The Manny

by Piper Rayne

  “Not happening, Carver. I’m with—”

  “No, you’re not. That jackass killed your career. Do you not remember how many nights you cried after you were fired from that part? That was going to be a great opportunity for you.”

  I do remember. It was going to be my first big break as an adult outside of the typecast roles of a pretty, gum-popping teenager from my youth.

  “It’s none of your business,” I snip.

  My phone dings on the table and I start walking over to get it, but Carver beats me there and swipes it off the table.

  “Give it to me, Carver. What are you, twelve?”

  “Jackass says he’s sorry and he wants to talk. That guy needs to get a family of his own. No way he’s going to sneak in and grab my family out from under me.” He drops my phone on the table and I pick it up.

  “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not a part of this family. You haven’t been home in months.”

  He grabs my free hand. “I’m here now. Let’s try this.”

  “Mommy?”

  We both turn to see Payne standing in the doorway. I pull my hand from Carver’s.

  “Where’s Vance?” he asks.

  Carver’s deep, annoyed breathing sounds from behind me.

  “He had to leave.”

  “I’m here, buddy.” Carver comes right next to me, squatting in front of Payne.

  Payne’s gaze bounces to him and then back to me. “Can I watch television?”

  I nod. “Sure.”

  “Hey, buddy. Do you want to go to the zoo tomorrow?” Carver asks him.

  Payne shrugs his shoulders, grabbing a blanket and crawling up on the couch.

  “Buddy?” Carver tries again, but he ignores him and heads into the family room.

  “Why don’t you try calling him Payne?” I down a gulp of wine. “You do know his name still, right?”

  Carver shakes his head. “You’re a lost cause.”

  “No, Carver, you are. Get in there and watch television with him. Talk about the show. Talk about his favorite superheroes. Just try to have a relationship with him. If you’d already had a good one then Vance would have never felt like a threat to you.” I grab the bottle and my glass and poke my head into the family room. “Sweetie, Mommy is going to go upstairs. Your dad is going to get you ready for bed tonight, okay?”

  Payne’s eyes widen, but when Carver turns his way, he looks back toward the television.

  He needs his dad no matter what he thinks right now.

  “Go be a father,” I say and leave the room.

  After I’ve changed into something cozy, locked the door, and hunkered down under the covers I let the tears come.

  How could Vance have lied to me for so long? Why didn’t he tell me who he was? I remember how excited I was to be given a role on one of TV’s hit shows. To get a call a couple of days before filming started left me devastated.

  I wipe the tears from my face and try to ignore the phone that lies beside me on the bed, but it’s like a piece of chocolate cake late at night. It’s calling my name. After much debate, I grab it and look at Vance’s message.

  Vance: I’m sorry, please let me explain.

  Me: Was it your decision to not give me that part?

  The three dots appear.

  The three dots disappear.

  The three dots appear again.

  Vance: Yes, but there’s more to it.

  I sit there for a few minutes going back and forth about whether to let him explain himself. Then I realize maybe for me to truly put it behind me, I need to hear him out. I’m over taking whatever shit the man in my life wants to dish out. Besides, I have a few choice words for him, too.

  Me: Meet me at Cup of Joe at nine o’clock tomorrow. Half hour. That’s it.

  Vance: I’ll be there.

  There’s no explanation for what happened that will appease me. The only thing I want to know is if he thinks I’m not good enough to be in this film either.

  Cup of Joe is busy, thankfully, because then I know I won’t make a scene. The problem is there are paparazzi outside, so Vance’s identity will be out before lunch. I’ll have to count on someone else’s fuck-up to let me fade into obscurity and off the front page again.

  Vance is already in the corner booth with two coffees in front of him.

  “Hey,” I say, shrugging out of my coat and sliding in across from him.

  Two Splendas sit next to my cup with a spoon.

  “Thanks.” I tear open the packages and pour them into the cup, stirring with the spoon.

  “I’m—”

  I place my hand up in the air, shaking my head. “No. I’m sure you’re sorry. Now.”

  “I wanted to tell you.” He continues to talk but I feel like I have to say my piece.

  “If you’d wanted to tell me you would have.”

  He sulks back in his booth. “True.”

  “This isn’t about you not hiring me—correction, having me fired—from Abandoned. It’s that you lied.”

  “I—”

  “Please just let me get all this out. It’s hard enough.” I look over my shoulder, finding a guy immersed in his computer. “And you didn’t think I was good enough.”

  He shakes his head, but it’s the truth.

  “You probably thought I was still that teeny-bopper actress who was only good for an audience of eight to thirteen-year-olds. You didn’t see any value in my talent then, so how can I trust that you do now?”

  He sits up straighter. “I do, Layla. I was wrong. So fucking wrong. I’m ashamed to admit it, but there was this other actress, Gwen… and… I did something I shouldn’t have.”

  I ball my hands into fists. “What exactly do you mean?”

  He heaves out a heavy sigh. “Gwen and I were sort of seeing each other at the time and she really wanted the part and I agreed to make it happen for her. I did that by throwing you under the bus. I’m not proud of it.”

  That part went on to be a recurring role for her and shot her up to Hollywood’s A-list.

  “Did you even feel bad about it at the time?”

  Vance pushes his coffee to the side and stretches his arms out across the table and leans in. “I felt terrible. I swear I did before I even knew you. But if I’m honest, at the time I didn’t know your body of work after the kids’ channel stuff and I wasn’t sure you could pull off the role. Now I know I was wrong.”

  I scoff. “That’s convenient. When did you change your mind?”

  “After I met you. After Hannah told me to watch a film you were in. Polarized.”

  I take a sip of my coffee, forcing him to wait for my response. “That movie was horrible.”

  “The movie may not have been stellar, but you… you were brilliant. I may have misjudged you in the past and let my dick rule my thinking by having you fired, but you are supposed to be in my film. This is the role for you. I hope it’s a breakout role, but even if the film goes nowhere, there’s no other actress who should have it.”

  “Because of Hannah, right?”

  His shoulders sag and he leans back. He’s up against a wall, I know he is, but how can I ever trust him?

  “Hannah wanted you originally, that’s true. Now I want you just as much.”

  I slide my coffee to the side. “Vance, I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you and for that reason I can’t take the role. There are so few people in this town I can trust. I thought you were one of them, but you’re obviously not. I have no room in my life for people who aren’t one hundred percent behind me. My parents use me for money. Friends have used me for connections. I thought you were someone who was going to stand by my side and fight to protect me. Sure, everyone has their ups and downs, but not once did I think you’d intentionally hurt me. Which is what you did when you kept the truth from me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to break out of the child star pigeonhole once this industry has placed you there? Some days even I question whether I’ll ever be able to make it happen for myself. I’
m at a crossroads with my career and I need people who will help me push my self-doubt to the side and who will believe in me. I thought you were one of those people, but it turns out you didn’t believe in me either.”

  I suck in a deep breath to try and keep the tears threatening to pour from my eyes in place.

  “I do believe in you, Layla. You’re more talented than anyone gives you credit for. I’m sorry I acted like a dick, I really am. You’ll be happy to know she’s the reason I was fired from Abandoned.”

  I won’t lie and say there isn’t a little satisfaction in knowing that. My curiosity gets the better of me and I have to ask.

  “What happened?”

  “In a nutshell, she’s a crazy, insecure woman and when she saw a make-up artist flirting with me on set one day she lost it. No matter how many times I told her there was nothing going on, a major fight ensued where I told her exactly what I thought of her petty, childish behavior. She didn’t much like that and said it was either her or me. They picked her.”

  I knew I didn’t like Gwen. She sounds like a total bitch. Damned if I’ll let him know that though.

  “Are you giving Carver another chance?” Vance asks before I can even respond to his story about Gwen. His sweet voice has turned venomous.

  “To be a father. That’s all.”

  “Still. You forgive him. After everything he put you through.”

  “He’s the father of my kids.” I sip the coffee.

  “So, you aren’t getting back together?”

  The cup clanks when I place it on the table. “No.”

  He nods. “What can I do? Surely there’s something I do to can prove to you how sorry I am.” He reaches for my hand and for a second, I let him hold it. I allow the warmth of his touch on my skin to electrify my body like a good night kiss.

  “Nothing.” I slide to escape the booth, my hand falling from his grasp.

  “Layla, don’t go.” He grabs my wrist, but I never turn around.

  “Bye, Vance.” He releases me and I shuffle through the crowded coffee shop.

  Once outside, cameras click and paparazzi block my way to the car I ordered. I knew I had to get out fast and didn’t need to be fiddling with my keys.

  “Who’s the mystery man?” one screams.

  “Looks like you broke his heart?” another one asks.

  “Is it because Carver’s back?” the first one asks.

  I slide into the back of the car and the driver closes the door, shutting out all the questions, all the pictures.

  I’m not sure if Vance’s heart is broken, but mine sure is.

  Chapter 22

  Vance

  My phone rings with my sister’s ring tone for the third time this hour. Since it’s clear she’s not going to take the hint—how Charlie of her—I answer.

  “What?”

  “Jeez, who pissed in your Corn Flakes? I’ve been calling you for days,” she says.

  “Can’t you take a hint when I don’t call you back?” I mute the television with the hope she doesn’t think I have no life. Even though I don’t.

  She huffs and I can envision her rolling her eyes in my head. “I’ve known you your entire life. You know that’s not going to work with me. What the hell is going on?”

  I sigh. “Actually, you’ve known me your entire life. Let’s remember who’s older, okay? And nothing, just a bad week.”

  “Does it have something to do with the mom of the little boy and the shit storm of a baby?” There’s sympathy in her voice and if I can confess my failure to anyone, it’s to my little sister.

  “Ding, ding, ding.”

  “Since the Seattle Seahawks aren’t in the Super Bowl, I figure it’s a woman issue.”

  That gets a small chuckle out of me. “I fucked up.”

  “I’m not surprised. Your communication skills with the women in your life are horrid. Now tell me exactly what you did and we’ll assess the damage.”

  Twenty minutes later, it’s out. What I did before I knew Layla, why I got fired from my job, and everything else up until Layla pushed me out of her life. When I’m done with my confessional, she doesn’t speak right away.

  “Well, how do I fix this?”

  Charlie lets out a long, low whistle. “Boy you really fucked up.”

  “Not helping, Sis.” The despair is clear in my voice. I still can’t believe I’m not on the couch with Layla and the two kids crawling around us. “You gotta help me. Feed me the bullshit lines about how the excruciating pain will one day disappear. Damn, Charlie, I feel like I’m missing a limb or some shit. Nothing is right in my life since we broke up. And it’s not just Layla. I miss the kids, too.”

  “She’s her, huh? The one?” It’s not a question, but a statement. One only someone who knows me as well as my flesh and blood could make without me having to say the words.

  “I’ve never felt this way about someone before, Charlie. No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about her. I keep replaying all the special moments we had and every time a thousand pound weight presses on my chest with the realization I’ll never have them again.”

  “I don’t even know where to begin to fix it. Wait it out and she’ll come around. If she loves you like you love her, she’ll forgive you.”

  I throw the pillow across the room. “I wish that was the case, Sis, but I think I fucked this up beyond repair.”

  “I hate hearing you so hopeless,” she says with sadness. My sister might challenge Jagger as the bigger smartass, but when it comes to those she loves, her heart hurts with theirs.

  “I should have listened to myself and never got involved. Relationships suck and this will be my last one.”

  We chat for a couple more minutes and I tell her I have business to attend to. Not because I do but because the whole saying ‘misery loves company’ is actually untrue. I want nothing more than to be by myself—as alone as I feel inside.

  “See? He’s been like this for days.” Leo stands in my condo with Jagger behind him.

  “Hey, Coop.” I pet Cooper and he crawls up on my couch, finding a spot next to my legs.

  I click off the television. They don’t need to know I’ve been exhausting the entirety of the Netflix catalogue this past week.

  “What is this?” Jagger picks up the pizza box and cookie bin. “What are you, a chick? Where the hell is the whiskey and the hookers?”

  “Not everyone deals with a breakup like you.” Leo brings the trashcan over, scooping the debris up and placing it inside.

  Jagger sits on the chair across from me. “I’ve never been broken up with.” From the blank look on his face, he’s serious.

  “Never?” Leo asks, huffing as though he must be joking.

  “Nope. Never.” He shrugs.

  “Lucky.” Leo picks up the beer bottles and he disappears into the kitchen.

  “She was just a chick. Besides, I have great news.” Jagger claps his hands and rubs them together.

  I glance over at him, not really caring what his news is.

  “Hannah has agreed to do the film without Layla.” He’s smiling, but all I’m thinking about is how I’d like to order another pizza. Maybe I’ll lay off on the Italian sausage this time, since last time it gave me indigestion.

  “Oh,” I say when it’s clear he’s waiting for some sort of response from me.

  My only hope was that Layla might still do the film. Even if I couldn’t be with her, I’d get to spend time with her.

  “Oh?” Jagger yells, glancing to Leo in the kitchen. “This is great news. You don’t need the chick in your life or in the movie.”

  His smug smile unglues me and I stand up, step over my coffee table and grab him by the lapels.

  “Whoa!” Leo runs over, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’s Jagger. You know how he is about anything involving feelings.”

  “What the fuck? Don’t you have a fucking heart?” I yell. “Have you ever loved anyone but yourself?” I let him go, although I’d like to see wha
t he’d look like with a shiner courtesy of my fist right about now. Hell, the bastard would probably just figure out some way to use it to pick up more girls.

  Jagger stands and straightens his suit jacket. “Then why are you here?”

  I plop back down on the couch. “It’s where I live, dumbass.”

  “You asked me if I’ve ever loved anyone, but let me ask you a question. What is so important to you you’ll fight until death to get it? You sat on a script for eight years without doing anything. I thought you wanted that, but then you jeopardize it by getting involved with the lead actress. I’m not saying I was right about this, by the way. If you love Layla, then why are you sitting here wallowing on your couch instead of figuring out a way to win her back?” Jagger takes a seat again and leans back, his ankle resting on his knee.

  “She doesn’t want to see me. That was perfectly clear.”

  “And you’re just going to accept that?” Jagger asks.

  My gaze veers to the kitchen where I find Leo standing waiting for an answer, too.

  “I can’t force her.”

  Jagger laughs. “You really do lack any fight. Do you think I stop making calls after the first person turns me down for something I’m trying to make happen for my client?”

  “What the fuck do you want me to do?”

  “Don’t accept no. Win her over. You wrote a fucking romance in the middle of that script of yours. Use sweet words or beg. Do anything, but at least do something. Doing nothing is still a fucking decision whether you want to admit it or not.” Jagger’s arms are extended and his face is red, his eyes angry.

  “What do you care? You don’t even like her,” I grumble.

  His hands ball into fists. “I’m going to beat the living shit out of him.” He’s looking at Leo now. A few more beer bottles clink into the bag and then Leo’s sitting next to me on the couch.

  “When you first came to Los Angeles, I remember thinking to myself, how the hell is this guy going to make it? You were so cocky, so arrogant. I thought this town was going to chew you up and spit you back to your small town in Oregon,” Jagger says.