Hollywood's Secret Baby

“That certainly didn’t earn you any brownie points,” Sarah says. “Did you forget that we need these people to like you? You know Jeb will use this to drive you further into the ground once he hears about your little stunt back there. So what did he say that got you so riled up, anyway?”

Cory snorts out a puff of air. “Nothing.”

“It certainly seemed like something.”

“He asked about why Cory brought me on,” I interject before Cory, his fists shaking at his sides, could further piss off his only other ally. “He wanted to know why Cory would hire a nobody like me.”

“I’d say he got his answer, didn’t he?” She takes two steps back towards the house before saying, “And stop with this masculine bullshit about not taking charity from me. You are all staying in my guesthouse and that’s final. Now get him cleaned up and get back in here.”

It was like being reprimanded by my mother, if my mother were an internationally celebrated actress.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shout at him, pushing his chest the moment Sarah disappears. “You’re an adult. Not some hot-headed teenager.”

“Didn’t you hear what he said about you?”

“I did. And you know what? It’s true. I’m a nobody from nowhere. I have no right to be here. But I’m not going to run away just because some asswipe of a reporter says a few mean words. Let people talk. They’re always going to talk.

“You know, maybe that’s why you’re being such an asshole lately. You’ve never had anyone say anything bad about you. All of your movies have been massive successes, and now that you’re up against the wall of failure, you’re freaking out like some child throwing a tantrum.”

&nb

sp; It’s at this most inopportune time that Lizzie appears. She’s carrying a flute of champagne.

And it’s empty.

“Did you drink this?” I ask, shouting at her while simultaneously realizing what a shitty mother I’ve been recently.

My life has been so busy with Cory and acting and everything in between that I’ve been passing Lizzie off on whoever was around. Whether that was Sarah or Cory’s assistant. Now my passive parenting has come back to bite me in the ass, because I’ve allowed my ten-year-old daughter free rein at a Hollywood party. Not for one second did I even consider that there wouldn’t be any soda to drink. The only options would be water or alcohol, and no ten-year-old actually enjoys drinking water.

“I don’t feel so good,” Lizzie gets out before bending over and vomiting all over all our shoes.

“Oh my god,” I say, but I’m back into mother mode in an instant, cooing over Lizzie and pulling her hair out of her face as she bursts into tears.

Adrenaline must still be coursing through Cory’s veins, because that old side of him that didn’t know when to shut up is back with a vengeance. And whereas in the past his smart-ass mouth was always directed at someone else, this time, it’s aimed right at me.

“You’re out here lecturing me about being more responsible, but look what a fine job you're doing.”

He’s right. He’s absolutely right.

And I think that’s the reason I lose it. I’m a hypocrite, pure and simple. Because while I’ve just lectured Cory about keeping his cool, I can’t help but lash out when he points out the same sin in me. And while I’ll never know for sure if my next words were malicious or a genuine slip of the tongue, all that matters is that they change everything.

“Don’t lecture me on responsibility! She’s your daughter too!”

At this Lizzie looks between the two of us. There’s a moment of recognitions and then she’s vomiting down the front of the couture dress Sarah lent me.

Chapter 22

I might have come out west to pursue my one and only chance at being a real actress, but my first job is as a mother. This is especially true when your ten-year-old kid is puking in a toilet from getting drunk for the first time.

Fortunately, the worst is over after half an hour. Even better is that Cory appears at the top of the stairs from attending to his guests to ask if we need anything.

“Pedialyte,” I say. When his eyebrows furrow at this strange word, I explain, “It’s like Gatorade for kids.” He turns to run back down the stairs, but I call out to him. “Send one of those students you sponsor to go get it. Or call your assistant. Sarah would kill you if you left your own party.”

“But—”

“Let’s not argue right now,” I say. My tone isn’t combative. If anything it’s defeated. “There will be plenty of time for that later, I’m sure.”

Thirty minutes later, I’ve got Lizzie tucked away in the main bedroom upstairs. The TV is tuned to her favorite cartoons, and she’s sipping at the electrolyte-infused drink. She’s going to be alright. Physically at least.