by Leigh James
I gave him a grim look. "No more talking. Coffee. Just coffee."
"But we have so much to catch up on," Kyle said, showing no intention of being silent. "How's Caroline, by the way? What's she up to these days?"
I sighed, turned onto the freeway, and settled into the traffic. "You don't want to know how she is, Kyle. Remember? You hate my mother."
"I don't hate her now. When she waltzed into my life when I was a teenager, throwing my dead mother's furniture out of the house and trying to ground me all the time, then I hated her. Now that she's nowhere near me, I can confidently say I only mildly despise her."
My mother actively loathed Kyle. When she'd replaced the draperies in Kyle's dad's house, he sneered at her.
"My mother had those custom-made in Paris," he'd said. "But I guess being from Texas, you couldn't appreciate that."
My mother had burned the curtains in a bonfire out back that night. Then she made Pierce buy her a newer, bigger house. With custom-made drapes. From Italy.
He said, "So. What's the evil old gold-digger been up to?"
I sighed in disgust, although he sort of had a point. "She got married again. And divorced again." Talking about my mother made me feel exhausted. Because she was exhausting. "Now she's traveling across Asia. She called me from someplace in Japan yesterday. She's on a spiritual journey. Or something. They aren't supposed to have any screens. They're just drinking kombucha and chanting their way across the continent."
"Hopefully she's busy finding inner peace over there. I don't think she'd like to see you online, puking one night and lip-locked with me the next."
"I told her I'd gotten into some trouble. She threatened to send over her personal trainer." I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. I hoped my mother would honor the no-screens rule. She would have a flipping heart attack if she knew about Kyle or saw the video. "But thanks—way to point out the upside."
"She must be thrilled that you're so successful."
"She's so thrilled, she's downright scary. It was her idea, you know. After she and your dad got divorced, she thought she might try acting—but she tried out for a couple of roles and didn't get anything. So she enrolled me in acting classes." And got my hair colored and straightened, got me a posture coach, took me to the dermatologist, and consulted with a plastic surgeon to see if I should have my nose done. And had my teeth bleached. "She was pretty happy when my teacher said I was gifted."
"Why am I not surprised?"
I shrugged. "It turns out that I love it. I've finally found my 'thing.' Then I started auditioning and getting parts pretty quickly. I do have to thank my mother for that." Even though she's been living through me vicariously and draining my bank account like a rabid vampire ever since. "But my ultimate goal is to start my own production company someday. I'd like to produce movies that are more female-oriented. With roles you don't have to take your shirt off or starve yourself for."
"You should totally still take your shirt off in your movies," Kyle said, grinning. I glowered at him, and his face turned serious. "When it's artistically appropriate, I mean."
"How's your dad?" I asked, desperate to change the subject from both my mother and from me being topless.
"He's fine. He's working on some super-secret app up in Cambridge. He says he's never getting married again."
"My mom said the same thing."
"Is she still supporting herself with her divorce settlement from my dad?" Kyle asked, and I heard the bitterness in his voice. "Or has she moved on to the next one?"
"She… spent your dad's money. Then, like I said, she got married again and divorced again. That's all gone too."
As soon she'd cashed the check from husband number four, she'd gotten a full facelift and breast lift. She said she needed to feel "refreshed." So she bought a luxury condominium with closet after closet stuffed with designer clothes, then she had the plastic surgery, then she took the spiritual journey to the East, where she intended to "cleanse" herself. She had unplugged from electronics, was only eating fresh, whole foods, and was spending a large chunk of money to do yoga in ancient temples she knew nothing about.
I was the one financing her adventures now. She'd shown me all of the clothes she'd bought for the trip. Thousands upon thousands of dollars' worth of yoga pants and organic cotton tank tops. I'd felt sick when I looked at them all, the tags still on, spread all over her room.
"She's not a bad person, you know," I said defensively. "After my father left her—with a newborn baby, no job, no education, and no family to lean on—she did what she felt she had to do. She got married to someone who'd take care of us. That was her job. She's not perfect, but she did her best."
"Are you saying that for my benefit or yours?" Kyle asked.
In response, I had another sip of my coffee.
"Sorry. Your mother's always managed to push my buttons," Kyle said, looking out the window. "But let's switch gears. Are you nervous about going in this morning?"
I didn't take my eyes off the road. "It's more like I'm overwhelmed with dread."
"It's gonna be okay. You didn't say anything too horrible. You didn't name names."
I kept my death-grip on the steering wheel. "I didn't have to name names—I'm sure everyone involved in this film knows who I was talking about. And so does half of Hollywood." I blew out a deep breath. "I'm just going to have to apologize. And tell them that the movie's really important to me."
"Is it? Do you love the movie?" he asked.
"No," I said too quickly. Then I felt bad, as if I was being mean to my movie, which it didn't deserve. "It's not like it's a bad movie. It's just not a good movie. You know what I mean?"
"Of course," Kyle said. "Most movies are like that."
"But I need this movie. If I get fired, I'll never get another job in this town. That's how it works. Hence the overwhelming feeling of dread."
Kyle put his hand on my knee and squeezed. Before I had the chance to bite his head off, he released me.
"You can make this okay," he said. "No matter what you feel. Just give 'em a show. You can do it. I've seen all your movies. You're a star for a reason."
I looked at him for a second then quickly brought my eyes back to the road. "You've seen all my movies?"
I didn't understand why, but my face flamed at the thought. I knew people saw my movies. I just didn't know Kyle had seen my movies. All of them. That fact unnerved me more than I cared to admit.
I'd taken off my top in one of those movies. You couldn't see anything, but I'd still taken it off. So he'd seen my shoulders. Naked.
"Of course I saw them all," he said, his voice casual. "When you have a famous relative, it's totally okay to stalk their movies. Plus, I liked them. Most of them, anyway."
"Oh, I didn't know."
"The Family Pride was my favorite," he said and grinned at me.
I cringed. The Family Pride was the movie where I'd played the misunderstood nerd who later became a famous actress. It was also the movie featuring my naked shoulders.
"It seemed so… natural, that role. Like it was written for you. I especially liked the part when you took your shirt off. It was very cinematic."
"Ha ha, Kyle." I tried to focus on driving. "That movie was hard for me. Obviously it hit close to home."
I'd played the main character, who was seriously dorky in high school and decided that the only way she could escape her controlling mother was to become successful in her own right. Meredith Striper, a famous actress, had played my mother in the movie; my own mother hadn't been impressed.
"What did Caroline have to say about that one?" Kyle asked.
"She didn't care for it," I admitted.
Kyle snorted. "Oh, I bet she didn't."
"Not for the reasons you might think," I said, inwardly cringing. "She didn't actually understand the movie. She thought it was too slow. And she thought Meredith Striper was too old to play my mother."
Kyle practically spit out his coffee. "
That's all she had to say about it?"
Now it was my turn to grin. "She also said my hair looked bad."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Kyle said. "Except I know you're not."
"No, I'm not," I said. Suddenly we were both laughing.
"Between your mom and my dad, really, it's no wonder that we ended up in this car together." Kyle was laughing so hard he was snorting. "They put the 'fun' in dysfunction."
"Right? It's so messed up, but it makes perfect sense. I mean, it would make perfect sense to our therapists. I almost think they deserve each other—Caroline and Pierce."
Kyle raised his eyebrow and looked at me. "They just might."
"I wouldn't wish Caroline on anybody though. Maybe not even your dad. You thought she was bad before? Now she's bad and gluten-free, wearing sanctimonious organic cotton yoga pants." It was my turn to snort. "You don't know what bad is."
"I think I have a pretty good idea," Kyle said, sounding as if he meant it.
Kyle
We pulled into the studio lot, and Lowell got out of the car. Even though she'd been laughing only moments earlier, she now looked pale underneath her makeup.
"You okay?" I asked.
She shrugged. "It's not like I can do anything about it if I'm not."
"Well, while I'm here," I said, throwing my arm around her shoulders, "you can lean on me. You should get your money's worth."
"You really need to think about a career in PR," she mumbled. "I know people. Hell, the way you're doing with the press, you know people."
An earnest young woman wearing a headset over her frizzy hair bustled toward us, clutching a clipboard. She nearly fell over when she saw me with Lo. "G-g-good morning, Ms. Barton." She tore her eyes away from me to Lowell.
Lo's face softened. "Ellie, for the millionth time, call me Lo. And this is… this is my boyfriend, Kyle."
Ellie tried to smile at me and failed. She just nodded and tapped her pencil. She seemed as though she'd had about ten cups of coffee already. "They're waiting for you."
"Oh, I'm sure they are," Lo said, sounding braver than she probably felt. "Ellie, will you take Kyle to my trailer?"
"Of course." The girl's face was ashen. "But they called a big meeting, and they've already been in there for an hour—"
"Don't worry about it," Lo interrupted. "I can handle Lucas and the rest of them. It'll be okay. Go get a doughnut from craft services. And an orange juice. You look like you're going to pass out."
I leaned toward Lowell and whispered, "Good luck. Go get 'em."
She nodded and pulled her sunglasses down enough so that I could see her eyes, which looked resigned. "Be good. Don't make Ellie work too hard. She's got me for that."
She walked off, and I mentally crossed my fingers for her. I also watched her fine ass and cursed the stupid director for ever telling her it was too big. Stupid git.
I turned to find Ellie watching me, a frown wrinkling her brow.
"She's my girlfriend, not that it's any of your business. And a doughnut would be lovely." I used the same tone that I used to use on the staff when they caught me doing something ill-advised and/or illegal.
"Of course," Ellie said but didn't move. She looked forlornly at the building where Lo was heading. "They're all waiting for her. Even one of the producers who hasn't been on set before." She sounded as if she thought Lo were walking the plank and a bunch of crocodiles were waiting in the water below.
"She's a big girl," I said, even though I felt a small spark of anxiety on Lo's behalf. "She can handle them."
Ellie nodded, looking as if she might cry.
"Right. Come on." I nudged her shoulder. "Let me buy you a doughnut."
"They're free," she said, as if it were her sworn duty to tell the truth and always tell the truth.
I could see why Lo got along with her.
We headed to craft services, and I was waited on by a striking woman with long brown hair.
"Would you like some help?" she asked, leaning over just enough so I could look down her shirt.
"No, thanks," I said reflexively, not looking up at her—or down her shirt.
"I saw you on XYZ last night. I loved your shirt."
I wasn't looking at her face, but I was pretty sure she was batting her eyes at me. I finally looked up—all the way up, totally skipping her chest. "My girlfriend picked it out. She has excellent taste."
"I'll say," the girl said, tossing her hair and flashing her blinding teeth at me.
I nodded tightly and retreated with my doughnut. I knew Ellie was watching me, but that wasn't why I was behaving. I was tired of feeling like a piece of meat. Being with Lo had been a huge relief for me. I didn't even realize how meaty I'd been feeling until I was with someone who was an apparent vegetarian.
I finally felt as though I could breathe. But that would come to an end as soon as I got inside Lo's trailer—I had to call my father. I felt a pit form in my stomach.
I handed Ellie her doughnut. "Eat it," I said, my tone a warning. "Lo wanted you to."
She chewed on it listlessly as she took me to the trailer. "I hope she doesn't get fired."
"I hope they don't tell her to go on another freaking diet," I said.
Ellie stuffed another bite of doughnut into her mouth and talked through it. "It's ridiculous. She's the most beautiful person I've ever met. Inside and out."
"Aww, Ellie, that's sweet. No wonder why she says the nicest things about you."
"She does?" Ellie asked, hopeful and eager.
"Of course she does," I said, even though Lo had said nothing about her on-set assistant.
"This is hers." She motioned to the trailer. "It was nice to meet you, Kyle. I thought you wouldn't be nice, but you are."
"Why'd you think that?" I asked, baffled.
"I saw you on XYZ last night too. I thought you were too handsome to be nice."
"You've already been in the business too long," I called.
She hustled off, dusting the doughnut crumbs from her blouse before she put her headset back on. "I'm aware of that."
I went into the trailer and collapsed on the couch, grateful for the privacy and quiet. Lo's trailer was simple and spare, with nothing on the table but a bunch of tulips and only bottled water in the mini-fridge. I ate my second doughnut, wondering how Lowell was faring with the crocodiles who paid her millions of dollars then asked her to spend none of that money on food so that she could starve herself.
I felt a headache coming on, and I knew why. Thinking about Lowell wasn't going to make the why go away.
I had to call my father, and it was the last thing I wanted to do.
I finished chewing my doughnut and, desperately wishing it was a beer instead, picked up my phone.
* * *
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he thundered as soon as his secretary got him on the line. "Lowell-fucking-Barton?"
"It's not what you think," I said. It's worse.
"When I cut you off from your trust, I was hoping you would start making better decisions. I didn't think you were going to make an even bigger ass out of yourself. Honestly, I didn't think that was possible."
"Gee, thanks, Dad." I got up and paced the trailer. "I forgot how belittling you are, but this is bringing it all back. Every little belittle."
"You need to grow up, Kyle." Pierce blew out a disgusted, angry huff. I could just picture his square face ruddy with frustration.
I wasn't sure exactly when it was that I'd changed from his promising only son to the bane of his existence, but it might have been when I crashed his brand-new Lexus SUV into a ditch when I was drunk. And then got arrested for it. And then tried to lie to him about it.
It didn't help that after he'd paid for my legal defense and somehow gotten me acquitted—even though I was clearly guilty—I continued to spend more of his money. I continued to drink and party and surf. Bottle service was a nightly event for me. I continued to refuse to get a job, even though he graciously off
ered me a job after all of the stupid and dangerous things I'd done.
It might have been somewhere around that time that his feelings changed. That he finally gave up.
"Dad, you need to listen to me—"
"I don't have time to discuss your feelings," Pierce said. "I don't care. I called because you can't date your stepsister. That's a new low, Kyle, and I know you're just doing it to get back at me. You know what her mother did to me."
"Actually, I'm not doing it to get back at you. Not at all. Although if it bothers you, I suppose that's a bonus."
"I don't know what I've done to make you hate me," he said, seemingly out of the blue.
I recoiled. I didn't hate my father. I was a little afraid of him and I was pissed at him for cutting me off, but I didn't hate him. "I don't hate you. I'm not thrilled that you took away all my money, but I don't hate you. My thing with Lowell isn't about you."
He didn't answer for a second. "You can't tell me you have feelings for this girl. You two couldn't stand each other growing up."
"She's nice now," I said. "And really pretty, in case you hadn't noticed. But it's actually a little more complicated than that."
Pierce sighed in what sounded like defeat. "What the hell does that mean?"
"You don't want to know." Suddenly my headache subsided. Because for the first time in a long time, I was telling my father the truth.
"Well, I'll make it simple," he snapped. "You break up with this girl, or I'll leak it to the press that you two are related. We'll see how you both like that. We'll see what happens to her little acting career then."
Anger flared within me. Pierce was demanding, difficult, and used to getting his way—but he wasn't going to run this show. I wouldn't let him.
"You might not want to do that," I said, my tone a warning. "There's actually more to the story, and you're not going to want anyone to know it."
Lowell
My stomach was pitted with dread as I headed into the meeting. Cristina, Lucas's habitually unfriendly assistant, was waiting outside the conference room. She crossed her arms in disapproval when she saw me.
