“Charles who?” I asked.
She gave me a funny look, and then she sighed. “Oh, of course. Sorry. I suppose this isn’t exactly on his Wikipedia page, is it? And it’s not something he discussed much in interviews,” she said. “But Charles was my father’s father. Supposedly, anyway.”
“I thought Walter was adopted.”
She nodded. “He was, but it’s complicated. His mother was…well, you’ve heard what she was like. But the father wasn’t aware of her pregnancy, and then she left Walter to be adopted out when he was born. He never knew exactly who his father was, but this man—Charles—came and found him when he was twenty-two and told him he was quite sure he was his biological father. They had a relationship up until Charles died when Dad was around twenty-six.”
“Wow. I had no idea,” I said, eyebrows puckering.
“I guess not many people do. I think that part of his life was what inspired him to do so much with it, although a lot of people seem to think that motivation came primarily from his childhood illness.”
“Can you elaborate?” I asked. Everyone knew Walter Simmons had suffered from lung problems as a child, but I’d never heard anything about his biological family.
“Sure. His illness and later recovery certainly motivated him, of course, but for so long he never knew who his real father was, and I think because of that, he felt a need to be great, be an overachiever, to sort of show the man what he was missing if he was still out there somewhere. And then when he met Charles, that need was still so ingrained in him that he kept going. Also, he was never entirely sure if Charles was really his father, so I suppose that kept his drive going too.”
“Was he?” I asked. “Was Charles his father, that is?”
Brianna shrugged. “This was all before the times of DNA testing and whatnot. He never knew for sure. But Charles never asked for anything other than to see Walter every so often, and they did share the same facial features. We think he was almost certainly his father. I suppose the only way to truly know would be to dig them both up and test them, but we wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course not. Must’ve been hard for Walter, though, never really knowing for sure.”
She nodded. “I’m sure it was, but he never really spoke about it,” she said.
“I can’t believe I’ve never heard this before,” Nora said. “I must’ve seen at least four different documentaries about Walter, and the only mention of his childhood was about him growing up here with his adoptive family, and his early sicknesses.”
“Honestly, no one ever really asks us anything about his childhood, except about the sickness,” Brianna said. “The movie writers for Fourth Down certainly didn’t ask us much about him. I think they spent most of their time interviewing his old teammates and friends who are still alive.”
I turned to Nora, who looked about as surprised as I did. Just as it was in the documentaries Nora mentioned, the only mention of Walter’s family in the movie script was his adoptive family and his childhood health issues that they’d tirelessly helped him fight, and there was nothing about this Charles man at all. Fourth Down was mostly set in Walter’s later life, not his adolescence, so his upbringing wasn’t all that important in the grand scheme of the storyline, but still, it seemed a huge oversight on the studio’s behalf that they hadn’t discovered or mentioned something like this.
It explained why I’d always felt like there was some sort of strange missing link in his story, though, and now I knew the truth behind his motivation to achieve great things in his life—the whole ‘childhood illness’ thing had always seemed so clichéd and hackneyed. Knowing the real story behind what drove Walter would aid me greatly when I played him; it would help me tap into more emotional aspects of the character that hit quite close to home for me. I’d grown up without my real father too.
I knew exactly what it was like; that relentless drive to prove myself, to prove that someone would want me, even if my father never did. To prove I was good enough, to prove I was worth something, chase away that dark sense of emptiness that always lurked in the back of my mind.
After another few minutes, Nora looked at her watch and gasped. “It’s nearly five! We’ve imposed on you for far too long, Brianna. We’ll get out of your hair now.”
“It’s been a pleasure having you here,” Brianna said, smiling as we stood up. “I can’t wait to see how the movie turns out.”
After we’d said our goodbyes and thank yous, we got back in the car and headed slightly farther west to Nora’s parents’ house.
“I can’t believe how late it is,” Nora said, anxiously twisting her hair in her hands. “Although this is probably good. It means we won’t have to stay and keep up our act for too long.”
I grinned. “You don’t think it’s wrong to lie to them about having a boyfriend when you don’t?”
“Of course I do! I just…she just put me on the spot, and the lie came out before I could stop it.”
“Well, I suppose it’s only a small lie in the grand scheme of things,” I said. “And I suppose they’ll be happy to see their daughter dating such a great guy.”
She snorted. “Great, huh? You’re so arrogant.”
“I’ve got the goods to back it up.”
“And the serial killer literature, apparently.”
“You’re never going to get over that, are you?” I said.
We both laughed, and then Nora’s face took on a more serious expression. “I can’t believe what Walter’s family told us back there.”
“Yeah, neither can I. I had no idea.”
“I can’t even imagine what it would be like not knowing who my father was,” she said. “I guess I’m really lucky. Grew up in a totally normal family with both parents. Boring and average, but at least I knew where I came from.”
“Yeah, you are lucky,” I said with a tight smile.
She must’ve sensed that she’d hit a nerve, because she frowned and sat up straighter. “Did I say something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No, no, nothing wrong. I just wish I’d grown up ‘boring and average’ like you described.”
“You didn’t?” she asked softly.
“Not really. Similar boat to Walter, only my father never came to find me like his apparently did.
“Shit. I’m so sorry. That must’ve been difficult.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. Grew up in a trailer park in Riverside with my mom. My father left her when she was pregnant and she didn’t really have much money. Couldn’t work while she was pregnant, you see—too sick. Then once I was born, she had to take care of me, and not many places want to hire a young single mother.”
“That’s awful. Your poor mom,” she said. Then her eyebrows puckered. “For some reason I thought you grew up in Beverly Hills.”
I nodded again. “That’s what my Wiki page says. My agent said it would be a good idea to invent a fake backstory. Apparently people love underdog stories in movies, but not so much in real life. They want their celebrities to be larger than life, all glitz and glamor. Growing up in a trailer park doesn’t really scream ‘glamorous’ at all.”
I’d never told anyone this stuff before, but Nora was just so easy to talk to. Besides, I knew she wasn’t the type to go to the media and put me on blast, letting everyone know my real history. She wasn’t like that; wasn’t the type to exploit someone else’s story for personal gain, so I knew it was safe to tell her almost anything.
On top of all that, I wanted her to know me. I wanted her to know all the gritty details of my life up until now, because maybe—just maybe—she’d accept me and actually have some sort of romantic interest in me again once she’d come to know what I was about.
Some things were better left unsaid for now, though. She didn’t need to know everything just yet. After all, I didn’t want to scare her off. It’d been hard enough simply convincing her to be friends with me.
“That’s so unfair,” Nora said. “You shouldn’t have to lie or feel ash
amed about where you came from. So what if you didn’t grow up in a mansion on the right side of town? You turned out pretty great either way.”
“Oh, so you finally admit it. I am great,” I said with a teasing smirk.
She stuck her tongue out. “Just when I think you’re acting like a human, you turn on the old Archer anti-charm again.”
I laughed. “Yeah, maybe it’s a defense mechanism. Stops people from asking me too many questions.”
“Sorry if I was asking too much.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean you,” I replied. “You can ask me anything.”
“Really?”
“Sure. Ask me something else.”
“Okay. Where’s your mom nowadays? I’m sure she must be proud of you.”
“She died a few years back,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road ahead. “Skin cancer.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I gave her the best I could while she was still alive, so there’s that,” I said. “She gave up her life to take care of me when I was young, and I know I’m lucky because of that—some people never have parents who care at all—so as soon as I started making my own money, I did what I could for her.”
“That’s really nice,” Nora said softly. “She was lucky to have you too.”
“She never expected anything. Even when I scored the spot on Code Grey, which came with a million dollar bonus per year—just the bonus!—she still didn’t want to move into my big house. Just wanted something small and cozy where she could live with her two cats. She loved those animals. Gotta admit, I’ve always had a soft spot for them too, because of her. If I didn’t work so much, I’d totally adopt five.”
“Ah, so there’s the fundamental difference between us,” Nora said. “I’m a dog person. You’re a cat person.”
I grinned at her. “No, I like dogs too. All animals, actually. I donate a certain amount per year to animal charities in Mom’s name, in memory of her.”
“That’s really sweet,” Nora said, smiling back at me. “But so much for Hollywood’s resident bad boy. More like ‘animal lover extraordinaire’. Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it?”
“No, hence all the PR where they make me look like a total prick. Although I suppose I do a pretty good job of that on my own sometimes.”
Nora laughed. “Tell me about it. Although here’s an idea: you like cats, so you could be ‘pussy lover extraordinaire’ instead. That sounds more bad boy-ish, and people don’t have to know it’s about cats and not the other…ahem…the other kind of ‘pussy’.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. Good idea. Anyway, what about you? I want to hear more about this incredibly boring childhood of yours,” I said.
She smiled. “Well, my parents got married when they were twenty-five. Had me six months later.”
“Shotgun wedding, huh?”
“Yep. Then they had my brother three years after that. Brian. He lives over in London now.”
“Cool. So did you grow up here in Santa Barbara?”
“Yep. Always lived in the same house. Went to college here and everything.”
“And who got you interested in all the sports stuff?”
She gave me an embarrassed grin. “Dad. I was a real Daddy’s girl. He loves sports, especially football, and he wanted to pass that love on to my brother. But Brian never cared. I did instead. So I became his little sports guru, and he taught me everything I know. We still try to catch games together when we can.”
“That’s cute,” I said. “You’re lucky to have a dad like that.”
“Yeah, I am,” she said. As I changed gears, I noticed she had goosebumps on her arm as it edged closer to mine after a small bump in the road knocked her slightly sideways.
“Cold?” I asked.
She looked down at her arm, and I didn’t miss the telltale blush creeping over her cheeks. “Oh. Yeah. We hardly ever have weather like this,” she said hurriedly.
“True.”
“Oops, we missed my parents’ street,” she said, whirling her head around. “Can you do a U-turn?”
I pulled the car around and then took a right into Cresta Avenue, my pulse suddenly racing as I realized what was about to happen. Any minute now, I was going to meet Nora’s parents, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I was nervous. I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t real—it was just a fake relationship for Nora’s benefit—but try as I might, I couldn’t.
This was real.
All too real.
Chapter Thirteen
Nora
My heart raced with a mixture of excited anticipation and trepidation as Jacob pulled the car to a stop in my parents’ driveway. I felt bad for lying, but like I’d explained to Jacob a moment ago, the lie had simply fallen out of my mouth before I could stop myself, and it had snowballed from there. Mom was always harassing me about my love life, and it was like something inside me had just snapped earlier. If I’d admitted to her that I was once again totally single, she would’ve given me that sad motherly sigh which blatantly communicated all her longings for weddings and grandchildren which weren’t even on the horizon. Every woman knew that sigh, and I was damn well sick of it.
Maybe seeing me with Jacob would shock that sighing ability right out of Mom.
“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad!” I said, waving and dashing over as the two of them headed out the front door, obviously having heard the car pull up.
“Hello, darling!” Dad said, wrapping me in a bear hug before letting Mom hug me too.
“You look tired,” Mom said, fretting over me. “Why are you here so late? We were expecting you in the early afternoon.”
“I’m sorry, we got caught up with work stuff,” I said, gesturing to Jacob, who was walking up to us now, sunglasses still on.
He removed them, and my mother immediately gasped. “Dr. Easton West!”
“No, Mom, his name is Jacob,” I said. “Jacob Archer. We met on the set of the sports movie I’m working on at the moment.”
“But you can keep calling me Dr. if you like,” Jacob said with a grin. “Makes me feel smart.”
He extended a hand to my father, who firmly shook it. “Jacob, nice to meet you. I’m Roy, and this is my wife Anne,” he said. “I’m sure Nora’s told you all about us.”
“She has,” Jacob replied. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I hear you’re a big football fan.”
Dad nodded. “I am. You?”
“More of a baseball guy, actually. Nora has to stand there on the set and yell at me until I throw the football properly when we film scenes. I’ve got the coordination of a baboon, apparently.”
“I don’t yell,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “I simply advise.”
Dad leaned forward and gave Jacob a conspiratorial glance. “She got that from her mother—Anne ‘advises’ me quite frequently too.”
Mom laughed and elbowed Dad. “Hush, you! Anyway, Jacob, please come in.”
“Wait, wait,” Dad said, holding his hands up. “He says he’s not much of a football fan. So I’m going to have to take him out the back and—”
“Shoot me?” Jacob said.
“That too, but I was going to say I could teach you some throws. My daughter might have less work to do on your set, then.”
Dad winked at me, and I could tell what he was doing. He was trying to give me and Mom some time alone to gossip about how I’d met Jacob and ensnared him, and he also wanted some time alone with Jacob to gauge what sort of man was and see if he was good enough for his daughter. A pang of guilt bit at my guts, but I pushed it aside and nodded.
“We’ll go get some drinks and snacks,” I said, linking arms with Mom, who was still sneaking disbelieving glances at Jacob.
When we got inside, she busied herself by setting some cookies out on a big plate, and then she gave me one of those faux-nonchalant looks that mothers are so good at.
“So you’re dating a movie star, are you?”
I gul
ped. “Yes.”
“Why haven’t you mentioned this before now? You told me your boyfriend was an accountant.”
“No, I said actor,” I lied. “Accountant and actor both start with ‘ac’ so maybe you misheard.”
She gave me a suspicious look. “Mm. I’m sure I did. Why haven’t I seen or read anything about this in my magazines? Last I heard of Jacob Archer, he was involved in some sort of tryst with a bikini model and the host—”
I cut her off. “Mom, those are just rumors. He doesn’t do half the stuff the media says he does.”
“So he does do some of the stuff?”
“Mom…”
“Sorry, sorry,” she said, waving her hand at me. “I just worry.”
“I’m fine, Mom. We’re trying to keep things quiet because it’s still pretty new. That’s why no one knows yet. So please don’t go calling any of your favorite magazines and informing them of my love life.”
“I won’t. But do you really…”
She trailed off and nervously tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear, and I raised my eyebrows. “Do I really what?”
She sighed. “Never mind. I’m already your second favorite parent. We should wait to see what your father says.”
“Mom!” I said, slinging my arm around her. “You aren’t my second favorite! You’re my favorite mother and Dad is my favorite father. That’s how it is and you know it.”
She smiled. “Good.”
“Now tell me what you were going to say.”
“I just…I just wonder if dating a guy like Jacob Archer is the right decision for you. I know you said the media likes to make up stuff, but he still does some of the things they report on, and I’ve seen pictures of this man drunkenly spilling out of nightclubs and posing with women dressed like…well, you know what I mean. Wouldn’t you rather be with someone stable?”
I smiled. “You don’t approve of your daughter dating your favorite TV doctor?”
“It’s not that I don’t approve,” she insisted. “He seemed perfectly nice when you introduced him to us. I just worry because…I’ve never told you this, but I dated a man like him once, before I met your father.”
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