by Nora Cobb
“You don’t want to?” He looks at her with a mocking look. “Let me make something clear, young lady. We all do things that we don’t want to do in life, but we still do it. Today, you’re asked to serve drinks. So that’s exactly what you’ll do. Tomorrow, you might be asked to do something else. And you’ll do it because that’s your job. Understand?” He sits back in satisfaction when she nods and mutters what I can only assume is a quick apology. As she leaves to get his drink, he looks at the people at his table. “Pretty, but not too bright. At best she’ll be the dumb bitch who dies in a slasher, you mark my words.”
Dad starts to stand up, but I catch his arm.
“Please don’t,” I whisper. “Besides, one of the students just left to get help.”
“Unbelievable,” Dad glares at the man. “Who does he think he is?”
“Mel Vaughn,” I reply. “A Hollywood producer. His son is Dom.”
“I don’t see him.”
“He’s probably hiding in shame.”
Leading up to parents’ weekend, Dom was a real terror to anyone who had the misfortune of talking to him. He picked a fight with Chase before the senior meetup, and I thought Jagan was going to get punched for breaking it up. Jagan led Dom away, but he wasn’t singing camp songs as they walked hurriedly to the admin building. Now, it’s obvious why.
The commotion only gets louder as an admin hurries over from the main office. She goes to the bar and walks to the table with a tray of drinks.
“Was that hard?” Vaughn asks the tight-lipped lady. He leans over and looks at the young girl, who’s standing far away. “You could learn how to serve a man from watching this one.”
“Unbelievable.” Dad’s voice travels.
Vaughn must have heard him. He looks over and gives Dad a nasty look. Scowling, Dad holds his gaze while he picks up a cracker off his plate and snaps it loudly, taking a bite. His gaze never leaves Vaughn’s, and eventually, Vaughn looks away. He’s more interested in his drink than in staring down Dad.
I’m sweating. “Why don’t I show you the audiovisual building, Daddy?”
“In a minute, Vic.” Dad continues to watch Vaughn as he pops a grape in his mouth.
***
Distracted, Silas walks into the tent, looking for someone. He’s dressed in a suit, and his auburn hair has been trimmed. He looks good, which I hate to admit. Mainly because he also seems to know it. Today, he looks like the movie star he aspires to be. He has a calm expression on his face until he turns and sees Mel Vaughn. The change is instant as if someone has dropped a dark shroud over Silas’ head. His face looks as if it is in the shadows as his expression hardens. His fists clench, and there’s an alarming sound as if he’s grinding his teeth.
Silas starts to walk away, but he isn’t quick enough.
“Silas!” shouts Vaughn, lifting up his empty glass. “Hey, call me when you’re available. I got a part for you. It’s perfect. It requires some nudity.”
Silas says nothing. He looks at the ground and sways slightly, as if he’s about to faint. For a moment, he closes his eyes and then hurries out of the tent.
“Silas Vinson, everybody.” Vaughn claps his hands as people stare at Silas departing quickly.
I’m gripping my hands underneath the table, and I want to go, but I am afraid to move. It’s safer to sit still, be quiet, and pray we won’t be noticed again. If Vaughn figures out who I am and repeats the ugly rumors, Dad won’t think twice about punching him. Dad’s face is flushed as he tries his damnedest to control his breathing. I wonder if Vaughn’s rude behavior toward young people reminds him of my mother.
“Mel, I should have known you would be by the bar.” A woman steps into the tent dressed in a linen pantsuit. She’s older, attractive, and deafening. She holds out her arms in Vaughn’s direction as if she’s giving him an air hug.
“Tracey!” shouts Vaughn. “Everybody, it’s Tracey Evans.”
Holy fuck. Chase’s mom, the talent agent? She walks into the tent as if she’s about to do an interview with Ellen in front of a live studio audience. Everyone’s her friend, and she kisses each one on the cheek. Yet, I notice that neither her son nor husband is anywhere near her.
“Now would be a very good time to leave,” Dad whispers. Dad stands up and walks toward Vaughn’s table.
I stand up, and Vaughn’s eyes go to my chest like iron fillings flying to a magnet. It’s disgusting, and I feel like I’ve been stripped bare as his eyes narrow slightly to get a better look. He looks me in the eye and licks his upper lip, sitting with his legs wide open. I hurry over to Dad and step behind him when he stops.
I watch him wide-eyed and silently praying. Funny. I like to stir shit up, but I don’t like watching other people fling it. Not only does Vaughn watch Dad, but Tracey Chase notices as well. She looks Dad up and down, and it makes me want to scream.
“Here, miss,” Dad says, handing the student waitress with the long braid a tip. “Thank you. You’re doing an excellent job.”
If I had blinked, I would’ve missed the side-eye Dad gives Vaughn. That girl could have been the worst waitress ever, but Dad is going to prove a point that Vaughn is a small man.
Dad starts to step away as Vaughn rises from his seat. “Excuse me, sir,” he looks at the others. “I like to greet the new parents.” He calls to Dad again. “I’d like an introduction.”
Dad won’t run off, no matter how bad he wants to leave. He takes a step forward. Tracey Evans watches him the whole time. Dad’s my dad, so I don’t notice how he looks, but women notice him. He’s tall, in shape, with graying light brown hair and the air of someone who knows he’s untouchable. I don’t like how Tracey Evans is watching him, as if he is her next meal. Her calculating expression reminds me of my mother Maya, except she has platinum hair.
“Mel Vaughn.” He grabs Dad’s hand in a handshake that resembles a wrestling match.
Dad presses his lips together. “Greg Saunders.”
“What business are you in, Greg?”
“Tech and VC.”
“Profitable business to be in,” Vaughn announces to the table. “Another Silicon Valley mogul out of San Francisco or are you here in LA?”
“I just moved here from New York.”
Vaughn laughs. “I should have guessed.” He eyes the student who waited on him, and then Dad. “You have those East Coast manners. Few words but to the point. I like that.” He slaps the back of Dad’s shoulder.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Vaughn?”
Vaughn laughs louder. “Mel, call me Mel,” he laughs like he smokes a pack an hour. “East Coast. Could tell before you spoke.”
Mel hooks his arm over Dad’s shoulder. He’s not as tall as Dad and literally drags Dad down to his level. “You and I are businessmen,” he says softly, “Not like these other types.”
“Mel,” Tracey scoffs and then laughs. “You may be older but not smarter.”
Mel coughs a wheezy laugh as Dad disentangles himself. Mel catches Dad’s hand before he can move away.
“Greg, I have a project, and I can use a smart guy like you. A guy that knows tech and who’s been in the shark tank. You and I would make a killing out here. This town won’t know what hit them.”
Dad shakes his head. “I don’t make deals on the fly, and I have other, less fickle gambles to put my money toward than film projects.”
Mel looks as if Dad has pushed him away physically. His narrow eyes stare at Dad, and his face turns a sweaty red. His extrovert mask drops for a second, and his face goes blank like a serial killer, selecting his next victim. I blink, and when I look again, the plastic smile is fixed back in place. But I saw what I saw, and judging by the smallest twitch in Dad’s eye, I know he saw it too.
Mel smiles like he is the one being gracious. “Didn’t mean to take your time away from your beautiful daughter.”
I hold onto Dad’s arm, which strains in my grip. The only way Mel can identify a woman is by her breasts.
“Enjoy yo
ur day, Mel,” says Dad tensely. “Too bad I didn’t get to meet your son again.”
Mel stares at Dad for a moment, then swings around and starts talking shit with Tracey again. God, they must have crap for brains, the way they spew it out.
***
I thought Dad just wanted to leave the tent, but he meant leave for the day. It’s still early, so we stop at a farmers market on the way home and pick up food for dinner. Dad doesn’t say much as he drives home, and it makes me nervous. He wouldn’t yank me out of school, but I don’t want him worrying about the people I am coming in contact with.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask as the car turns onto our street.
“I liked the staff and the teachers that I met. I also liked many of the students. But the parents.” He shakes his head. “They were hiding knives under their phony smiles.”
Chapter Nine
Dom enters the empty auditorium in Alvarado Hall, where I’m on the stage, practicing my campaign speech. If he had been a minute earlier, he would’ve caught me flaying my arms about as I pretended to answer a controversial question on permission slips for field trips. I want to be left alone while I’m doing this. I don’t want to give anyone any more ammunition to tease me.
“If you’re not here to help …” I place my hands on my hips. “You need to leave.”
“How do you know I’m not here to help?” He continues walking down the carpeted ramp to the front row.
“Are you going to help me write my speech?” I challenge him.
Dom barely bothers to shrug. “Sure. You got a pencil?”
He laughs when my eyes bug out. But he’s serious. Dom takes out a notebook and a pen and starts writing.
Moving my arms in small circles, I shake the jitters off as I pace the stage. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
“I don’t know why you expect to be calm,” he replies. “Standing in front of the student body as you try to sell yourself as the best candidate.”
Huffing, I jump off the polished stage and slump down in a folding seat a few seats away from him. The auditorium is in the biggest building on campus, which makes perfect sense for a performing arts high school. And there are plenty of kids in our school that thrive on being on stage. It’s like oxygen to them. They can’t survive without the attention.
“It’s not me,” I say, leaning my head back on the seat until my neck cracks. “I want to be behind the scenes, not front and center.”
He smirks. “Not every day you hear a pretty girl say that, especially at Redwood. That or you’re lying.”
We make eye contact, and I don’t look away. I don’t mind being the center of Dom’s attention when he’s being decent. I know he can be nice.
But I also know he can change at the drop of a hat. And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.
“Why are you helping me when you don’t even like me, jerk-off?”
He laughs. “Who says I don’t like you?”
I sit up straight, placing the soles of my feet firmly on the floor. “Come on, Dom. You’re too old for puppy love and tugging pigtails because you don’t know how to express yourself.”
“You know.” He gives me a sly look while touching the pen to his lips. “You seem to have spent a lot of time thinking about how I feel.”
Dom moves and sits down beside me. I switch position, my fingers stroking the golden hairs on his arm.
“Why do you get off on being mean?” I whisper.
He eyes me. “Why do you get off on teasing boys?”
“You’re no boy.” I stop touching him and sit up straight, avoiding his hard stare. “Any tips on how not to vomit while staring at a roomful of people who think the worst of me?”
Smirking, he shakes his head. “You have to thicken up that soft skin if you’re going to be in this business. You’re going to be collecting rumors like some people collect stamps. Or men.”
“You’re right,” I reply, “but it bothers me when the shit is coming out of a person’s mouth that I may want to like.”
I feel his gaze on my body as I walk back onto the stage. Finally, I donated the flannel. Frankly, it was too hot, and I switched to a knit maxi dress that I can rock at Coachella. I shake my head and let my blonde hair drape over my shoulders while I step into an imaginary spotlight.
Dom touches his fingertips to his bottom lip as he watches me roll my shoulders and loosen my spine, pressing my chest forward in my thin knit dress. I open my eyes. He’s staring into my face, and not at my breasts. I’m impressed.
But that look of desire sends a current of electricity through me that makes my body hungry.
He sits back, opening his legs wide as he watches me stretch my body on the dimly lit stage. I work it slowly, rolling my hips around in circles. I stop and gaze at him, my lips apart. I’m toying with him to see if I can charm him into leaving me alone. Hollywood may be full of rumors, but I don’t need that here.
He squirms in the upholstered seat and then grins naughtily. His jeans hide a lot, but he doesn’t seem bothered that I notice what they can’t hide.
He lifts his chin as he speaks. “Imagine that you’re only delivering the speech to me. Nobody else will be there. It’s just me. What do you want me to know?”
I raise my hands up in the air above me and clasp them above my head, holding my body in a column as I think. I can’t help but wonder what we could have had if he hadn’t been an ass. If we had admitted how we felt for one another when we first met at Redwood. He has to feel the same charge between us as I do. But I just can’t tell. But now’s not the time. I drop my arms and shake my hair out, letting a strand fall over my eye.
Dom grins and sinks down farther in his seat. “That look will win you a lot of votes.”
I smile thinly and pull my hair back. “I feel relaxed now. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I speak softly. “So, your buddies have been very mean to me.”
“How have they been mean?” he asks.
I don’t mention names. “One tore down my posters, and someone’s been digging into my personal life.”
Dom sits up in the chair. “We have no personal lives in this industry,” he explains. “If you can keep your personal life a secret, then that means you’ve become irrelevant.”
I place my hands on my hips. “Does that mean he’s afraid I might win? He’s been nastier since you welcomed me into the club.”
Dom eyes me, but desire is replaced with a shrewd gaze. He avoids answering my questions.
“What do you want, Vicki?” His voice is tight. “You’re attractive. You have your dad’s money. By all means, you’ve made it. But you’re still hungry for something? What? ”
The teasing is over, and the negotiations begin. “Practicing a speech is a waste of time without a club sponsoring me. I need followers.”
“Why do you think the club should sponsor you?” he asks.
The hard look in his eyes means he’s expecting a serious answer. This might be the hardest speech I ever give.
“I’ll be a part of the team,” I reply, “and I’m contributing useful content to the festival planning. Also, any tech equipment we need, I can get. Not the stuff the school picks up from a wholesaler, but the experimental equipment that can make our film festival talked about for years to come.”
Dom scowls. “So, you are willing to spend Daddy’s money.”
“Aren’t we all?”
The haughty smile leaves his lips.
Doing drugs changed me forever and not in a good way. I almost died multiple times. And now, I don’t have the common sense to fear death. Now I thrive on risk, no matter how it frightens me. The rush is what I crave, but I have to stay clean. I don’t feel alive unless I’m staring over the cliff, my feet way too close to the edge. I might topple over, but there are layers underneath Dom that maybe I should leave untouched. He isn’t like the other two. Dom has real power, and he owns it, but it’s hidden. And he’s working ha
rd to keep me from getting underneath his skin.
Dom stands up and wipes his palms down his jeans while watching me. He walks up to the foot of the stage, and I look down on him as if I’m the one in charge. I have to make a choice. My heart knows this is a dumb move and that it will be trashed by the end of the year. But my body wants to play and tease him. It wants release. Maybe I can push him until he cracks.
“What do you really want, Vicki?” he demands.
My mind is holding back my tongue. This is a sample of what I have to deal with in an industry filled with men like Dom and his creepy father. But if I can control Dom now, then I’ll be a guaranteed success later.