. I am on my own.
“What about the non-disclosure agreement, Steve? Jeff signed one, doesn’t that mean anything?” I ask hopefully.
“You could certainly sue him for breach of contract if he goes to the media, but there are some issues to consider. You have to prove it was him that leaked the information, which could be difficult. And it may cost you more money than it’s worth to sue him for breaking his contract because in the end, even if you win, Jeff has very little money and even less in the way of assets.”
“Why even have NDAs then? This is such bullshit. Basically what you are telling me is that I’m being blackmailed under the guise of a wrongful termination lawsuit. Is that what you are saying?”
“I can’t tell you that is what’s happening beyond a reasonable doubt. All I can do is provide you with my insight and advice.”
“Which would be what, exactly?”
“Let me go to him with a settlement offer. I can gauge his intentions and whether or not his silence can be bought. I have a feeling it can be.”
What silence? He wants me to pay someone to be silent about events that never happened? This whole scenario is just too much for me. I bury my head in my hands, trying to keep it together. My bandage scrapes slightly against my skin and I focus on the night I got it. Not the fight, not the bad, but the good. The night I met Liam. Images of him laughing, those warm gray eyes, and the feel of my hand in his flash through my thoughts quickly, and I latch on to every one of them hoping they will provide me strength. The type of strength he possesses.
“I think you need to take Steve’s advice, Skylar. Let him give Jeff an offer. God knows you can’t take any more bad publicity.” Oh good. Carl finally speaks up, and shocker of all shockers, it’s to somehow insult me.
“So you both think I should just roll over and take this? Is that right? I mean, do you really believe I did the things Jeff said I did? That I partied nonstop and apparently am on a first name basis with a drug dealer? That I came on to him?” I look over at Carl and try one last time to get something out of him. Something that shows me he believes in me, at least a little. “Dad.” I almost choke on the emotion that word causes me, “Is that what you are saying?”
Please, please, please stand up for me. Believe in me. Love me.
“To be honest, I don’t know what you’re up to. And I really don’t give a shit. The only thing that matters is that we keep what little is left of your reputation intact,” he says, looking me dead in the eyes with a cold unflinching stare that proves I am nothing but a paycheck to him.
My heart drops into my stomach. I always worried that my father hated me, assumed he blamed me for Raina’s death. The only time he ever seems proud of me is when I ink another deal for a movie, subsequently adding more and more of a percentage to his ever growing bank account. But my worry can take a back seat now, because looking at Carl while he says this to me I’m hit with the realization that what he feels for me is worse than hate—it is complete indifference. I’m just a tool for him to make money, and I need to come to terms with this. But that is easier said than done; I’ve already lost a mother, and I’m not sure I’m prepared to lose a father too.
“Fine,” I relent. “But before you give him a number, I want to see what evidence he has that is so damaging. Set a meeting. Please, Steve.”
“Your wish is my command, Skylar. I think you are taking the right steps here. I’ll call his attorney today and let you know what I find out.”
“Good decision,” Carl says, and I try to hide my cringe at his approval. I feel dirty. “While we are here,” he continues, “Skylar has taken it upon herself to hire a new bodyguard, Liam something. I’m not sure how long he’ll last, seeing as he came from out of nowhere, but nonetheless, we need an NDA for him to sign.”
“You got it. Let me have Amy get the proper paperwork put together for you.”
“Actually, that won’t be necessary.” I give them both the most innocent smile I can muster and stand up.
Carl stands up next to me, no doubt trying to intimidate me, but despite the fact he towers over me and is capable of physical vengeance, I refuse to let him. Something primal and protective comes over me at even the mention of Liam’s name from Carl’s poisonous mouth.
“What do you mean that won’t be necessary?” Carl asks, staring me down. Daring me to defy him. Fuck him.
“Skylar, I would really recommend it,” Steve chimes in.
Laughter comes bursting out of me. I can’t help it. This is just ridiculous, and the fact that they can’t see it has me seriously questioning both their employments.
“Because it worked so well with Jeff? I’m not having Liam sign one. He doesn’t need to. I trust him.”
“Skylar, we’ll talk outside. Steve, we’ll be expecting to hear from you soon,” Carl says as he grabs my elbow and leads me out of Steve’s office and toward the elevator. The trek seems long, especially since it seems we are not stopping for any proper goodbyes.
When he walks me into the elevator I step in cautiously. He pushes the P button that will take us down to the parking garage, and as soon as the doors close, blocking the view to any audience, Carl descends on me, backing me into a corner, his ice blue eyes blazing like the tips of a flame.
“I don’t know who Liam is or what gutter you pulled him out of, and frankly I don’t give a shit, but if you plan on keeping him around he signs a NDA. Although, if I were you, I would just get rid of him now before he fucks you over worse than Jeff.” Carl flashes me a sleazy smile as the elevator doors open, and he turns to make his way to his car.
I’m angry and defensive and I want to stand my ground, not just for me but on behalf of Liam, because I know if the situation were reversed he’d do the same for me, and that is more than I can say for Carl. The way Carl spoke his name with such disdain, insinuating I pulled him out of some gutter, has lit me up.
I walk slowly out of the elevator and stop just outside the doors as they close behind me. I watch as Carl reaches his new Mercedes GL450, the one he purchased with the money I work so hard for, and I know in this second that he has finally pushed me too far.
“I’m not going with you,” I call out.
“What’d you say?” Carl asks as he opens the driver’s side door, not even bothering to look my way, a clear sign that he is not taking me seriously. I don’t fault him for that because not once have I truly stood up to him. I was full of strong words but empty actions, my fear of him winning out in the end. But not this time.
“I said I’m not going with you,” I repeat, keeping my voice low and steady, my shoulders back. “You embarrassed me up there in Steve’s office. You couldn’t even say you believed me, your own daughter, not to mention your only client and subsequent meal ticket. Say what you want about Liam, degrade him all you want if it makes you feel like more of a man, but in the last two days he has proven to be more loyal to me than you have in the last thirteen years. You go before he does. Are we clear?”
I don’t even have time to be proud of how I stood up to him because in a matter of seconds, not even taking the time to close his car door, he is in front of me and grabbing my shoulder, pulling me roughly to the passenger side of the vehicle.
“Get in the fucking car, Skylar,” he commands, his voice remaining low. Carl looks around the garage briefly, and now my fear really begins to set in. He’s making sure no one is down here so no one is a witness to what he might do. But I’ve come this far and I don’t want to back down. Not again.
“I said no. The days of you ordering me around like your puppet are over. In case you forgot how old I am, seeing as you have never celebrated one damn birthday with me in sixteen years, I’m twenty-two. That makes me an adult. And I am your boss. Try to remember that.”
My voice shakes slightly, but I maintain eye contact. To prove to him that I’m in charge and unafraid; that I hold the authority. Hell, it worked with Liam. It can work here too. A smile creeps over Carl’s face as he steps into my space, slowly forcing me back until I am against the car. Then his hand shoots to my neck, seizing it in an unforgiving grasp. He pulls my face close to his and then slams me, hard, against the car. Grabbing my bandaged hand, he squeezes so tightly the wound opens again, and I wince from the sudden, unexpected pain. Up until now, in this horror filled moment, I was not sure Carl even noticed my injured hand seeing as he never even bothered to ask what happened. Clearly he did and was just waiting for the right moment to use it to his advantage.
“Let me make something very clear to you, Skylar,” Carl growls in my ear, his warm, stale breath creeping across my skin, the stench of cigarettes invading my senses as he crushes my hand tighter. “I am the reason you are who you are and have what you have,” he says, the hand around my throat tightening in tandem with the one on my hand. “Without me you would probably be in a mental institution right now, so doped up you don’t know which way is up, just like your mother was at your age. And you can pretend that you are grown up and in charge, but at the end of the day we both know I. Own. You.”
Tears start to warm my eyes, both from the pain in my hand and the heartless words he practically sings at me with excitement. Carl knew just how to rip my heart out and stomp on any of the bravery I held moments ago, and he is proud of himself. I see it in his cold eyes, hear it in his pleased tone. I’m stunned, disgusted, and torn between wanting to run from him or drop to my knees and beg for his forgiveness, and that alone makes me sick to my stomach. After everything he has done and said to me, I’m still standing here with his hand wrapped around my throat trying to fight the need to apologize. To him.
This is wrong. So wrong. Even Liam was willing to stand up for me against him. He was brave enough, he thinks I’m worth more. Now it’s my turn. I try and move from his hold and fight against him but he just pushes harder into me, his grip constricting, making it harder for me to breathe. My saving grace comes in the sounds of voices echoing off the garage walls.
“You better back up, Carl. You wouldn’t want to cause a scene, now would you? How would it look if the media found out Skylar Barrett’s father gets his kicks intimidating and abusing his daughter in dark parking garages?” I all but whisper to him.
That does the trick. He releases me and steps back, making sure to plaster the fakest smile on his grotesque face. Outwardly he is a good-looking man, even I can admit that, but I see the devil inside, seeping through his pores and unmasking him from the doting father he pretends to be. The public sees me as the actress, the talent, but even I can’t out-act Carl Barrett.
“Good luck finding a ride home, daughter,” he says as he walks to the driver’s side door, slamming it shut. The engine roars to life and he peels out of the parking garage, leaving me in the wake of his rejection.
As soon as the car disappears from sight, I fall. My knees hit the pavement as the weight of everything I just did and everything that was done to me comes crashing down.
I can’t breathe. I have so many thoughts bouncing around in my head it’s like someone kicked over a jigsaw puzzle and I’m trying frantically to pick up the pieces and put myself back together.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in.
I can’t even fathom the repercussions of this; I don’t even have the clarity to process where I go from here. I concentrate on the throbbing in my hand. I try and center myself on the pain, using it as a focal point, a way to wade through the emotions that threaten to consume me. The voices get louder as the people I can’t yet see are clearly getting closer. I can’t be seen here. Not like this.
I pull myself off the concrete, then reach into my back pocket for my phone. I scroll through my contacts until I find Barry’s name. I need a ride home, a quiet ride home, one where no one will ask me any questions so I can figure out where the hell I go from here.
THANKS TO THE MID-DAY traffic, it takes Barry over forty-five minutes before he is pulling into my driveway. I’ve never been more thankful for L.A. traffic in my life. I was able to spend that time pushing the events that happened deep inside so I didn’t have to think about them. To pretend it never happened and wipe it from my mind, temporarily anyway. I’m not delusional to the point I think this intentional memory loss can last forever or that the consequences down the road won’t come to bite me in the ass. And probably epically. But I’ve decided I really don’t care about what may or may not happen
in the future. I don’t care about any repercussions that have yet to come. I just want to go home and be ordinary, and be the version of myself I have always dreamed of. The one whose pictures only ever graced yearbooks or family photo albums, whose first kiss wasn’t on screen for thousands to see, the one who had a mom and dad that grounded her for missing curfew. The one that could have a normal relationship with someone without dumping a lifetime of problems on their doorstep. I just want to be Skylar.
“Thanks for picking me up, Barry,” I say as I exit the car.
“Anytime, darlin’.” He tips his head toward me, before I turn and walk towards my house.
Opening the unlocked front door, I can’t help but smile remembering Liam’s reaction when he thought I’d just casually left my house open for anyone to walk in. He blocked my way in, ready to protect me from a nonexistent danger, even going so far as to reprimand me. It was cute, although something tells me he would not like that description applied to his scolding technique. I see Winter walking up to me as I close the door behind me and shove my bloodied hand into my pocket so as not to alarm her or cause her to start hurling unwanted questions at me.
“You going home, Win?”
“Yeah, love,” she says, finishing whatever she’s doing on her phone then dropping it into her purse. “Got everything taken care of here. The baggage was dropped off so I unpacked everything for you. Liam’s all settled as well. Also, your agency FedExed some scripts over for you to read. I put them on your bed.”
“Have I ever told you how amazing you are, my little Winter Wonderland? You’re a superhero. We should get you a cape and a wand. Definitely a wand.”
“I think you’re getting your mythologies mixed up there, Skylar. Pretty sure superheroes don’t use wands. I think those are reserved for fairies and witches.”
