Hollywood Parents

by Kristina Adams

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1 - Tate

  2 - Jack

  3 - Tate

  4 - Tate

  5 - Jack

  6 - Tate

  7 - Tate

  8 - Jack

  9 - Jack

  10 - Tate

  11 - Jack

  12 - Jack

  13 - Tate

  14 - Tate

  15 - Tate

  16 - Jack

  17 - Tate

  18 - Tate

  19 - Tate

  20 - Tate

  21 - Tate

  22 - Tate

  23 - Jack

  24 - Jack

  25 - Jack

  26 - Tate

  27 - Jack

  28 - Tate

  29 - Jack

  30 - Tate

  31 - Jack

  32 - Jack

  33 - Tate

  34 - Jack

  35 - Tate

  36 - Tate

  37 - Tate

  38 - Tate

  39 - Jack

  40 - Tate

  41 - Tate

  42 - Tate

  43 - Tate

  44 - Tate

  45 - Jack

  Also by Kristina Adams

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Hollywood Parents

  Kristina Adams

  Copyright © 2020 Kristina Adams

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any part of it must not be reproduced or used in anyway without written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations used in a book review.

  First published in 2020.

  ISBN: 1230003890714

  Cover image by marzacz from iStock. Cover design by Kristina Adams.

  1

  Tate

  Your touch leaves me tingling

  And I’m left dreaming

  Of a future we can never have

  Of a true love we never had.

  — “The Worst in Me,” Tate Gardener

  “Name, please?”

  I huffed. Did we really have to do this?

  The receptionist stared at me, waiting for a response. Apparently we did.

  “Tate Gardener.”

  “And your relationship to the patient?” she probed.

  “I’m his girlfriend,” I replied. She didn’t need to know that we’d broken up a few hours earlier.

  “Third bed on the left,” she said, pressing a button so that I could go through to triage to see him.

  “Thank you,” I said, flashing her my most saccharine smile while glancing around the reception desk for sharp objects to stab her with. I so didn’t have time for her bullshit. She knew who I was. I was damn sure of it. There’d been recognition in her eyes when I’d approached the desk. People try to play it cool when they run into someone famous, but it never really works. There’s always that brief moment when their expression says OMG it’s so-and-so. For me, that expression says OMG IT’S TATE GARDENER, FORMER CHILD STAR. And yes, it’s usually capitalized. And yes, some of them still think I’m a child star. But I’m trying to work on that.

  I found Jack exactly where she’d said. He had butterfly stitches on his forehead, a black eye, and his arm was in a sling. “What happened!” I ran over to him and put my hand on his free arm.

  “You came,” he said with a weak smile.

  “Of course I came! You’re in the hospital! What happened?”

  “I fell down the stairs and took the banister with me. Everyone at the party just carried on like nothing had happened.”

  “What about Melrose?” I asked. She was his best friend. And someone I really didn’t like, but that wasn’t the point. She’d helped him out of homelessness; surely she’d help him when he fell down the stairs?

  “She left with Juniper,” said Jack.

  “Oh.”

  “They all just left me there.” He wiped at his eyes with his fist as he started to cry. “Like I didn’t even matter. They were in my house!”

  “Shh,” I said, stroking his cheek.

  He leaned into me. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

  I’d been so worried about him I’d forgotten about our argument. About how he’d called me narcissistic, career-obsessed, and a bitch. And, you know, how I’d slept with my friend Astin a couple of hours after we’d broken up. And the reasons why I’d done it.

  “We can talk about it later.” I needed to change the subject. The hospital wasn’t the place to talk about any of it. So I sat in the chair beside his bed, still holding on to his hand and playing the role of dutiful girlfriend.

  “No, I need to say it. I was wrong. I was so wrong. I admire how ambitious you are, and how you trusted me enough to tell me that. I shouldn’t keep jeopardizing your career by fucking up.”

  I held my finger underneath my eyes as I began to cry. It was the only way I knew I definitely wouldn’t mess up my eye makeup. The last thing I needed was bad pictures of me appearing in the press. They’d love a reason to make it look like I was falling apart.

  He stroked my thumb as we held hands. “You’re not a bitch. I’m a dick and I don’t deserve you.”

  So much for not messing up my eye makeup. I began to full-on ugly cry. How could I not? He was offering me a heartfelt apology, and I’d slept with someone else. Someone he’d predicted I’d sleep with, no less.

  “Hey, come on now,” he said.

  I had a policy of always being honest with people, and that applied to everyone. Unless of course it was for career advancement purposes or to protect my fans from things they didn’t need to know. Jack needed to know this, though.

  Didn’t he?

  Yes. Of course he did. What was wrong with me? Was I really going to not tell him and pretend everything was fine when I’d had someone’s dick inside of me not two hours earlier?

  Two hours earlier, when I’d wanted revenge on him for all the things he’d said and done recently, and now he was sitting in front of me with his arm in a sling and stitches on his forehead. A few hours can change everything.

  “Jack, I—”

  “What? What is it?” he asked, shifting in the bed so that he could see me a little better.

  “After I left, I was so hurt and upset and it was really stupid, but I slept with someone. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”

  He pulled his hand away from me. “You can leave now.”

  I tried to reach out to him, but he jerked his hand away.

  “I was—”

  “It doesn’t matter. I said some things I shouldn’t have. I should’ve known you’d react by sleeping with Astin.”

  Of course he’d figured out it was Astin. I couldn’t even deny it.

  “I just want you to be happy, Tate. I haven’t made you happy in a long time. I neglected you for too long.” He sighed, his chocolate-brown eyes filling with tears again.

  “We can work this out. I know we can.” I sniffed, trying not to cry.

  Jack shook his head. “You slept with someone else right after we’d broken up. How can I mean that much to you if you sleep with someone else so fast?”

  “I was—”

  “What? Trying to make me jealous?”

  I stared into my lap.

  Jack scoffed. “Wow. I didn’t think you’d go that low. You couldn’t have just waited to talk about it in the morning?”

  I wiped at my face with my hands. Tears were streaming so fast I couldn’t stop them.

  “You can leave now.”

  “Jack—”

  “I really don’t want you here. Please leave.”

  Barely able to breathe because I was crying so much, I left his hospital room and found my wa
y into the nearest bathroom. Inside the tiny stall, I spent the next ten minutes bawling.

  What had I done? He was a guy who’d fucked up, but he’d been drunk when he’d said those things. Did that really count?

  I’d done my damnedest to try to make him jealous like we were still in high school or something. I should’ve known better.

  The worst part was that he wasn’t even jealous. He wasn’t even angry. He’d just looked really, really, sad.

  But then, he’d said that he just wanted me to be happy. Was our blazing argument at his party the result of the buildup of all the weeks before? We’d been grating on each other so hard we’d barely spoken. The tension could’ve been cut with a knife. Maybe a break was just what we needed.

  It wasn’t going to be a break, though, was it?

  2

  Jack

  I tried to play the role of the perfect boyfriend

  But deep down I knew the role would end

  It didn’t fit; it wasn’t me

  Perfect is something I’ll never be.

  — “Perfect,” Jack Cuoco

  I wasn’t even surprised that Tate had slept with Astin, not really. She’d been lusting after him since they’d first met, and I knew I’d never be able to compete with a guy like him. He was smart, sexy, and simple. A charming Southern boy with no baggage. What girl in a relationship with an unstable alcoholic could resist?

  I rested my head against the lumpy hospital pillow. I’d been so scared when I’d arrived. Now, I was numb.

  Tate was the first person I’d wanted by my side when I’d been injured, and yet she’d already gone into someone else’s bed. It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it. I just wished I’d seen it coming so that I wouldn’t have said such stupid things to isolate myself from her.

  A part of me blamed Melrose. If she hadn’t made me throw that party I wouldn’t have said those things to Tate. Melrose had bailed me out when I’d been in my worst possible place, but I was starting to feel used. Whenever she wanted to throw a party, she guilted me into throwing it at my place. Whenever we went out for food, she conveniently forgot her wallet. Was she still the great friend I’d always thought she was?

  The hospital wouldn’t let me go home on my own, though. They said I didn’t have a concussion, but I needed a babysitter in case I showed signs like nausea and headaches later.

  If I called my manager, Larry, I’d get another earful.

  The only other person I could rely on was someone I didn’t like asking for help. But I knew he’d be there for me if I asked.

  He arrived half an hour later, a somber expression on his face. “How are you feeling?”

  “Been better,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Of course.” Len sat in the chair Tate had been in less than an hour before. “Are you allowed home yet?”

  “They need to put a cast on my arm, but after that I can go. Oh, and I need to fill out insurance papers.” I looked down at my arm. It was my right one I’d broken. The one I used the most. Great. “Might need some help with that. How’s your handwriting?”

  He chuckled. “Better than yours right now.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  The two of us laughed. It felt good. Mentally, anyway. Physically, it kinda hurt. Even though it was something small and simple, it was nice to be around someone who didn’t judge and who was there for me unwaveringly.

  The nurse walked in and gave me some painkillers, then led me away to get my arm bandaged while Len filled out my paperwork. Any questions he couldn’t answer on my behalf, he did with my help when I got back. After that, we were allowed to leave, so I climbed into Len’s Volvo and he took me back to my place. “If you pick up some of your things, you can stay with Angela and me for a few days.”

  “No, I don’t want to get in the way,” I said.

  “Nonsense. Angela will love having someone to look after again. She used to be a nurse. She’s the perfect person to be around when you can’t use your arm.”

  “Are you sure she won’t mind?”

  He smiled. “I already asked her.”

  Well, then. Decision made.

  My place was a mess after the party. I’d have to hire someone to clean it up this time. There was no way I was going to clean it up with one arm—it would take forever.

  Len helped me put some stuff into an overnight bag, then I locked up the chaos that was my house and we drove over to his place.

  It was a small two-story townhouse on the other side of New York. We climbed up the steps and I found myself greeted by a chocolate Labrador as I walked in. I bent down to pet it, desperately wanting to pick it up but unable to.

  “Max, don’t jump up!” said Len.

  The dog did as it was told and disappeared into another room.

  A thin woman wearing a leopard print robe and with her hair tied up in a matching scarf walked out. She smiled at me. “You must be Jack.”

  “I’m so sorry for—”

  She held up her hand. “There’s no need to apologize. Please, just focus on taking care of yourself. How’s your arm?”

  “Painful,” I said.

  She nodded knowingly. “Did they give you any painkillers at the hospital?”

  “Got a prescription in my bag. I can’t take any more until the morning, though.”

  She nodded. “How about some hot cocoa before bed instead?”

  “That sounds amazing,” I said.

  We went into the kitchen and Angela pulled out a seat for me. I sat down, filled with guilt that this woman had gotten out of bed to look after someone like me. Why was she bothering? I didn’t deserve her help or kindness.

  I rested my head on my good arm.

  Len put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. You’ll be feeling better in no time.”

  I really hoped he was right.

  3

  Tate

  We started out as friends

  And it’s friendship that’ll never end

  But this romance is dangerous

  Because you bring out the worst in me.

  — “The Worst in Me,” Tate Gardener

  Did Tate Gardener Cheat on Jack Cuoco?

  Check out that photo. Does that look like Tate Gardener kissing someone who isn’t her boyfriend, Jack Cuoco?

  It looks a lot like her Calvin Klein colleague Astin Mack to us. The photo was taken by a security camera just a few days ago and sent to us by an exclusive source.

  Rumor also has it that she and Jack may not be an item anymore. To those of you that have been following their relationship, this probably won’t come as a surprise. They’ve been showing up to events separately and, when asked about each other’s presence, have been evasive, sometimes even contradictory.

  Photos taken of the two of them together have shown them to be less than affectionate. Could the photo be a sign that it really is over for Tate and Jack?

  No one was available for comment from either camp. Make of that what you will.

  “They were bound to find out eventually,” said Trinity.

  “I know,” I sighed, staring into my mojito. I’d just hoped that I’d have had a few more days to process things before having to deal with press comments. But someone had screenshotted a security camera video of Astin and me kissing and sent it to the press. Why had I been stupid enough to kiss him in public? I was supposed to know better! Ugh. And now they wanted their pound of flesh. “Did they really have to include that photo of me kissing Astin? I look terrible!”

  “Yeah, you kind of do,” agreed Trinity.

  I kicked her under the table. Our security guards wouldn’t notice that. Because of my surge in popularity, we were in a the back corner of a dive bar. We were less likely to be recognized there and therefore more likely to be able to drink in peace. And our security guards would get our drinks for us since we were still underage. Just.

  “Sorry,” she said. “But, I mean, there are worse people to be connected to.”

  �
�Are there? When he won’t even return my calls?”

  “You did use him to get back at Jack.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” I said with an eye roll. Astin didn’t know that part yet.

  She shrugged.

  I felt bad about what I’d done, OK? In hindsight, it’d been dumb. What bothered me the most was Jack’s reaction. I mean, he’d seemed so chill about the fact that I’d slept with someone else hours after our breakup. But then, knowing him, he’d probably had an orgy right after I’d left. Why had I even bothered to try to make him jealous?

  “It could be worse,” said Trinity.

  “How could it?”

  “Well, they might know that you used Astin to get back at Jack,” said Trinity.

  “How is that supposed to make me feel better?” I screeched. Why was she being so unhelpful? “They already think I cheated on Jack!”

  “Then put something out and say that you were single when it happened,” said Trinity.

  I scoffed. “Like they’d believe me.”

  “True,” she said.

  “I should speak to Astin, make sure he’s OK.”

  “You kicked him out of your apartment right after riding him to go see your ex, and you still haven’t spoken to him? You’re on the verge of it being too late.” Trinity shook her head. Judgmental much?

  “It’s not my fault he won’t answer his phone,” I said.

  “How many times have you tried calling or texting him?”

  “Um…”

  “One of each, then?”

  I lowered my head. Maybe.

  “It’s been a week, Tate. You should at least talk to the guy. You owe him that,” she said.

  “Shit,” I said, downing the rest of my drink.

  Trinity sat beside me, looking smug. Yes, yes. She was right. That didn’t mean I had to like it.

  Astin had gone to make us coffee using my machine—still naked—when my phone had rung. It was Jack, saying he was in the hospital. Astin had walked back in as I’d hung up. He’d seen the look on my face and asked what was wrong. I’d told him and he’d been fine about it. I think. I mean, how fine could a guy you’d just had sex with be about you going to see your ex in the hospital? Especially when it’d only been a couple of hours since you’d broken up?