I had to smile at his remark; he was right. I loved music and books when I was younger—I wasn’t much into movies. The same held true today.
“Besides, my professional name was Adam Dennis.”
My eyebrows rose. Adam Dennis—that name rang a bell.
“You won an Oscar.”
“I was nominated.”
“I think I saw some of your films.” My brow furrowed as I tried to remember. All I came up with was a vague image of a tall, slender young man playing a single father. “You look different now.” I held up my hand. “I don’t mean your scars.”
He snorted. “I was young, Megan. Younger than you are now, for most of the films I made. Yeah, I’ve changed. I filled out, I’ve gotten bigger.” He flexed his arms, causing the muscles to tighten and clench. “It happens when everything you eat isn’t monitored.”
“They watched what you ate?”
“I was a leading man. My appearance was carefully controlled; the length of my hair, my weight, the clothes I wore, all of it. I hated all that shit.”
He stood up, pulling away. “I do remember your name, Zachary. You were huge.”
“Emphasis on were.”
“Why did you use a different name?”
“It’s common. My agent thought Zachary was too long—and I hated being called Zach. I still hate it. It was my mother’s idea to use my middle name and flip Adam to be my first. Dennis was her maiden name so she got that in there.”
“Are you parents still alive?” He seemed alone in the world.
He shrugged, but I saw the pain that crossed his face while he struggled to remain composed. “I have no idea. I haven’t spoken to them since I was eighteen.”
“Why?”
“I grew up in England. I was born late in life for my parents. I wasn’t exactly a welcome surprise, but as luck would have it, I was a good-looking kid. So, my mother started taking me to auditions and got me signed with an agent. I worked a lot as a child.” He barked out a humorless laugh. “Earned my keep, so to speak.”
He leaned against the wall; his gaze fixed on a spot over my head. “When I was in my teens, we moved to the States. I got a part in a popular sitcom.”
“Did you like that?”
“I had no choice. I went where my parents told me to go. My father fired my agent and did that job; plus he acted as my manager and my mother was my handler. I just learned the lines and did what I was told. My happiness or what I liked never came into play.”
In my head I pictured a young Zachary trapped in a world he despised. “So you weren’t close?”
Bitterness tinged his tone. “Not even remotely. All I was to them was a paycheck. A way to live a particular lifestyle they enjoyed.”
“Surely they loved you—they were your parents,” I protested.
“My mother loved herself. She was a manipulative shrew, Megan,” he spat. “My father did what she wanted because it was easier than arguing with her. She used anything she needed to in order to get what she wanted: anger, tears, threats. It didn’t matter. The only thing my father loved was the money I brought in.” He paused and squeezed his eyes shut, as if in pain. “What my face brought in, because that’s all I was to them—a good-looking face that made money.”
My stomach rolled at his cold voice. He could have been talking about complete strangers instead of his parents.
“When I was eighteen, I severed all ties. I left them the house, and I walked away. I fired my father and mother—from both my professional and private life.” He pushed off the wall, pacing. “Fuck, what a scene that was. My mother sobbing because she knew the gravy train was gone and my father trying to convince me he hadn’t stolen all the money I’d made over the years.” He stopped his pacing, staring at me. I saw the hurt he denied, written all over his face. “All I was to them was money. They used me. Neither of them said a single word about losing me as their son, only that I couldn’t walk away from them and leave them with nothing. My mother actually had the nerve to tell me how much she had sacrificed of herself over the years, always putting me first.” Zachary threw his hands up in disgust. “I guess she forgot about what I had sacrificed: friends, school, a regular life. I never knew what it was like to have someone who liked me for me—Zachary. I never had what other kids had—a chance to be a kid, get a part-time job, make mistakes—I had to be perfect all the fucking time. Live up to the image they created—or suffer the consequences.” He stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping. “Do you know what I missed most, Megan? What I wanted most of all?”