Was I all right? Maybe Faith was functionally illiterate. “I didn’t know they were listening,” I blurted out, bursting into a fresh round of tears. “I was having lunch with my best friend and I think they were listening in at one of the nearby tables. I’m so sorry, I understand if you want to fire me. I can be out of your guesthouse in an hour.”
My weepy, terror-filled apology was met with a cutesy little laugh. “Oh, sweet pea, don’t you even worry about it,” Faith said. “It happens to all of us sooner or later. I once made the mistake of filling a prescription for the dogs over the phone, and twelve hours later, X17 was reporting that Deacon had cheated and given me herpes.”
I was so dumfounded by her reaction that I couldn’t think of anything to say but “What?”
“You didn’t say anything terrible.” Faith laughed. “You didn’t say that we worship Satan or that Daisy votes Democrat. It’s fine—really.”
“Um . . . okay. But I am sorry. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“I’m sure you will, Holly. Now, I’ve got to get back to work with Dr. Chace. I’ll see you down here later?”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Yes, Faith. See you soon.”
I hung up the phone and slumped onto the nearest kitchen barstool. It was only then that I turned my head and noticed that my laptop was soaked and the screen black. Stunned, I tapped a few keys and then tried to boot it up, but to no avail. My computer was dead and I was the one who’d killed it. All because of those evil spies at TMZ. Luckily, as a result of owning a refurbished, five-year-old laptop that often died for no reason, I e-mailed myself my work as soon as I finished it, but now I was without a way to finish the book. And no money to buy a new laptop. I wondered how my financial situation could possibly get any worse.
• • •
Daisy had a clear schedule on Wednesday mornings, so I worked with her until lunch and then came clean with Faith about what had happened with the computer. As always, Mama Bear Dixson was cool as a cucumber, mildly assuring me that we’d “figure something out.” While I was shaken and weepy over the morning’s events, I felt better just knowing I had such a big supporter on my side. Faith bought my meal and told me stories about growing up in the South.
“I didn’t know you were a preacher’s daughter,” I told her. It made sense. While it was true their actions could be decidedly unwholesome, who among us doesn’t make a bad decision once in a while?
“Oh, yes,” Faith said, laughing. “My papa was as fire-and-brimstone as they come. You so much as touch a drop of liquor and you’ve earned yourself a front-row seat to Satan’s ten o’clock show.”
“Was? When did he pass?”
Faith’s expression turned cloudy and she took a long sip of her Diet Coke. Looking down at the table, she said, “Well, he hasn’t exactly passed on. At least, I don’t think he has.” There was another deliberate pause before she added, “We haven’t spoken in a little while.”
Judging from the look on her face, I guessed that the “while” wasn’t so little. I almost asked for a specific number, but then I thought better of it. “So he doesn’t approve of your Hollywood lifestyle?”
“That’s a big part of it, yes. But Papa Hanson is also really opposed to making more money than you need to feed the ten children the Lord intends you to have.” There was no mistaking the bitter edge that came with the words ten children. Faith shook her head, getting the same snarl I usually get whenever my mother calls. “After Daisy was signed to her first TV show at ten years old, my father tried to cure her of the ‘demons’ that must surely have taken over his grandchild. That was the last time I spoke to him.”
“My mother’s worried I’m going too Hollywood,” I told her. “Ever since the press release saying I’m pregnant, she seems to think I’m too impressionable and stupid to take care of myself with all of the Tinseltown sharks swimming around me.”
I expected a cooing apology for starting that rumor or at least commiseration for our overly zealous parents, but Faith just threw me an irritated look. “So?” she said.
“I’m sorry?” I asked, startled.
“Well, we weren’t talking about you, Holly. Yeesh.” I’m pretty sure my mouth fell open, but I didn’t say a word. I was still staring at her when she started speaking again like the interruption never happened. “Of course, I always wanted to be an actress when I was little, but Papa Hanson wouldn’t hear of it.”
I am not important—message received.
• • •
I thought maybe Faith actually was mad at me and was just too passive-aggressive to tell me directly, but when I left for the day, a new MacBook Pro was waiting for me at the front desk. Faith hadn’t said a word to me about it or left the building, so she’d clearly sent someone to buy me a new computer while I was working with Daisy. All I can say is, being rich strikes me as damn cool.
I drove back toward Ben’s, excited to show off my new toy. I also hoped that computers were in his wheelhouse of endless knowledge, as I don’t know how to do much beyond boot one up, type, and surf the Internet. I was surprised to find that someone was waiting for me outside of Ben’s apartment building, and even more surprised that it was neither Ben nor a member of the paparazzi. It was Jamie.
“I don’t have time,” I said, walking right past him.
“Just give me five minutes. That’s all I ask,” he said, jogging after me.
I stopped, mostly out of curiosity. And now that I could really see him, Jamie looked like garbage. His eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved in days. It wasn’t even the five o’clock shadow that makes some men look rugged and sexy; this was an unkempt man under some serious stress. “Well, they didn’t break your legs.”
“I took care of that,” Jamie said.
“Then why are you here?”
“I need your help. I’ve been trying to talk to Faith for days but she won’t even answer my phone calls.” He looked like he was about to cry.
“Oh, go to hell.” I actually wanted to spit on him, but I have better manners than that. “You screwed yourself out of a job. I’m not helping to get you back in with them.”
Jamie shook his head, wiping a tired hand across his mouth. He shifted his weight back and forth and strangely turned completely around in a circle. Either he was high or he really didn’t know what to do with himself. “You can’t blame me for this.”
“Are you kidding? You’re really trying to tell me this whole disaster isn’t your fault? You get Daisy hooked on drugs to control her, then just take them away because you’re worried about getting caught. Of course there’d be no consequences to a drug addict going cold turkey! Of course you can just wipe out a client’s bank account, get yourself indebted to underworld gamblers, and expect the rest of us to bail you out!” I took a step forward, sticking my finger right in his face. “You are the most despicable piece of shit I’ve ever met, and I don’t have an ounce of sympathy for whatever hole you’ve just tripped and fallen facefirst into.”
“I was a good guy!” This time, I think Jamie really was hiding tears. He turned his head away, swatting ineffectually at his eyes. “When I met them, I was just a baby agent at CAA, desperate to keep my job. Everyone loved sweet, talented, perfect little Daisy. And Faith . . .”
“Yeah,” I shouted back. “I know all about you and Faith. Did she get a wrinkle or a gray hair and you just decided you needed to move on to some college freshman?”
“What?” Jamie looked genuinely confused. “I didn’t leave Faith. She left me. I wanted her to leave Deacon, marry me. . . . But she said it was just a ‘business relationship’ and that if I wanted more I had to go somewhere else. She didn’t even care about me. Two years and she didn’t give a crap about anything but sex.”
That was the first red flag. But I still wasn’t convinced. “You’d say anything to get my help. But Faith’s a s
weet person, she’d never intentionally hurt someone. I’m sure she cared about you. I know it.”
Jamie stared at me in disbelief. It was that are-you-really-this-stupid look again. “You think I’m the wizard behind the curtain?” He laughed, a loud, booming, staccato sound. “Hols, I gave you more credit than that. Faith doesn’t care about you or me or anybody else. I’m not even sure she really loves Daisy. What she loves—what she craves—is the money and power. Do you really think a ten-year-old Daisy was just dying to leave her friends and move halfway across the country to work twelve hours a day? That was Faith’s dream, and she hasn’t let anyone stand in her way.”
I thought back to our conversation earlier, when Faith hadn’t wanted to hear a single thing about my own life. I’d thought we were becoming friends, but I’d been firmly put in my place. A large rupture formed in my confidence and trust in Faith. But I wasn’t about to believe that Jamie was just some poor, innocent Hollywood lamb unwillingly led to the slaughter. “You’re all disgusting.”
“Fine. I’ll take some of your disgust as long as you acknowledge that a lot of it goes back to the evil queen.”
At that moment, Ben opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop. “I saw your car pull up a few minutes ago. Is everything okay?” I saw him throw a warning look at Jamie.
“I was just going, Benji,” Jamie said just loud enough to be heard. Then to me he added, “You know what, you don’t have to advocate for me. Maybe the biggest help is keeping me away from all of those bloodsuckers.”
“I’m sorry things turned out this way.” I was astonished to realize that I meant it.
Jamie nodded and started to back toward his car. “Just don’t trust them, Hols. If they have to—hell, even if they just get bored one day—they’ll hang you out to dry, too. They do it to everyone eventually.”
I was so upset I didn’t even watch Jamie leave. Instead, I just ran up the stairs and disappeared into Ben’s apartment. Unfortunately, it wasn’t twenty minutes later that another large crack formed in my camaraderie with Faith; as Ben and I opened up the computer, attached to the invoice was a note that read, “Don’t worry, we’ll just take this out of your check.”
To which Ben replied, “Did you ask for a five-thousand-dollar computer?”
• • •
I tried to give Faith time to figure out her financial situation, but by Friday of the next week, I was down to twenty-six dollars in cash. Yes, I had the credit card, but I didn’t think it was appropriate to just go around charging my personal life to the Dixsons. I also had the feeling my purchases were now being tallied and would be deducted from my total fee. So I only used the card for gas and related work expenses and all too quickly burned through my leftover per diem. My patience officially ran out at 10:00 A.M. on Friday, when she pulled up in front of the rehab center in a brand-new Bentley Mulsanne.
“Isn’t it gorgeous? And the dealer gave it to me for six grand a month, can you believe it?” I stood there, dumbfounded, as she swatted me playfully on the arm. “After everything that’s happened, I thought I deserved a toy. Do you think I should get Daisy one as a reward when she finishes rehab? Or do you think she’d like the Azure more?”
“I have less than thirty dollars to my name and you just bought a Bentley?”
Faith blinked up at me innocently. “Well, thirty thousand isn’t a lot, but it should be enough for you to get by until I can free up some money.”
All of Jamie’s words came rushing back. In the last two months, I’d had lots of reasons to hate these people. But never before had I been so furious that I felt like I might black out at any moment. They’d left me in Miami, nearly convinced my mother (and the rest of the world) that I was a slutty alcoholic, wasted endless hours of my time, and had now left me with two tens, a five, and a one-dollar bill. I’d managed to convince myself that it was out of necessity, that Faith ultimately had my best interest at heart. But now, with the black metallic Bentley gleaming in the California sunshine, I realized that Jamie was right—I meant nothing to them. It took every ounce of my strength not to burst into tears. The Dixsons had basically turned my life inside out.
“I don’t have thirty thousand dollars, I have thirty dollars. And a nearly seven-thousand-dollar credit card bill that is entirely expenses from this work I’m doing for you. I’m scrimping and saving every last cent so that you can go out and blow hundreds of thousands of dollars on a hunk of metal that you’ll think is out of style in eight months.”
“I think you’re just a little tired and so you’re overreacting,” Faith said in her best mom voice. “No one can live on thirty dollars, Holly.”
“You’re right, they can’t!” I said, barely holding back the flood of tears. “How much do you think I make a year? You’re my employer and you haven’t paid me in two months! How much do you think I have left after that?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” Her tone was shifting, the sweet veneer beginning to wear away and the true Faith reemerging.
I’d only just arrived, but I pulled out the keys to the Navigator. “I’m done working until you pay me.”
Faith seemed too surprised to move. She stood there and watched me walk back to the Lincoln, not speaking until I’d already unlocked the driver door. “Holly? Holly, sweetheart . . .” She quickly switched back to her mom tone, but it was too late.
I paused for just a second, looking at Faith over the roof of the car. I couldn’t walk back toward her because I didn’t trust myself not to punch my boss in the face. “Yes?”
“Um, would it help if I bought you lunch? We can sit down and talk it all out. You know the café here—”
“Good-bye, Faith,” I yelled, climbing into the car.
I made it exactly two exits on the 405 before I started sobbing hysterically. Traffic was heavy enough that my emotional waterfall didn’t inhibit my driving too much, but I did get a number of very strange looks from the occupants of nearby cars. As though no one’s ever had a breakdown during rush hour before.
I’d just reached L.A. County when my phone rang. Thinking it was probably Faith, ready to apologize, I plugged in my headset and answered without looking at the caller ID. The car apparently had Bluetooth, but I hadn’t figured out how to link my phone.
“Hello?” I said, sniffling. I quickly wiped my nose on my sleeve so that she’d be less likely to notice I’d been crying.
“Holly? Baby?” The universe really did hate me. The only person I wanted to talk to less than Faith was my mother. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I lied. “But it’s not the best time.”
“You’re not fine. You’ve been crying. Holly Ann, you may have moved to the other side of the country, but I still know you better than anyone else.”
Do you? I wanted to ask. “I’m having a bad day.”
“No matter what it is, you can tell me. Even if you really are pregnant, I’ll understand. I promise.”
I was prepared for nagging or judgment, but I wasn’t prepared for that. I burst into tears, my sobs loud and ugly. My mother didn’t speak, she remained silent and let me finish. “I’m not pregnant, Mom. I would have told you. It’s these people I’m working for.”
I had just given her another huge opening for judgment, but to my surprise, she didn’t take it. “Camille doesn’t like them much. We’ve both been worried about you. Is there anything I can do? I think Great-Aunt Linda is married to an attorney.”
Hearing this, I started to laugh. It was part laugh, part cry, and I’m sure I sounded like a crazy person. “I’ve never needed a lawyer before.” My mother’s words were so uncharacteristically sweet, I didn’t want to point out that a New York lawyer probably hadn’t passed the bar in California.
“You have to protect yourself,” she said, repeating her earlier warning to me. “I know you always want to see the good in people—it’s one
of your best qualities—but most people are only looking out for themselves.”
“They’re awful. Every one of them. I’ve made such a mess of things and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Tell me all about it,” my mother said. “I don’t know much about these things, but I’m here to listen and give whatever advice I can.”
This made me cry even harder. I couldn’t speak for almost a minute. “I can’t, Mom. I have a contract that says I could be sued if I even told you who I was working with. You only know because it’s been all over the television. They think of everything.”
My mother may not be well educated, but she does have a set of smarts all her own. “But if it’s as bad as you say, wouldn’t they already have broken that contract? I don’t think you have to listen to them anymore.”
I thought back to that contract I’d spent an hour reading. At the time, I’d only done it out of excitement. I hadn’t considered that we’d even get this far in the process, let alone that one of the clauses might have to be executed. I remembered the fee schedule and agreement that I would incur no expenses of my own. The Dixsons had breached the contract almost from the very beginning. My problem now was that I didn’t know what to do about it. I tried to think about Great-Aunt Linda’s new husband, but I remembered quickly that he was an actuary, not an attorney. So I didn’t even have anyone to call for a recommendation.
“It seems to me they’re in more trouble than you,” my mother continued. “I don’t think that little girl can handle much more bad press.”
I wondered if that was true. Daisy looked so bad already I couldn’t imagine that a contract dispute would add that much fuel to the fire. “I don’t want to go to the press. I couldn’t do that. I just want to finish this job and get the money I’m owed.”
“Sometimes in life, we have to do things that are against our character,” my mom told me. “We do our best to be good, moral people, but there’s only so much a good person can take.”
Not that anyone would ever write a biography of me, but if they did, my current working title was “Only So Much a Good Person Can Take.” “Thanks, Mom,” I said, and I meant it. I felt considerably better than at the beginning of our phone call, and that wasn’t something I often said after talking with my mother. “I really thought you were going to say ‘I told you so.’ ”
Absolutely True Lies Page 30