“Do we have to talk about work when I’ve just gotten back? Can we not just have some fun?” she said.
“Sorry,” I said. I stared into my drink, wondering why so many of our conversations had turned into arguments lately. Was that really what we’d turned into?
*
There’s nothing sexy about yellow jeans and a purple shirt. They’re even less attractive when the person wearing them is throwing up into a potted plant. He was alone, though, and clearly in pain. And my mom taught me to always be there for people who needed a friend. Even if they dressed like a 1980s reject.
“Hey, are you all right?” I asked as I approached him. That’s when I realized who it was. It wasn’t just anyone throwing up into that plant. It was Jack.
Shit.
Was it too late to walk away? Should I stay and help him? Given what he’d told me about not helping people who didn’t want it, was there even any point in me trying to help him?
He waved his hand. “Yep, I’m fine.”
I frowned. “You look…green.”
“Nah, you’re just checking out the plant instead.” He lifted his head, leaning against the poor potted plant to steady himself. Recognition flashed across his face. “Tate.” He paused, his eyes exploring me as if he hadn’t seen me in years. It hadn’t been that long, but it had felt like it. It had been six months. Six months that I’d spent dreaming of him, beating myself up over how we’d ended things.
“I’m fine. Honestly,” he insisted. Then he started retching. Seconds later, he threw up into the plant. Again.
I turned away. I hated seeing people vomit. It made me want to vomit.
“See? Totally fine,” he said, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You should really get some water. All that throwing up is bad for your teeth.”
“Water doesn’t sound so good right now.”
“It’ll help, I promise,” I said. I summoned a passing waiter and asked him to get us a couple of waters, then guided Jack to a table on the balcony. The only vacant table was surrounded by a group of smokers. We sat down, and within seconds I started coughing as the smoke stuck to my chest. I fished in my clutch for my inhaler. Taking it helped a bit, but it could only help so much when I was still surrounded by smokers.
Jack stood up. “Hey, she’s asthmatic. Can you move along, please?”
The smokers glanced at me and glowered, but moved on. What could they do—be responsible for my trip to hospital, or move a few feet away?
He sat back down.
“We could’ve just gone inside,” I said.
“Do you want to? I might look like kind of an idiot if we do that after moving them on, but it wouldn’t be the first time.” He shrugged.
“It’s nice out,” I said. It was a warm night. The city lights cast a magical glow across the skyscrapers that littered New York’s horizon. I leaned back in my seat and sighed.
“Enjoying the view?” said Jack.
I turned to face him and cocked an eyebrow. He knew I liked cityscapes. But was that really what he was referring to?
Leaning back in his chair, he placed one foot over his knee. “Or just thinking about how much you missed me?”
Ah, there it was. I mean, I had missed him, but nothing good would come from me admitting that.
He leaned forward. “Relax. No judgment here. I know you missed me. What can I say? Everyone’s lives are more interesting with me around.”
The waiter arrived with our waters. He placed them on our table, then walked off.
“I don’t mind that,” I said quietly.
“Don’t you?” he cocked his head. I didn’t. I liked how unpredictable Jack was. Astin was so tame and boring in comparison. Sure, he looked nice and he was good to talk to, but he was so predictable. I needed more. I needed Jack.
He picked up the glass and studied the ice inside it. “I love the way light refracts in ice cubes.”
“I love it when people change the subject halfway through a conversation,” I grumbled.
“It’s so pretty.” He sipped the water.
How rude. I sighed.
“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come over and interrupt my vomiting.”
“I didn’t know it was you,” I admitted.
“Would you have helped if you had known?”
“Of course!”
He snorted. “If you say so.”
“There you are! I was getting worried!” Damn. She’d found me. Trinity appeared beside me, her orange bodycon dress so bright it practically glowed in the dark. She did like to push the boundaries of fashion, but I guess if you couldn’t do it when you were young, when could you? Her eyes gravitated to Jack. “Oh. Now I get it.” She started to back away.
“Give me a minute,” I said to Jack.
I guided Trinity out of earshot. “I ran into him throwing up into a potted plant.”
Trinity laughed. “Typical Jack. A bunch of us are heading to The Viper Room. I was going to ask if you wanted to come, but I’m guessing you want to stay here.”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
She hugged me. “If he tries anything—”
“He knows me better than most people. He knows what boundaries he can push.”
“If you’re sure.” She kissed my cheek. I flinched. If she noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it, as she ran back to the group she’d acquired without saying anything else.
“How many times did she threaten to cut my balls off if I upset you again?” Jack asked as I returned to the table.
“Just the once.”
“I’m almost disappointed. Perhaps it’s something to do with the lingering tension between the two of you.”
My back stiffened. “What tension?”
Jack snorted. “Come off it.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“To me it is. So what’s the story there?”
“A story for another time,” I said. I wasn’t ready to tell him about how I couldn’t let go of my argument with Trinity. Or what had caused it.
“Do you think we have time?” he asked.
“You tell me,” I said. He was the one that had dumped me…
*
“I hear you were at one of my gigs recently,” said Jack. We’d relocated to a table indoors as it was getting cold. Jack had somehow managed to find us a table by the window while I got us some drinks. The darker it got, the prettier the city lights became.
My cheeks burned. “Yeah. Trinity wanted to see Tainted Crows.”
“You weren’t there to see me? I’m hurt,” he said, sarcasm flickering in his eyes.
“There were better acts on.”
He feigned hurt. “I’d be hurt if I didn’t know you were lying. There’s no such thing.”
“If that’s what you need to tell yourself. How did you find out, anyway? Were you googling me?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“No, I was googling myself and your name came up,” he said.
“See, that doesn’t even surprise me,” I said.
He laughed. “How often do you think I look up my own name?”
“Daily.”
“Almost. I don’t have the time to do it every day. Larry has got me gigging all over the place.”
“That’s awesome!”
“Yeah,” he said, stretching his legs. “He seems to think it’ll keep me out of trouble. It’s tiring, you know?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. I’d had jam-packed schedules for most of my life. The last few months had been some of the quietest I could remember.
“So what have you been up to?” asked Jack.
“I, uh, I got a dog,” I said.
“You did? What kind?”
“She’s a cross between a Maltese and a Yorkshire Terrier. My dad got her for me.”
“Don’t you worry about her when you’re out?”
“I just drop her off at my mom’s on my way out. She loves spending time there as my mom spoils her,” I said.
“
That’s cute,” he said.
“What about you?”
“Nothing interesting on my end,” he said. “What else have you been up to?”
It was like he knew I had big news or something. But how could he? No one knew about my adoption outside of close friends and family.
“What? Don’t want to talk about your TV show being canceled?”
So that’s what he was referring to. A part of me felt relieved, but a part of me was also desperate to talk about my birth mom. Later.
“Least you’re free of that cheesefest now,” he said.
I glared at him.
“Oh come on, this is me. I know you wanted out.”
“I just wanted to leave on my terms, not theirs.”
“But you might as well take advantage. You wanted to do more grown-up roles, right? Isn’t now the perfect time to do that?”
Ugh. I hated it when he was right. And he knew it.
“You should have producers lining up to talk to you.”
I stirred my drink with the straw.
“What? What is it?”
“I…haven’t worked much lately.”
“Why not?” he said. “You’re always working.”
“I just haven’t had the mental strength to be around people.” I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes.
“Why not?” he asked.
There was my opening…
“It’s not really party material,” I said, stirring my drink with the cocktail umbrella it had come with.
He reached over and touched my hand. My gaze fell to his lips. They had a pensive smirk on them that made me melt. It reminded me of all the bad things we’d done together that had been really, really good. All the feelings I’d had for him came rushing back.
“Tate,” he said, his voice filled with concern.
I looked up and met his eyes. They were filled with worry. He knew how much I loved my work. He’d therefore also know that it would take something big to stop me from working. If I didn’t tell him, he’d blame himself.
“So it turns out I’m adopted. And my birth mom is a bitch.”
He let out a low whistle. “That sucks.”
Why had I even told him that? That really wasn’t small talk, was it?
“What did she do?” he asked.
I lowered my head. “Let’s just say that if I never see her again, it’ll be too soon.”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezed my hand. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve had a rough few months.”
“Who said I was being hard on myself?”
Jack snorted. “If anyone knows what that looks like, you’re staring right at him.”
I jerked my hand away and straightened up. “I don’t want your pity.”
“It isn’t pity. If anyone understands not wanting to be around people, don’t you think it’s the reclusive DJ that ended up dating one of the world’s biggest stars and couldn’t escape the paparazzi?”
I met his eyes. In them, I didn’t see pity at all. I saw understanding.
27
Jack
I’ve said some things that I regret
But I can’t take them back
So I just hope that you’ll let
Me prove that I’ve changed.
— “Changed,” Jack Cuoco
While I’d always wanted to see Tate again, I’d never expected it to happen. It was one of those serendipitous turns of fate that you assume only happens in the movies.
I was nervous about spending time with her, but we fell into easy conversations like we’d had before we’d stopped speaking. We didn’t address our breakup when we spoke, either. A nagging part of me knew that we should, but I couldn’t bring myself to mention it. What I’d said to her was one of my biggest regrets, and I worried that if I mentioned it to her again, all of the negative emotions I’d triggered in her would come back.
While I was excited to get texts from her, every time I saw I had a message from her I worried it would be her having changed her mind and wanting me out of her life again.
“You need to stop being paranoid,” said Angela. I’d spent the last five minutes in their kitchen, staring at my phone while I waited for her to reply. “Just apologize to her already!”
“How?”
“Open your mouth and say, ‘I’m sorry,’” said Len.
Telling them what I was paranoid about had been a bad idea.
“She’s given you an olive branch by talking to you again. The longer you wait to address it, the more likely it is to cause issues later,” said Angela.
“You’re far better dealing with things early than letting them fester. Not everything ages like a wine,” said Len.
I sighed. Why did they always have to be right?
“What I said was the worst possible thing I could’ve said to her. Sorry doesn’t feel like it’ll cut it.”
Angela tapped her long nails on the dining table. The dog looked up from his spot on the cool wooden floor, glared at her, then laid his head down again. “It’s not about what you think. It’s about how she feels.”
*
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said to Tate. She’d come over to the studio since it was somewhere we could meet in private.
“Of course,” she said, sitting in a swivel chair opposite me. “So what’s up? Got a new song idea?”
I laughed nervously. I did have a new song idea, but that wasn’t why I wanted to talk to her. “Yeah. I mean, no. That’s not why we’re here.”
“Are you all right? You seem nervous.”
I stared into my lap, rubbing my hands together. I knew I should’ve had a drink before leaving the house, but I’d wanted to talk to her sober. Some idea that’d been. Deep breath. “I’m sorry.” Exhale. “For what I said at the house party when we broke up. You’re none of the things I said. What I said was out of order. You’re not that person and I’m better than that.”
Tate stared at the floor. Her expression was unreadable, which made me even more nervous. Did she hate me? Did she just need a minute to process things? Had I said the wrong thing? Should I have phrased things differently?
Even though I was terrified of all of those things, I did feel better having apologized to her. It felt like some of the tension that I’d been holding on to for months had gone.
She raised her head. “Thank you.”
That was it?
“What you said hurt a lot, and that’s why I looked for comfort somewhere else. It was the only way I could think of to get back at you.” She scoffed. “Like that worked.”
“Maybe from now on, instead of looking for revenge, we look for ways to recompense?”
A small smile crept across her lips. “Yes, I like that idea.”
28
Tate
Sometimes you make decisions
That challenge your inhibitions
It’s then when you find out
The strength of your doubt.
— “Doubt,” Tate Gardener
“So we have this amazing song we’d like you to record next,” said Peter. We sat in his office at the record label. He was head of the label and we had a meeting most weeks. For once, it was just the two of us. Everyone else was busy or on vacation.
I leaned forward, filled with anticipation. We needed just three more songs to finish the album with. Had he found a perfect song to go on it?
“Shoot,” I said. Songwriting was never my strong point. I tried, but Jack and Trinity were the real talents. I just knew how to market myself to the right people. That was my skill.
The first few notes began to play. There was something weirdly familiar about them. When the vocals kicked in, that’s when I realized what it was: Trinity’s song “Eclipse.” She’d played it to me to cheer me up. It was so personal to her. Not to mention her vocals sounded amazing. There was no way I could take that song from her.
“No,” I said. “I’m not recording Trinity’s song.”
&
nbsp; Peter frowned. “I should’ve known you’d recognize it as hers.” He paused the recording.
“It’s Trinity’s song. She should sing it,” I insisted.
“Trinity’s vocals don’t match the song that she’s written. With vocals like that, it doesn’t reflect her target market. With your vocals, it would be perfect.”
I shifted in my seat. This wasn’t right.
“It would be the perfect chance for Trinity to branch out,” I said.
“Trinity isn’t ready to branch out,” he said. My horror must’ve been evident on my face, because he continued: “She’s talented. I don’t deny that. But if she’s not careful, she’ll get too big for her boots. And we don’t want that, do we?”
Why was he making Trinity out to be some sort of diva? She was my best friend! I couldn’t betray her like that. I wouldn’t. It didn’t matter how much her words about my birth parents had stung. I still wouldn’t do something like that to her. I stood up. “No. There’s no way Trinity would let anyone sing that song. It’s too important to her.”
“Trinity signed a contract. Everything she writes is owned by the label.”
“What?”
“That’s the downside to being emancipated—there are no adults to protect you.”
“Don’t put this on her! You tricked her!”
“No. We did business with her. It isn’t our fault if she doesn’t know any better.”
“You’re disgusting.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Let me make one thing very clear, Tate. You don’t pull the strings around here. Your opinions are a courtesy. They are not required. We pay you to do what you’re told. That is all.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, putting my hands on my hips.
He leaned forward, placing his hands into his lap. “It means recording that song isn’t a request. You will do as your contract states, or you will leave. And we both know that you’ve had it very cushy in this industry so far.” He turned his gaze back to his to his laptop.
Hollywood Parents Page 17