Child Star: Part 3

by J. J. McAvoy

  “I’d be honored to,” I replied, taking the paper from her. The girls they had chosen came from Bolivia, Peru, Montenegro, and Bulgaria, and two were from the Ukraine. Beside all of their faces were short stories about their families and lives in their home countries and what they had accomplished, and I knew right then and there that I was not in any way qualified to give these girls any sort of ‘advice.’

  One of them started a kindergarten for all of the women in her village to help mothers who had to work.

  I looked up to find Mayko and Antigone giving me the same look. No wonder neither of them wanted to go and speak.

  “Ms. London?” The woman looked at me.

  “Sorry, please lead the way,” I said. She smiled from ear to ear and led the way. When she turned around, I spun back to Mayko and Antigone, smacking them over the shoulders.

  “Hate you both!” I said quickly, causing them to giggle as I rushed to catch up. We stopped at a large ballroom, and Ms. Lucas secretly got us behind and to the side of the stage they had set up. The only thing blocking me from God knows how many people was a large wall of curtain.

  “Just channel Mom. You know she lives for these types of things,” Antigone whispered beside me.

  “Tell them they are beautiful the way they are and that type of stuff,” Mayko added, not helping me at all.

  “I’m not answering you when you call anymore,” I replied, taking a deep breath, my hands shaking. This was completely different than anything I had done before—let alone anything I had done last minute.

  “Right there.” Sara pointed between the slits of the curtains at a table at the front of the stage. “Those are the girls.”

  Nodding, I took a breath, shaking out my hands and moving away from the curtains.

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  If Esther can do this, you can.

  Breathe.

  “Tonight, the W.E.W.A. gives this award to Esther London, who sadly could not be here tonight. However, here to accept her award on her behalf is her daughter and actress Amelia London. Please help me walk her to the stage.”

  Fuck me, man.

  Putting a smile on my face and trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach, I braced myself as they opened the curtains, revealing the packed room. Waving, I held my head high and walked as gracefully as I possibly could toward the glass podium. Taking the award, a glass torch statue, and shaking the speaker’s hand, I turned to face the audience and the cameras. I paused to allow the applause to die down.

  “Thank you,” I said when it got quiet. Bullshit it, Amelia. “Today, I stand, as I have always stood, in the shadow of great woman and an even greater mother.”

  Again, they applauded.

  Nodding, I continued, “Many people have asked over the years what it is like to have Esther London as a mother, and it is very much like holding this award—in all aspects of her life, she passed the torch to me. The strength I have to stand up in the world today is because of her and her constant reminder that as women, we have work harder, though it is not fair or right. We must push ourselves in every aspect of our lives to get the things we truly want—what we deserve, in fact. I would like to thank every member of the Women Empowering Women Association for honoring my mother. I’m not biased or anything …”

  They laughed.

  “… because she truly is the only logical choice to me. Without her, my life would be completely different. My family will treasure this always. Thank you.” I lifted the award up.

  “Tonight, not only does W.E.W.A. allow me to honor my mother, but also six beautiful young women: fourteen-year-old Elisa Rivera Vargas from Bolivia, seventeen-year-old Heloise Severiano of Peru, thirteen-year-old, Pelivanka Dobrislav of Montenegro, sixteen-year-old twins Katerina and Marynia Koval of the Ukraine, and last but certainly not least, from Bulgaria, seventeen-year-old Lala Zahari. Ladies and gentlemen, please stand with me and applaud these young ladies.”

  Pushing the award to the side, I, along with everyone else, applauded them as they laughed with each other.

  “I was asked to give you ladies advice, and, as the award symbolizes, to pass the torch,” I lifted it to them. “However, the more I thought about it, the less came to mind, because you wouldn’t be here today if you waited for words from others to propel you to act. Each one of you is extraordinary because you sought something and chose to make it happen despite all the obstacles in front you. So my advice is for the young girls who aren’t here today to never ask anyone permission to follow your dreams or to make a positive impact in your communities—just do it. Just be what you want to be, and eventually, you will achieve it. Should you ever forget that, we have six young women here ready to light the way for you. Thank you.”

  Backing away from the podium, I walked down the stage toward the girls, giving each one of them a hug, and when the photographer came over, we all huddled together, posing.

  Noah

  Finally, I thought when Father Christmas himself sat down in front of me. We had been here for a good thirty minutes, and I was beginning to think I had wasted my time.

  “You’re as hard-headed as your pops,” he chuckled, downing his beer.

  “Don’t compare—”

  “Why? You ain’t proud?” he frowned at me.

  Frowning, I leaned back, eyeing him carefully. “I could think of thousand adjectives I could use, but ‘proud’ is not among them.”

  “You got balls.”

  “You’re the second man this week who has commented on my balls. Honestly, it’s making me uncomfortable. Do you have anything for me?”

  “A smart ass, too,” he muttered. “Before I talk, what are you going to do when you find him? There is no way he’s getting out of this.”

  “For fifteen, do you really give a damn?”

  His eyes narrowed at me. “You might have forgotten your pops has also got a big mouth, always talking about his millionaire son who forked over thousands with a ring. You gonna have to do better than fifteen.”

  Goddamn it, Frank.

  “And how do I know you aren’t just messin’ with me?” I asked.

  “I can call him now,” he said, pulling out his old-ass flip phone.

  I couldn’t read him.

  “Do it.”

  The moment he hit ‘send,’ I forced it closed in his hands. “Twenty.”

  “Thirty—” he began to counter.

  “I’ll find him another way,” I said, standing up.

  “Fine, shit, boy. Twenty-one and that’s my final offer.”

  Sitting back down, I reached over when he stretched out his hand.

  “Next Monday at 8 a.m., he’s going to be at Illinois International Port District to be outta port by 9 a.m.”

  “Wait here. A man will come in and give you a bag. You will not look in it, and you will go somewhere I can’t see your face again,” I instructed, already standing up and heading up outside.

  Austin leaned against the side of the car, looking completely out of place. He moved for me to take a seat in the passenger side.

  “What are you doing?” he asked when I took out a few stacks.

  “We settled on twenty-one.” I told him, handing him the bag. “It’s the Santa Claus-looking guy on the left side.”

  “You bargained? You do know you’re a millionaire, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “And I’d like to fucking stay that way, thank you,” I snapped, throwing the bag at him. He caught it, shaking his head at me.

  “In a strange way, I’m kind of proud,” he chuckled.

  “Wait.” I got out, pulling out a few bills to put in his hands. “For the bartender.”

  He stared at me for a moment and then didn’t say a word. As he headed back in, I sat back in the car and pulled out a cigarette.

  He was only gone for a minute, if that, when I saw them— two of the three stooges I thought I’d dealt with earlier. They came back with friends.

  You gotta be fucking
kidding me.

  Shifting over the center divider, I sat in the driver’s seat. I leaned back as they walked past the car and into the bar. As Austin was coming out, he moved toward the driver’s side door, not seeing me, just as one them ran back out after not seeing me inside.

  “Noah—” Austin started.

  “Get in!” I yelled, starting the car. I locked eyes with the man across from me. He pulled out a gun as Austin pulled open the back door.

  The tires skidded as I reversed quickly, the bullets bouncing off the front hood. However, one broke the through the windshield before I could get away.

  “Shit. Shit. Holy motherfucking shit fuck!” Austin screamed.

  “You still alive back there?” I questioned, trying not laugh when he didn’t sit up. The bullet was embedded no more than an inch above his chest in the backseat. His luck hadn’t run out, it seemed.

  “I fucking hate this city!” He took a deep breath, sitting back.

  I snickered. “That’s what makes it so great. It doesn’t give a shit if you like it or not.”

  Not matter what, it would still be Chicago.

  Chapter Six

  Amelia

  “Thank God,” I whispered, leaning into the car seat as Daniel closed the door.

  “You were brilliant, ma’am,” Daniel said when he started the engine.

  “Really? I thought it very ironic,” a man’s voice said.

  My head whipped back, and there was Bo, his face only an inch from mine. Screaming, I jumped back, my hands reaching for the door handle.

  “Fuckin’ Christ—never knew Noah had a thing for screamers,” he lifted a gun, pointing it toward Daniel. “Big fella, I’ma need you take a walk for a few minutes.”

  Daniel didn’t move, just stared him down.

  “You hard of hearing or something? Amelia, call off your man, here. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  “I would believe you, but the fact that you were hiding in the back of my car with a gun makes it kinda hard!” I yelled, and he stuck a finger in his ear.

  “I am right fucking beside you. Please knock off your goddamn yelling! Jesus!” he yelled back, and Daniel reached for the gun. A bullet hit the dashboard, triggering the airbag, sadly on the right. “Try that again. Fuckin’ try it. And the next one goes in your mouth. If I was gonna kill you, Amelia, I wouldn’t let you know I was here, now would I? We gotta talk, and I’m sure you don’t want muscle brain hearing about it.”

  I stared at him for a second, his eyes piercing mine. Finally, I glanced back to Daniel. “Go. I’m fine—”

  “Ma’am.”

  “Go!”

  He gave Bo one more glare, which Bo returned with his middle finger. When the door shut behind him, I focused back on Bo.

  “Help me with this,” he said, trying to push the seat down, the gun waving in his hand.

  “Can you drop the gun?” I asked.

  “What does my brother see in a weak wench like you?” He frowned at me, finally getting the seat down in order to sit beside me.

  “Did you come all this way to scare me and piss me off?” I asked him.

  “I came for a favor,” he replied.

  “Again, was all of this needed?” I asked, waving my hands at all the destruction he had caused in such a short time.

  He glared, his jaw cracking to the side. “Do you bitch at him like this, too, or am I special?”

  “I know you’re brothers. You, on the other hand—”

  “I’m sorry. I thought me getting rid of your mother’s corpse would make us close. My bad. Good speech you gave there, too. I’m sure none of them would have thought they were listening to a murderer,” he shot back.

  “I didn’t—”

  “I ain’t an idiot, sweetheart. If it was Noah, them stab wounds would be a lot deeper. Besides, he’s a gun guy anyway,” he said as, if it was nothing, and reached into his jacket pocket. When I tensed, he rolled his eyes. “Gum. I’m trying to quit smoking. Those things will kill you.”

  “I tell your brother that all that time,” I replied, almost reflexively.

  He grinned like a mad man. “The day that guy quits will be the day pigs fly. It’s my bad, really. I gave him his first one for his twelfth birthday, and he’s been stuck since.”

  “Twelve?”

  “Yeah, you see—never mind, it’s a long story. Look, I’ve been trying to be on the lookout for our old man,” he said, apparently remembering why he broke into my car.

  “Noah’s looking for him, too.”

  “Really?” He sat up, nodding. “I knew he wouldn’t just leave him hanging like that.”

  “What do you mean? He’s trying to get Frank to turn himself in—”

  “What the fuck?” he yelled at me. The smile he had was gone, and in its place was anger as his fist hit the seat in front of me. “How can he be so goddamn selfish? Pops won’t make it in jail—”

  “It’s either that or the Callahans.”

  He breathed through his nose, eyes never leaving mine. “We’re family. We don’t sell each other out. I found our old man, and we are going to get him out of the States for awhile until all of this cools down.”

  “He shot at cops and lost $200 million—”

  “I don’t give a fuck! We don’t sell out family!” he shouted at me and then pointed at me. “And no matter how many time he fucks ya, you ain’t family either.”

  “What are you—?”

  “I’m saying you better remind Noah that we take care of our own before anyone else. If he doesn’t help pop get out of this, a certain W.E.W.A. award winner might just show up floating in the harbor.”

  “Are you threatening me right now? How will that make him help you?”

  He shrugged. “It might not. But mutual destruction helps no one.”

  Now I knew why Noah didn’t want me to be around him any more than I needed to be. He was only two screws loose from going totally unhinged.

  “After everything Noah has done for you, you’d turn on him like this?”

  “Shut up. You know nothin’ about Noah or me. And it’s Noah’s choice if I turn on him or not. I don’t want to. I would protect him and make sure you got the blame alone, just like you deserve. But family is different. No matter what they do, you can’t just turn your back on them. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” he asked, opening the door for himself. “Pass on the message. It’s hard as fuck getting to you people through normal ways with everyone gunning for us.”

  When he was gone, Daniel came back in quickly.

  “Are you okay?”

  I couldn’t answer. I only leaned back into the seat further, wishing I could just disappear or go back to that one night and stop Esther some other way. As Daniel drove, I glanced down at the award beside my feet. I lifted it up, running my hand over the glass.

  I felt like I could hear her laughing at me.

  “Daniel.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When you get the chance, get rid of this for me,” I said, throwing it in the front seat.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  Looking out the window, I saw my own reflection, and I didn’t like it. Not because I was guilty, but because I was staring at someone who had no idea what to do without help. I had given a speech telling young girls everywhere to just do whatever it is they wanted to do, yet I couldn’t take my own goddamn advice.

  How do I fix this?

  How do I—

  Wait. I looked back at myself, the light bulb turning on in my head, and just like that, the smile returned to my face.

  “Daniel.”

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “Don’t tell Noah or Austin about what happened tonight. I’ll give you money for the repairs. Do you understand?”

  He didn’t reply.

  I sighed. This was the problem with using other people’s people: they had loyalty issues. It didn’t matter if it was a stylist, driver, or bodyguard.

  “Your job is to pr
otect Noah, and me because he asked you. Well, know this: there is no other person on earth I want to protect more than Noah. But he won’t let me. Which is why he can’t know I met his brother tonight.”

  “You met who?” he questioned, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror.

  And just like that, Daniel became my guy.

  Noah

  Panic.

  Sudden uncontrollable fear or anxiety, often causing wildly unthinking behavior.

  With my condition, it was dangerous for my emotions to swing drastically, and for the most part, I did a good job of keeping my emotions in check. I could stay cool sitting only a foot away from the head of the Irish mob, a bunch of thugs with knives in a bar, no problem. Hell, being shot at by said thugs—I was good. None of that scared me.

  What did was walking into the hotel room where the love of my life was supposed to be and not finding her. No note, no call, nothing—just her clothes everywhere. That was fear. That was panic, and just like that, I found myself falling against the wall, my body shaking out of my control.

  Shit.

  Three months. I had made it three months off my meds without a single fucking attack, and one day in the city without her, I was brought to my knees.

  “Ah!” I grunted out. I pulled my arms and legs to my chest, trying my best to stop the shaking.

  “Noah, breathe, relax,” Austin said, stuffing another pill into my mouth. I wanted to tell him that telling someone with a disorder to relax was as fucking useful as telling a pregnant woman to use a condom. However, I couldn’t say anything given how badly my teeth were chattering together.

  “Noah!”

  Amelia? I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not.

  “Noah!” Her hands cupped the sides of my face. Opening my eyes, I saw her. Her beautiful blue eyes stared back down at me.

  Thank God.

  “Shh…” she whispered, pulling me into her lap, hugging me to her chest. I listened to her heartbeat slowly, breathing in her perfume. “Shh…I’m right here. I’m right here,” she kept repeating.

  I’m not sure how long we were like that, huddled on the floor of the presidential suite in some random hotel. I didn’t care. It was the best place in the world, because in those minutes, the world wasn’t fucked up. I was neither Noah Sloan, Frank’s son, nor Noah Sloan, the former child star. I was just the guy she loved. And that’s the only me I ever wanted to be. That’s what made the shaking stop.